Agra is bigger than I expected. I guess I thought there would be a few sights, a handful of hostels and a restaurant or two. Not much. Instead, we’ve been more out here than say, Rishikesh.
After the movies and going back to the hostel, we go to McDonald’s for dinner. For reals. It’s right between the hostel and the cinema, so why not? Behind the counter, about 8 young guys are standing, ready to take people’s order. I would say it’s a bit over-staffed, but this is definitely not uncommon in India, from what I have observed. Of course, all the guys behind the counter are all giggly, but hey, I get fries with that.
We get up at 5 in the morning and put on our clothes from Jaipur – Sara her custom green maxi dress, and I my pink sari. We meet up with Steve from England, we call him Papa Bear because he looks out for us, and we share a tuk tuk to Taj Mahal. After paying the 750 rupees fee for tourists, and waiting in a painfully long line for the “high value ladies”, Taj Mahal is right in front of us as the sun is rising. This place is more beautiful than you can imagine. I’ve never given much thought to how it would look up close, but the details are pertty amazing. Damn, Shahjahan could make buildings.
If we are to believe what they say, he built this as a memorial for his third wife, Mumtaz Mahal, who died during childbirth. Their bodies are buried in the center of this glorious building. Now that’s a real monument of love! The view from Taj Mahal – quite an impressive gate, hey?
We spend ages at TM, just admiring it, talking and taking awkward pictures like these:
With Papa Bear
Once we are done, like 3 hours later, we go see “Baby Taj”, which is also a tomb. We are the only tourists there, which is quite nice, although kind of creepy too. Coming from one of the most crowded places in Agra, the silence at Baby Taj is almost unsettling.
After breakfast at a rooftop restaurant, Papa Bear goes back to the hotel, while we check out Agra Fort, which is the prettiest fort we’ve seen so far – but also like the 3rd or 7th, so we’re not that interested.
This has been a magical day… Except this is what I look like when my Sari comes off (sorry to those who get offended by my red butt)
After a bumpy, painful 13-hour busride, we arrive in [insert random name] at 6 in the morning. I honestly don’t know the place, never heard of it before. Anyway, the busdriver makes us get off the bus and wait for a public bus, that we get on with our backpacks. Didn’t see that one coming. I was never told by the travel agent that we had to switch busses. It’s our first time on an actual local bus, and it gradually fills up with young people, probably students, and they all seem very interested in the two tired-looking chicks in the back. Thirtysomething kilometers later, we stop somewhere in Agra, and the bus is almost empty. I ask the bus driver for directions, but he just tells me to stay on the bus. He parks it on a parking lot full of empty busses, and he and his friend get out and ask us to follow them. We do for a little while, until it becomes pretty obvious that they’re just trying to take us somewhere we can’t get help. We run away silently.
Once we’ve reached a street with lots of tuk tuks, we begin to bargain for ages for a reasonably priced ride. We finally arrive at Pyrenees Home Stay, which is perfect by the way. We have breakfast on the roof, and we can see the Taj Mahal from there! Since it’s Friday, it’s is closed, so we decide to do all the sightseeing tomorrow. After a nap and a shower, we get dressed for lunch. Since all my pants and shirts are in the laundry, I wear this.
Bad move. After lunch at Pinch of Spice, it is only 3.30, so we decide to go to the movies. There’s a 2.5 hour long horror movie in Hindi playing at the moment called Ragini MMS 2, starring Sunny Leone (yes, the pornstar). Bruno recommended it to us. We are about ten minutes late for the movie, same as two local guys, who insist on showing us the way to the auditorium and sitting next to us. It becomes very apparent that this was a bad idea.
First of all, people in India seem to be very responsive to the movie they’re watching. When something’s supposed to be funny, they’ll almost exaggerate their laugh. When something’s scary, they scream a little louder than I’m used to. It’s also very apparent that sexuality is still a bit of a taboo, so people have to repress their sexuality a lot. That often leads to an overreaction, so here we are, watching a movie starring a former porn star in her underwear. We’re talking about a tank top and panties, and the guys around us go absolutely crazy. That’s when I realise that we are almost the only girls in the auditorium.
