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After yesterday's tribulations I was anxious to get back into the smooth consistency of site-seeing and taking in what India had to offer.
Unfortunately, the Taj Mahal is closed on a Friday as it is used solely for Muslim prayer. This threw a hefty spanner in the works for us as we were only supposed to spending one night in Agra before trundling onto Pushkar. With out train delays yesterday we didn't get the opportunity to see the Taj in the afternoon as we had planned. Rather than miss seeing the most photographed building in the world we decided to pay for an extra night in Agra and see its highlight tomorrow - I am positive that we made the right choice.
In order to keep ourselves entertain we headed towards another worthy attraction of Agra, the Red Fort.
Fort is perhaps an embellishment as it more a massive walled city than a fort, definitely built for a comfortable life rather than war. The 'fort' was an imperial residence during the Mughal Dynasty and still held much of its grandeur and splendour.
Walking up to the fort was inspiring in itself, it's towering red sandstone walls and huge moat made for an intimidating vision and one could be forgiven for nodding along with the 'fort' description. Gangs of tour guides loitered around the impressive arched gateways into the fort and had to be batted away sternly or they persisted in following you around like irksome flies.
500 rupees a piece gained us access to the site and after a quick security rub down, we were in (apparently the security measures are in place regarding friction between India and Pakistan, so when the alarm goes off for us we are more or less just get waved straight through).
Strolling around taking in the place was great, Chelsea was always 20 yards behind me taking the place in through her bloody camera lens. Reading the plaques dotted around informed us that the fort had be added to and extended by various occupants over its many years of existence. For me the most impressive addition to the fort was the 'Sun Worship' room that was made entirely of white marble and open plan, overlooking the river and sunrise to the East. The room also had fabulous stone work and patterns on its walls which must have taken years to complete on their own!
With a few hours in front of us and with no ideas springing to mind we turned to our new driver, Khan - who would be with us for the next eight days of our journey - for inspiration. He didn't let us down and took us to a marble store down a crooked, hidden alley; apparently, Agra is famous for its marble work due to its excessive and beautiful use in the Taj Mahal.
Once inside we sensed the usual trap of being lulled into a false sense of security before being propositioned for an expensive piece of junk, thankfully we were wrong. A delightful, young gent with god-awful teeth sat us down and explained marble and stone masonry to us and showed us the classic method of grinding down and shaping precious and semi-precious stones (on a wheel that's turned by hand and wet stones are applied to its spinning surface to shape them, if you were wondering). My favourite stone was cornelius, which was a blood orange colour which allowed light to pass through it, though he described it as 'glowing' and Chelsea's favourite was turquoise, which looked like it sounds and had a very smooth, even finish.
After explaining the method and showing us the various stones used to decorate the walls of the Taj and Agra Fort he began to lead us around his store and credit were credit is due the pieces on show there were incredible - the time and patience it must take to craft something to detailed is startling! Obviously, the larger pieces were very expensive and up in the thousands of pounds so I splashed out and bought a tiny marble elephant for 450 rupees (£5.40). I am very proud of him, he has a pattern of cornelius stone and lapis lazuli on his bum which means peace of mind and wealth.
Following this Khan suggest an authentic Indian massage, Chelsea bit his hand of and practically pressed her face against the windscreen in her eagerness for a massage. I on the other hand detest such things and am very Victorian in my thinking when it comes to purchasing intimacy - for me, a massage is something to be shared with someone that is important to you and the intimacy of someone having their hands all over my feeble body makes my toes want to fall off in awkwardness. As it turns out Chelsea had a massage in what I strongly suspect was a brothel. Sitting in the foyer next to a seedy fish tank after pointedly refusing to break and have a massage, I was treated to a green tea. Whilst sipping my beverage I saw a string of suspicious things over the rim of my cup: firstly, all the staff were female; secondly, 90% of them were pregnant; thirdly, about 12 customers came in whilst Chelsea had a 45 minute massage and all of them were men; and finally, I saw two come out looking un-massaged but extremely happy about something. I should probably write into the BBC and suggest they start a detective series based on my shrewd deductions.
In preparation for our early start tomorrow and the Taj Mahal looming, we went for a quick walk around the town and ended up the a dominoes restaurant! The meal cost and unfathomable 900 rupees! The most expensive meal we've had in India to date! The city tax of 14% is criminal!
Anyway, rant over. Come at me Taj.
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