The magical, the mystical

I think I may have mentioned in a previous post how hot it is here? Allow me to reiterate that. It is hot, and what makes that even more fun is that it’s humid as well. I actually love the heat of summer, but when it’s 95 degrees and the humidity is above 90%, that is too much, people. I’ve been sweating in places on my body where I didn’t know it was possible to sweat. My clothes (and everyone else’s, lest you think something is wrong with me) are soaked by the end of the day. I read a story about India where the narrator described how the roots of her hair were wet. I can now empathize.

I apologize if that was graphic, but now you’ll understand if my face is particularly shiny and gross-looking in these pictures from the hottest day of our trip so far. You may recognize this monument. Oh yes, I’m talking about The One. The one you’ve all been asking about. The Seventh Wonder of the World. (Trying to give appropriate buildup here.)The magical, the mystical…

THE TAAAAAAAAAAJJJJJJJJJ!!!!! (Mahal, that is.)

 Yes, that’s right, folks. After a week in Delhi, we made the four-hour trek to Agra to see the world-famous site. And it did not disappoint:

The Taj Mahal is every bit as awe-inspiring, every bit as beautiful, as it is in the pictures. A quick bit of background, while trying not to bore you. (If you happen to be the world’s leading expert on the Taj Mahal, you may skip this paragraph.) Finished in 1648, the Taj Mahal was built by the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan as a maeusoleum for his wife, Mumtaz Mahal. He was supposed to build an identical tomb in black across the river, but he died or ran out of money or something before he could. Today, the Taj is an Islamic holy site, which is why you have to cover your shoes before you enter.

Sexy.

I was most interested to see if the Taj’s appearance is more “real” in person than it is in pictures. Do you know what I’m saying? How, even in photographs, the mausoleum has this slightly unearthly quality of being not an actual building, but painted like a picture? I report back to you now that in person, the Taj Mahal does look like an actual, three-dimensional, very concrete structure. (When I used concrete in that last sentence, I meant the opposite of abstract. The Taj is actually made of inlaid marble.)

Of course, we had to go inside after coming all that way. The interior is surprisingly very small, dark, and crowded, with a sort of latticed marble fence surrounding the tombs of the Shah Jahan and his queen. (Did you know that the emperor’s tomb is the only non-symmetrical part of the building? Am I being annoying enough yet with all these facts?) Plus, it smells musty and funny inside, and people keep trying to make spooky noises, which echo and actually do sound spooky. After one too many sinister-sounding “oooooohs,” I was more than happy to go back outside.

I took way too many pictures, but the weird thing is how many people wanted to take pictures of me. My Uncle Mike, who comes to India often on business, warned me that as a white girl, I would get a lot of stares. The staring doesn’t bother me, but the pictures do. Many Indians, especially men, like to take pictures of or with white people. Apparently it’s a status symbol here, but to me, it’s just creepy. We haven’t seen many races other than Indian here, even at tourist sites like the Taj, so I guess I kind of understand. Kind of. Not really.

The bolder ones silently snap photos of us as we’re walking by (not trying to hide it at all, I might add). For those, I try to cover my face or turn my back. The politer (?) people do at least ask, but when I refuse, they beg: “Please, ma’am! Please!” I’ve stopped trying to be polite. I’m not an animal in a zoo! It’s really disturbing that you want a picture with me! Not to mention, what do you say to your friends and coworkers when you’re showing your pictures? “Oh, here’s me and a random white girl in front of the Taj Mahal.”

We did eventually have to leave, and it was sad, but to be honest, I was relieved. We were melting. We had been warned that the Taj tour guides will take you to shops their friends own in return for commission, and ours did not disappoint. I and several other people in my group wanted to see the Agra Fort, but noooooo. Instead, we were ushered into a shop that sells inlaid marble in the same style as the Taj.

I admit, it was beautiful, but I had already bought my inlaid marble souvenir. Plus, I’m turned off by pushy salespeople. Nothing will convince me not to buy your product faster than you pressuring me to buy it, and that’s pretty much the modus operandi here. Bored and a bit skeeved out, I wandered around and giggled and the ridiculous things made of marble that I will never buy.

Seriously, where would I put this?

On the other hand, maybe I just needed a different view of things.

Happy birthday Mom!

Another four-hour trip across the freeway commenced, with our first glimpses of rice paddies and straw huts and people sitting on the side of the busy road. We cooed over the baby monkeys chewing power lines in Agra and, after a rousing and somewhat inexplicable chorus of “Buffalo Soldier”, we were back in Delhi to begin our second week there.