So my hovel was not any more forgiving in the light of the early morning, given that during the night it converted into my very own small brick oven. It was too hot to sleep under the mosquito net because the meager fan couldn’t penetrate the material. And there is only one outlet in the entire room, occupied by the aforementioned fan, so I couldn’t plug in my mosquito repellant device, which had been working quite nicely for me in Bangalore. Even though I was exhausted from traveling I couldn’t sleep, partly because I was so damn hot, and partly because I was worried about the ceiling caving in on me. I was going to do some research today about the best way to visit Agra (check the price of a bus ticket, train ticket, etc.), so when I got back to my cell last night I asked the night worker what it cost to take their bus tour. He informed me that they only go on Thursday (today) as Friday is their day off, and that I could take A/C or non-A/C. Seeing as how I have from my mother inherited an insatiable desire to find a bargain, and also because when I spend a long time in A/C I often get headaches and sore throats, I chose non-A/C. It might be hot in Delhi, but I preferred to feel the wind on my face to feeling the A/C giving me goosebumps and a head cold on the 5 hour ride to Agra. I realized that I would be much easier to take the bus that would come pick me up at my hostel, and drop me off at the points of interest (the Red Fort and the Taj Mahal) than it would be to take a train to the Agra station, and then be hassled by every auto-rickshaw driver in a 10km radius to swindle me out of my rupees and take me on the scenic route to the Taj Mahal.
So I decided just to go with the non-A/C bus tour. I would be picked up and dropped off at all the proper places, and it would be a set price that would require no bargaining on my part. Now, I might have chosen differently if I had realized that what was meant by “non-A/C” was that I would be sitting in the front of the bus with the driver and 6 other Indian men, all of us on benches as there are no actual seats in the front of the bus. I am once again the only woman, and once again, everyone is staring at me. If there is one thing I can say that I really don’t appreciate about certain other cultures, is that the men can stare all they want and it is not considered inappropriate. But if you, as a woman, so much as look up to meet their gaze you are considered to be coming on to them! Arrrggggg! It is sooooo frustrating! So I appease myself by looking out the window at the beautiful scenery flying past us, and plugging my ears to blog out the incessant horn-honking. The driver is all too liberal with the horrific, high-pitched, dissonant sounding horn, and the flies are biting at the mosquito-bite wounds on my legs. All signs point to a very bad decision on my part. I was greedy about my sight-seeing. I should have just stayed in Havelock an extra day or two, and then flown on directly to Thailand. I could have sat on the beach, gone for an extra dive, hung out with Daniel and my hottie dive instructor Vikas, drank Kingfisher, and worked on my tan. Instead, I thought to myself, “I can’t leave India without seeing the Taj Mahal” when in fact, after seeing it, I rather think that I could have. The problem with seeing huge tourist attractions like this, is that they are swarming with tourists. And along with the tourists come super abnoxious and pushy salesmen. For example, I’m waiting at the bus for the rest of my (non-punctual) fellow travelers to come back, and there is some very persistent seller of carvings standing at the door to the bus and telling me he loves me. Having told him to go away and leave me alone several times has not helped; in fact I’m beginning to think he doesn’t know what the words mean and just likes to hear me say them so I’ve resorted to ignoring him.
The other great charm of this particular tourist attraction, is that if you are an Indian, it costs you 20 rupees to get in. If you are a foreigner, it costs you 750 rupees to get in. And there are absolutely no ATM’s within a 50 km radius of any of the major attractions here. I was told by the driver when we stopped at the first site that there would be an ATM where we stopped for lunch. I hadn’t had time to find one the night before, and I naively supposed that at a site that attracts such huge crowds there would surely be an ATM on the premises. So we stopped for lunch and when I ask where the ATM is, the waiter points to the right outside the door. Thinking I am in luck, I walk out the door and turn right. There is no ATM. Upon further questioning, I discover that the ATM is a 1km walk to the right of the restaurant. And my tour director tells me there is not enough time to walk there and back before we have to leave for the Taj. I tell him I simply don’t have 750 rupees and have to stop before we get there. He has other plans. He commissions one of my fellow passengers to lend me the money (which was humiliating, especially considering 750 rupees is quite a lot of money), and then the bus is going to stop on the way home at an ATM so I can repay him. I don’t exactly look the part of a dependable return of money. I’m sweating like a pig in my white kurta and it looks like I’m trying to be the runner-up for a wet T-shirt contest. People won’t stop staring at me, which I guess is one of the great treasures of traveling India as a single white woman. Don’t get me wrong, the Taj Mahal is incredibly beautiful. And the Red Fort is also quite impressive. But I think spending two weeks in a gorgeous, secluded tropical island and discovering the amazing experience of diving spoiled me. I was so relaxed and at peace with myself. I should have known better than to come back to the chaos of the mainland to tackle Delhi on my own. I should have just bought some post cards and told a couple of white lies and left for Thailand immediately. Ah well, hindsight is 20/20. But now I’m sitting on a bus, sweating and being bitten by flies, and waiting for the rest of my tour group to get back here so that we can head back to Delhi. After today, I am actually looking forward to my jail cell! It’s amazing what perspective can do for you. And had I known that everyone was going to be late, I would have taken the time to pee before getting on this god-forsaken bus. But I didn’t, and god only knows when my next chance will be. Ladies bathrooms aren’t exactly a commodity at the places we’ve been stopping at the roadsides, and men just pee wherever they damn well feel like, so it’s really not fair. I mean, I have no qualms about peeing in the wilderness, but it’s not exactly appropriate for a woman to pop a squat on the side of the road so I’m not sure what I’m going to do. Time will tell I guess?
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