← Notebooks India 2024 Mumbai → Bharatpur · Dec 2023 → Jan 2024 · 8 legs

7 March 2024 — 13 December 2024

Three weeks in India, from Goa to Bharatpur, for a friend's wedding. Eight legs: Goa, Aligarh, New Delhi, Chandigarh, Agra.

India 2024

I never thought I would go to India. Not that it’s too far, it simply didn’t seem like a country made for me: I prefer nature and quiet. However, when a friend said he would have his wedding there, I knew I had to go. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime kind of opportunity.

More than that, I thought India would be a nice starting point for a trip in Asia. I had already been to Thailand, but I wanted to see more and experience it on my own (more on that later).

My initial plan was to:

Land in Goa and rest for a while.
Take 10 days to visit Karnataka on my own.
Go in the North for the wedding.

Let’s say things didn’t really go according to plan. The following is based on what I wrote while I was traveling.

(Time of travel: December 2023 – January 2024.)

Leg 1 Goa

Mumbai → Goa

India travel diary – Part 1: Goa

Dall-E

Arrival

y first glimpse of India is, well, smog. From the airplane, the thick layer of pollution makes the surface barely visible. I’m landing in Mumbai before taking one last flight. I feel like I’m stuck in a ineffable void where time does not exist (that is, I’m tired). Bordering the airport are slums.

All the while, I’m questioning my choice—why did I come here?—but it’s too late now. Exhausted, I pass through security again, fighting my way through, and make my last flight to Goa.

I still have to get to Agonda, where my accommodation awaits. The only way there is by taxi. I choose one provider at random at the airport, not really sure whether the prices are reasonable or not. Just that takes a bit of time—like most things in India, as I will see.

The trip is one and a half hours long, more than I expected. Roads are crowded and not always in good condition here, which means driving takes approximately three times longer than in Europe. This trip is among the scariest I’ve ever experienced. As if the fatigue and culture shock weren’t enough, my driver seems very much in a hurry.

He swerves left and right to overtake, regardless of road marking, or the concept of safety distance. Everybody is honking almost all of the time, in what appears to be a way of communicating one’s presence. This is needed because people don’t really use their mirrors, and because of the ambient insanity of the road.

I’ve already experienced the mildly hectic roads of Thailand. It’s no preparation for India. During the taxi trip, I must have felt about fifteen of these “oh sh** ” moments, where I thought that somebody was going to be badly injured.

But I arrive at destination without anybody being hurt on the way, which is a relief. For the next four nights, I’m sleeping in a tiny bungalow. It’s not exactly clean, but it’s alright. After a meal on the beach, feeling completely lost and disconnected, I need to wait until the wee hours before I feel sleepy.

Beach days

I planned nothing for these three days: just rest, get used to the mood, and get over jet-lag. I thought I knew what to expect of India, I had seen pictures and videos. But it’s a very different thing to experience it first-hand.

This is the first thing I see, stepping out into the street:

The air is hot and humid. People come and go, mostly riding scooters. Some cows and dogs roam freely. I can smell some ineffable odors. Trash is omnipresent, although there’s not that much here.

Even in a quiet and touristic place like here, the contrast between misery and wealth are striking. In a way, it doesn’t feel right for me to be here. How can I just stand here while some people are living like that?

The beach is quite nice and long, and surprisingly clean. (I later notice that, in the evening, some women with baskets on their heads walk along the shore and pick-up the trash.)

On a walk, a young Indian man starts a conversation. He lives in Delhi, but thanks to his remote job, he’s taking a week-long break here. He says I should visit the north, and that I should try to bargain for most things.

The “good thing” about pollution is that I can go out without sunscreen. Look at the sun setting into the smog…

You ain’t seen nothing

That’s right. Agonda is quite the peaceful and tourist-friendly place, for India. I take a taxi (bargaining as much as I can) to reach the small city (read: 100k inhabitants) of Margao. My plan is to take the train the next day, in order to visit Hampi, where the ruins of a 16-century city lie.

On the plus side, my driver is much more careful than the last. On the other side, I have my first glimpse into an India city. To spend the night, I chose the Coastal Pearl Hotel, near the train station. The hotel is rated 4.6 on Google Maps, and costs about 30€ per night (not cheap).

But what I find myself in is a dirty room, with humidity stains and cracks on the walls. The kettle is disgusting and the sofa repulsively sticky… but hey, the bed linen is fine and the AC works. Two thing that I will learn about India are:

Do NOT trust online reviews
Hotels aren’t cheap if you want something okay.

But that’s all fine, the bed is comfy, and WiFi works. Next: let’s go to the city center to find a SIM card (which I haven’t been able to get up to this point) and take a look around. Walking on the main street is… anything but boring. There’s no sidewalk, just a lot of traffic and a lot of fumes. People don’t walk unless they have to, everybody prefers to take a car or a scooter (understandably). Trash everywhere, buildings looking unsafe…

At the telecom shop, I’m asked for my passport, visa and two Indian contact numbers before I can get a sim card. I don’t have these with me, of course… At this point, my idea of taking a look around the city doesn’t sound so good, so I just go back to my hotel. It is not easy to describe adequately what I feel then. A deep uneasiness because of the living conditions, mixed with stress from the utter chaos outside.

In the evening, I’m going to a restaurant 500m away. It’s not a long way at all, but enough to see a lot of things. Here’s a typical scene: animals (usually dogs or cows) roaming over a ground entirely covered by wastes, looking for food.

I arrive at the avenue along the train station. There, simple stalls, run by people who probably don’t own a hundredth of what I have. I see thin people, some worn out by the harsh conditions, some sleeping right on the ground. On the edge of this constant flow of vehicles, the heat and pollution are suffocating.

After what seemed like more than five minutes, there’s the restaurant, with its mediocre storefront and blinking garlands. I step in. The contrast is striking: the AC, the quiet, the well-dressed men at the reception, the tables set and neatly arranged… Every time, stepping in or out of a building feel like entering another universe.

Sitting at the table, I remain with a blank stare for a moment, trying to process all that stimuli.

I order the restaurant’s specialty, that turns out to be very similar to what I have already eaten these past few days. I’m starting to get tired of all the greasy food. The waiter occasionally serves me a few spoonfuls of the dish, it’s… awkward.

Back at the hotel, I realize that actually, Agonda was a paradise. Call me sensitive (and I very well might be) but this experience made me change my plans. I don’t have the will to go through two weeks of this alone.

I’ll be meeting my friends sooner than expected.

Blow Horn

Leg 2 Heading North

Goa → Aligarh

India travel diary – Part 2: Heading North

Dall-E

ast time, I understood that it wouldn’t be pleasant for me to travel alone for an extended period of time in India. Today, my journey takes me to Aligarh. My friend A and his wife M (redacted for privacy) are at M’s family in Aligarh, a “small” city (1 million inhabitants) south-east of Delhi. So the first step is flying to Delhi.

