One of Mumbai’s horrible slums, seen on the way to the airport.
Our first view of the Taj Mahal, a serious contrast to the slums we have seen.
Squeekie at the Taj Mahal.
Part of the luncheon entertainment.
The Red Fort at Agra, near the Taj Mahal
Inside the Red Fort at Agra; the Mughal Emperors lived here for several generations.
Where Shah Jahan was imprisoned by his son for eight years . . .
The view of the Taj Mahal that Shah Jahan could see from his prison room.
Worker at the inlay factory
[Dear family and friends: Squeekie's account of her trip to the Taj Mahal is worthy of your reading. I thank her for permitting me to use it verbatim in my blog. Enjoy!]
Sixty-fourth Day (Tuesday, March 24, 2009)-- I woke very early this morning for my all-day excursion to the Taj Mahal. At 6:00 AM, all of the passengers taking this tour had to report to the La Fontaine to retrieve passports and have a face-to-passport check by the Indian immigration officials who have been traveling on board the Rotterdam. I am not sure when they boarded. The tour group met at 6:45 in the Queen’s Lounge for last minute announcements and to get our boarding passes for the flight to Agra. There were 97 of us traveling today, requiring four buses to transport us to the Mumbai airport. I was in a group with several people who also had been on the China overland excursion, so I knew I would have a good time.
The ship is docked at the Indira Docks near the downtown area of Mumbai, but under strict military control. Military vessels and cargo ships filled this busy port, yet I didn’t see the kind of security we had experienced in Kochi. Once off the ship, we immediately boarded our buses which took us to the Mumbai International Airport for our chartered flight to Agra. I was not at all prepared for what I saw from the bus window as we drove through the streets of Mumbai to the airport. Literally thousands of people—men, women, and children—live in the streets using whatever they can find to define the space they call home. Trash and dirt were everywhere, yet many of the people were bathing themselves with soap and brushing their teeth. Some women were seen kneading dough right on the sidewalk. From my vantage point on the bus, I could see entire villages of people living in makeshift rooms. Shops of all sorts—barbers, food stalls, shoe makers, fruit stands, etc—were also seen, some in similar makeshift rooms, but others just set up on a table or cart, or, worse yet, laid out on some dirty rags on the ground. The housing in one village we passed backed onto a waterway and primitive toilet rooms literally hung from the sides of the so-called houses so the sewage could fall directly into the river. These people were lucky, I guess. Others had to carry little buckets into the bushes near the river to relieve themselves. I found this poverty to be appalling.
Our transfer at the Mumbai Airport went smoothly. As with airline regulations in other countries, no liquids were allowed through security. Each person not only went through a metal detector but also was frisked by a security agent. The female agent for my line was friendly, but the airport itself was not at all welcoming. Everything was painted grey it seemed, and it was obvious that nothing had been repainted in many, many years. Our group waited in the waiting room for our flight to be announced. Then we boarded buses which took us out to the tarmac and our awaiting plane.
I was lucky to be assigned a window seat in row 2 on this jet-liner. Fortunately, our group filled the entire plane because we were crammed quite closely. The distance between the rows was even shorter than on similarly sized American commuter aircraft, but the plane was clean (or so it seemed). There were no audio or video amenities. The safety and emergency procedures were announced by the cabin crew in both the Indian language and English (I wonder why they bothered with speaking in their language since all the passengers on board spoke English?), and then our flight was ready for takeoff.
The sight out the window as we flew over Mumbai was appalling as well. Village upon village of those makeshift housing units could be seen for miles. It was difficult to perceive where land ended and the atmosphere began because both were so dirty. Soon we were at cruising altitude and the landscape below became desert-like.
The flight attendants served a hot breakfast with three choices of entree. I asked for the omelet but got the vegetarian offering. It didn’t smell good even with the foil lid still in place, and when I took the lid off, I found that the appearance was just as disgusting as the smell. It was a good thing I had had a good breakfast on the ship before leaving this morning. Once everyone was served, the flight attendants came through the cabin with coffee and tea. I was thrilled that the tea tasted very good.
