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2003-04-27 - Agra (Day 12)

Hoping for something with a more pleasant feeling then the experience at the Taj, I head off in a rickshaw to the Agra Fort. The driver, Hero, is a very pleasant guy and takes me to the fort and says that he'll wait outside for no charge if he can take me to some of the other monuments around town. As I walk in, there is a procession of German VIP's in escorted cars coming out. Having learned to look for the big guys with a single ear phone from my days in Washington, D.C. I stop to watch and wonder who this group might be. Whoever they are, they are taking no chances with security with a truck of army personnel at the front and the back and a number of big security types who give me a coupe of scowls.

I wander on in and am immediately impressed by the grandeur of the fort. While assuredly only a fraction of its grandeur several hundred years ago, this building is still an impressive and imposing place. With its wonderful views of the Taj and marble latticework for windows there are several stunning areas of the fort.

I'm also left with a feeling of sadness when I notice in one small corner of a ceiling; the gold appliqué and paintings are still intact versus the rest of the ceiling which had been stripped bare of its ornamentation. I realize that once these paces were decorated in a fashion which would make them simply amazingly beautiful, but all most all of that beauty except for the walls themselves and pieces simply too big to cart away had been stolen and stripped from the fort over the years.

After the fort, Hero struggles to go across town in what is my first sandstorm which forces me to keep my eyes closed for most of the trip and covers everything with grit. He takes me to the "Mini Taj" which is a serene and quite memorial in the peaceful air after the sandstorm for the parents of the woman buried at the Taj. With only a couple of people on the grounds, the place is one of quiet beauty and I'm taken in by the memorial and its grounds and find it one of the few places so far I'm actually happy to have visited.

We head back after visiting one more memorial and go across Agra which is apparently gearing up for a night of celebration. Along the entire way I see the most interesting groups of men dressed in full marching band regalia in front of carts pulled by hand with stereo equipment and huge horns on top for blasting out music. One of these bands is ¡§practicing¡¨ which to my amusement seems only to be playing along (or just thumbing the keys?) of the instruments as a tape of a marching band is played. As its unlikely that in this rural town there would be so many people trained to play the trombone and tuba, I assume that they are simply there to ¡§look¡¨ like a marching band while the music plays along. Apparently the wedding season has started and tonight will be one of the more auspicious nights for a wedding and there will be parties all over Agra.

On the way back, Hero stops the rickshaw and turns to have a very frank conversation with me. "I don't make much money doing this", he says, "but if you'll let me take you by a few shops you can go in and look, you don't need to buy anything and I'll make a commission just for taking you." As I haven't seen any of the local crafts and am impressed by the man's forthrightness, I agree to go to a shop or two and he takes me to the local craft marts. All told, there are some beautiful things made here, mostly marble inlays and rug work. While obviously with the way I'm traveling the last thing I need are a big slab of marble or a rug, I do enjoy looking and am pleased that my little window shopping tour is going to get Hero a little extra.

On the way, I do notice the Pizza Hut Lonely Planet said was in Agra and I figure that is a god way to try to help bring back my hesitant appetite. Hero wants to invite me back to his house for breakfast which I'm torn on how smart it will be to accept. I end the day overpaying Hero for his work, US$ 2.00 for the day, but declining breakfast, saddened that I have to put caution that high and can't trust the man enough even just to visit his house. I drive up to Pizza Hut which apparently is the really swanky place in town and amused at the number of people who have gotten dressed up for a night at Pizza Hut, I manage to gorge myself on a Pepperoni pizza. Stuffed and content it was a pretty good day, I wander back and climb in bed.

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