Actually no, the first step is to get to the airport in the first place. At this point I still don’t have an Indian SIM, so I can’t use apps like Uber or Ola (which don’t work anyway in the region of Goa), which means I have to ask the reception. Considering I’ve paid 2300 rupees to go from Dabolim Airport to Agonda, I insisted on paying no more than 1000 rupees for the ride from Margao to the airport. But the guy at the reception refuses to bargain and asks for 1300, insisting that “it’s normal price”, which I know isn’t true. But I don’t really have an alternative, I accept and go to the ATM.

The taxi arrives, and the receptionist immediately demands upfront payment… that’s not good. A minute in the drive, the driver asks me how much I’ve paid.

“I paid them 1300”, I say.

“They gave me 600”, he responds.

New knowledge! If the price isn’t clearly displayed¹, consider you’re being scammed.

On the highway, a truck containing boxes, and resting on the boxes, two men, one sitting, one lying down, both seemingly unfazed by the precarious situation.

Magic Number

When you take a flight, how many times are you asked to show your boarding pass? Twice maybe? Not in Dabolim airport. Here, it’s more like… seven times. Seven must be their lucky number, right?

Before entering the terminal.
Just after entering and putting my bag through X-rays. Registered on a notebook (a huge, actual paper notebook).
To get to security.
After security, because my bag was flagged. Another notebook.
At the gate. That’s obviously the last ti–
Wait, another verification in the queue to the airplane. This is it.
Better safe than sorry, let’s check one last time before stepping into the plane.

If only they took road safety this seriously.

The flight is about two hours long. Visibility is hindered by a thick blanket of pollution

During the approach, I realize the scale of this city. It is massive. Here’s the Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium.

Task no. 3

When I step out of New Delhi’s Terminal 2, pollution is suffocating.

Task no. 1: find a N95 mask. Easy, and I really feel the difference when I wear one.

Task no. 2: find a SIM card. I ask some employees, whose answers were either wrong or unclear, and in any case completely useless. I’m probably not finding one outside of Terminal 3, and getting in would be a challenge… Aborted.

Task no. 3: finding a taxi to get to Aligarh. It sounds simple, but it is not.

On the ground floor of the multi-story parking opposite Terminal 3, there are two desks for app-based taxis: one for Uber, and one for Ola. I first try Uber. The girl at the desk kindly shares her mobile connection so that I can use the app. It does not work: every course I book is canceled.

Let’s try Ola then, the other popular ride-sharing app here. I need to receive an OTP on my phone to register on the app. I never receive it, probably because it’s not an Indian phone number. Back to Uber. This time, the girl calls the driver before my course is canceled, and leads me to the car (which is a good thing, because there are so many cars, and it’s not clear at all where one is supposed to go, and people are honking even here).

But it’s all good, I found a driver in the end. He was waiting while talking to his friend when I got into the car. He asks me to confirm I’m going to Aligarh, and both smile when I say yes, talking in Hindi… I wonder to this day why (maybe because it’s not a touristic city at all, and it’s three hours away from New Delhi).

Up a level

In Goa, I truly saw nothing. Here, however, the chaos is on a whole other, almost cosmic level, unimaginably so even when you try. The traffic is insane, the pollution extreme, and the sound of honking is constant. Words just can’t do it justice. At least more people wear helmets here.

The night is falling. You see stands with a couple of fruits set up, in front of shining skyscrapers. There’s a guy biking along the highway with billboards for luxury apartments in the background.

Two girls chasing each other right in the middle of a four-lane road, and a bit further, some riding bikes. They look to be about eight, maybe ten years old at most.²

Kids inhaling pollution on an old bus, with vacant expressions. And then there’s me, in a taxi, isolated with my AirPods, iPhone, and mask.

It’s a weird feeling, really. This environment is so different from what my brain is used to, that it keeps making predictions, and fails miserably. After an hour spent just escaping Delhi, there’s some quiet time on the highway. The last part is on a long straight road that goes though a few city that I would describe as folkloric, and leave it at that.

Familiar faces

As you might imagine, I’m quite exhausted by the time I reach Aligarh, and finally meet A, M and her family. It’s nice to see some familiar faces. It feels like I’ve been here for so long, although just five days have passed since the start of the trip.

When the time comes to pay the taxi driver, he asks me for more money than what was shown on the app. I am confused. I’ll find out later on that it corresponds to the tax one must pay when crossing region in a tourist vehicle.

M’s family is quite curious as to why I was such in a hurry to come and see A and M. I explain as well as I can, but they can’t really understand—of course, they live here and everything I’ve experienced so far is utterly ordinary to them. How can I explain in words the sheer difference between their country and mine? It’s hard to grasp unless lived.

I talk to M on the rooftop. When I ask her how it felt for her to move from India to Europe, she shares how she grew accustomed to it all, but that upon arriving in Europe, she felt relieved, as if a weight had been lifted. She could walk out on the street without worrying that it might be the last time she sees her family. It was the life she had dreamt of.

Noise doesn’t stop at night, and the bedroom I’m stying in is by the street. Of course, I have earplugs, but even with those I can hear the barking dogs and the honking trucks (which all have their own special honk, for my enjoyment). As I fall asleep, I dream of the road… and of honks.

Incredible India.

And even if it is, you might still be scammed. I once read a review exposing a restaurant with two menus: one marked with a small star at higher prices, exclusively for tourists! More generally, many tourist attraction cost nearly ten times as much for foreigners.↩
At this moment, traffic was bad and everyone went quite slow, so it was probably not as dangerous as it may sound. But it’s still awfully dangerous and shocking to see.↩

Leg 3 A timely interlude

Aligarh → New Delhi

India travel diary – Part 3: a Timely Interlude

get out of bed early after a hellish night, an endless torpor made of the sounds of barking dogs, the commotion of traffic, the burnt smell of pollution and dreamlike memories of a faraway land (a.k.a home).

I spend two days at M’s home, which helps me unwind. Not being alone helps with abstracting away the insanity. Of course, outside everything is still the same, but I can joke about it, talk about something else entirely, share thoughts, be reassured… I couldn’t get to such a state on my own, with everything around me reminding me of the very thoughts I wished to vanquish.

Aligarh

What better way to numb the soul than to go… shopping? That’s right, although it’s still an adventure on its own. Of course, we aren’t going to walk there, nobody does that here, as long as they can afford it. So we take the car, which is slower than walking for the first kilometer. Colorful trucks, cars, but especially crowded rickshaws, and motorcycles swerving around us. Carts full of merchandise pulled by cows or donkeys, or sometimes men. At this moment, the bigger you are, the slower you go.

What do you reckon these stairs are for?

We have a couple of errands to run, I won’t bore you with the details. Simply be advised that stepping in a shop often feels like stepping into a parallel universe; for example from the chaos to a quiet, clean, nondescript shopping mall, or even to a wedding dress shop, where time flows, somehow, very much slower. At least they give tea and sweets to those who wait.

If you have read my earlier posts, you probably think I’ve painted a bleak picture of India—rightly so, I guess. But I have to admit that there is something very special to this country, where you can at times find beauty where you least expect it.

Today, when night falls, it changes the mood from crazy to crazy-but-delightfully-kind-of-cyberpunk-although-not-quite, as you can, I hope, attest from these pictures.