The rest of the two hour flight was uneventful and before long we were landing at a military airport in Agra where we met the local guides who would be escorting us to the Taj Mahal. We boarded buses for the relatively short drive to the Taj Mahal. Since petroleum-fueled vehicles are not allowed near the site, we switched to electric buses at a local hotel to take us the remaining distance to the Taj.
When we disembarked our bus, young boys approached our group insisting that we purchase postcards, guidebooks, refrigerator magnets, and other souvenirs from them. Our guide, PK, instructed us not to purchase from any of them because that will just invite more pestering from even more of these street hawkers. Even though I ignored those boys that approached me, they continued to follow me like I was a sort of Pied Piper. The street was lined with little souvenir shops, but I didn’t see the same poverty that I had in Mumbai.
Our group entered the Taj Mahal site through the East Gate and into the forecourt. The four gates and buildings defining the forecourt are all made of red sandstone. The Main Gate is distinguished by its larger size and by the marble insets inlayed with semiprecious stones which decorate the exterior. Walking through the Main Gate, my breath was taken away at the first glimpse of the mausoleum itself.
The Taj Mahal was built by Shah Jahan in loving memory of his wife, Mumtaz Mahal, the Empress of India. Shah Jahan was fond of building large palaces and huge monuments, building not only the Taj Mahal but also much of Fort Agra. Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal were inseparable lovers, and often times she followed her husband into battle. They had fourteen children, but she died during the birth of the last child in 1629. PK told us that Mumtaz had three final requests of her husband—never remarry, take care of the children, and “build a beautiful and incomparable monument over her grave as a token of their worldly inseparable love.”[1]
Construction of the Taj Mahal complex began in 1631. PK told us that over 20,000 men worked day and night for 22 years to build it. Built without the benefit of modern construction equipment and computer assistance, the building really is an engineering marvel. The complex is exactly symmetrical along the central axis. Ramps were built and rebuilt as needed to give the workmen access at the correct height to construct the marble walls. Intricate designs were carved into the marble panels decorating the exterior and interior walls. Marble lacework and inlays adorned many of the walls and openings. It really is mind boggling to think that the construction workers did not know how well their work was progressing until the job was finished and all the ramps were cleared away.
To the left side of the white mausoleum is a mosque. An exact twin is on the right side of the mausoleum, but this building was just there to keep the symmetry.
We had to wear booties over our shoes in order to enter the mausoleum to see the stone marker for Mumtaz Mahal located in the center of the rotunda under the central dome. Her remains, however, are actually in a lower level of the mausoleum that is not open to the public. To one side, and the only break from complete symmetry, is a similar marker for Shah Jalan who was buried here by one of his sons following eight years of imprisonment by the same son at Fort Agra. Both of the markers are elaborately covered with inlay work.
The beauty and tranquility of the Taj Mahal is incongruous with the rest of the city of Agra. Dirt, trash, and traffic filled the streets outside the entrance gate, and we were once again confronted with hawkers. Thankfully our buses were patiently waiting to take us back to the hotel for lunch.
We were greeted at the hotel by two lovely Indian women who sprinkled flower water on us (it actually felt pretty good since it was a bit hot today), and we made our way along a flower-edged red carpet to the entry door. There, an Indian-costumed man entertained us with his music played on some kind of horn. Each of us was given flower lei to wear when we passed through the entry.
The hotel prepared an elaborate buffet lunch for our group, but I did not eat much. All the foods were in sauces, and I really didn’t know what was in each dish in spite of being labeled. I was very thankful that the ship provided box lunches to us before leaving the ship this morning. A turkey sandwich would taste really good right now.
