After driving down a peaceful well paved one lane road through the fields dotted with colorfully dressed women grooming the crops, we came to the village. Despite the muddy dirt roads and moderate delapidation of the buildings, the place had a very homey feel. I got out of the car and people looked up all around, smiled and said hello. What a shock after the trauma of Jaipur. I said hello and smiled back.

The well stood back a few feet from the road. You entered through an old stone wall and gate framed by pillars of granite. A couple of elderly people sat inside. They sat on their haunches and gave me a three tooth smile, the rest of the teeth missing. I assumed they were the maintenence people.

I started to poke around. When I came around the corner of the building that blocked the view a huge pit appeared with countless steps going down to the green murky water below. On each wall of the well that stretched about 150 feet on each side, split steps went down. This is almost impossible to describe without a picture, that will have to come when I get home because none of these web cafes have allow picture plug in and download. So, each wall contained thousands of sets of steps going down. The whole well had eleven stories and narrowed on each level until it measured about 30' x 30' at the bottom. At its prime there had been a palace, a temple complex and a large village. Now, although still in remarkably good condition for its age, the place seems almost forgotten. Judging by the behavior of the villagers, its only rarely that a tourist comes by.

I snapped severa pictures and walked around the place with the curator who appeared out of nowhere. I listed to him speak English but didn't understand much of what he said. However, he seemed a genuinely nice chap. I tipped him and we returned to the big white car. School had just let out and soon we were mobbed by kids. Some of them put their hands out for money, but most of them just smiled, waved, and said hi.

A steady line of kids lined each side of the road and each one expected a smile and a wave. I was glad to oblige. Deprived of much friendliness and barraged by monsters in Jaipur, the kids provided a welcome opportunity to know that not everyone in Rajastan had nails sharpened to a point the dig deeply into your wallet.

Soon we got back on the main road to Agra. It got dull and loud again. Sureg had to stop at one point to pay a road tax at the border of Rajastan. Several men stood around with bears that had nose rings and muzzles to make them dance for the tourists. I told the guys what I thought about their abuse of the poor animals and rolled up the windows. It was painful to see the poor bears poked, prodded and dragged around by their snouts. I couldn't have been more happy when Sureg had payed the tax and we had left the abused bears behind.

At some point I'd told Sureg that I needed to exchange money. In fact I needed to exchange badly since I only had about $10 or 1000 rupees left. He told me he knew of a good place in Fatapur which was his home town. A couple of hours later we pulled into the exchange place which doubled as an internet cafe. I stepped in and looked around for the exchange rates. Nothing had been posted on the walls as is standard around the world. I Western girl sat at a computer contentedly typing away. Finally a doughy man of about 30 came out and asked if he could help me. I asked him for the cash exchange rate from US dollars. He said, "How much are you going to exchange?" I said that would depend on the exchage rate at each level. Again I asked him for the exchange rate. He said, "Give me the money you're going to exchange."

I asked if he was trying to negotiate with me on exchange rates a little indignantly. The girl looked up from her computer and smiled. The doughy man again said how much are you going to exchange. I stood up and said, "Nothing, I don't trust you and I don't do busines with people I don't trust." The girl looked up from her computer, smiled at me again and gave me a discreet thumbs up.

I stomped out of the building and told Sureg in the car that the man was a crook and a very dishonest man. I'm suspecting that Sureg had some sort of deal worked out with him to get a commisson on exchanges that Sureg brought by. That suspicion really irked me and left me feeling a little desolate and violated. We got to the bird sanctuary about 20 minutes later where bicycle rickshaw "guides" accosted me telling me I had to use their services and it was only 300 ruppes or $6. I said "no." They kept on. I said "no" again a little louder this time. They continued. I stomped my foot at them and said, "I said NO, now go away!" They went away. I finally found a technique that worked with the touts. Moments later I'd paid the entrance fee and rented a rickety old bike for 25 rupees and set out. Just as I left a big bus full of tourists pulled in and the wolves fell onto them to feast. They all fell for it.

I rode fast and furious to get away from the tourists. The bike was too high for me so I found it a little difficult to peddle, but I found mygroove with it and peddled on. The first animals I saw were a group of foxes lounging along a side road I accidentally turned onto. I stopped the bike momentarily and they just looked at me. The stood so close to me, watching me, that I could have reached out to pet them. I had such a nice bonding moment with them that I forgot to take a picture. They were pretty little creatures with redish grey coats and kind eyes.

I turned around and went back to the main road only to find that the tourist had gained groud on me. All I could see on either side of me were a whole lot of cattle. It seems the bird sanctuary doubles as a cattle ranch. Oh joy, I paid a lot of money to see cows.

I peddled furiously on despite the complaints of my muscles which weren't used to being used that way. I reached a gate where a man demanded to see my ticket. I showed him and peddled on. Soon both sides of the road had pumps spewing great amounts of water into swamps. Apparently 260 species of birds either stop at this refuge or use it as a stopping point on their journeys. Besides a few common cranes, the first big birds I saw were giant Siberian Herons. Only a few hundred remain on earth. Many are shot by hunters in Pakistan and Afganistan on their way south. This also led to the almost complete demise of the whooping crane. Only one pair has been seen in recent years despite the many that had come in years prior.

I stopped at one spot along the swamp and saw crocodiles or alligators or whatever the local species is, Siberian herons, blue herons, a big kind of deer whose front legs seem longer than its back legs and a big flock for emerald green parrots. I stayed there for a while soaking up the moment before the pack of tourists started to crowd in. I rode hard stopping every few minutes to examine the wildlife.