A seemingly popular dessert in India is the sizzling brownie. It’s served on a hot plate, together with melted chocolate, and vanilla ice-cream on top. The plate is so hot that the chocolate sizzles. Delicious. Don’t think about the sugar, shhhhhh.

Time to leave

After two days here, it’s time to leave. I’m super grateful to M’s family for having hosted me on such a short notice. They were welcoming and warm and kind, and it was a pleasure to experience life from their perspective. Encounters like this one are among the best you can have while traveling.

Leaving… leaving to where? Together with A, we are going to New Delhi, in order to meet some of his acquaintances and travel for two weeks. For this, we have hired a driver that will be with us for the whole trip: VJ. It’s a very common thing to do here, when traveling in groups, and quite cheap.

Yes, it does feel quite weird to have a servant who’s available all the time. But it is normal here, and among the many things one has to get used to.

We say goodbye and leave. Aligarh is not a very big city—by Indian standards—but amidst the traffic, we need one hour to get out of it. We spend maybe four hours in the car, before arriving in New Delhi. We have to grab the newcomers from the airport, before getting to our accommodation.

First evening in New Delhi

We are staying at the Hotel Nature View Green Park, a five-minute-walk away from Deer Park. It’s a relatively calm and almost posh neighborhood. It’s already night when we get to the location shown on Google Maps, but the hotel is nowhere to be found, we can’t see any sign.

That’s because there is no sign, and the hotel doesn’t look like a hotel: it looks like every other building in the street. It was probably never meant to be a hotel in the first place. The entrance is a garage door, and the reception is found on the first floor, above a flight of grey stairs. As usual, the staff takes our passports, and proceeds to copy every detail in a giant notebook.

My room is directly opposite the reception. It’s not very clean (there’s plenty of dust and plastic wrappings under the bed), but I wasn’t hoping for much better anyway.

Dinner is taken at The Piano Man, a nearby jazz club. A bluegrass concert is ongoing, which together with the burger, almost make me forget I’m in India (although there’s no beef in the burger).

We’ll get to experience a few places in New Delhi over the next couple of days.

Leg 4 New Delhi

New Delhi

India travel diary – Part 4: New Delhi

Dall-E

A mostly normal morning

m running through Green Park, it’s 8 a.m. The morning light filters through the foliage, and casts stunning beams of light. It’s quite beautiful, really.

Unfortunately, pollution is the reason why those ray are so striking. And I’m not crazy: a N95 mask is tied to my face (the AQI index is around 300, a.k.a “hazardous”).

The eastern part of the park is Deer Park, where you can find, uh… deers. I don’t have a picture for you, unfortunately. Despite wearing a mask, working out feels good—it’s more difficult to keep a good hygiene when traveling, both for sport and nutrition.

On the flip side, the good thing about being in a big city is you have a lot more options when it comes to food. Another way to put it: I don’t have to eat Indian food, which means I can get a healthy breakfast!

(You can get this at Blue Tokai cafés, by the way)

When I eat at an Indian restaurant, though, what I like the most are Thalis. They are an assortment of breads, rice, vegetables, and other fillings. This way, I can get many flavors on a single plate.

This one is a bit special, as it features typical south-Indian food, and is served platter made from banana leafs. The yellow stuff is sweet, but I’m not sure what it is… So, apart from food, what can you see in New Delhi?

The touristy stuff

New Delhi is a huge city. Many of the places I’m going to list are well-known, and there’s a lot more to experience than what we’ve done in two days.

Qutb Minar

A huge Minaret from the twelfth century, surrounded by ruins. It’s pretty impressive, and I really wish we could go to the top, but the access is now closed after many accidents.

(This place also lies directly under the airport’s approach path, which makes it great for observing airplanes.)

Lotus Temple

Much more recent (1986), this temple is devoted to the somewhat obscure religion of Baháʼí Faith. There’s a constant flow of visitors, who have to first go though the park, then though a small facility where the employees’ sole job is to store and retrieve shoes, and finally listen to a couple of explanations. Pictures aren’t allowed inside, but we can stay as long as we like.

Sitting on a marble bench, in the sunlight, in this huge open and silent space is pretty relaxing.

ISKCON Temple

Immediately north-west of Lotus Temple, is another smaller and more lively temple, devoted to the International Society for Krishna Consciousness. Yeah, I know, another religion you’ve never heard of!

Inside, people praying on carpets take up the whole room. It’s the exact opposite of the Lotus Temple: noisy, colorful, many objects and pictures and people talking… Outside again, together with my friend A, are two women selling some kind of holy book, and claiming absolutely seriously that reading it would solve basically all of our problems. And all that for only three hundreds rupees, who knew it was this simple!¹

Behind them is a statue, surrounded by a spiral of exactly 108 flowers painted on the floor (they look like stars to me, and the whole thing seems to be a life-sized board game). People are going from the outside in, flower by flower, saying something every time… I decide to ask the women about it. They tell me you have to repeat the mantra a certain number of time on every flower, and that completing this process would purify your soul.

Uhh, sure! Let’s move on.

Gandhi’s house

This neighborhood is very different. Big wide roads, huge roundabouts, lush gardens, expensive-looking buildings, more police: it’s the whole area south of Rajiv Chowk (previously known as Connaught Place). It’s probably one of the safest and most well-off areas of the city.

The house is surprisingly devoid of visitors, which the employees seem to outnumber. From the house leading into the garden are concrete footsteps, retracing those of Gandhi right before he was assassinated, in 1948.

Inside, a guide wants to show us around. Actually, he demands it, we don’t really have a choice. We are lead in every part of the exhibition almost by force, making use take part in the interactive installation, which is really funny.²

Humayun’s Tomb

Category	Entrance fee
Indian	₹40
Foreigner	₹600

Yes, I know, ₹600 is about 6 euros, which would be on the cheaper side for this kind of place in Europe. But still, this 15x price difference⁴ feels icky. It’s fine for me, but what about people coming from other nations, who might not have much more money than the average Indian tourist?

Anyway, the place is huge! There’s a first tomb (smaller than Humayun’s, but still definitely not your average tomb) where a guy asks me if I want to know more. I’m still naive at this point, and say yes. He shows me around for a couple of minutes, and I say thank you, and carry on.

That’s him, sitting on the ledge. He throws me a dark glance, did I see that right? I’m genuinely confused, have I done something wrong? It takes me a few more minutes to figure out the obvious: he was expecting a tip…

Moving on to the main attraction.

If you think this looks like the Taj Mahal, congratulations! It was indeed an inspiration for it.

Dilli Haat

Dilli Haat is a big outdoor paying market, very touristic and full of overpriced goods, and people tirelessly trying to sell them to you. Would not recommend.

The subway

What I would instead recommend is taking the subway at least once. Not that it’s incredible in any way, but solely for the experience. Okay, let’s start from the beginning.

I’m a Dilli Haat with the others, and I’d rather not spend another minute there before going back to the hotel. I’m not waiting for the driver, and I kind of want to try the subway. I know the entrance is just next to the market, and I see stairs going down with a sign saying “Subway”.