The guy next to me keeps offering to translate the movie for me, but I insist that I’m fine. The overexaggerated acting, the simple plot, and the fact that half of the lines are in English makes it a lot easier to understand a foreign movie than you would think. Still, the guy makes a few translations here and there, before going in for the kill: he leans in and asks me if I want to “french”. Completely shocked and disgusted, I almost yell out “no!” in a much ruder way than I intended to. He doesn’t seem too fazed by my rejection, but tells me that my skirt is very short and daring, and that I should be more careful – guys will be grabbing my ass if I keep wearing that. Just like that, my life is more scary than the horror movie.
During intermission, we both go to the bathroom to get away from the guys, but even more of them are standing in the lobby. I tell Sara what happened during the movie, and we agree to find new seats. We scoot in a few more seats, but people behind us start shaking our seats and carefully touching the top of my hair. Jeez, we’re just two pale people watching a movie, leave us alone. The attention is pretty intense, so after the movie, as everyone gathers by the elevator, we decide to wait until everyone has left before getting into one. When we come out of the elevator and walk out to the parked tuk tuks, some of the guys from the auditorium are still hanging around, and they even follow us on their scooter for a little bit, while we are on a tuk tuk back to the hostel.
So this was the story of how I wore a skirt and we went to the movies, and people followed us around and probably wanted to rape us. Talk about a scary day.
I’ll end this post with a picture of Sara walking next to a lady with a big bowl of cowpoo on her head.
When we wake up, it’s cold. Very cold. The sky is cloudy and grey, and it seems that the sun won’t show today. The power is out again. We desperately need a shower, but have to settle for a bucket of ice water. Shark week’s coming (all you ladies should feel sorry for me).
But then I have a cup of masala chai and everything’s alright again. I am insisting on having masala chai everyday until we leave India from now on. I’m going to miss that stuff like I miss clean clothes and watching Saturday Night Live by myself instead of going out. We have breakfast and apple-beetroot-carrot juice to get some vitamins in our system, while a Brazilian guy tells us that we are being paranoid about getting raped, and how bad McDonald’s is for you. Then he starts talking about meditation. What a hippie.
We decide to head out for the day. Our hostel is on one side of the Ganges River, while everything else seems to be on the other side. A long bridge crosses the water, and on this bridge you will find a lot of people… and cows. Seriously, cows are just everywhere in this country and I find it hilarious. When will you ever see a cow just casually walking on a bridge in Denmark? The answer is never.
So, back in the 60’s, The Beatles visited Rishikesh for a few months and wrote some of The White Album here, so it’s kind of a big deal. We walk all the way out of the city center to the Beatles Ashram, which is hard to find and impossible to get into – at least when we get there. We are even joined by a young Indian couple that is just as lost as we are. The ashram is just an abandoned hotel in the woods, so no big deal, but now we can say we’ve walked in the footsteps of James Bond (in Udaipur) and The Beatles (in Rishikesh).
I’m kind of liking this place. The nature is very different from what we’ve seen so far in India. It’s my version of Paradise, with silver sand, green grass and little purple flowers growing everywhere. It’s just so lush. The Ganges river is greenish-blue, and looks so warm and clear and calm. It’s not. We head to the beachy riverside and dip our toes in – they nearly freeze off, which makes it all the more impressive when a local man in a thong goes there for a bath. He has a nice ass by the way. The main part of Rishikesh smells like weed and is swarmed with flies, though. None of the buildings really interest me, but I’m loving the nature.
I just wanna picnic here.
We go to the bazar and pick up a few things. The sellers aren’t really into bargaining here, which is too bad, ’cause I see the maxi-skirt of my dreams in three different shops, all charging about 300 rupees, even though all the skirts had a hole somewhere. We go to Little Buddha for lunch, which has a nice (touristy) atmosphere, but the food and service isn’t all that. I can’t complain about my Oreo milkshake with ice cream though!
A cow just wanting to enter the store and buy his mom a birthday present.
BLIIIIING!
Since we’re leaving tomorrow to go to Agra, we go to the hostel’s travel agent to book a bus, but he claims there aren’t any busses going for the next month. We hurry over to the closest travel agent for a second opinion and wooptie!, 2 tickets for a double sleeper to Agra tomorrow evening. We have a lot of hours to spend between check-out and the bus, so we book an appointment at a massage clinic next to the hostel. I don’t remember telling this, but in Jaipur we had a full body oil massage, which I found out isn’t really for me, so this time, I just book a mani, pedi and henna instead.
I am amazed by how many erotic novels Sara has on her Kindle at the moment.
