Fatehpur Sikri

Day 6, close to the midpoint of my trip to India, was the most frustrating day of my trip.  I really started to question whether I wanted to continue traveling the way I do.  But before the frustration set in, I had the best train ride ever!

Train to Agra

I had to check out of the fabulous Hotel Pearl Place in Jaipur early to catch my train to Agra.  When I got down to the lobby, the staff was sleeping on the lobby furniture.  That was an improvement from when I checked out of the hotel in Jodhpur and the staff was sleeping on the floor!  They were totally friendly and didn’t mind me rousing them from their sleep.

My ride to Agra was my 3rd train ride in India.  It was on this ride that I was starting to figure out Indian trains.  At first I was confused because I had a 2nd class berthing compartment.  Why would I need a bed on a morning train?  It turned out that this was actually better accommodations than the 1st class seat I had from Jodhpur to Jaipur.  It was more of a lounge.  There were a couple seats and 2 sets of bunk beds.  But the lower bunks converted to reasonably comfortable bench seats.

Upon leaving Agra, it was just another guy and me in the compartment.  He seemed quiet and standoffish, like me.  After a short while on the rail, I was ready to crash, so I stretched out on one of the lower bunks.  (My “seat” was actually the upper bunk.)  After the first stop along the trip, a young, modern Indian couple boarded and took their place in the compartment.  I apologized because I was stretched out on the woman’s bunk.

The couple turned out to be extremely friendly.  So friendly, in fact, that I got over my typical social anxiety and joined them in conversation.  The guy who boarded with me in Agra turned out to be quite the chatterer as well.  I actually got the impression that he was a crazy British guy.  That was confirmed when he referred to himself as a crazy British guy.

The couple had been visiting the husband’s family in a small city between Jaipur and Agra.  They talked about how the husband’s mother was the best cook.  Soon they broke out some food the mother had prepared for a train breakfast.  They offered some to me, but being a picky eater, I politely declined.  The crazy British guy, on the other hand, started chowing down.  The 3 of them were raving about the food.  They were all enjoying it so much, I relented and said I’d try some.  They weren’t kidding.  It was quite tasty.

For most of the rest of the way to Agra, the 4 of us engaged in lively conversation.  Most of the time, the couple talked to us about life in India, especially about the clash between modern life and traditional culture.  After a while, I climbed up to the top bunk to nap.  But I returned to chat some more well before our arrival in Agra.  By the time we pulled into Agra, hours after departing Jaipur, I was filled with a sense of elation.  I was grateful to the couple for their friendliness and for the mother’s outstanding culinary skills. This is what travel is all about!  This is why you get a passport.  I felt that I just hadn’t traveled to India.  I felt like I had conquered the world!

Then I arrived in Agra.

Tuk-Tuk Torment

By the 5th day of my trip, I was getting frustrated with aggressive, relentless tuk-tuk drivers.  I decided that I would bypass the drivers flocking at the train station entrance, forcefully trying to get me to ride with them.  Instead, my plan was to head out to the parking lot and look for idle drivers.  I figured that these less aggressive riders would be less likely to charge me the highest tourist rates.

I arrived in Agra, pushed through the gang of drivers, found a driver hanging out in the parking lot, and asked him for a ride.  I was a little surprised that we had to walk a bit to get to his tuk-tuk.  Why was he hanging out at someone else’s tuk-tuk?  But whatever.  We took off after I told him the name of my hotel.  But in a moment, another guy spoke a few words to him and then hopped onto the tuk-tuk.  I figured the driver’s buddy had asked him to drop him off somewhere on the way.  No big deal.  But no, that wasn’t it.

This guy–on the upper range of middle-aged, and with many missing teeth–seemed more like a manager, or at least someone else with influence.  And he did his best, with hardly a moment to catch his breath, to influence me to spend my money in accordance to his wishes.  Like many drivers who drove me to my hotel upon arrival in a city, he was determined to sell me his tour guide services.  It didn’t matter that I told them I had everything already planned out.  They all tried to convince me that I need them.  But none could hold a candle to this mostly toothless guy.

