Hugs All Round for the End of Swiss Family Gibbons

So, it's official - the Swiss Family Gibbons adventure is coming to an end. In fact, there is only one Gibbons left in Switzerland (apart from those who might be in the zoos, or might otherwise have the name Gibbons - I can't profess to know much about them though). It has also been the uncertainty of our situation that has led me to be so remiss at updating this blog in recent months.

Well, the news is that I have accepted a job back in the UK, and things look like they will move quickly - by mid-October, we'll simply be 'Family Gibbons' again. Mrs Gibber and The Bug therefore decided to stay on in the UK, leaving me to return to Nyon to pack up the apartment.

As I arrived into Lausanne by train on this occasion, knowing it will be one of the last times I make this trip - during this period of living here, at least - Switzerland felt like a foreign country again, rather than home.

So as the train wound through the Jura, the trees tinged with the amber of an approaching autumn, the orchards set to burst forth with apples, the corn ripe for shucking, I thought about what we hope to take with us from here, and what more I can cram into the remaining time before I leave.

Such a shame that we can't take this scenery with us. But it looks like we'll be in a different beautiful place, albeit not one on the shore of an alpine lake with the Mont Blanc looming on the distant horizon. And having got into cycling again, I'm hopeful that that will be a portable element of my life here, enabling us to maintain a healthy work-life balance than would be afforded if I have to join the long commute to and from work.

As for things I still hope to do before I leave, the list is dauntingly long. We had hoped to spend a few more years here, so were perhaps less diligent about going away and exploring the country at every opportunity. But I still aim to take the boat (preferably one of the 100-year-old paddle steamers) over to France, go to the Olympic Museum in Lausanne, ride from Nyon to St Cergue (from 400m to 1,100m altitude in around 20km), see the inside of Switzerland's parliament building, and the inside of Nyon's chateau, and spend a weekend in Zurich. I'll post updates if I manage to any of those, but with such a short time remaining, I'll have to prioritise.


So, my ambitions for the next few weeks decided, I arrived in Lausanne for my connection to Nyon. As I was having a quick bite of food at the station, I noticed someone holding up a sign in French and English offering "Free Hugs" - just walking around outside Lausanne train station in the early evening twilight. My initial assumption was, obviously, that he was either some kind of loony passing the last few minutes before curfew on a not-too-subtle attempt to get some of the close personal contact only normally available from the night nurse, or a particularly sinister ruse for pick-pocketing. But as I watched this hug-hungry chap, I was increasingly heartened to see lots of people warmly obliging (and observed no dodgy wallet-removal movements).

Well, when in Rome... He's perhaps not the most appealing hug-prospect in the world, but when asked the obvious question of "why", his rather endearingly genuine response was that "I like it, because it makes people happy". With people like that around, what's not to like - and miss - about this place?

All Change for Swiss Family Gibbons...?

Well, it looks like things will be changing for Swiss Family Gibbons...

The good news is that we will be swelling our ranks in the winter with Gibbons Mk.II scheduled to arrive in "early December" (the Swiss are less specific than than UK baby-related medical professionals and don't give a specific due date). The bad news is that we may not be Swiss Family Gibbons for very much longer, after I had it confirmed that there is no money to extend contracts beyond the 2-year term that brought me here in the first place.

I'm looking around for other opportunities and possibilities in the monochromatic bear-branded organisation, and elsewhere in Geneva, but there are also lots of things now stacking up to making a return to Blighty seem like the best idea. From a professional point of view, it's been a fairly frustrating time out here in Switzerland, so maybe a change isn't such a bad thing, even if it is enforced.

Having family nearer than 3 hours (and a lot of money) away will certainly be appreciated when the "Gibbli" comes along, but on the other hand, leaving so soon means that The Bug won't have the chance to grow up bi-lingual, or even remember this beautiful country where she has spent the start of her life. And unless I get my act together in the last few months of being here, it looks like I will fail miserbaly in one of the goals I set myself when first moving here - to learn French. Alors, c'est la vie.

Of course, if we return to the UK, I will also have to find a job, and we will have to find somewhere to live - and at a time when the news is full of stories about funding cuts and how everyone is going to feel the pain of reducing the deficit. What a great time to come home!

HOP SUISSE!!!

When Roger Federer won his sixth Wimbledon title last summer, the response on the streets of Nyon was one solitary firework. Today, Switzerland beat Spain - the pre-tournament favourites - 1-0 and it's like they've won the World Cup itself.