To be honest with you for a second, I have never felt so unattractive in my life, and I’d like to remember that, so I’m actually writing this down. My hair is greasy and tangled, although completely blonde again, my skin is breaking out, my clothes are dirty and there are still traces of Holi in my ears, nose and under my nails. Like Pete would have said, my face looks like shit. I just want to curl up and hide from the public until I’ve had a decent shower and look like myself again. People just keep staring at me because I’m different, and I can’t stand it when I feel this uncomfortable in my own skin. We’re starting to lose weight, and I’ve gotten a tan, so I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.
Also, happy birthday, grandpa. Don’t worry too much about me!
I wake up at 5 in the morning, sandwiched between Bruno and Sara in our lousy bed. After quietly packing up, we leave a sleeping Bruno and go to the train station, where the confusing system almost makes us panic. We eventually find the right train and have to kick a few people out of our seats, which doesn’t make us popular. Then again, tourists don’t seem to be popular in general. I feel like I haven’t seen other tourists around for ages – last time was in Jaisalmer, and then at the Retreat Ceremony at the border, where a soldier exclaimed “go this way, you’re VIP’s in India” (just needed to include that, because it made me happy).
The train ride is uneventful. We take short, uncomfortable naps, read on Sara’s Kindle, tell beggars to F off, and we squat over a hole that is supposed to be a toilet and pee. Someone actually took a dump and missed the hole, so we’re basically marinating a turd in pee. I want to puke just thinking about it, and I thought you guys would like to know what gross things I get to see everyday. You’re welcome.
7 hours later, the train is at its last stop, and it’s not Rishikesh like we asked our travel agent when he booked our ticket. We are Hadiwar, which I have never heard of, and therefore I can’t find it on a map either. Did we even take the right train? The information desk isn’t helpful at all, but luckily we meet a man who helps us in exchange for a picture of us with his family. He finds us a shared vikram, which I’d say fits 6 people, but somehow there’s always around 8 squeezed together. The driver asks for a 100 rupees to get to our hostel, but as an older couple board the vikram, he asks for another 50 to buy a seat for our backpacks. As we are in the middle of nowhere at this point, we agree. 10 minutes later, another guy gets on the vikram, and now the driver wants us to put out backpacks on the roof. The old Indian couple take our side, I assume, arguing with him in Hindi. I bet they are telling him that he can’t charge us for a seat if we aren’t allowed to use it. He gives in and continues driving, while Sara and I shyly smile at the couple. It’s kind of humilliating being treated like this, and it’s amazing that someone sees how unfair it is and helps out.
It takes like an hour just to reach Rishikesh, and we just sit in silence, completely squished by all the people sitting in the vikram. I see a few road signs with the words “Elephant crossing”, which makes me laugh. As a Northern, I can’t ever imagine an elephant just casually crossing the road. Ever.
In Rishikesh. our driver is being a pain in the asshole again. He wants to drop us off just at the main road, not the hostel. It will cost a 100 rupees extra if we want to be dropped off at the place we actually agreed on. We try to explain to him that it is an unacceptable way of conducting a business, all while we are squeezing a poor guy between us. We also take advantage of a young student who speaks great English, so we’re sure the driver understands us. We have no idea where the hostel is from the main road, but we’ve read that it’s quite the walk, and we’re not about to embark on a long hike in this heat with this luggage. We are dropped off at the hostel and I hand him 200 rupees because I don’t have a 50, but now he wants 200 more – a total of 400 rupees. No fucking way. I curse at him loudly and start walking up the hill to our hostel – that’s right, he still didn’t drop us off at the exact place we agreed on. He gives me my money back in anger and leaves, then suddenly comes back and asks for them again. While I am blowing up in front of a group of young locals, I give him the 200 and ask him to leave immediately.
By then it is 4 in the afternoon, so our day is pretty much over. We decide to postpone the sightseeing and just chill at the hostel restaurant, where a banana split means deep-fried banana with nutella. Then the power goes out, and we read 50 Shades of Gay on Sara’s Kindle. The end.
The number of times I’ve sworn I’m getting a penis once we get to Thailand is impossible to keep track of. While I enjoy my chesticles and wearing dresses, I can’t survive another 12-19 hour bus drive that only stops for a ladies peebreak once.
In India (as well as many other places in the world) it is perfectly acceptable for a man to pull his pants down and urinate publicly. Women on the other hand not only have to deal with a far less efficient plumbing system, they also have either to find a toilet, or a bush so far away that no one can hear them scream if they get raped. Because, you know, vaginas are gross to look at, penises are totally fine.
