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November
8, 1999
This is
Nick Baggarly. Today we traveled from Dehli to Agra.
A couple weeks ago I spent some time talking about vehicle preparations to traverse the Tibetan Plateau. So I’ll answer the second part of that question and describe all the things we did to prepare the vehicles for this expedition.
We calculated fuel costs of .55 cents per liter and time involved-I think it’s a ten hour round trip drive to Agra and quickly decided to save ourselves the cost and Agra-vation (haha) of driving in this crowded country and take the train to the city of the Taj Mahal instead. The train was about $8.00 per person. Agra-vation isn’t far off from our experience because, once you arrive in Agra, the vendors and transportation service people become relentless. They simply won’t leave you alone. It’s actually funny after a while but some members of our team didn’t find humor in being constantly solicited. A friend of mine wrote a song that starts out with the lyrics, “There’s a car out waiting.” The song is called “Relentless” and I’d swear he wrote it about an Agra taxi
We left Ashok hotel at 5:30am in a taxi infested with mosquitoes. The Indian taxis resemble English black cabs of the 1950’s . Todd is interested in buying one. The ride and the feeling one gets inside one of these cabs reminds me of being in an old Mercedes.
As expected, the train was crowded and there was standing room only for the three and a half hour train ride. Buying a ticket was interesting as there was a separate line for ladies that seemed to move a lot faster. A separate line is necessary because in this country, your personal space is constantly invaded with pushing, shoving, and cutting whenever a queue forms. It’s a common practice for the ladies to buy the tickets for their entire family so Chanda waited in the women’s line (which was much shorter) and bought tickets for our group. Once aboard the train, we were standing in the isle, waiting for it to depart the station when Jeff came on board announcing that he scored seats in first class. Jeff had successfully bumped us up to first class (that’s weird!) and we took the opportunity. First class was similar to coach but the seats were larger and there were fewer of them. It included a breakfast sandwich and what I’ll refer to as dixie-coffee-that is a very small cup of coffee that leaves one begging for more.
If you’re ever in India I strongly suggest taking the train now and then. We met interesting people while waiting for the train and on it as well. You also get to see some spectacular and unusual scenes through the window as it winds its way through the countryside. Basically you see people living their lives, doing necessary things like laundry and welding but also scenes of kids doing the things kids do; playing cricket, studying, and running around with their friends. We saw some blatant Human rights violations as well but I will reserve my uninformed opinion on these matters because you see only a split second of these of these situations and there’s no one around to offer an explanation.
The train was nice and relaxing. We all needed a break from driving. Despite the crowds it was nice to know that, once we were on the train, there was very little that could happen to prevent us from getting to our desired destination. We could stare out the windows and converse with those around us without being at a constant state of alert. Today we were not going to miss a turn, have to dodge pigs, or any other objects the roads of India could throw at us.
Nothing could have prepared us for Agra. You really have to experience it to believe it. Like many other stations around the world it had its taxi drivers and multitudes of helpful denizens. Unfortunately, the tactics used were much less than warm and embracing. As soon as we came in through the station door we found ourselves in the middle of a swarming sea of taxi drivers. Once you are engulfed by the swarm all you hear is, “Taxi, Taxi, do you need a taxi”. Meanwhile your bag is being grabbed by multiple drivers, each trying to whisk you away and into there idling cab. The experience is similar ( I would imagine) to being stretched on a Medieval rack while at an ear crunching Who concert, during which, you were trying to solve a complex mathematical equation without scratch paper. On top of this you are trying to be relatively polite about everything. As we were making our way into the Main part of the station we were still trying to be polite, saying no thank you, later, or just no. Our niceties ended when we had 5 guys standing around us simultaneously giving us advice while we where trying to buy our return tickets to Delhi. These guys were trying to help us read the schedules, buy the tickets, find a hotel, they would even have helped us sneeze for a price. Prices were always negotiable, and you would never know what had a price and what didn’t.
We tried to find a corner where we could gather our thoughts, but private corners are not available in Agra. Private conversations are not available either (maybe they could be purchased?). Despite all the help we revceived we managed to buy our tickets for the next day. The next step was getting from the train station to a hotel.
Our friend Chuck Hudson, back home, had traveled here and had suggested a hotel. When arriving in a new city it is always important to have a definite destination picked out when dealing with a cab driver. In this way taxi drivers, will be less inclined to take you on a wild ride. It shows the taxi driver you have done your homework and also shows him your great resolve. Since we were six we required two taxis, we told the drivers to take us to the Novetel Hotel and they agreed. However, we soon realized that it was not the taxi drivers job to take you where you wanted to go. Apparently, the taxi drivers have deals with the hotels , despite where you tell them to go they will take you to where they are on the payroll.
I was attempting to read the small Lonely Planet city map as we speed down the road flying past our hotel of Choice. As we protested the driver told us that the Novetel hotel was not a nice hotel, and for the same price he was showing us a four star hotel. The remaining 5 minute drive was filled with irritation, anger and helplessness, but we soon entered the driveway a palatial hotel. Well it was a four star all right, but bargain rates? As we got out of the cabs around us we saw a marvelously regal structure with beautiful manicured grounds. As we walked into the reception area we were all served mango juice before bargaining for the room rates. Although we didn't trust the taxi drivers, apparently we scored this time. I don't know how common a score like this is, but I am not just not going to question this one. After striking a bargain we retired to our rooms to catch up on the latest Cricket Scores, and check out the amazing deal in which we had struck.
