You really get what you pay for when you fly with Bangladesh Biman Airlines. The prayer in Arabic just before take off from Bangkok didn’t inspire confidence that the plane would hold together for the few hours it took to get to Dhaka either. But it did and after receiving my hotel token and surrendering my passport to the dodgy looking customs officials I was given a five minute bus ride through the overcrowded streets to the cramped housing estate where my crappy hotel was. The next day the getting the connecting flight to India I pushed and shoved to get my passport back and when I asked about checking in my backpack I was just waved through. I could take it on as hand luggage even though it did weigh more than me. Before getting onto the place security frisked it a bit, I was afraid they were going to put me through the x-ray machinr. Then after another quick prayer we were off.

The one good thing about flying the budget way was that I arrived early into Delhi airport. Looking around for an ATM I asked at the pre-paid taxi office, who said they could take me to an ATM and I could pay them then. When we got to the ATM, by coincidence it was right beside the “official government” tourist office and the driver insisted I go in to get some information since I was new to the area. The guy there was very persistent in trying to scam me into staying in a different hotel from the one I had already planned, he even tried the “there is a big conference in town, let me phone your hotel” trick. When I didn’t fall for it we agreed that I would go look at his hotel and if I didn’t want to stay there was no problem. When I didn’t like the grubby over-priced place, the driver seemed incredulous that I could turn down such a bargain and took quite a lot of persuading to take me where I waned to go. When I refused to pay an additional fifty rupees he demanded for the extra distance covered he said “As you like”, so I slammed the door after me.

Delhi and Paharganj in particular is a good quick introduction into India. The temperature in May was in the low to mid forty’s. Cows roam the narrow streets only moving aside when they’re shoved by one of the many auto-rickshaws. Beggars squat next to open sewers while Kashmiri’s do their best to try and drag you into their shops so you can buy crappy souvenirs or an all expenses paid boat-trip in Shrinigar, apparently because of the new road open between Pakistan and Kashmir it’s perfectly safe, despite what all the papers say.

After a few days looking around Delhi, I figure that’s about enough for now and it’s time move on. And what would a trip to India be with a visit to Agra and the Taj Mahal. I paid my 750 rupees, 730 more than locals pay, and looked around for about an hour or so and I have to admit it is a nice building. Moving on from Agra I got the bus to the nearby Fatehpur Sikri, an abandoned Mogul city made from red sandstone.