The ride was 20 minutes or so, but felt much, much longer.  Maybe I looked like I had money or needed help.  The old guy just wouldn’t stop trying to get me to spend my money on his services.  I really wondered where the driver fit in.  Maybe they figured they’d make so much money on me that they would split it and still strike it rich for the day.  In my mind, though, I was starting to think I may take advantage of one service–the ride they offered from central Agra to Fatehpur Sikri, my only destination for the day.

We finally arrived at the Hotel Taj Plaza.  It was pretty nice.  It was a little weird knowing everyone was there for the same reason I was–to see the Taj Mahal.  But that would have to wait till the next day.  Today it was Fatehphur Sikri.  At the front desk, I asked about the bus to get there.  The clerk advised that it wasn’t a good bus ride.  So that settled it.  I told the driver and his cohort, who were waiting out front for me, that I would hire them to go to Fatehpur Sikri, wait for me while I was touring the place, then drive me back to Agra.

The ride to Fatehpur Sikri was close to 2 hours.  There was a lot of cattle along the side of the highway on the way, as well as farmers with equipment that looked like it could have been in use several centuries ago.  Not a lot of modernity.  Once we got out of the city, the dentally challenged haranguer let me be for the most part.  When we finally got closer and past a fork in the road, a guy on the side of the road started hollering excitedly.  The driver and companion shooed him off.  He was someone hoping to sell his guide services.  There were more solicitations as we continued to approach.  At last, we pulled into a parking lot.  It was still about a mile to the site.  But this was as far as they were allowed to take me.

At the parking lot, I had to switch to another tuk-tuk with a different driver.  He was authorized to take me the rest of the way.  I relaxed because he seemed like a nice guy who wasn’t interested in selling me anything other than the drive.  But he wasn’t who I had to worry about.  Soon after we left the parking lot, a kid jumped on board.  He had to be a pre-teen.  He was determined to be my tour guide for Fatehpur Sikri.  No matter how many times I told him I wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t give up.  The driver almost had to physically kick him off the transport to get rid of him.  Shortly after that, we arrived at Fatehpur Sikri.  For my arrival view, see the picture of the large gate above.

Jama Masjid

My new driver had to take off to shuttle more visitors back and forth between the parking lot and the Fatehpur Sikri site.  He wrote down a number that I should call when I was ready for him to pick me up.  I told him I didn’t have phone service, but he said it was no problem.  Any of the guys congregating in the area could give him a call.  A weird system, but it works.

I took a look at the massive gate atop a long set of stairs.  I was ready to begin touring and leave the hassles of getting around India behind me.  My plan had been to tour the main Fatehpur Sikri complex first and then tour the adjacent mosque.  But I came to realize that the massive gate was in fact the gate to the mosque.  I didn’t see any obvious alternative, so on to the mosque it was.

If you’ve read this far, you’re probably wondering just what the heck Fatehpur Sikri is.  Fatehpur Sikri (“City of Victory”) was built by Akbar the Great to be the capital of the Mughal Empire.  In 1571, Fatehpur Sikri replaced Agra as the capital of the Mughal Empire.  Akbar thought it was a more serene site, compared with the hustle and bustle of hectic Agra.  And trust me, I can relate!  But Fatehpur Sikri only held the distinction for 14 years.  In 1585, Akbar moved his capital to Lahore, which is now in Pakistan.  (Lahore is known as Pakistan’s great Mughal city.  I’m dying to see it.)  Lahore itself only reigned for 13 years.  In 1598, Akbar moved this capital again, this time back to Agra.  The guy couldn’t make up his mind!

So, back to Jama Masjid.  Like a good visitor, I took off my shoes at the entrance to the mosque.  A young man quickly approached me.  He kindly offered to give me a tour of the mosque.  At first I declined, but he was very polite and, naturally, very persistent.  So I figured, why not?  I might as well get the tour guide experience at least once on my trip.  (But he also heavily implied that a tour guide was required.  That should have tipped me off.)

