india.1

I’ve only been back from India a few days, but I’m already reflecting much more on the revelations of the journey than the (dare I say) “touristy” details. The Taj Mahal was breath-taking; the Himalayas, pristine; Mumbai, fantastically cosmopolitan; the food, divine. But, as with many things in life, it was the experience of the journey – the people, the sounds, the tenacious spirituality, the energy of a place so incredibly invigorating – that is still mesmerizing.

I arrived equipped – my Indian friends here readied me with a list of places to go, numbers of people to call, a list of foods to eat, and foods to buy and bring back to Banda. Jennifer brought the guide book, and with a general idea of where we were going and staying, we set off.

After landing in Delhi and spending two days there with a friend, we traveled south by car about four hours to Agra, the “small town” (according to our guide) of 2 million people and home of the Taj Mahal. Even from a distance, you could begin to see why it’s the eighth wonder of the world. In a country with a disproportionate amount of architectural marvels compared to the rest of the world (in my opinion at least), The Taj stood in gleaming white brilliance above them all.

Our first look through the gateway, Jennifer and I both gasped aloud. “Breath-taking” took on the literal definition at the sight of something so incredibly beautiful… and that was from hundreds of meters away! The real beauty emerged the closer we moved, and saw and felt the hand-laid jewels meticulously placed in flower patterns and designs across the entire surface of the colossal structure. And the symmetry of the building, built hundreds and hundreds of years ago, personified perfection and balance down to the centimeter.

So, yes, it was incredible, and I could probably write this entire post about its brilliance, but before I drone on, I will share one little interesting tid-bit that I learned. Most of you probably know that The Taj is a “monument of love” of sorts, that Shah Jehan built for his favorite wife after she died giving birth to their 14th child (the other wives gave him no kids, no wonder she was favorite). Anyway, his plan all along was to build a matching Taj for himself that was black marble instead of white marble within sight, just across the river. But he died before realizing his vision, or there would be two Taj Mahals instead of one! Interesting, eh?

In the evening, we made the bumpy, four-hour trek west to Jaipur, or “the Pink City.” Years ago, the facades of buildings there were all “washed” with a pink-ish coating that lingers still today, giving the city a unique and lovely ambiance. It was Saturday night as we traveled, too – the day of weddings in the season of weddings, so mile after mile we saw wedding parties celebrating along the roadways. Ensembles that looked like marching bands played traditional Hindi songs, revelers danced, and grooms adorned like sultans sat atop bedecked horses. (Watch the movie Monsoon Wedding when you get a chance and you’ll get a glimpse into Indian weddings and many of the characters and personalities common in that part of the world. And, it has a great soundtrack that I’m listening to right now!)

After touring the palaces and sights in “the Pink City” the next day, we returned to Delhi (on a much less bumpy highway) and returned in time dine with our friend and secure our bus tickets for the next day… a booking which turned out to be a grave error and unforgettable adventure at the same time.

Dharamsala – the destination, near Mcleoad Ganj, the home of the Dalai Lama. An estimated 12 hours overnight bus ride north into the Himalayas from Delhi. Were we crazy? Perhaps, but it was the shortest/cheapest way to get there so we figured it couldn’t be so bad. UNTIL the bus started rolling and we instantly realized why no one else had bought the last two tickets for the last two seats in the bus…

To be continued...