Out of the Big Sewer
Monday, March 23rd, 2009As I wrote before, I was not enamored with Agra. I kept calling it Agar… isn’t that the stuff in a petri dish in which one grows mold or other cultures? Fitting name as far as I am concerned. The highlight of Agra was sitting above the Host Hotel enjoying a beer and watching the Taj through sunset. Above the scum, we could enjoy the beauty of the architecture, watch the ever-present monkeys and watch the birds, most notably the pigeons controled by their young masters. Unfortunately, my lasting images of Agra are of opium addicts, the most dangerous tuk-tuk rides of my life, the unbelievable stench of raw sewage and the little boy who walked to the edge of the wall above the hotel room, looked down at me with a scowl and proceeded to urinate towards me. We left Agra as soon as possible on a train to New Delhi headed to Shimla in the north.