We had three optional activities this afternoon: visit Fort Agra, go shopping, or stay at the hotel. Most of the group, including me, opted to go to Fort Agra, just a few minutes away by bus. Fort Agra was constructed by the Mughal Emperor, Akbar the Great, although subsequent additions and modifications were made by others, including Shah Jalan. The walls of this once mighty fortress are built of red sandstone, but some of the buildings inside are made of marble, just like the Taj Mahal across the Yamuna River.
Shah Jalan was imprisioned here for 8 years by one of his sons, although the area of the fort where he was confined had a lovely view of the Taj. Evenually he died here in the arms of his daughter. Today the only residents are monkeys which showed their antics to us.
One last stop on our tour before heading out to the airport to catch the return flight to Mumbai was at an inlay factory. Here we saw a demonstration of the painstaking and tedious job of carving patterns in marble, cutting tiny semi-precious stones by hand to fit in the resulting grooves, affixing the stones to the marble, and polishing the finished piece. It was fascinating to watch as these men, sitting cross-legged on the floor, bent over their work for hours at a time creating such intricate works of art. Of course, this factory had a showroom where we could purchase these pieces as well as other Indian craftwork. I admired, but I didn’t purchase anything.
Back at the Agra airport, we received our boarding passes, ran our bags through the x-ray machine, endured the frisking process in security, and waited interminably for our charter flight to be called. I was lucky to have the same window seat in the second row of the plane. Shortly after take-off, the flight attendants came through with dinner. I would have skipped the entree, but that choice was never offered to me. The smell from the little dish placed in front of me was horrid; and when I peeked inside, the meal looked as bad as it smelled. It was fish and the putrid odor filled the entire plane. Some people at the rear of the plane even got sick. Fortunately, I still had a cheese sandwich from the ship’s box lunch to eat for my dinner. The remainder of the flight went fairly quickly and before long, we were on the ground again in Mumbai.
By this time, it was well past 10:30 PM, but the traffic within the airport was what you would expect in the middle of the day. We had to wait several minutes for our buses to arrive, but before long we were on our way back through the still very heavy traffic back to the port and the peace and comfort of the wonderful Rotterdam. I finally walked in my cabin at a little past midnight, tired but happy from a most exciting day.
I could not go to bed without thoroughly washing all the dirt and grime from my body. All my clothing went right into the laundry bag, and I went in the shower for a welcomed bath. Moss downloaded my pictures and we looked at them all before calling it a day, at last.
[1] Taj Mahal guidebook page 11.
Sixty-fourth Day (Tuesday, March 24, 2009)-- I woke very early this morning for my all-day excursion to the Taj Mahal. At 6:00 AM, all of the passengers taking this tour had to report to the La Fontaine to retrieve passports and have a face-to-passport check by the Indian immigration officials who have been traveling on board the Rotterdam. I am not sure when they boarded. The tour group met at 6:45 in the Queen’s Lounge for last minute announcements and to get our boarding passes for the flight to Agra. There were 97 of us traveling today, requiring four buses to transport us to the Mumbai airport. I was in a group with several people who also had been on the China overland excursion, so I knew I would have a good time.
The ship is docked at the Indira Docks near the downtown area of Mumbai, but under strict military control. Military vessels and cargo ships filled this busy port, yet I didn’t see the kind of security we had experienced in Kochi. Once off the ship, we immediately boarded our buses which took us to the Mumbai International Airport for our chartered flight to Agra. I was not at all prepared for what I saw from the bus window as we drove through the streets of Mumbai to the airport. Literally thousands of people—men, women, and children—live in the streets using whatever they can find to define the space they call home. Trash and dirt were everywhere, yet many of the people were bathing themselves with soap and brushing their teeth. Some women were seen kneading dough right on the sidewalk. From my vantage point on the bus, I could see entire villages of people living in makeshift rooms. Shops of all sorts—barbers, food stalls, shoe makers, fruit stands, etc—were also seen, some in similar makeshift rooms, but others just set up on a table or cart, or, worse yet, laid out on some dirty rags on the ground. The housing in one village we passed backed onto a waterway and primitive toilet rooms literally hung from the sides of the so-called houses so the sewage could fall directly into the river. These people were lucky, I guess. Others had to carry little buckets into the bushes near the river to relieve themselves. I found this poverty to be appalling.
