5th September

Today is the day we make our first expedition out of Delhi to Agra. But first, a tale of frustration.

It was filtered through the students in my English class that we had an extra class today with Gotram and Uday, two of the theory lecturers. Most of the class had turned up, but when we got there, there were exams taking places in each of the rooms we have lectures in. We milled around outside until we were shouted at to go away, so we went to sit on the other side of the building and await our lectures. I met the little girl from Assam that had sat next to me in class once, and we finally asked each other’s names. She is called Leena, and she introduced me to her friend VJ (actually Vijiyia, but she thinks VJ is just as good, even if it is a man’s name). We sat and talked about Scotland and the North East of India, and I told them about the Edinburgh Festival. So many of the students here want to come to Britain to study, or just to see it. Leena said that she had such an image in her head of the English countryside and London. She thinks it must be completely beautiful, and I am not sure if perhaps she has read too much Jane Austen and George Elliot: all rolling hills and estates. I told her about Somerset, and the Scottish highlands, which are probably some of the most beautiful places I have been to in Britain. I told her about Edinburgh and London, and what we enjoy doing as students. They had heard that the Scottish and Irish were huge drinkers, and I have to admit, in comparison to everyone here, every European must seem an absolute alkie. People here, young men included, have perhaps one or two beers and that is them drunk. I think it is something to do with the fact that Indians have been boiling and purifying their water for many centuries, whereas we Europeans were drinking wine and beer for centuries rather than try to do anything with the water. Perhaps these ages of continuous drinking has made us so much more immune to the effects of alcohol in comparison to people in India, who are genetically unused to the effects.

In the end, one lecturer turned up and told us that he had specified that his extra class would not begin until September, which if I remember rightly, is now. He evidently lives on a higher literary plane where there is no sense of time and space. The other lecturer called someone who spread round that he also would not turn up, having not confirmed the class properly. I just don’t get this. It is so frustrating, and would never happen in Edinburgh, except on a very rare occasion. Here, and it is the same in history, one student is told something by someone and then expected to spread it round the rest of us by the next lecture. Even assignments seem to be being handed out like this. It is completely ridiculous. Not that we know what our assignment is even going to be… Some think it is a mini-exam on the 5^th and 6^th. Others think it will be an essay due for then instead. I would really like to know, as my parents are coming out around that time and I want to know how much work I can get done beforehand so as to be able to spend as much time as possible with them and not worry about anything.

Met Tanya and some of her friends outside the library and everyone is equally pissed off with our lecturers. They are the better ones as well! It’s so depressingly typical of this place.

Went and sat in Barista for hours instead. I am reading Burmese Days by George Orwell at the moment. It is actually very relevant to my history course, as it explores the British Raj sense of “hanging together” against the natives they were ruling. It is based on his own experiences in Burma as an officer, and so far it is completely gripping. I really love Orwell’s prose style, so simple and defined, never over the top and melodramatic, but perfectly descriptive in its own way.

Met Amanda, Lauren and Ben at the metro station to get the tube to New Delhi and then…onto AGRA! I am so excited about this trip. It is our first chance to get out of Delhi and actually experience something different and be a proper traveler for a weekend. We are counting on there being a train today at some point and then getting into Agra and getting a hostel once we are there. Ben says there is a hostel strip right by the Taj Mahal itself, so we should be alright.

We managed to get a train! We had a bit of time to spare and went for some lunch in a quite nice café at Parana Ganj. Our last meal until tomorrow night! We don’t want to eat anything in Agra, as everyone tells us that we will get poisoned.

The train was completely insane. We managed to find where we were sitting, and thank god we did have seats. The thing was packed. Up and down the narrow corridors everyone is fighting for space and your money. There are the chaiwallahs and panniwallahs that you expect to be there, and then there are the dining-cart men who hand out food to those who ordered it. But then there are also the others selling Bombay mix, or pakora, or curry, or coconuts and other fruit. And then at every stop beggars come on to ask for food and money, one even dragging himself along the floor as he had no leg and no arm to hold a crutch with. There are the women in their perfectly folded, moth-eaten sarees carrying bundles of children’s toys and shooting toy guns that make a rattling noise. And then there is the weirdest of all: the transvestites and transsexuals. Men in sarees and salwaar suits and bad make up. They carry tiny dainty glitzy handbags as well. They are mostly blokes in a dress…but there are some that are quite androgynous who may actually be transsexuals. They come up to you and clap in your face to try and scare you. Many Indians are apparently quite superstitious about these people, and they are ostracized from general society. You are meant to give them money to go away and not curse you. I think if they curse you it is meant to make you infertile, but I am not sure about that. We sat with our feet up on the seats and our bags between us and read for a while before playing cards. We played a game called “I am going to a picnic” and you have to make up a rule about what people can bring to the picnic, and people have to work out the rule from what they are and are not allowed to bring. Stephen went first and he made it that you had to use the first letter of your name as the first letter of whatever you brought. I worked it out fairly quickly, and we played until we had exhausted ourselves of things beginning with our name letter. I had a go and my rule was nothing man-made could come. Lauren got a little confused and very competitive and guessed that the rule was something to do with photosynthesis or bacteria, which is way more complicated than anything I could actually come up with.

On a side note, the train for second class seated, which has no AC but does have fans, should cost about 140Rs. If it is less, then they are putting you in general, and there you will not get a seat and are packed in like battery hens. If it is more, they are either ripping you off or they are giving you a higher class.

When we arrived in Agra we went to a hostel Ben had read about in the Lonely Planet guide called Hotel Host. It was newly painted and very pleasant, and it was about 110Rs a night per person. We dumped our stuff and realised they had a roof terrace, which was brilliant and had a great moonlit view of the Taj Mahal itself. I like being able to look out over all the open rooftops; you see so many odd things. There was a goat in a tiny pen on one of them. We sat up here for hours drinking beer and chatting about ridiculous things. Joe has a guitar, so we brought it up and I tuned it and played some ABBA. Then Joe played Wish You Were Here and I almost thought I was back at home with the usual crowd, or in the flat listening to Iain ‘revising’ with the aid of his fender. It felt great to be traveling, to feel like a tourist for a night, completely worry free and careless. We have decided to get up at half five tomorrow for the Taj opening so that we can go before the crowds hit and see the sunrise over it.