After a lot of peddling I came to a spur road heading off the the right. The asphalt had buclked and heaved leaving lots of potholes. I appeared to be completely free of tourists. I heaved a sigh of relief, wiped the sweat off my brow and headed left.

Every gap in the dense trees that bordered the road reveales some new mammal(I can't remember the spelling of that word today). A herd of deer grazed under some kind of fruit tree where monkeys ravaged the limbs. The deer happily ate up the masses of fruit the monkeys either dropped or dislodged. At the next stop a small herd of the big deer with the long front legs drank along the edge of the treeline at a small pond. They seemed only slightly leery of me. I suppose they've grown used to being watched from the road.

Bright blue king fishers scanned the water from tree branches while flocks of parrots clacked noisily from tree to tree. Even the air smelled pure and fresh mixed with mud smells from the water and the sweet odor of dried grasslands. No cattle grazed this land leaving at least some fodder for the natural wildlife.

I checked my watch and realized I only had a few minutes to get back to the gate and meet my driver. I turned around and peddled hard. Just as I started to cover good ground I heard a snap and the peddles suddenly seemed disconnected. I looked behind me and saw something on the road 20 or 30 feet back. My heart started pounding. Of course this would happen a couple of miles from the gate. I'd have to walk the crummy bike back in the heat and bugs.

I dismounted and hit the kick stand to set up the bike and walked back to the thing that looked like a chain. It was only a crack in the asphalt that played with the dimming light. I scanned the road behind me for the chain, finding nothing, I walked to the bike puzzled. I examined the bike closely and found that the chain had slipped of the gears but still clung to the bike. I fiddled with it for about ten minutes and managed to put it back on.

Now I really had to peddle furiously to get back to the gate. I made it there only a few minutes late drenched in sweat with greasy hands. Sureg pulled up just as I returned the bike. I motioned to him that I needed a minute and wandered off in search of a sink to wash up. Behind the main buildings I found a public shower room. I wandered in and found a delapidated sink in the back. I worked reasonably well. I scrubbed my hands as best I could without soap and splashed my face a few times before turning off the water and wiping my hands on my none to clean shirt.

The light now dimmed quickly and I was eager to get the Fatapur Sikkri, the forgotten city. It had once been a huge city with large palaces back in the 14th or 15th century, but a long drought hit and no manner of water project seemed capable of bringing water into the city. The residents abandoned and rebuilt closer to a good water source leaving the city vacant for centuries. Lonely Planet gave a rave review of the area and part of the reason I hired the car was to be able to see it on the way to Agra.

When I got in the car Sureg seemed to feel badly about the incident with the money changer and insisted I honor him by coming to his house to meet his family. I really would rather have seen the abandoned city, but I felt that Sureg would be somewhat insulted if I didn't come to his home. I agreed to go. He lived not far off the main road on a deeply rutted dirt lane. The house appeared to be rather new although it lacked any kind of architectural embelishment. As Sureg parked the car the whole neighborhood gathered to see who would get out of the big white car. They are used to the cars carrying important people. Its too bad all they got was me :).

I got out of the car and said hello back to each child that said hello to me. At least fifty kids were milling about giggling, poking each other and smiling. Sureg finally came around the car and ushered me inside the walled compound of the house. I found a fairly large four car tandem parking area before the main door. A couple of kids stopped playing and looked up at me dumbfounded.

Sureg led me into the house and introduced me to his uncle, his aunt, another adult who's relation I didn't register but ignored the kids running around. I introduced myself to them to their horror and delight. Even though the kids seemed shy hiding behind the adults and peering at me cautiously from behind the doors to other rooms, I knew I had won them over. I suspect they are used to being ignored by strange adults.

A teenage girl brought me some water I couldn't drink. I pointed to the water bottle in my hand and smiled at her shrugging my shoulders. The adult men and I all sat down on their two chairs and the large bed that dominated the living room. Conversation did not come freely, I guess largely due to the fact that none of them spoke Enlish very well and I sure don't speak Hindi.

After a few uncomfortable minutes a puppy chased a little girl through the house. He followed her to the kitchen which apparently he wasn't allowed. I cried out, "Its a puppy!" Happy to see a healthy looking dog and extremely happy to have something to focus my attention on. I called the puppy over and he bounced to me and asked to be picked up. I placed him in my lap and cooed, petted, and scratched him much to his delight. The Indian men chatted amongst themselves. I think they too were relieved to have the pressure of entertaining me off their plate.

Eventually the puppy wanted down and the men again turned their attention to me. We struggled to make basic conversation. It seemed an eternity had passed at the house. I tried to sneak a peek at my watch. The sun was just about to set. Sureg caught the look at the watch and suggested we go. The final light set just as we pulled out of the driveway much to my dismay.

If I thought the near misses on the road during the day were frightening, night time ushered in a whole new level of terror. No street lights illuminated the road and most of the cars, trucks, pedestrians, and bicyclists had no light or reflection at all. They would suddenly appear in front of the car forcing Sureg to break hard. That didn't stop him from speeding along just the same.

Two white knuckled hours later we hit Agra. If the other cities were congested, they were nothing compared to Agra. We hit a two or three mile stretch where the car barely moved. Nobody could move including the pedestrians, cows, camel carts, bicycle rickshaws and other cars. We inched along for about an hour and a half before the traffic started to break up.