Delhi/Agra--Feb. 22

It was dark when I woke up, no surprise there it was after all 4:45am, I merely point it out to once again affirm my dislike of those small am numbers and waking up before the sun. I just fail at having a shower as the water will not have me and the taxi comes within minutes of my wake-up call I do get to shave with gel this morning. A nice treat that helps ease my lack of shower and the ungodly hours of the day. After those first 7 minutes it is out into the brisk pre-dawn air, a taxi and the train I traveled five days ago. The weather was cold and foggy I even started the day off with a scarf on.
I was woken up by one of the servers on the train asking for tips; well I was not actually asleep. My eyes were closed and sunglasses on so he could not have known and although I had intended to give a few Rupees anyways, it just strikes me as a strange approach. I have also been approached by beggars and asked for money and then given them some and asked for more. Now while I realize sometimes I unknowingly give too little what kind of person ask for more generosity? I was kicked out of a bar for a poorly calculated tip to a bartender who had not been serving me all night and the only service they gave me was taking 20 minutes to the bill for my tab. What goes through peoples’ minds sometimes? How can they possibly believe in instances of generosity if you confront someone about a voluntary donation it will help their cause?
The train stopped unexpectedly, I think someone was lacking a ticket and was thrown off. I cannot remember ever witnessing that before, on buses sure however not on a train and certainly not half an hour away from Agra’s train station at a random tiny station that we should not be stopped at. Turns out it is the fog and not a passenger at all, and because we are so delayed we have to keep stopping for other trains to fly by us. The train ends up being sporadically delayed so we reach Agra close to 11 instead of 8:20.
Ever delayed; once again in Agra I am met by the same driver from Bansal carpets who took me to the rooftop café on Friday. Nice to see him again and he seems glad to see me again. Then again I did give him basically a days’ pay as a trip for all the driving and working late. I felt bad after we talked about wages and his five kids etc. Damn my guilt. The first stop is back to Bansal’s for tea and then onto the Taj Mahal—this time I am going in. I am asked to close my window—too much noise around. I like the noise it adds to the experience, with the window closed and the A.C. on I could be anywhere, well not anywhere, hopefully my point is taken.
Silence, there no light either, it appears Agra too is at the mercy of the power companies and they can turn the power off pretty much whenever they choose. As unexpectedly as the power disappears it returns. Let there be light, and the room clears. The atmosphere is that of a party in which the conversation hinges on everyone being present, throw off that balance and people being to panic. My go to move when I am tired of talking is to bring out my Moleskin journals, of which one has been filled, and try to remember what has all happened. I do not believe anyone quite knows what to do with me or how to treat me, I could make more of an effort to disarm the suppliers although I think it is to my advantage to keep them guessing and this is a business after all.
I should lead with the limited Hindi I know instead of repeating myself.
Pigeons seem to love to attack air conditioners.
One more shot of tea, my 5th glass today, and we head for the Taj. Four hours sleep and a 4 ½ hour train ride on top of the five day delay and I may just make it in. In and out; you can touch it, do not however step on the grass as the gardens are far more important. Even taking photos inside the tomb while prohibited the worst that happens is that they blow a whistle at you which could hurt your ears or worse yet your feelings. I kid, it is an impressive building, its’ history fascinating and the fact that you can touch it is rather amazing. Inside it is falling a bit into disrepair and people throw change onto the actual tomb while taking forbidden photo’s of an imitation one. It all seems backwards to me. Well worth the 750 rupee or about $17 if you prefer to get in, although for Indian’s it is only a dollar. Hamid is convinced that this is so expensive, which in a country where the minimum daily wage is around $2 does make sense. It is a UNESCO heritage sight and one of the most recognizable buildings in the world; I would pay more. The line to enter the Taj has changed directions, I guess the security guards/military police had a shift change and wanted to add their own personal flavour to the line. Not that the queue actually matters, locals will push their way to the front whenever the guards back is turn.
Another monkey wrench has been thrown into today’s plan. Hamid ran into his family on our way out. I am fairly sure that was his hope and one if not his only reason for this entirely unplanned return. He claimed it was to meet up with the supplier I did not see on Friday and so I could view the inside of the Taj Mahal and that is probably how he rationalized it,. I think I am more right and after a few compromises by me, a half hour longer with his family and a few more attempts by Hamid to get me to waste the afternoon we leave. I drew my line in the sand and while I wish I could have gone to the supplier without Hamid as to afford him more time with his family today that is simply impossible. I am a little proud I stood my ground on this.
First stop after I cut out the stalling tactics was Jane’s Carpets. I was there for a record setting 7 minutes. I think I Am better sleep deprived, certainly more to the point. The next stop was Diamond Carpets, which has had the most impressive store thus far. They do it for the tourist clearly and insist on denying it when I asked them about it which was perhaps in poor form on my part. I thought the place was neat, well lit with Greek columns and a few pieces of each part of production as you enter the store and in the office there are pictures of happy families purchasing carpets, it was a simple, harmless and friendly question I thought and then for no reason they lie about it—to my face. That does not start us off on a good footing. They did have a worth returning to selection, nothing I could pick without Angus’ seeing the carpets. Hamid is slow to get moving, he stays behind because the company actually owes him around $20000. The only way I have found is to just start leaving and hope he follows. Hope.
The good thing about dealing daily with the customers is I am with them when they go through the stacks and hear their critiques. As such when I go through stacks of carpets here I hear that criticism in the back of my head. The biggest difference between our sales strategy and the Indian supplier is the do not listen to the clients. No matter what you say or how many times you say no they will keep coming back trying to sell you something new. They assume that they know best and could care less what individual markets will bear—they just want carpets gone. I hate wasting time with the customers on thi8ngs they do not want. The Indian supplier will try to show you anything, and if you let them will show you everything do not let this happen. It is fun at first however if you want to accomplish anything you have to power through it.
Two more suppliers down and I learn our train will be at least 2 ½ hours late. It seems that the morning train and the evening train are the same. 11:10 no train yet, I should be back in my hotel room now instead I wait on a platform in Agra. The days are certainly interesting when I get up early.
I was asked an odd question, well not that odd it was just “are you from Denmark?” Denmark? I have never gotten that one before. I would never jump to assume someone to be Danish.