We drive from Jaipur to Agra. We stop for lunch at a formidable, yet empty hotel. Today is Marc’s birthday. We visit another palace, Fatehpur Skiri, full of teenage boys, who think I am a movie star and are hooting and hollering. Our new guide asks if this is normal and I let him know that in India it is…

I ask if we can go to the Taj Mahal considering it is Marc’s birthday. We start to haul ass to get there while the sun is still up. We hire a photographer who takes all sorts of wedding style photos. Whoever says white men can’t jump clearly has not seen Marc Bernard in flight. He sails through the sky. I was happy that for the jumping pictures (we each had our own) my feet cleared the fence, but Marc looks as though he is superimposed of the Taj (we still have to scan these pictures).

On entry I had another Disney moment. As soon as the white monument to love came insight, I burst into tears. Yep. Bawling. We had a lovely time at the Taj. It has been one of my dreams to see this. Perhaps that explains the tears…I was loving the fact that the Taj is full of monkeys. Full.

We went back to our fancy hotel where we paid extra to have a view of the Taj. It is dark and we can’t see a thing. The Taj isn’t lit up. Marc has a cake (it says ‘Happy Birthday, Barnard’) and flowers. We have dinner in our hotel room. Marc thinks his birthday couldn’t be better.

The next day we start by visiting the Tomb of Akbar the Great. Some antelopes and more stalkers…Nice.

We go to what the locals call the “Baby Taj”. It is lovely, but on a much smaller scale and with less detailed carvings and ornaments. We tour the mausoleum (which is what the Taj is) take some pictures and go.

Later we see Agra Fort, which is also called Red Fort of Agra. It is impressive. I am getting really annoyed at the amount of people taking pictures of me. We go for a walk on the various levelled fort, clearly made to keep certain people out. Not only is it functional, but it is beautiful and also served as a prison for the king once his son took over the throne. It was a gilded prison with a great view–but a prison none the less.

On our drive to the other side of the river with a view of the Taj–our driver went Sean Penn on a man. Since everyone hangs out on the chaotic roads–I was a little apprehensive of two young men leering. One of them circled back (we were stuck in traffic) and as I was turned talking to Marc, Marc put his hand up to block my photographers. The driver saw this, got out, yanked the cell phone (it was what the guy was using) off the guy, threw it on the ground, and of course it smashed into a bunch of pieces and a few flew over the embankment (which the guy ended up climbing over to retrieve). Marc’s reaction–that wasn’t necessary. My reaction–pleased. Three weeks of being an Indian pin up girl was really getting to me.

We bought a table top for outside. It is marble and has birds on it. I have to send them dimensions on our return. It is stunning.

We had dinner again in our hotel room. We are so sick of restaurants and dining out–and of Indian food.

We got up a bit late–yet still really early. We were going to see the sun rise at the Taj. All Indian security lines–from the hotels to the monuments to the airports, are split in two. Ladies and gents. No matter what, even if you don’t set off the metal detectors, you are still subject to a frisking and pat down by someone of your own sex.

We saw the sunrise at the Taj. This time we went in the mausoleum (on Marc’s birthday we didn’t since we knew we were coming back and the line was huge). I visited my monkey friends again. I am sure that we will be back.

More Incredible India…

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