It does not look exactly like a subway entrance, but what else can it be? There’s a man cooking food inside this “subway”, smoking out the corridor, and another one welding something, and then some shady people. At the other end, a flight of stairs takes me up to… the other side of the street, which is shady and is definitely not the subway.

Turns out they call these underground walkways “subway”. How confusing.

The actual subway entrance is fifty meters further, and looks like an normal subway entrance. Good.

Challenge no. 1: buy a ticket

If the machine works and it still give paper tickets and you have cash, then it’s no problem!

But otherwise, you need to queue for the counter³, and understand what the cashier is telling you, while ten people are impatiently waiting behind you, and you realize you are the only non-Indian in the whole station… It is an experience. You’ll get through it.

The fare is trip-dependent. For two stations, mine is ₹10.

Challenge no. 2: go though security

Just like in an airport, you queue for the security check! Luggage go though x-ray, and you go though a metal detector and body check.

Challenge no. 3: try to feel comfortable

Now, New Delhi’s underground is most likely one of the city’s safest public spaces. It’s quite recent, well maintained, and—incredibly—rather clean. But I’ve rarely felt like being the stranger. There’s an incredible amount of people going through the station, yet I see only Indians. Living like a local, I guess.

Challenge no. 4: go back outside

By most aspects, this subway system is like any other, which means you might have forgotten where you are. Depending on your destination, prepare yourself for chaos (as usual).

What about the actual city?

I have mentioned places, without saying what the city looks like.

First: the city is incredibly heterogeneous, more so than any other city I’ve seen⁵. I will talk about Old Delhi later on; let’s now focus on the neighborhood where our hotel lies.

Our street is pretty quiet. Right next to the hotel is a pharmacy, where you can buy, I think, everything without prescription, and also dog food and water bottles and things like that. The ground is uneven, dusty, with the appropriate amount of litter. The electric cables are a the definition of a mess; I’m not sure how there’s not more electric fires, it’s incredible that it works at all.

When, at night, you walk towards the most active part of the neighborhood, streets start to light up and the mood is really nice. The streets are narrow enough that only scooters go through, which is a godsend. It’s the first time I start to feel comfortable in India.

To my eyes, the area screams cyberpunkiness, I love it. It’s filled with small cafés, restaurants and shops, illuminated by neon signs and fairy lights.

A and I go to a Korean restaurants, Dear Naga. It’s quite cozy, and the bibimbap is good. But it’s a somewhat posh area, and things are a bit expensive.

When we get back to the hotel, the staff is sleeping on mats laid on the floor. Okay.

We’ll come back to New Delhi in a little while, but the next stop is a very special city: Chandigarh.

By the way, A decided to buy the book, I should ask him whether his life changed since.↩
I would love to think he was simply proud to show us around, but it was more likely for the tip.↩
In most tourist attractions there’s a 5x-10x fare price difference between Indian and foreigners.↩
Maybe you’d have better luck than me using the app for tickets, but foreign credit cards rarely work with Indian services.↩
Except maybe Bangkok, it’s hard to tell. More on that in a later post, I guess.↩

Leg 5 Chandigarh

New Delhi → Chandigarh

India travel diary – Part 5: Chandigarh

his is not your standard Indian city (if such a standard ever existed), and it’s quite unlike any other city I’ve ever been to. According to some measures, it is the happiest and most well-off city in India, by a fair margin. This is a thoughtful, organized and functional city—it was, after all, designed this way.

The way there

One has to get there first. If, like us, you are coming from Delhi with the car, you will first need to escape its gravitational pull, and pass by a small mountain close to the highway. But, as you get closer, you notice its unique texture and weird shape, the vultures circling the summit. And then you understand: it’s a huge pile of trash. As high as the Taj Mahal itself, there are vehicles pushing junk and shaping the mountain. Human silhouettes are visible on the top, probably looking for salvageable objects.

And then, it’s a ribbon of asphalt that goes on forever, almost constantly surrounded by buildings (it’s difficult to find untouched areas in the densely populated North of India). You might make a pause at a rest stop, which might old, a bit unhygienic, but popular; it might be brand new, imitating “European” architecture with columns, statues, and way too many disparate elements.

We initially planned to stay at a hotel, but after our experience in New Delhi and closer inspection of the reviews, we don’t feel confident in our choice anymore. Last minute, we booked a big flat on Airbnb, in one of the city center’s sectors, that could accommodate all of us.

How Chandigarh is different

As we get closer to the city, there’s at first no significant difference from what we’ve seen so far. But then, as we enter the actual city, the difference is striking.

The city is organized as a grid. The lines on the grid are large boulevards / highways, bordered by trees and cycling lanes. Most of the buildings are no taller than three floors, which means they’re pretty well hidden by the trees. This gives a vibe of openness, and a feeling of not being in a big city.

These large roads a linked by roundabouts, and draw rectangles approximately 800m by 1200m in size. These are called sectors and are the unit of thought for this city.

During the partition of India in 1947, the capital city of the state of Punjab ended up in what is now Pakistan; hence the need for a new capital city. The design was initiated by Albert Mayer, and continued by Le Corbusier. The latter is responsible for the bock design, and has designed many buildings throughout the city.

Each block is meant to be a self-sufficient unit, containing housing, schools, shops and parks, which means people don’t have to travel far for everyday needs. At the center of each block, along the smaller side, is usually a main road with all the shops, and the rest is more residential and quieter.

The city itself follows a human-body-like plan—according to Le Corbusier—including the head (Capitol complex in sector 1), the heart (City center, sector 17), the lungs (a long, almost continuous park that stretches the whole length of the city, easily seen on the map above), the intellect (university and so) and the circulatory system (well-defined road system through eight levels: V1 are the biggest roads, separating the blocks, going down to V7 as you get “deeper” into a block).

Quiet

Our flat is situated on the top floor of a modern building in the North of sector 15. Actually, most of the buildings look quite modern, the streets are pretty clean, and the mood is unusually… peaceful, which is a very welcome change for me. The flat itself is, well, basically perfect. It’s cozy, spotless, spacious, and has all the necessary equipment; and I actually feel at home here.

After eating, I go outside for a walk around the neighborhood. The park in the center of the north part of the block is pretty relaxing. There’s very little traffic in these residential towns, no rickshaws, you’d almost forget you’re in India.

The Head

The following day, we drive (or rather are driven) to the head of the city, where the government buildings are. The army guards the area and checkpoints leading to sensible facilities. After erring some, we find the tourist center, where we find out we can only visit the area during a guided tour… That’s for later then.

But a short walk away is Rock Garden. On the way there, A. and I cross path with a group of maybe twenty young students (you can see them in the picture above). They all gather around us saying hello and wanting to shake our hands.

They ask A. to say something in Hindi. He hesitates a bit, but finally says it, which makes everybody laugh. I wonder to this day what the word meant…

Rock Garden

The entrance fee to Rock Garden is the same for locals and foreigners, which is quite remarkable. This place was built by a government official, at first in secret, and using recycled materials.

There’s only one path to follow, and it never stops turning, going up and down, as if trying to pack the longest way through a compact space. It’s a very unique and relaxed place.

