Delhi to Agra

 Move out day. I’m ready to be rid of this hotel. The area is unpleasant and lacks anything for me other than a metro station. Water is heated in the mornings and evenings only a you have to draw for 20 minutes before the pipes warm up. It shouldn’t take so long but the building has no heat either. They’re out of electric heaters and the blanket they sent to my room is black. At least the chai is good.

All aboard the big tourism van. Our first stop was a walk and chat with a man who grew up sleeping rough on the streets of Delhi and now works for the organization that saved his life. Walking the alleys by the main railway station it is abundantly easy to tell who spends time in places like these and who does not. We run the gamut from zippered pockets and jackets over our beltline to wallets held in front of our bodies for safekeeping. As the joke goes, I don’t need to outrun the bear, I just need to outrun you.

Our Quaker City

Our next stop is a Sikh temple near the market area I visited yesterday. We walk the interior, learn the basics of the religion, and see the kitchen. A large machine knocks out chapatis for thousands every day. I need to get me one of those. In the temple, my breakfast caught up with me and I had my first experience with the Indian bucket bidet. There’s nothing quite as humbling as walking into a bathroom and realizing that you literally don’t know how to shit properly. An exhilarating experience.

Our final stop in Delhi was a mosque. Fantastic Islamic architecture hemmed in by Delhi’s haze. I think if you grew up in this city you could go to Manhattan to relax.

A clear day in Delhi

All aboard. Off to Agra. We steamed along for some time before stopping for Indian food at a rest stop. One of my favorite pastimes in a California road trip. The Punjabi-Californian trucking association runs heavy so all along the interstate you can get good curries and chai. India is no different. One solid thali and I’m back in the van rolling down to Agra. I’ve been chatting in the van with Honor, a nineteen year old from London whose attendance has made me thankfully not the youngest on this adventure. She’s taking a gap year, waiting for college entrance season to come around. Wandering the earth. Sounds familiar. 

After a few hours we arrive at the baby taj, a tomb on the outskirts of Agra. This structure is often seen as the prototype for the motifs that would later grace the Taj. Islamic lines, inlaid gems, polychrome, stone cut so fine it looks like it may break in an instant. On the way out the Canadian couple is stopped by a group of Indian tourists from a village not far from here. They want a photo. They’ve come to town to see the Taj and along the way have seen a white person for the first time in their lives.

Le Petit Taj

I’m breathing easy in this city. The air is clear here, at least compared to Delhi. The AQI sits at about 150, still my lungs are thrilled. We arrive at our hotel and learn it is a veritable bed of luxury. Hot water all day and all night. Clean sheets. What more could a man ask for? A drink of course. 

Honor and I set off for a cocktail bar with a neat menu. Quality mixology with Indian flavors. After sipping the domestic single malts, Honor and I work our way through the cocktail list. A perfect nightcap.