After about an hour of lounging and exploring the grounds the group met and was ready for lunch. The drivers that had brought us to the hotel were there waiting for us. We all got in and they took us to a tourist restaurant claiming there was no other restaurant in town. As we walked in we noticed that the entire client-el were fellow travelers. It was a definite reminder of who was in control in this city. We knew then that this taxi thing would be a constant battle until we left the city (the country?).
The lunch was fine, it was delicious for American/Indian standards, but nothing to brag about in India. Imagine I could describe the food as an Indian Denny’s. In anycase it left us energized to go and explore the city. As you probably guessed, the taxi drivers we waiting right where they dropped us off. Dis-trustful of the taxi drivers, we decided to split forces. One force decided to stretch their legs on their way to the city, and the other group decided to continue the wild Indian ride.
Earle, Doug and I set out on foot trying to find our way to the city center. Glad to be rid of the taxi drivers, we planned on having a free afternoon and a nice walk into the center of the city. There was a nice map of the city on one of the corners and we went over to read it. We were trying to figure how far it really was to the center of the city. Everyone around us was claiming the walk to the city was much too far for us to walk and that we need to take a cab, a bike or some kind of vehicle powered by a local. We opted for the stretching of our legs and began to walk towards the city. As we began to walk the Indian transportation swarm began to form around us. They brought to our attention all of the reasons why we would should take their particular vehicles, which ranged from pedaled rickshaws to the more modern motorized ones. After declining their offers to transport us so often that we became horse, we struck a deal that we couldn’t refuse. Doug and I each mounted a rickshaw and drove the drivers, and our fellow traveler Earle to the city center.
This was all fun and games for us, but it soon became an issue of faith for the rickshaw owner. I must admit that those things are much harder to drive than what I had originally thought. Their rickety frames seemed to have a spirit of their own. When trying to steer right, they seemed to arch hard left before, swinging back to the right. This was a bit hard to get used to, especially when a bus was bearing down on my left side, urging me to the right. I steered right, away from the buses path, however, the rickshaw, believing in re-incarnation lunged toward the bus. Earle, ever faithful, twinged with fear as the original driver shrieked and pleaded, "This is my brothers vehicle, let me drive, please, please let me drive." He and his mates cries feel on deaf ears as Doug and I raced toward the city center.
Although Doug and I had a blast, a memory never to be forgotten, I also believe it will not be forgotten by these unfortunate souls, as we took several years off their lives. We tipped them generously, as we felt this was more of meaningful exchange, than we would have had with taxi drivers.
After driving the rickshaws we felt a little more in command. People had listened to us, we bargained and we had gotten what we wanted. We were quickly reminded that this past experience was only an anomaly. Soon we were awakened again to our surroundings as we made our way to the mighty fortress in the city center. As soon as the postcard salespeople and other hawkers sited us we were accosted until we passed into the fortress, where tickets keep out the underprivileged.
The fortress was built by the same person that had the Taj Majal constructed, Shah Jahan. It was situated on the bend of the Yamuna River. From the heights of this magnificent Fortress you could see the city of Agra, the river and the Taj Majal in the distance.
It was wonderful walking around in this 400-year-old structure, trying to image life here now, and how it was. Beautiful and interesting architecture seems to be an almost universal goal of settled societies, and this structure stood proudly as many people toured through.
Ominous walls stood boldly around the outer perimeter of the fortress. These walls no longer owned by man, had been taken over by monkeys. They carelessly walked from precipice to precipice without any outward manifestation of fear. As we toured this open and airy structure, the monkeys seemed to keep tabs on people and what they were carrying. I am not sure if the monkey was really interested, or was just showing off, when he burst through and open window and stole the bag of a person who was lost in introspection. . Grinning, the monkey began to rifle through the bag with the confidence that no one would have the courage to interfere with his plan. His interest only lasted a minute, but it was enough to scare everyone in the room, and bring a proud beaming expression to the monkeys face.
The stroll was nice and relaxing, but we quickly became aware of our whereabouts when we again crossed the threshold of the fort into the outside world. We waded through the hawkers, the taxi cab drivers, and the debris of the city as we searched for Nick, Chanda and Jeff. We killed some time having a soda and watching a circus being set up in the nearby square. After a half and hour of waiting, we decided to secure transport and head back to our luxury accommodations.
This time we decided to test out the gamete of transportation devices in this country. We flagged down a motorized rickshaw, and deciding when in Rome, we would stuff three people into a vehicle that would only carry one comfortably.
We agreed to a price, however, we soon realized that the final destination was seemingly not understood, as we neared the outskirts of the city. Our driver demanded more Rupees to take us to our hotel, as we maintained that we were owed a complete trip. After bringing in a neutral source to decide who had the better case, the driver reluctantly took us to our final destination. After dismounting the vehicle more bargaining ensued, and both parties departed a bit irritated.
We all retreated to our hotel rooms, and our comfort spaces, where the only sign of India was the beware of Monkey signs on the doors.
We finally met up with Nick, Chanda and Jeff back at the hotel. Apparently they had the family tour of Agra, where they had been taken from store to store to witness the wares of the various family members of the taxi driver.
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