A bit further from the main garden, but still within its bounds, is a large plaza with many swings and a doll museum. It’s a bit random, but once again, relaxing.

The Lake

If you take a look back at the map above, you can see the head at the top (duh), a green square containing the government building. To the right is a smaller green square, containing Rock Garden. Still to the right is the Sukhna Lake, which is actually a reservoir.

The southern part is a long paved way with almost the same feeling as a walk along the sea. There’s an area with restaurants, cafés, and pedal boats for rent.

On the other side, the path is not paved, it’s even called Jungle Trail. It’s a bit much, but we do see monkeys, peacocks, a doe and… chicken.

Every time I’m near those monkeys, it feels off. It’s probably because I’m not familiar with them and they look like tiny hairy humans, but I never quite know if they’re just chillin’, or if they’re gonna try to steal some food from me.

Going around the lake makes for a solid walk. At this point, I’m still only with A., and we’re meeting the others near the start point, where the cafés are. We decide to rent a pedal boat for half an hour.

For this, we need to get a ticket twenty meters from the pier, in a first booth where a ₹500 deposit is taken. Then, we exchange this ticket at a second booth for an electronic card, which we have to scan at the pier, making sure we respect the 30-minute time limit.

As soon as we have the boat, we go where nobody else is, on the other side of a small island, because of course. After a few minutes, we’re told to go back to the other side. We can’t do something normal, so we go head-to-head with the other boats, pushing them a bit. It’s a lot of fun for everybody, including the victims¹!

I’m sure the employees in charge of lending the boats saw us, and even probably judged us. They didn’t say anything, though.

Architecture

In sector 12, you’ll find the Chandigarh College of Architecture. It a very Le Corbusier building: functional, raw, with geometric shapes, and lots of light.

The place doesn’t look like it’s supposed to receive tourist visitors, but it’s open. While meandering inside, the director of the school finds us. She’s so kind as to open the exhibition room for us, and talk to us about the college—and then about the controversy of original vs. non-original pieces of furniture…

I find the place inspiring, but also unsettling by its brutal design. It’s certainly a different style. In one of the room, we find the numerous models made by students for their projects.

In sector 5, there’s another striking example of the city’s peculiar architecture, the Maison Jeanneret. It’s been turned into a museum, although the interior is quite minimalist.

The Capitol

Starting from the tourist center I mentioned earlier, we begin our guided tour. But first, every passport is thoroughly checked and copied. Here, the organization is dubious, and punctuality is not even a valid concept. (But everything works out, eventually.)

We are supposed to visit the Secretariat first. But we just wait there in front of the military checkpoint… (When cars come in, somebody checks its underside with a mirror. But they do not bother to check the trunk. Interesting) … aaaand we can’t go in, because there’s a meeting going on. We specifically came today as we were told there we wouldn’t have been able to go in on the previous days. We’re only able to look at it from afar. It’s absolutely massive, its majesty somewhat lowered by the presence of many disorganized AC units.

Next stop: the Parliament. We have to deposit our phones and bags on the counter inside. Going up two inclined ramps, we find ourselves in some kind of in-between world. We are in the building, but outside of the parliament chamber. The space feels like was made by an underground car park designer, who read too much science fiction at the time. It’s huge, mostly empty except for the very tall pillars (like in the picture here). The parliament chamber itself looks… well… it’s… I’ll leave you to judge, take a look at this Reddit post.

This place is starting to give me strong 1984 vibes, and the rest of the visit doesn’t help. Leaving the parliament, we go up a bit, and end up on a huge empty concrete plaza. There’s a couple of monkeys and trash here and there.

What doesn’t help is our guide. He’s a guide only in that he shows us the way; he’s otherwise completely unhelpful. For every interesting places, he gives a few figures (the kind you could find with a single google search) and moves on. Quite disappointing in this regard, considering the original history of the city.

And to finish, we’re shown the open hand monument. It’s an icon of the city, and a representation of “the hand to give and the hand to take; peace and prosperity, and the unity of mankind”.

I’m overall disappointed in the visit. It’s hard to enjoy such a place without context, which the guide didn’t provide. It’s not beautiful, but it’d have been interesting to know why the architects made it this way, what mindset they had. I don’t feel like I understood this place…

The rest of the story is a lot of eating, and a bit of drama…

There is one last thing. In sector 17, the center of the city, there’s a map of Chandigarh on the ground, made of metal. And on this map, you can see the representation of itself. But I really like maps, and you might not agree with how cool this is…

They did smile, I swear.↩

Leg 6 Highs and lows

Chandigarh → Aligarh

India travel diary – Part 6: Highs and Lows

On the road again

e are on the way back to New Delhi, before returning to Aligarh for the wedding (which is the reason I came to India in the first place), wedding that will make up leg 7. The rest of the group plans to stay in the Old Delhi, in the neighborhood of Paharganj, which the French government explicitly recommends to avoid because of criminal activity. The hotel’s reviews are good, but probably fake. It’s really hard to know until you get there. I don’t want to take any chance, so I just book an AirBnb in a place I know is safe: south of Delhi, close to where we were in leg 4…

On the highway, before arriving in the city, I see the same old Big Pile O’Trash as a couple of days ago, when we drove to Chandigarh. Curious, I check whether it’s on google maps, and of course, it is and there are reviews. The situation is apparently getting better, in that the pile gets smaller and smaller. But in summer, it sometimes catches fire. Imagine living nearby.

The way to the hotel is quite long, Delhi is after all a congested city. We we arrive at the hotel, it doesn’t look as bad as I imagined. But I still have my reservation, so I ask our driver to take me to the AirBnb. It’s “supposed” to take half an hour, according to Google Maps. But the traffic is horrendous, and we end up taking two or maybe even three times that. I feel really bad for VJ, who is going to get home quite late. I should have taken the subway instead…

Even in an AirBnb with a single room, there’s paperwork. The owner has—you guessed it—a Big Notebook™️ on which he writes my name, my passport number, and so on. The configuration of my hosts’ flat is a bit weird: the entrance is at ground level, there’s a couple of rooms, and there’s a flight of stairs going down. Are they living in the basement?

At last alone, in a quiet place, the tension that’s been building within me releases. I’m exasperated of dealing with other people’s drama, I’ve had two weeks of near-constant stress and over-stimulation, and on top of that, a migraine is setting in (it’s like I am in a mental basement). I even get to the point where I imagine taking a plane and going back home right now and how relieved I would feel. Anyhow, I have come here to attend a wedding, and I will.

I lie down listening to a podcast, trying to forget the throbbing pain, and end up falling asleep like that.

Old Delhi

Twelve hours later—yes, twelve—I wake up without pain and feeling better. Tea, music. The others are going to eat somewhere at Connaught Place also known as Rajiv Chowk, a huge circular plaza. I can take the subway to join them there.

When I arrive at Rajiv Chowk, I still don’t know what restaurant we’re supposed to meet at. We have light-speed communication across the globe, connected through incredibly powerful devices we carry in our pockets, yet it’s never been so difficult to coordinate! But we do, in the end.

I have my habits now, when it comes to food, so it’ll be a Thali again.

