India Day 7: Agra-Fatephur Sikri-Jaipur

Upon arriving at the bus station in Agra, we wandered into a building that looked like it sold tickets. Luckily we were going to one of the two or three places that everyone in Agra goes to, so an old, weathered man directed us to a bus. I wasn’t immediately sure if the bus was actually still part of the fleet, since it was in worse shape than many buses you see rotting in vacant lots. Despite the many holes in the floor, seats missing, glass shards on the floor, Danthemanstan and I were able to find a seat without too much glass, and despite our incredulity, the bus filled up with a mix of other tourists and locals, and headed to Fatephur Sikri.

After alighting, we took the scenic route through the town of Fatephur to the city’s famous mosque and palaces. My missing a road on the map allowed us to join the locals instead of all the other tourists through a bustling bazaar. It was nice to walk through the bazaar and not be haggled by hawkers-which was a sure sign we were in the wrong place. My senses were fully utilized as the bazaar combined amazing colors, wretched smells, and constant honking horns into a commercial melee. We climbed up to the top of the hill that Fatephur sits on, and despite open sewers, copious amounts of cow and goat droppings, made it to the mosque clean enough to be allowed admittance. The mosque was impressively large and very Persian-the red stone differentiated it from more Arabic/white mosques. Reminiscent of Jesus turning the money-changer’s tables in the temple, immediately upon entrance a man approached me asking to exchange a five dollar bill for his five one dollar bills. Nothing holier than trying to cheat a visitor, right? More enjoyable than the fleece haven of a mosque was our walk around the various former palaces of the wives of the Mughal emperor Akbar. It was incredibly calm and quite clean compared to the city down the hill.

On the walk away from the ruins toward the road to catch a bus I had a moral quandary. I like buying, sending, and receiving postcards, yet I hate touts. So, generally, I try to buy them from a gift shop. But, I didn’t see any gift shop at the palaces, and as we walked we were approached by a child tout. As I looked at his postcards, another two came up, one definitely older than the other two. I said I wanted to buy some, but there was a disagreement between the boys, and the older one hit a younger tout. I was shocked by this, and sternly told the older kid to stop. Yet, I had already told the original, younger kid I would buy some postcards. As it worked out, the younger kid did not have change, but the older kid did, so I ended up buying from the younger kid but giving the money to the older kid (they all have the same, cheap postcards). I forced him to give the younger kid some money for the postcards, and left it at that. I feel guilty for supporting the child touts (they should obviously be in school-but that’s a bigger issue) mostly because I don’t know where my money actually goes, and whether they are working voluntarily. Another part of me says that they had what I wanted, when I wanted it, and I gave them money for providing me with a timely, and useful product. It’s the touts that chastise me for not buying their useless trinkets that really grind my gears.

So, the ever reliable Lonely Planet had but one suggestion for getting to Jaipur from Fatephur Sikri: stand by the side of the road and hail down one of the frequent buses. We stood at exactly the location they suggested. No buses came. We went and asked two or three different people, they all concurred-we should wait in that spot. No buses came. We watched group after group of Indians pile in a cart attached to a tractor. No buses came. We briefly considered the great story to tell versus horribly uncomfortable journey points of riding in a tractor for about 250 kilometers. No buses came. We started to talk to the auto-rickshaw drivers about how much it would cost to drive to a city nearby that might have a bus. Then, lo and behold, a bus came. We stood, cramped and hot, for awhile-but then snagged seats. The four hour journey was pretty pleasant, with occasional glances at the sun setting above the yellow, scrubby, rocky land. After getting to Jaipur, we had an interesting exchange with the hotel owners (after getting a walking pick-up-necessary in India-not a lot of grids outside of Delhi). They wanted us to go to another hotel they owned, which was less conveniently located, but had a cheaper room. We went along, and it was a great decision, as we got a wonderfully nice hotel room for 850 Rs.