Our transfer at the Mumbai Airport went smoothly. As with airline regulations in other countries, no liquids were allowed through security. Each person not only went through a metal detector but also was frisked by a security agent. The female agent for my line was friendly, but the airport itself was not at all welcoming. Everything was painted grey it seemed, and it was obvious that nothing had been repainted in many, many years. Our group waited in the waiting room for our flight to be announced. Then we boarded buses which took us out to the tarmac and our awaiting plane.
I was lucky to be assigned a window seat in row 2 on this jet-liner. Fortunately, our group filled the entire plane because we were crammed quite closely. The distance between the rows was even shorter than on similarly sized American commuter aircraft, but the plane was clean (or so it seemed). There were no audio or video amenities. The safety and emergency procedures were announced by the cabin crew in both the Indian language and English (I wonder why they bothered with speaking in their language since all the passengers on board spoke English?), and then our flight was ready for takeoff.
The sight out the window as we flew over Mumbai was appalling as well. Village upon village of those makeshift housing units could be seen for miles. It was difficult to perceive where land ended and the atmosphere began because both were so dirty. Soon we were at cruising altitude and the landscape below became desert-like.
The flight attendants served a hot breakfast with three choices of entree. I asked for the omelet but got the vegetarian offering. It didn’t smell good even with the foil lid still in place, and when I took the lid off, I found that the appearance was just as disgusting as the smell. It was a good thing I had had a good breakfast on the ship before leaving this morning. Once everyone was served, the flight attendants came through the cabin with coffee and tea. I was thrilled that the tea tasted very good.
The rest of the two hour flight was uneventful and before long we were landing at a military airport in Agra where we met the local guides who would be escorting us to the Taj Mahal. We boarded buses for the relatively short drive to the Taj Mahal. Since petroleum-fueled vehicles are not allowed near the site, we switched to electric buses at a local hotel to take us the remaining distance to the Taj.
When we disembarked our bus, young boys approached our group insisting that we purchase postcards, guidebooks, refrigerator magnets, and other souvenirs from them. Our guide, PK, instructed us not to purchase from any of them because that will just invite more pestering from even more of these street hawkers. Even though I ignored those boys that approached me, they continued to follow me like I was a sort of Pied Piper. The street was lined with little souvenir shops, but I didn’t see the same poverty that I had in Mumbai.
Our group entered the Taj Mahal site through the East Gate and into the forecourt. The four gates and buildings defining the forecourt are all made of red sandstone. The Main Gate is distinguished by its larger size and by the marble insets inlayed with semiprecious stones which decorate the exterior. Walking through the Main Gate, my breath was taken away at the first glimpse of the mausoleum itself.
The Taj Mahal was built by Shah Jahan in loving memory of his wife, Mumtaz Mahal, the Empress of India. Shah Jahan was fond of building large palaces and huge monuments, building not only the Taj Mahal but also much of Fort Agra. Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal were inseparable lovers, and often times she followed her husband into battle. They had fourteen children, but she died during the birth of the last child in 1629. PK told us that Mumtaz had three final requests of her husband—never remarry, take care of the children, and “build a beautiful and incomparable monument over her grave as a token of their worldly inseparable love.”[1]
Construction of the Taj Mahal complex began in 1631. PK told us that over 20,000 men worked day and night for 22 years to build it. Built without the benefit of modern construction equipment and computer assistance, the building really is an engineering marvel. The complex is exactly symmetrical along the central axis. Ramps were built and rebuilt as needed to give the workmen access at the correct height to construct the marble walls. Intricate designs were carved into the marble panels decorating the exterior and interior walls. Marble lacework and inlays adorned many of the walls and openings. It really is mind boggling to think that the construction workers did not know how well their work was progressing until the job was finished and all the ramps were cleared away.