After eating, the plan is to go to Red Fort. I hesitate: it’s a highly touristic place, it’s going to be crowded, and it’s in the Old Delhi. But I’m already here, I might as well go. It’s also close to the subway station, which is practical for me.

In the car, on the way there, VJ tells us that the place is pretty hard to navigate to, and that it’s better to hire rickshaws to go see Red Fort, the mosque, and the spice marked. Somehow, we circle Red Fort almost in its entirety before we reach the parking. VJ calls his friends, and a few moments later we’re in… not-even-rickshaws: simply three human-powered two-seater tricycles.

How awkward… I feel kind of ashamed, it’s a bit too reminiscent of slavery for my taste. I know, they’re paid and the locals travel like that too. But in those conditions… The large boulevard in front of Red Fort is overpacked like hell, traffic almost at a standstill, people crossing how they can, bikes slaloming between everybody, and all this in a joyous cacophony of horns. It’s so close to hell and absurd that it becomes funny!

Our drivers—our… engines?—are not taking us to Red Fort, quite the opposite. We leave the boulevard to get into Old Delhi, which I’m just imagining as a more hellish version of Delhi (I’m sorry if that’s too much “hell” for you, I’m just trying to transcribe the emotion I felt at the moment).

I don’t think it’s entirely wrong though. It’s more crowded, poorer, messier, probably more dangerous, and even more stimulating. It’s one thing to see people from afar, or some knocking on your car’s window to beg for money. It’s another to be part of what feels like an unescapable mess of tiny streets, and be so close to people living a life so alien. I don’t mean it a derogatory way at all, I just want to emphasize the sheer contrast, a contrast so great that it slaps you in the face, again and again.

We stop at the mosque, Jama Masjid. It’s… disappointing, there’s not much to see; it’s not particularly beautiful. In the center of the mosque, there’s a bassin. People seem to “wash” their arms with it, other scoop some water with their hands, putting it in their mouth before spitting it back.

While we’re there, A. tells me he’d rather live in the jungle than here, even if it meant eventually getting bitten by a snake or something…

Back to our driver-cyclists. We tell them we don’t wanna go to the spice market, but directly to Red Fort. We engage in narrow streets, where no car could go, until we join Chandi Chowk Road, which I guess is the main artery of Old Delhi. From there, because it’s all so chaotic, we just walk to Red Fort, crossing the boulevard we were on at the beginning—which is an interesting experience.

It’s too late to go inside, but we still get to see the beautiful facade. I let the other do whatever they want: I’m taking the subway and going back home!

It’s not so simple though. The ticket machine has no paper tickets anymore. I try the app: credit card refused. So I just queue for the counter. Some people simply skip the line and to directly to the counter; it seems queues don’t work the same way here!

Relax

The next day, I don’t want to do anything special, I just want to find a nice place to eat breakfast. Good thing I’m in the southern part of Delhi!

Then it’s just some walking, reading and working out.

And for dinner, a bibimbap ordered on Zomato, the local food delivery app.

Two of A’s friend are coming the day after tomorrow, and A wants a familiar face to be there when they land. But he and the rest of the group have planned to go back to Aligarh sooner. Which means that I will be the one to do that.

Aerocity

The next day, after checking out and eating breakfast, I need to take the subway to go to the airport. I’ve booked a hotel room, so that I can be in time to greet A’s friends when they land the next morning. And yes, also because the hotel is pretty nice.

Once again, buying the subway ticket isn’t trivial. I ask for a ticket to Aerocity, but the man at the counter is telling me things I don’t understand, with his thick accent, even with all the concentration I can muster. After some hand-waving, I finally get it: I can’t get a direct ticket to Aerocity. He’ll give me a ticket to the station I need to transfer at, and I’ll need to buy another ticket there. It was simple after all.

Aerocity is a brand-new neighborhood with hotels, restaurants and shops, just by the airport. Visually speaking, it could be anywhere on the planet, but that makes all the difference when coming from Delhi. Well, that’s what I see when I emerge from the subway:

Could be better, but it’ll improve a lot once the infrastructure is finished. I booked a room at the Aloft hotel which might be one of the most luxurious hotels I’ve ever stayed in.

The normality and comfort provide a welcome pause. I can just rest, workout at the hotel’s gym, and even swim a bit in the pool. It’s December though (“winter”), so the water is not particularly hot, probably around 12-14°C. It goes without saying that I haven’t seen anybody else in there!

It’s immensely enjoyable to be able to work out in good conditions! It’s otherwise quite difficult to take care of my body while traveling here, both to find the right food and to do enough physical effort.

A very merry Christmas

At the center of Aerocity, is a stretch of kind-of-a-park-but-not-quite, a walking-only area, which leads to a shopping mall, with its food court, restaurants and bars. Today is actually Christmas—the first I spend alone. There’s a Christmas market in the park, which feels just like any other Christmas market. The mood is relaxed.

At the restaurant, on the TV, there’s a sport I don’t recognize. When I ask the waiter what it is, he tells me it’s Kabaddi, an India contact sport, which I think is worth taking a look at.

In the morning, after working out again, I go down to eat breakfast. It’s expensive, but worth it: the biggest, pretties breakfast buffet I have ever seen. There are fruits, cakes, dishes with potatoes, rice, meat, lots of Indian breads, cereals, toast, different fruit juices, olives, cheese. On top of that, you can ask for eggs, omelettes, pancakes with chocolate, waffles… It’s like a dream come true.

Meeting the newcomers

A.’s friends, let’s call them Julien and Claire, are arriving later than planned because of the fog that’s around the airport. I can see on Flighradar24 that they’re in a holding pattern. Which means, more time for this beautiful breakfast…

I do eventually have to go to the airport. After a bit of additional waiting (outside of the airport, as you have to have a boarding pass to get it), they arrive. Like last time, it’s a bit difficult to get an Ola or Uber ride, and then to find the driver, but we manage.

The road to Aligarh is long. I chat with Julien and Claire, trying to set their expectations. They’re only gonna be there for a week, before flying back to Europe—just for the wedding. It’s funny to see them surprised by things I’m now getting used to; although they don’t seem too impressed.

I wonder why that is. Is it because they’re detached from the experience, not taking it at heart? Is it too soon? Are they less sensitive? Who knows…

The highway. The driver talking on the phone. Then the stretch of smaller road, going through cities. Bustling streets, honking trucks, cows eating thrash, shops the size of a cupboard, people smiling back when you smile at them. Slowness. Patience.

About three—or is it four?—hours later, we arrive at the hotel where the wedding will take place. But that’s for next part! See you then.

Don’t quit when you feel like quitting. Wait for three days first.

Leg 7 The wedding

Aligarh

India travel diary – Part 7: The Wedding

fter a long drive, it’s quite a relief to finally arrive at the hotel where the wedding will be taking place. It’s a bit removed from the city, on a long stretch of straight and dusty road, with a couple of stores and workshops around. It’s a pretty nice hotel—especially compared to what you find in New Delhi at the same price.

Because it’s a bit remote, there aren’t any good option to eat out accessible by foot. Instead, I try out the hotel’s restaurant with Julien and Claire. There are some french-sounding dishes on the menu, so I try a Poulet Argenteuil. It’s fine, but clearly not french cuisine!

