Agra, February 16

Good news: I'm still alive! You should expect me to know better than trust an Indian railway information officer, but for some reason you remember only the good points about a country, not the bad ones. So I trusted the officers. I will now dedicate this blog entree to complaining about India, so if you don't like negativism, please stop reading. At least the negative part gets registered this way. For a next time, or for any progeny I'll have that carries my travelling genes.

Grrr... just now a macaque-like creature snatched the empty can for hot chocolate off my table and ran away with it. The attendant here makes a sport of shooting at the monkeys with a small catapult, as if that keeps them at bay. Looking up I can see five pairs of monkey's eyes staring at me from over the edge of the roof. Anyway, it wasn't my can...

So to begin my rant with, it stinks of urine. In the streets, everywhere. Yuch. And there are cow pies everywhere, because Indians worship the filthy bovines instead of making hamburgers out of them. By the way, animals are everywhere. Cows, rats, dogs, pigs, monkeys and goats, everything walks across the streets, straight through the traffic. And garbage is everywhere too. Not just garbage, but piles of it. The cows are grazing in it. Small children are playing in it. Dogs are fighting over it. And one more thing: there are just too many people here. Most are miserably poor, horridly filthy, and in the case of some beggars, hideously deformed. Oh, and it is dusty here. If you cross the street, especially by rickshaw, you're breathing in clouds of dust and smog. And there is noise everywhere. And it stinks. Of urine, yuch. Why did I ever leave Nepal...

Allaaaaaaaahu akbar. Laaaaaa, insha'allaaaaaaaaah illallaaaaaaaaaaaaah! The other fifteen mosques of the city are now joining the mu'ezzin and of course they were never taught to do it in synchrony, so it's one big cacophony again.

Shit lies everywhere. Because people just do it when and where they feel the urge to. Seeing what food they eat (curry, dhal) that urge must rise often. As for the animals, they eat the garbage, so that explains their continuous bout of diarrhoea. As a result, the streets are covered in shit. The riversides are covered in shit (and garbage). The platforms at the stations are covered in shit. Even inside busses, the floors are covered in shit. Yes, really! The train floors are full of it too. And since there is never place, you have to put your bags in it and sit in it too.

Ah Rick - you're such an idiot. Never, never trust that you will get somewhere in time in India. It's just not happening. And if you do travel, start in the early morning, even if your destination is just 200 km onward. Like, for example, going from Lucknow to Agra. You can never be sure to arrive the same day.

I slept in a railway station last night (Tundla), because there was no train connection to Agra. "Yes sir, you can get to Agra this evening. There are many connections. You just change trains in Tundla." Said the information officer in Lucknow. And then his colleague in Kanpur also. Idiot, don't believe them! Or ask them for a schedule next time. Didn't sleep much of course. Instead I spent a couple of hours in the office of the station manager of Tundla. The guy had a big moustache and spent his time making important phone calls and shouting at his subordinates. He shared the office with a particularly fat rat. It was, like the manager, rather busy - running around the room all the time. At last he had had enough of me and ordered me out of his office (the manager, not the rat). He told me to go to the waiting room, a windy place that stank -of course- of urine. The other dalits (untouchables), wrapped in blankets, all stared at me with dark eyes while I took a place in the corner. At last I fell asleep on top of my backpack, with my hand on my wallet. For two hours I slept. Surprisingly, I wasn't robbed. Why did I ever leave Nepal...

It was 4:30 when the speaker (in Hindi) announced the imminent arrival of the train to Agra, Jaipur and other dusty ratholes further west. The journey itself only took half an hour (all the time I had been only 30 minutes from my destination!). Meanwhile, my backpack tore and I discovered I was bitten by mosquitoes -all over. I don't like that, cause I still don't have medication against malaria. The train arrived at Agra. I recognized the fort, and the Taj on the far bank of the (holy) Yamuna river. Of course I was swarmed by rickshaw wallahs at the station, but I ignored all and walked 3 km to "tourist rest house", a place I stayed 12 years ago. Taking a rickshaw or taxi to your hotel often means that the bill becomes 50% more expensive - they ask the hotel staff for a commission.

"Tourist rest house" has changed beyond recognition. A glass front building has been constructed. The pleasant patio is still here, but this's now become an upmarket hotel. My room cost me 750 rupies! I was so tired that I didn't even argue though. Especially since they promised me a hot shower and wifi internet access. The hot water has still to materialize, but the wifi works. At least: it works in the patio, not in the room. Anyway, I'm still alive.

And sometimes, India can be incredibly beautiful too. The dalits and pariahs in the train will suddenly look up and stare at the architectural wonders created by the long lost emperors Akbar, Jehangir and Shah Jahan. They live here, so they know the places. But they still all stare, eyes fixed. That is India too: sudden, immense beauty. It is unreal, untouchable, but it is there. Like the people themself. It is the contrast that makes the experience so extreme.

I love it. I like it. I believe I wanted it. Or maybe I want to believe it. Today I slept until four to make up for the night. And tomorrow I will find a tailor to repair my backpack and a pharmacy to buy malaria pills.