Now that’s off my chest, I’d like to announce that we are currently in Amritsar. Where’s that, you say? I have no idea. Bruno said something about a golden temple and we like shiny things. Men here wear turbans and no shoes. When we arrive at 8 in the morning, it is raining and the streets are all muddy and gross. Poor barefoot guys. Of course, when the weather’s shit, there’s also only one autorickshaw driver around, and he wants to overcharge. We get to the hostel, a large apartment block full of Indians, which means it’s cheap and dirty. Oh well.
“I woke up like this”
Now, ever since our psychology teacher in High School told us about her trip to India, where she mentioned that McDonald’s is a vegetarian “restaurant”, I’ve wanted to go just for that. What is a vegetarian McDonald’s like? I’ve been harassing Sara, who is gluten, lactose and life intolerant, and finally she budged today. Finding this World famous place is a bit of a struggle though, since no tuk tuk driver knows what or where McDonald’s is – what? So we need to use two different drivers to get here, since the first one just drops us off by a mall-looking place, far away from everything. Finally, when we arrive, I have a large McVeggie meal and it is 27 kr. 27 kr! Denmark should reconsider the prices, but definitely keep the Big Tasty. Oh, how I miss having dead cow in my mouth.
Getting back to our hostel is the same struggle; two different drivers that don’t recognise the name or address of the hostel, even though it’s super close to The Golden Temple. We rest after our trying day, and at 2.30, we drive to the Indian-Pakistana border for the Retreat Ceremony.
We share a car with two local couples, an old and a newlywed, and they are busy showing us pictures on their phones – Indians love to take hundreds of blurry pictures and then show them all to whoever is willing to look – and they ask to see my husband (we tell everyone we’re married), so I end up showing them a photo of the only guy that’s not Bruno on my phone: Michael from Jaisalmer on a pink scooter. Thanks Michael for sending me that picture, haha.
We get to the border, and that’s when we get seperated from Bruno. All the lines are according to gender, and there’s a seperate line for tourists – these two lines lead to the VIP section. We reunite in this section, standing on a big staircase, looking out on a long street where the two countries meet. On India’s side of the border, local women and children gather on the road and dance and run around with their flag. I recognise one of the songs as Jai Ho from the Slumdog Millionaire Soundtrack. After some dancing, guards do a funny walk towards the gate between the two countries, and then open it. People go absolutely crazy with excitement, and I’ll admit I do too. I find it very moving for some odd reason.
Guy painted flag on my cheek and I took an awkward selfie
On our way back to the hostel, the couples insist we stop by a temple. I follow them, just taking it all in, but hurry back to the car, as the driver tells us we only have a few minutes. We get back, and since Sara and I cannot eat Indian food, because it’s so spicy, we go to Domino’s (it’s close to the hostel, give us a break). This place is also vegetarian, just FIY. I have like two slices of pizza, so Sara gives my leftovers to a poor woman on the street as we head to The Golden Temple for the 9 o’clock ceremony. It starts raining again.
Sneak peek of the inside
Now, this temple is so beautiful, especially at night. People are bathing in the water surrounding this golden wonder, kissing the ground around it, and handing out food for small offerings. Once we get inside, we are hit with the feeling of being very unwelcome, as people take a break from praying to look up and stare at us. Everything inside is golden and so beautiful. People are sitting down, praying, while men are playing instruments and singing in a circle filled with flowers and money. We have a quick look around and decide not to interrupt and invade their space anymore. We’ve lost the ever-curious Bruno along the way and have to walk the dark and narrow alleys to find the hostel by ourselves. It proves to be very challenging, mostly because we both want to set each other on fire.
Now, we are both kind of over India by now. Maybe it’s the food, maybe it’s that we feel unsafe and unwelcome too often, maybe it’s because we’re sober. It’s a beautiful, yet confusing country, and I am forever grateful that I got the opportunity to come here and have these experiences, because so few people actually get to do this. I am ready to move on though, but I still have things to see and do here, so I cannot listen to anymore complaining. I have been writing down some general thoughts and observations about India that I will share when we leave in one week. Until then, know that I miss and think about the ones that matter back home and all over the place.
The view from Taj Mahal – quite an impressive gate, hey?
With Papa Bear
This has been a magical day… Except this is what I look like when my Sari comes off (sorry to those who get offended by my red butt)
