I got up early, once again, to take the train to Agra. It was absolutely amazing how packed the train station was, even at 5:30 in the morning. The train ride was quick and pleasant, by 8am I had arrived in Agra.

I had intended on leaving my bags at the cloak room in the Delhi station, but the line was incredibly long, so I decided I’d wait till I got to Agra, hoping there was a cloak room there. Sure enough, I found the cloak room. Another traveler was waiting for it to open at 8:30, we decided we’d split a cab to the Taj, I thought it’d be pretty interesting to have someone to travel with. But they didn’t let him check his bags, because he didn’t have locks on it. I had read in the guidebook that you should “make sure your bags have locks” and had also been told this by the guy who helped me book my train tickets. Of course, I figured that was only a precaution, that it had to do with people pilfering stuff out of the bags even while they were safely stored. It turned out that this was just the policy. Bags have to be locked. He tried to argue, insisting that he just had dirty clothes and that if someone wanted them, they could just take them. But rules are rules (in a country that I thought didn’t seem to have any law or order). I was glad that I did have locks on both of my bags (even the cloth one that tied with a string). My new friend got sent out to buy locks or figure something else out, so by the time I had signed my things in, he was nowhere to be found. I headed out to the taxi stand, figuring that the pre-paid option was going to be the best. I ended up hiring a cab for the day, which would take me to the Taj, Agra Fort, and the “Baby Taj”, then to the riverbank to watch the sunset over the Taj. It sounded like a good deal, so I went ahead and took the offer. I got in the car with the driver and a guide. Both were very friendly, though the driver didn’t speak much English. The guide told me a little about the history of the Taj, and gave me plenty of warnings not to accept anything from anyone, to be careful of my possessions, and not to feel pressured into buying anything.

I walked down the road toward the Taj, bought my ticket, and entered the complex. The first thing I saw was a spectacular red sandstone entrance gate.

The complex was just truly spectacular. Seeing it in pictures and movies didn’t prepare me for just how incredible it was going to be.

I’ll just let the pictures speak for themselves:

I spent a few hours just walking around, absorbing the place. I would probably have spent more time there if I’d been traveling with others, but as it was, I figured it was time to move on. When I left, the line to go through the security screening was immense. My recommendation: get there as early as you can!

From there, the car took me to the “Baby Taj” which was the tomb of Ittimad ad-Daulah, the father of Shah Jahan, the builder of the Taj Mahal. This one is called the Baby Taj because the design was the inspiration for its bigger counterpart. Though smaller, the marble work is extremely intricate and truly amazing.

Then, the tourist trapping started. My guide assured me that he was taking me to a marble factory, where I could see how marble was hand made, by the same family that had done work on the Taj. This is exactly what I dreaded the most about tourist places. We got forced/lured into the same types of things in Egypt, whether it was someone’s “Perfume Factory” or “Carpet Museum” or “Art Gallery (papyrus shop)” Well, first I was shown the magic of how the marble was made. Not altogether uninteresting, but not what I came to Argra for, and I certainly didn’t appreciate being forced to go. The guy started the sales pitch. The smallest marble tabletop he showed me (about 5 inches or so) started at $340. “Well, this is going to be too heavy. No thanks.” I said and got up to walk away. Well, he was prepared for that one “We’ll ship it to you. Shipping cost is included.” So, I left through the door I walked in, despite his warnings that “The exit is over here!” I opened the door into the “museum” only to see another flustered-looking tourist getting put through the paces. I got in the taxi and firmly demanded to be taken to Agra Fort right away. “Ok, but we have to go to another factory first.” I insisted on going to the Fort, and my guide told me that the visits to these shops are “part of the package”. He explains that each place gives him a receipt that he was there, which he then has to give to the police who run the prepaid taxi stand. After the next place, a really upscale place where I was persecuted by salespeople at every turn (”Sir, can I sell you something?” “NO.” “Sir, what are you looking to buy today?” “Nothing at all.”) he showed me the receipt. He claimed that this was all for my own good, that he was taking me to “government approved places” and that if he didn’t take me there and bring back these receipts, the police would start getting on his case about where he had been taking his tourists. I don’t know if he was just making that story up, or whether it really is a racket that the police are involved with. Either story is completely plausible. Either way, I’m sure that the guide gets a kickback of whatever I would have bought.

After another approved shop, we finally headed towards Agra Fort. He kept trying to get me to take lunch, but I really wasn’t hungry and my stomach was hurting. Of course, as we got to Agra Fort, it started raining. We waited it out in the car for about 10 minutes, then I decided to just head out anyway. It was pretty hot, so the rain wasn’t unpleasant. I really tried to spend as much time in the fort as possible: At this point it was about 2pm, and my train didn’t leave till 8:30. The fort was really spectacular. It had a lot in common with the Red Fort in Delhi, but this was even more ornate.