To the left side of the white mausoleum is a mosque. An exact twin is on the right side of the mausoleum, but this building was just there to keep the symmetry.
We had to wear booties over our shoes in order to enter the mausoleum to see the stone marker for Mumtaz Mahal located in the center of the rotunda under the central dome. Her remains, however, are actually in a lower level of the mausoleum that is not open to the public. To one side, and the only break from complete symmetry, is a similar marker for Shah Jalan who was buried here by one of his sons following eight years of imprisonment by the same son at Fort Agra. Both of the markers are elaborately covered with inlay work.
The beauty and tranquility of the Taj Mahal is incongruous with the rest of the city of Agra. Dirt, trash, and traffic filled the streets outside the entrance gate, and we were once again confronted with hawkers. Thankfully our buses were patiently waiting to take us back to the hotel for lunch.
We were greeted at the hotel by two lovely Indian women who sprinkled flower water on us (it actually felt pretty good since it was a bit hot today), and we made our way along a flower-edged red carpet to the entry door. There, an Indian-costumed man entertained us with his music played on some kind of horn. Each of us was given flower lei to wear when we passed through the entry.
The hotel prepared an elaborate buffet lunch for our group, but I did not eat much. All the foods were in sauces, and I really didn’t know what was in each dish in spite of being labeled. I was very thankful that the ship provided box lunches to us before leaving the ship this morning. A turkey sandwich would taste really good right now.
We had three optional activities this afternoon: visit Fort Agra, go shopping, or stay at the hotel. Most of the group, including me, opted to go to Fort Agra, just a few minutes away by bus. Fort Agra was constructed by the Mughal Emperor, Akbar the Great, although subsequent additions and modifications were made by others, including Shah Jalan. The walls of this once mighty fortress are built of red sandstone, but some of the buildings inside are made of marble, just like the Taj Mahal across the Yamuna River.
Shah Jalan was imprisioned here for 8 years by one of his sons, although the area of the fort where he was confined had a lovely view of the Taj. Evenually he died here in the arms of his daughter. Today the only residents are monkeys which showed their antics to us.
One last stop on our tour before heading out to the airport to catch the return flight to Mumbai was at an inlay factory. Here we saw a demonstration of the painstaking and tedious job of carving patterns in marble, cutting tiny semi-precious stones by hand to fit in the resulting grooves, affixing the stones to the marble, and polishing the finished piece. It was fascinating to watch as these men, sitting cross-legged on the floor, bent over their work for hours at a time creating such intricate works of art. Of course, this factory had a showroom where we could purchase these pieces as well as other Indian craftwork. I admired, but I didn’t purchase anything.
Back at the Agra airport, we received our boarding passes, ran our bags through the x-ray machine, endured the frisking process in security, and waited interminably for our charter flight to be called. I was lucky to have the same window seat in the second row of the plane. Shortly after take-off, the flight attendants came through with dinner. I would have skipped the entree, but that choice was never offered to me. The smell from the little dish placed in front of me was horrid; and when I peeked inside, the meal looked as bad as it smelled. It was fish and the putrid odor filled the entire plane. Some people at the rear of the plane even got sick. Fortunately, I still had a cheese sandwich from the ship’s box lunch to eat for my dinner. The remainder of the flight went fairly quickly and before long, we were on the ground again in Mumbai.
By this time, it was well past 10:30 PM, but the traffic within the airport was what you would expect in the middle of the day. We had to wait several minutes for our buses to arrive, but before long we were on our way back through the still very heavy traffic back to the port and the peace and comfort of the wonderful Rotterdam. I finally walked in my cabin at a little past midnight, tired but happy from a most exciting day.
I could not go to bed without thoroughly washing all the dirt and grime from my body. All my clothing went right into the laundry bag, and I went in the shower for a welcomed bath. Moss downloaded my pictures and we looked at them all before calling it a day, at last.
[1] Taj Mahal guidebook page 11.
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