This will be my first significant solo trip for nearly 40 years!

Fatehpur Sikri

Friday 28 January

Less entertaining was the next stage: waiting at counter 14. The post office is a large hall, with all the clerical staff sitting in a circular area in the middle, with the various counters round the edge. Guess which one had the longest queue, and the only official to appear to have a hard time. 'Queue' is perhaps not the word, and an Australian couple in front of me were back for the second day in an attempt to get their purchases back to Aussieland. I was luckier, as the two Indians in front of me courteously waved me ahead.

Even luckier, the Australians agreed to give me a lift to Jaipur. Otherwise I could have had a hairy time, as I had lost my waiting list ticket and anyhow was not sure if there would be a seat. It was nice being in a car, though sitting behind the driver meant that I had an all too clear view of the near misses at high speed. Quite breathtaking.

The journey took nearly seven hours, including a couple of hours at Fatehpur Siki. I was delighted, as I had been wondering how to fit a visit into a rather tight schedule at Agra, although I felt a little inhibited; I would like to have taken longer than my hosts. Also, sadly, the weather has become increasingly hazy. I can't work out whether this is the season, or the notorious pollution of Agra.

Fatehpur Sikri is an amazing ghost city, built by the great Moghul leader, Akbar, the great sixteenth century Moghul emperor (who also built the Red Fort in Agra), but abandoned after his death because of lack of water, and has been deserted since then.

It is a huge fort/palace, in red sandstone, with a simple elegance which contrasts with the later ornate palaces. There are a series of courtyards with royal suites, the decoration is restrained, the patterns showing the strong Moslem or Persian influence. In the Diwan-Khana-i-Khas, where Akbar met his subjects, there was a magnificent (I'm overusing that word, I know - and also amazing, magical, splendid...) carved column.

We had had to fight our way through a barrage of hawkers as soon as we got out of the car and irritatingly we continued to be pestered by people wanting to be our guide or to exchange money with us throughout the visit. It was even worse when we visited the mosque next door to the palace, with people badgering us even the the supposedly holiest places, the tombs. Despite this the mosque was as satisfyingly impressive as the palace. In particular there was the marble tomb of Sheikh Salim Chisti, with wonderful lattice screens, the tomb itself ebony with a glittering ceiling above.

More hassles with dodgy men approaching me. I tried a new line: "In my country it is very rude for men to talk to a woman on her own". It didn't work.

Sorry I didn't get to see the deserted town next to the fort and mosque. We did, however, see a huge number of bears beside the road, their owners making them dance for the tourists. The Australian girl was quite rightly very upset by this. Our driver said that there was a big voluntary organisation nearby which was attempting to rescue maltreated bears, buying them from the owners and releasing them in a specially protected reserve. The government is also supposed to be doing something about this abuse of an endangered species. Hm.

As we reached the outskirts of Agra, the smog really closed in. The authorities have now banned (partially successfully) cars and auto rickshaws from the area immediately surrounding the Taj My hotel was a predictably tacky place, looking like a third-rate campsite, but extremely close to the Taj. Not that I saw much of it, as we have had powercuts pretty well non-stop since arriving in Agra - about the worst I have experienced. (Most towns have no electricity from 7-11 in the morning and just the odd flicker at other times.)

But its not too bad. I'm in a barrack cell-like room which is *reasonably* clean and quiet and the food was OK. Early to bed in order to do a sunrise visit tomorrow.

The Taj - and the Japs got there before me

Saturday 29 January

My pictures will not be as good as my dentist, Elaine's, however. She went at dawn, on a day with blue sky. I did a weather check at six and given it was grey, cold and smoggy, waiting till 7.30 am before entering. By this time, the Japanese were already installed in the photo spot, closely followed by *crowds* of Indians. Somehow I had managed to arrive at the Taj Mahal on a weekend, and I should know by now that this will mean vast family groups, with many many photos in front of whatever site they are visiting.

First there is a huge, outer courtyard, in the usual red sandstone of this area. Then, through a huge archway to see THE VIEW. All that delicate whiteness. Amazing.

The story of the Taj is moving too. Akbar's grandson, Shah Jahan, was so deeply upset when his wife and close comp[anion, Mumtaz Mahal died in childbirth (her 14th child!) that he built this tomb to honour her memory. Later he was usurped and imprisoned in the Red Fort by his son. From his tower he gazed on the monument he had built for his beloved.

I walked round and round the building saying "wow" and then went inside, where photography was not allowed. It was dark, to protect the walls inlaid in intricate patters with the precious stones, but it was amazing - and hard to leave.

Next stop on the itinerary (it IS embarassing to feel like a tourist ticking off the visits) was the Red Fort, started by Akbar and added to by his descendants. As one would expect of an uncompromisingly Moghul lineage, the overall impact is of undiluted Persian/Moslem style: grand courtyards and appartments, with the now familiar motif decorations rather than the Hindu depictions of famous stories and gods. My guide in Delhi was right, though, there was no point bothering with the fort there, when such a magnificent one awaited me in Agra.

My cycle rickshaw driver of yesterday, Lalu, had taken me to the Red Fort, but he wasn't so keen on taking me to my third destination, the tomb of Itimad-ud-Daulah, on the other side of the river. I soon saw why. I swapped to an auto rickshaw and we were soon crossing the most amazingly crowded iron bridge, which I don't reckon has seen much tarmac since the British left India. Interesting effect on ones lower jaw, jumping over the ruts and ridges. Below us, on the dried up banks of the River Yamuna, washer women were working. There were lots of metal barrels lying around, which are apparently use to heat the water for washing in the morning. Now all the washing was drying out on the ground beside the river.

Itimad-ud-Daulah was a lovely surprise. I went there because of the write-up in Guide Routard; little was said in the other two guides, and as a result found there were almost no tourists there! This tomb is also known as the Baby Taj, and one can see why. Apart from being smaller, it predates the Taj (built in 1628) and quite clearly influences the design of the later building. Also in marble inlaid with precious stones, there was a lovely delicate quality about this peaceful building, and I enjoyed the backcloth of the river, though the skyline is still blemished by the tall chimneys of the factories which the government fortunately closed down some years ago, because of the dreadful polluting effect on the Taj. Even so, acid rain is a real problem here, and the Indians are pioneering new ways to clean marble, apparently watched with interest by the Italians.

Then my driver offered to take me to the Taj View. This turned out to be a splendid viewpoint on the river's edge bang opposite the Taj. Apart from a couple of Japanese tourists, a couple of camels, a couple of hawkers and women and children with a herd of goats, we had the place to ourselves.

Then back to the hotel roof I had discovered at lunchtime, for a last view of the Taj at sunset - a sunset sadly blemished by the pollution. The Austrian woman at the next table wondered aloud whether Agra ever had a blue sky now. She was making a three-month slow trip to China, to join her boyfriend, a doctor who is about to start a course in Chinese medicine.

And now I'm in an internet shop next door, run by a personable, cheery guy who has just made a couple of CDs of my Jaipur and Agra photos. The lights keep flicking out, but luckily the computers are run on a battery system. He has just provided me with a cup of coffee, stressing that Europeans dont understand the Indian tradition of hospitality, offering all guests tea or coffee is an absolute norm. Indeed, it is, and I like it.

About to go and sample the food at "Joney's" across the road. It's recommended in the Guide Routard as a good budget option, but I have been avoiding these places which are one up from street stalls since my Jodphur tummy. Cross fingers.

Tomorrow to Orcha by train and road.