I woke up 'bright and early' as the saying goes, ready to get the heck outta Delhi. My driver wouldn’t be at my hotel until 10am, per my request, thinking I’d want to sleep in late. It was only 6am and I couldn’t sleep any longer in the sheet-burrito I had wrapped myself in to keep the mosquitoes offa me. I woke up, did some meditating, trying to get that high I get when I’m at church, but church seems so far away that it was the simply me going through the motions of prayer but not really feeling it. ‘Oh well, at least I did them’, I thought. Now to get a start on the day.
7 am: went to bank, withdrew money, my funds are short already, damn.
7:15 am: Washed two pieces of toast and jam with Indian chai at the hotel (see 'Humorous Encounters with the Local Indian Culture' Part 2)
8:30 am: Headed to computer lab. Rashmi wrote back. Spent that time responding to her email.
9:15 am: Headed back to the hotel, grabbed luggage, met Chander- my driver, downstairs.
I am headed now for Agra, the city famous for being the home of the magnificent Taj Mahal.
I read a book most of the way to Agra, reading about Agra while watching the country landscape seated in the bouncy back seat of a 1950’s Mercedes. As I passed along the hectic roads, I realized how different life is here, the frenzied viccistudes of life permeate every inch of Delhi and its outskirts.
We arrived in Agra, and I couldn’t help but think how much India reminded me of rural Mexico. SO much poverty and urban sprawl. I understood what Rajiv meant when he said that it was such a pity that the surrounding areas of the Taj Mahal are in such disrepair. It was very third world, except for this one mega mall, oddly situated on the corner of town.
We arrived at my hotel, which was nice, but quite touristy- Hotel Amer. The lobby was filled with tired, aggravated travelers, mostly whom were dark skinned and I think from Africa? I couldn’t detect their accents, but they spoke in English. They might have been British black folk, I don’t know. The younger black girls stared at me, like the rest of everyone who stares at me, marveling at the curly aerodynamics of my hair.
I only had a bit of time in my hotel to freshen up until I would meet my tour guide to take me to the Agra Fort. It was late in the afternoon by now, almost 4pm. The trip to Agra had taken about 4 hours with a rest stop along the way. I wasn’t hungry, and hadn’t eaten since the piece of toast at 7am. I find that I am not eating much here in India, another symptom of jetlag. By normal standards, I am showing traits of anorexia, but it really is just the jetlag. I am not hungry at all nor do I even want to eat out of obligation.
I knew that I would get sick if I continuted this reluctant fast, so I asked my guide when I met him to take me to lunch first before the long walk around one of India’s must famous forts. We ate our lunch, in much haste, because if I didn’t eat it, the flies that swarmed at the restaurant would have (see 'Humours Encounters...' Part 3- The Tour Guide)
We headed to the Agra Fort and it was absolutely astounding.
After the Agra Fort, I headed back to my hotel and showered, uploaded photos and sat frustrated in the room trying to connect to the WiFi the hotel claimed to offer. Tomorrow was the Taj Mahal, but tonight I would treat myself to dinner at Amar Villas, Conde Nast’s pick as one of the top hotels in the world. I wondered how the world’s best could be situated in this forgotten city but behind two marvelous gates, just north of the Taj Mahal is Amar Villas, one of the most extraordinary hotels I would ever encounter.
I cannot explain how beautiful this places is, but I shall attempt to do so. The architecture was reminiscent of a maharajas castle. The extravagant marble inlays held half precious stones that were designed with such great detail that it was hard to believe that it was designed my human hands and not an act of God. Handsome attendants anticipated my every move by opening doors, greeting me, bowing as I passed. This, I thought, is luxury. It seemed strangely empty and very quiet, kind of like the hotel iin the Shining. Maybe it was off season. But I really think it is because at $500 a night to stay there (and that’s the smallest room for one person), this palace didn’t get packed except maybe during peak season.
I walked down the long marble staircase to one of the two restaurants below. This one was called Ephihani. Exhuistely decorted and ornately thoughtful, this was a restaurant to inspire the senses.
A man and woman played in the far end of the intimate restaurant, on the sitar and drums
I was waited on hand and foot by gorgeous waiters, and found myself seduced by every aspect of Ephi[ani. The music was sensual, the food was flirtacious, the wine – delightful. After being served a nice glass of wine, the chef came over to my table. The chefs cooked behing glass for the diners to watch prepare the fine meals. But my view was facing the musicians so I only had a corner to watch them if I wanted to. I focued on the entertainment. So the chef comes over and asks if I needed any help with the menu. Very classy. I was so happy to not be in the messy intensity of India for once, and being treated like a true visitor not a sucker. We chatted about the menu and in about 20 minutes, one of the best meals I have had in my life came to the table.
For all of my food loving friends, I must tell you what I had for dinner, it was exquisite and it would be an insult to the chef not share her creation:
7 am: went to bank, withdrew money, my funds are short already, damn.
7:15 am: Washed two pieces of toast and jam with Indian chai at the hotel (see 'Humorous Encounters with the Local Indian Culture' Part 2)
8:30 am: Headed to computer lab. Rashmi wrote back. Spent that time responding to her email.
9:15 am: Headed back to the hotel, grabbed luggage, met Chander- my driver, downstairs.
I am headed now for Agra, the city famous for being the home of the magnificent Taj Mahal.