Day 1

The following day also starts with eating: breakfast is included, and pretty nice! The staff make eggs and omelettes, there’s a pretty good choice of dishes… am I talking about food too much?

Anyway, the wedding will consist of three parts:

Tonight, a small party at the hotel’s bar, with only family and close friends.
Tomorrow afternoon, the traditional ceremony.
Last but not least, tomorrow evening, the large outdoor banquet, in the dedicated space at the back of the hotel.

The above picture is where the ceremony will happen tomorrow morning.

All this means that I have the whole day to myself. Some people go last-minute shopping, and I need some quiet time. There’s a small gym which I’m happy to use—it’s one of the few times in my life where I prefer running on a treadmill rather than outside.

Lots of free time also means mind-wandering. And you know how it is: a wandering mind is an unhappy mind.

I need to figure out what’s next for my travel. My next destination is Thailand, where I’m going to learn to freedive and try Muay Thai (more on that later!) and then visit other countries in south-east Asia. However… I’m not feeling as enthusiastic about it now. India has drained my energy. I feel homesick.

I already changed my flight to leave three days earlier (gratitude for my past self, who had booked a flexible flight), but leaving even earlier isn’t an option for… reasons.

I’m not sure what to do.

Evening. Time for the party! This one is casual, so I keep my usual traveler’s outfit, and go a few floors up to the bar. Not much is happening yet, but everything is set-up: lights, music, waiters and photographers are ready.

Slowly, people arrive, pictures are taken (sometimes a bit intrusively, not something I’m used to), and food and drinks are passed around.

At some point, A. (the groom), is circled by all of the women in the bride’s family, dancing around him to symbolize the transition from her family, to his (although don’t take my word for it, I’m just trying to make sense of my memories here).

It’s all very loud. Yes, I know what you’re thinking; India is loud. But this time it’s really loud, like 103dB-loud…

Even with earplugs, I need to rest my ears once-in-a-while. I’m sure there’s some ear damage among the attendees. Anyway. Everybody is dancing, except, well, you can see it for yourself…

There’s also a cake. Oh and somebody is here for the sole purpose of body painting with henna, for anybody who wishes, which you can see on Claire’s hand on the picture below.

Unfortunately, I don’t have a great recollection of this day, and forgot to take notes, which means I can’t tell you much more about it… Hopefully the pictures tell the story. And don’t forget to add very loud Indian music in your imagination!

Day 2

I wake up relatively early—maybe the breakfast is calling me—and am among the first downstairs, at the restaurant. As people I know come and go, I stay to talk to them and drink chai all the while. Probably too much chai.

Ceremony

Yesterday, we were told that the ceremony would take place at 1pm and we should be there at 12.30pm sharp (a few people laugh at that). In the mean time, I relax and do some sport.

When it’s time, I get dressed—a dark blue Kurta and white pants that I bought back in Chandigarh—and go down one floor to the ceremony area.

Under the tent, you can see two seats, side-by-side, where the bride and groom will sit. It’s also the first time we see their traditional outfits. Here’s A:

Remember the 12:30pm sharp? Well, it’s the Indian version of sharp, which allows more… flexibility. Eventually, things get going. All men are on one side of the corridor, all women on the other. Everything is quite slow and confusing, but we eventually take place on the seats around the tent.

There’s a man, specially hired for the occasion, who leads the ceremony, and speaks in Sanskrit. Which means that almost nobody would understand what’s going on, if not for the presence of a translator, which comments in Hindi, and sometimes in English so that the audience can follow.

At this point, I should mention that A and M have decided to simplify and hasten all the traditional ceremonies into just one. A few weeks earlier, M’s brother also had his wedding, but with the full ceremony. A specific point in this ceremony has to happen at sunrise, which means they had to start at 4am (and they still were late for the thing to happen at sunrise). Of course, some people fell half asleep…

I can only praise their decision, I wouldn’t have wanted to wake up in the middle of the night!

It’s hard to tell what’s exactly going on. In the square brasero, a fire is lit. Then, with repeated incantations (not sure whether this is the right word), plants and spices and stuff are thrown into the fire. Sometimes it’s the ceremony leader, sometimes the groom, sometimes the bride. Some rice is thrown on the couple. There’s also money passed around.

It continues like that, somewhat mysteriously, during an hour. Even if I don’t understand much, it’s still enjoyable to look at, especially as we are served hot chai and soup (it’s a bit cold with the fog). At the end, flowers are distributed to the audience—again, to be thrown on the newly wedded couple.

Then, tradition requires a kind of blackmail-auction-thing between a member of each family. This time it’s the shoes of A’s brother, who “has to” pay an absurd amount to get them back, and the game is that he tries to lower that price as much as he can.

After enjoying a nice buffet, we get some free time until 8pm. Here’s what I look like after the ceremony:

Banquet

It’s time for the big party! At 8pm sharp, I meet Julien and Claire at the hotel’s lobby. It’s not exactly clear where we should go, although… there is some kind of flower-tunnel along the side of the hotel, leading to the back.

At the end of this beautifully decorated “tunnel”, a picture of A. and M., and their close family. Behind, a large square of grass, maybe 50m by 50m. On two sides, food. Lots of food. Grilled meat, fried things, naan, soups, gravies, ice cream, salad, cakes, fruits…

On the side opposite the hotel, from left to right: a dance floor and DJ, a stage, and a large screen with live video from a cameraman.

It’s quite empty for now, apart from the many employees (waiters, cooks…). Actually, I learn that many people can’t come because of the fog. Driving is already really slow here, and it’s even more of a struggle in the thick fog; they would take forever to get back home afterwards.

Now with A., we are four, and start walking around. The waiters, probably eager to show hospitality, follow us (we are the first and only guests for now) and try to make us take food from their platters. The insistence pays off, I guess, as I finally give in and taste random things, one after the other.

In the middle of the square: chairs, tables, sofas, braseros (remember that it’s “winter” and about 15°C). There’s also what would be best described as a banquet table, neatly arranged, with wrapped silverware waiting to be used.

Progressively, more and more people arrive and it gets quite busy. I spend my time going from group to group, talking—and of course—eating. The problem with having so many food stands is that I want to try everything. And I kind of do, in the end.

The number of people grows. The size of my belly grows. Do you know what else grows? The sound volume, obviously. I mean, it’s actually quite reasonable for most of the night (it helps being outside), but when it’s time for people to dance, things get out of hand. 114dB-out-of-hand, to be precise. I wear earplugs, so I’m fine, although I’m a tad worried for the other people.

We’re all having a good time though, dancing and talking and eating.

After eating already way too much, there’s the cake.

(sorry, ate some before taking the picture)

At this point, it’s starting to get a bit late, past 11pm. Logic would say we’re done with the food, but no. Remember the banquet table? We’re invited to take a seat. Then the waiters come and circle the table, with food. We are maybe twenty people at the table, and the same number of waiters around us. I turn off a couple of them, but again, I give in, and find myself with a full plate in no time.