The pulpit where the Shah held audiences, with a view of the Jamuna River:

There were views of the Taj from everywhere:

And then some parts that actually looked more Fort than palace:

I thought this was pretty neat, what looked like a giant well, but was actually a ventilation tube to the underground chambers below:

The view down the well. (I couldn’t help but think of the scene from the movie 300. “This. Is. Agra!”)

At that point, I was resolute about my gameplan for the rest of the day. I was going to tell the guide that I wanted to buy some water and an ice cream, find an ATM, buy some post cards, and visit the post office. Well, I got in the car, got the ice cream and water, and took me to the ATM. Then he took me to a shop of embroidery. Except, they didn’t actually explain how the embroidery was done, and it turned out to actually be a jewelery shop! Then we went to a curio shop, then a carpet maker. At the curio shop, I managed to find a few postcards and stamps. The carpet making was actually kind of neat, and I talked the guy out of actually showing me his wares, assuring him that I really wasn’t going to buy them anyway.

The guide was still pressing me to get some food, I told him to take me to a coffee shop. He took me to an empty restaurant. I said no. He took me to another empty restaurant, this one a bit nicer. It looked clean, so I figured this would give me a chance to write my post cards and keep my journal updated. I ordered a coffee, and took a look at the menu. The fresh coconut ice cream caught my eye. “Sorry, we don’t have any.” You know what would be great? Is if restaurants told you what they could sell you. Like, maybe printed up a list of things they had, and maybe even put some prices on it for convenience…
How many times have I been to restaurants when traveling where they just didn’t have the first 10 things I ordered? I mean, what is the point of a menu? Here’s a list of things that would be really delicious. You can think about how delicious they would have been while you eat something else. Anyway, he told me that they had the regular flavors, so I ordered some strawberry. I started writing post cards, and then out of the corner of my eye I see a guy walk into the restaurant, into the kitchen, holding a plastic bag containing… two tubs of strawberry icecream bought at the mart around the corner. Sigh.
One of my sets of stamps didn’t work. They just wouldn’t stick to the post card no matter how hard I tried. At that point, the guide and the driver came in and sat down. I complained about the stamp that his croney had sold me, so he brought over a waiter who first tried a glass of water, then went and got some superglue and glued the stamp on.

Then I said I wanted to go to a bookshop to pick up some reading for the long airport waits and flights I had coming up. It took about ten tries to explain that I didn’t want a tourism book, just a regular book. Ok he says, no problem. And takes me right to the tourist shop next door. Among the tourism books, I did manage to find some Indian literature, so I bought that. Then he took me next door to “his brother’s shop”. This was another jewelery shop. He showed me a string of large pearls. Only problem was they were clearly plastic. They had the typical “equatorial line” where the mold plates would have joined and the little dots where the plastic would have been injected into the mold. How much for that? Only $50!!!! I knew I had lots of time to kill, so I spent lots of time in there looking at stuff I had no intention of buying. He claimed he’d just come in from Dhaka, for the cricket match. Well, I produced my VVIP ticket stub from my back pocket. He was unable to do the same. Some fan…

Then my guide took me to the last tourist shop, this time the Uttar Pradesh Official Government shop. The first guy sat me down and showed me a bunch of silks of extremely poor quality. Then he gave up and another salesman “the artist” came over and showed me his silk-screen drawings. These were actually not half bad. He started at 1200 Rs. I tell him I can’t afford it. He drops down to 800 quickly. I tell him I’m really not in a position to buy anything, I have to pay the taxi, get a rail ticket, get another taxi to the airport. I just don’t have the money. He asks me how much I do have, I refuse to name a price, claiming that I don’t want to offend him with some lowball offer. Thinking of saying 100 Rs. He drops to 500. I still tell him I can’t, he goes to 450. “I’m not even negotiating with you! I really just can’t afford it!” Eventually drops to 250. Still sit there stonefaced. I get up, tell him I really cant, and he shouts 200! as I’m walking out. That marks my best haggling to date. Usually, my goal is to get to 1/4 of the first asking price. I know that that’s even usually more than it’s worth. Plus, it’s not like the guy is going to sell something for a loss. So I never feel guilty about underpaying. I guess it really proves that the ultimate negotiation strategy is to act like you don’t want it. Or, in this case, to not want it.

They finally take me back to the railway station. My train arrives right at 8:30. At that point I try to figure out which car I’m in. My ticket says E1, but none of the electronic signs on the platform say E1. I go all the way to the front of the train, where the conductor tells me E1 is at the other end. So I start jogging to the other end, and the train starts rolling away!! So I start running alongside it, and in a Darjeeling Limited moment I had to jump aboard the moving train!

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