I read a book most of the way to Agra, reading about Agra while watching the country landscape seated in the bouncy back seat of a 1950’s Mercedes. As I passed along the hectic roads, I realized how different life is here, the frenzied viccistudes of life permeate every inch of Delhi and its outskirts.
We arrived in Agra, and I couldn’t help but think how much India reminded me of rural Mexico. SO much poverty and urban sprawl. I understood what Rajiv meant when he said that it was such a pity that the surrounding areas of the Taj Mahal are in such disrepair. It was very third world, except for this one mega mall, oddly situated on the corner of town.
We arrived at my hotel, which was nice, but quite touristy- Hotel Amer. The lobby was filled with tired, aggravated travelers, mostly whom were dark skinned and I think from Africa? I couldn’t detect their accents, but they spoke in English. They might have been British black folk, I don’t know. The younger black girls stared at me, like the rest of everyone who stares at me, marveling at the curly aerodynamics of my hair.
I only had a bit of time in my hotel to freshen up until I would meet my tour guide to take me to the Agra Fort. It was late in the afternoon by now, almost 4pm. The trip to Agra had taken about 4 hours with a rest stop along the way. I wasn’t hungry, and hadn’t eaten since the piece of toast at 7am. I find that I am not eating much here in India, another symptom of jetlag. By normal standards, I am showing traits of anorexia, but it really is just the jetlag. I am not hungry at all nor do I even want to eat out of obligation.
I knew that I would get sick if I continuted this reluctant fast, so I asked my guide when I met him to take me to lunch first before the long walk around one of India’s must famous forts. We ate our lunch, in much haste, because if I didn’t eat it, the flies that swarmed at the restaurant would have (see 'Humours Encounters...' Part 3- The Tour Guide)
We headed to the Agra Fort and it was absolutely astounding.
After the Agra Fort, I headed back to my hotel and showered, uploaded photos and sat frustrated in the room trying to connect to the WiFi the hotel claimed to offer. Tomorrow was the Taj Mahal, but tonight I would treat myself to dinner at Amar Villas, Conde Nast’s pick as one of the top hotels in the world. I wondered how the world’s best could be situated in this forgotten city but behind two marvelous gates, just north of the Taj Mahal is Amar Villas, one of the most extraordinary hotels I would ever encounter.
I cannot explain how beautiful this places is, but I shall attempt to do so. The architecture was reminiscent of a maharajas castle. The extravagant marble inlays held half precious stones that were designed with such great detail that it was hard to believe that it was designed my human hands and not an act of God. Handsome attendants anticipated my every move by opening doors, greeting me, bowing as I passed. This, I thought, is luxury. It seemed strangely empty and very quiet, kind of like the hotel iin the Shining. Maybe it was off season. But I really think it is because at $500 a night to stay there (and that’s the smallest room for one person), this palace didn’t get packed except maybe during peak season.
I walked down the long marble staircase to one of the two restaurants below. This one was called Ephihani. Exhuistely decorted and ornately thoughtful, this was a restaurant to inspire the senses.
A man and woman played in the far end of the intimate restaurant, on the sitar and drums
I was waited on hand and foot by gorgeous waiters, and found myself seduced by every aspect of Ephi[ani. The music was sensual, the food was flirtacious, the wine – delightful. After being served a nice glass of wine, the chef came over to my table. The chefs cooked behing glass for the diners to watch prepare the fine meals. But my view was facing the musicians so I only had a corner to watch them if I wanted to. I focued on the entertainment. So the chef comes over and asks if I needed any help with the menu. Very classy. I was so happy to not be in the messy intensity of India for once, and being treated like a true visitor not a sucker. We chatted about the menu and in about 20 minutes, one of the best meals I have had in my life came to the table.
For all of my food loving friends, I must tell you what I had for dinner, it was exquisite and it would be an insult to the chef not share her creation:
I ordered a thali, a traditional sampler dish of Rajasthan. The thali included black and red lentils called daal esphahni. This was accompanied by prawns in tomato and yogurt, chicken in a rich tomato sauce as well as spinach simmered in green peas and corn, biryani rice with raisins, naan, yogurt with tomatoes and cucumber which is called "raitha". There was also a white fish called khati machi, or sour fish in a yogurt-tamarind white cream sauce. I daintuly washed it down with Sula, a Sauvignon Blanc native to India. For the appetizer I had chicken tikka and pan fried cottage cheese and a vegetable cream soup. The dessert was out of this world- cottage cheese simmered in milk, carrots, saffron, sugar and milk along with fig ice cream.
At the end of the meal I noticed two large glass doors leading outside with a sign that stated for Hotel Guests Only. 'Bah', I thought, 'I’m here, I want to see outside'. What I saw next moved me to tears. I went outside and before me was beyond imagination. Gorgeous stairways led to sparkling lagoons lit by lanterns, there were archways and long walking paths leading into the warm breezy night. Gardens led into a world of infinity and grace, intentional detail with every bloom and stretch of the moonlight. It was an eternal oasis, dreamlike and endless. I stood in awe of what I could not take my eyes away from. I fumbled for my camera but as I looked through the lens, I realized that the pictures would never do this place justice. I placed my camera back into its case and stood longer, taking it all in. I tried to think of how I would describe this place. “No words”, I whispered as tears rolled down my cheeks, “No words”.