Indian food is certainly a bit repetitive and greasy, but it tastes good. It’s palatable. Mechanically, automatically, I eat—all the while lucid enough to realize I’ll regret it later. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten more in a single night than today!

Things die off around around 1am. I say goodbye to everybody, including M’s family. Some of them tell me something like “I hope you’re not too stressed about India anymore” on a joking tone. I feel a bit ridiculous! But they’re right.

There’s even one—that I just met in the past few days—who tells me she lives in Mumbai with her husband, and would be happy to host me if ever want to come. How nice is that?

Time to sleep. We’re leaving early tomorrow, for the best-known monument in India, and more…

Leg 8 Agra and Bharatpur

Aligarh → Bharatpur

India travel diary – Part 8: Agra & Bharatpur

have been in India for 21 days—exactly three weeks. And… I might be getting used to it? I’m not sure. When I’m with other people in a relatively quiet place, I think “this isn’t so bad after all!” but then I experience the chaos of the road again… But then I see beautiful places and think it’s all worth it. Conflicting thoughts all the way, as you can see.

With everything I ate yesterday, you’d think (and I also thought) I wouldn’t need a breakfast—wrong! My stomach is ready for action again.

On the road to Agra

For the next week or so, and until I leave India, we’ll be traveling in a bigger van, that can accommodate around ten people. This time M. is coming too, along with Julien and Claire. We also have a new driver.

Once everyone is ready, and that luggage are attached on top of the van (I’m grateful for having only a backpack, this doesn’t look safe!), we’re on the road again (again). I haven’t chosen the right seat: the one in front of me keeps reclining all the way down, leaving me very little space.

Agra is about 90 km south of Aligrah, which corresponds to a 3-to-4h-long journey. On one hand, the drive is relaxing because not much is going on (except for the minor annoyance of having the seat in front of me 10cm away from my face). On the other hand, it’s also during this time in between beautiful private places, that I’m reminded of where I am, and what it actually looks like. Eh, I probably don’t need to stress that again after all these posts!

The plan is to go see the Taj Mahal tomorrow morning. Today, we’ll visit another place, the Agra Fort. Like the one in Delhi, it’s quite red! It’s a huge space. As usual, the space around the entrance is quite busy, so our driver drops us there, and goes find another place to park. It’s already half past four, and we have little time to visit.

Sunset on Agra Fort

Built in the 16^th century, the place is huge¹, and filled with tourists—mostly Indians, but also foreigners. I find it quite beautiful and relaxing. There’s no circuit or tour to follow, so our group kind of scatters, and I end up going my own way, enjoying going from court to court and room to room, almost getting lost.

Some of the best preserved area are not accessible to the public, but we take a peek to see inside.

After a while, a whistle is blown, signaling the monument will soon close. I find the others without too much trouble, in spite of the size of the place.

The sun is setting, and everybody’s slowly leaving, which means it’s going pretty slow. Our driver picks us up, and we go to our respective hotels / guest rooms. In the evening, we meet at a rooftop restaurant nearby. It’a already late, and the waiter takes so much time to take our order (half an hour?) that I just go back to my room and sleep for the early visit tomorrow.

Taj Mahal

We meet at 8am the next day, hoping to be early enough to not have many people at the Taj. It’s not a long drive.

The entrance isn’t directly accessible by car. We get dropped at the parking. From there, there’s a fifteen-minute walk to the actual entrance, for which there’s also a shuttle. We choose to walk there, taking advantage of the large, dedicated sidewalk. The closer we get, the more people there are selling stuff (like over-shoe tissue to get inside the Taj), and the last couple of hundred meters are bordered by numerous souvenir shops—which reminds me a bit of the Mont-Saint-Michel. Note that there are two tickets: one to get access to the outside, and another one to get inside the Taj Mahal, which might be confusing at first.

As you can see, many people have gotten there before us. What’s a bit more disappointing is the fog: the white building with a white background, and diffuse light, isn’t as impressive as it could be in good weather. It is fine though, we barely have to wait to get a ticket and go inside.

I don’t know if it’s the weather, or if I unsconsciously had high-expectation, but I found the experience underwhelming. So underwhelming that I forgot to take any picture from inside. That might sound a bit crazy, but here’s the thing: you cannot just hang out inside. It’s a short one-way tour between two fences in a snake-shaped crowd, and a couple of minutes later you’re out. It sure is beautiful inside—complex patterns meticulously carved in white stone—but I was expecting big open spaces, a bit like a cathedral. But they’re rather small rooms, not at all what it looks like from the outside¹.

The exit is on the backside of the monument. From there, you can see the Yamuna river down below. Some unrecognizable objects float peacefully in there.

On both sides of the Taj, there are smaller buildings. But overall, there’s a lot less to see than in Agra Fort. Taking a last look before going back the way we came.

Tomb of I’timād-ud-Daulah (or “Baby Taj”)

A lot less famous and busy, this place constrasts quite a bit with the Taj Mahal. Right, it is a lot less impressive, but there’s something else. I’m much more into the mood here: it’s quiet and charming, even if the building itself isn’t in its greatest shape.

The inside is not incredibly well preserved, but it’s like I can feel the history there. It’a much more intimate experience to be alone in one of these rooms, rather than in the crowded space of the Taj Mahal.

And like in a lot of places here, there are also monkeys roaming around, living their life (and maybe sometimes stealing food).

Fatehpur Sikri

On the road to Bharatpur, there’s an ancient city, abandonned four hundred years ago. It was founded as the capital of the Mughal Empire, and is now a UNESCO site.

One does not step into Fatehpur Sikri alone. First, you go to the big parking space which is outside of the old city, and then take a very old bus that takes you to the site, higher on a hill.

This place is quite nice although a bit empty. And like many monuments in India, there’s no explanation about history, architecture, or anything.

We just roam in the place—it’s pretty big. There isn’t a whole lot to see, unfortunately.

There’s one last thing to see: the mosque. It looks like any other mosque in India, except for a small building at its center: the Tomb of Salim Chishti.

In the whole site, and especially at the mosque, there are a tad too many people trying to sell trinkets or scam tourists.

A last bit of road

We still have some distance to cover to get to Bharatpur, or rather to a small village near Bharatpur where we’ll stay for two nights, New Year’s eve included. The road is long and straight and the night falls. Until we take a right turn, on a road that gets suspiciously twisty and degraded.

Some time later, we arrive in a small village. There’s some confusion as to what the right way is. We end up on an unlit dirt road. At the end of it, is our hotel! It wasn’t the most direct way, but we got there. People in the village kind of stare at us.

The place is a traditional housing converted to a hotel, of which the staff seems very proud. They take us on a small tour around the property, and then to our rooms.

The rooms are cold and the furniture very basic. Some beds are missing, but hey are prompty brung. Although the property is quite special, it’s still a bit disappointing for the price (for which would have gotten us something more comfortable even in Europe).

The hotel’s restaurant (which is of course the only option we have for dinner in this village) is by the pool. It’s good. It’s Indian food like everywhere though!

Enough for this part. See you next time, dear reader!

After checking on Wikipedia, it turns out it is the largest fort in India.↩

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