The young guide showed me around very quickly.  (This reminded me why I prefer to be on my own.  I like to be able to take pictures at my own pace.)  Most significantly, he took me to see the Tomb of Salim Chishti, a Sufi saint.  The tomb, built in the late 16th century, is made of very delicately carved white marble.  In fact, it looks like ivory.  I could enter the tomb because I am male.  I had to cover my head before entering.  Women need to view the tombed through the carved marble screens.  Funny, I don’t have any pictures of this fabulous structure.  I guess because I was rushed.  At least at first I was rushed.  Then I just wanted to move on.

During the quick tour, my guide kept telling me that he came from a family of stoneworkers.  When our brief tour came to its end, the guide took me to an area where he had scores of trinkets laid out.  He dubiously told me that they were treasures created by his stoneworking family.  In fact, they were trinkets you could find all over India.  I did buy one.  After all, I was in the market for souvenirs.  I wouldn’t pay his asking price.  He kept giving me the hard sell to buy more, following me out to the courtyard of the mosque.  I finally told him to go away.

I was free now, but in a mad mood.  I had not been enjoying anything that happened on Day 6 after the fabulous morning train ride came to an end.  I couldn’t wait to move on to the palace complex.  I regret now that I didn’t get a good picture of the Tomb of Salim Chishti.

The Palace Complex

I thought my frustrations would end when I got to the palace complex.  I was wrong.  I arrived at the complex and paid my admission.  But I couldn’t orient myself.  Nothing I saw matched anything in the very detailed illustration in my guidebook.  No matter how many times I wandered around the complex, nothing was jibing.  I was pretty much ready to thrown in the towel.

Just about ready to give up, I noticed a lot of people walking through a garden situated at a lower elevation.  I head down a short flight of steps, across the garden, and up another flight of steps.  Lo and behold!  I found myself in the complex I was looking for.  It seems that I had entered through some back entrance.  That seemed strange though, as the entrance was directly accessible from the mosque.  Whatever.  I knew had arrived where I wanted to be when I saw the Panch Mahal right in front of me.

After finally being able to enjoy the sights at Fatehpur Sikri.  I achieved a small bit of repose.  Nobody was trying to get money from me or otherwise harass me.  It was all red sandstone and serenity.

On the Road Again

I enjoyed touring the palace complex at Fatehpur Sikri.  But seriously, I really enjoyed the serenity there.  (Well once I figured out where I was.)  Naturally, the ended as soon as I left the complex.  Walking back to where I was supposed to meet my short-term driver, a bunch of kids approached me.  They were very friendly and wanted to know where I was from.  After winning me over with their charm, they asked me for my Fatehpur Sikri entrance ticket.  I realized the charm offensive was a ruse.  They just wanted something from me.  I figured it was some sort of scam (if not scamming, me then someone else), so I didn’t give it to them.  They did not appreciate that at all.  All charm dissipated.

In accordance with the plan, one of the guys randomly hanging out in the street called my driver for me.  Another one of the guys started chatting me up.  Really friendly guy.  Then he asked me for money.  Oy.

So the driver brought me back to the big parking lot where my main driver and his aggressive friend were waiting for me.  From there, the drive back to my hotel in Agra seemed like it would never end.  Traffic was bad.  No surprise there.  But what made it insufferable was the relentless hard sell the toothless guy was giving me.  All the tours he wanted to give (i.e., sell) me.  He showed me a picture of himself with some young Westerners.  This was his proof to me that Americans love him.  Perhaps I wanted to stop at a shopping place on the way back to the hotel?  (At some place where he was sure to get kickbacks.)  He insisted the next day he would give me a private tour of Agra–despite my repeated protestations that I had the day planned and I would do it by myself, on my own, sans guide.  He never gave up the entire ride back to my hotel.  By that point, I was just about over India and my adventurous do-it-yourself style of travel.  Why can’t I travel like a normal person?  And go to normal places?

Here’s the good news.  Day 6 was almost over.  And Day 7 would begin soon enough.  Two words:  Taj Mahal.

[Factual information is primarily gathered from Wikipedia, so you know it must be true.]