As I've mentioned before, the Swiss like to fly a flag. But in this very international part of the world, the balconies and cars of Switzerland are often adorned with the Swiss flag alongside those of other countries in the tournament. But when the final whistle blew in Durban, Swiss flags were immediately strapped to cars and paraded triumphantly around the streets to the accompaniment of claxons, vuvuzelas (yes, they have even reached here and not yet been banned by the noise police) and horns. As I write this, it's a full hour after the end of the match, and if anything, the celebrations are increasing.

By comparison to the coverage back home, Switzerland has ushered in the World Cup with less commercialism, less fanfare and considerably less expectation of the national team's chances of lifting the trophy. Let's face it, the Swiss are underdogs, and I doubt many - in Switzerland or anywhere else - would have expected them to get out of their group before the tournament. But with a win over Spain, and Honduras looking like potential Group H whipping boys, it's just possible that Switzerland might exceed all expectations.

Assuming the Swiss don't suffer the same success fatigue they have obviously done with Federer, IF - by some Greek-Euro'04-type good fortunte - they should go on and win it, I think the traditional Swiss reserve might just be locked in the closet for a short while ...so long as it doesn't affect the trains running on time. But, that's not going to happen. Is it...?

One Year of Swiss Family Gibbons

It's a year since the Gibbons Family became Swiss Family Gibbons. As expected, a lot has changed for all three of us since we arrived here in a new apartment in a new town in a new country where they speak a different language and drive on the wrong side of the road.

But I think it's fair to say that we've settled in, and what better time to reflect on the things we've come to appreciate and enjoy about our new life here on the shore of Lake Geneva.

1. Being on the continent
There's something quite special and almost tantalising about being at Geneva train station and seeing destinations like Milan, Berlin, Paris, Vienna and Madrid on the departures board. We're pretty well located for visiting all of these places and thousands of other fantastic destinations by rail with minimum hassle. I've also come to realise that there is degree of continental 'culture' that is lacking in the UK, despite the superficial attempts to create one by tweaking the opening hours and allowing pubs and restaurants to put tables outside in the rain/traffic. This cultural difference manifests itself in the clothes people wear, the way in which they socialise and spend their time, and the abundance of cultural 'events' that are both plentiful without being pretentious - from air displays of old aircraft at the local air field, to the Nyon international film festival, to the spring market to the Paleo music festival to circuses and the Swiss national cycling championships passing through town. Having so many television channels from different countries around Europe and the world, also adds to the feeling of being part of European culture, rather than slightly detached from, and in many cases, disdainful of it. OK, so the TV is far better in the UK, ...but maybe that's telling in itself.

2. Weather and Scenery

Well, lets face it, it's not hard to beat the British weather. But the weather here has been more interesting than that to which we seem to be subjected in the UK, as well as 'better'. We had a hot summer last year where it would be early-to-mid 30s during the day, with some fantastic electrical storms in the evenings that refereshed the air and prevented the heat from becoming muggy or oppresive. And even when it's raining, the weather here still be stunning - sometimes we can't even see the Jura mountains behind our apartment for the low-hanging clouds, nor the other side of the lake from the rain. But the view in such variable weather only serves to reveal and complement another aspect of the scenery.

2. Seasonality
The weather here also corresponds to the seasons, which in turn are played out on the beautiful scenery. In contrast to the UK, we seem to get all four seasons here 'properly' - fresh springs that get increasingly warmer leading to hot, sunny (and stormy) summer months before autumn blows in to make way for cold and snowy winters. The other plus side of this is that we get truly seasonal produce in the supermarkets. Back home, you can get pretty much any produce any time of the year and it will always be in the same place in the supermarket. When we first went shopping on arrival in Nyon last year, we were surprised that there seemed to be very little choice of potatoes (an important consideration, I'm sure you'll agree). But a month or so later, there was an abundance of potatoes of different varities, many of which had been grown locally. Indeed, this area of Switzerland - 'La Cote', where the land slopes gently from the base of the Jura to the shores of the lake - is very agricultural and in addition to the extensive vines that produce some decent white and rose wines, there are apples, plums, apricots, peaches and soft fruits grown here, as well as many types of vegetable that all make it into the supermarkets and are sold proudly as being 'from the region'. The seasonality also extends to meat - venison will be on the menu of restaurants in the autumn, and though lamb is difficult to come by, there is more of it available in spring. All produce is also of exceptional quality ...and price. One result of this mix of seasonality, variability in produce and price is that we have become 70-80% vegetarian - seasonal produce just tastes better!

3. Commute
When we lived in the UK, my commute was either 90 minutes (each way) into London on an overcrowded, invariably late commuter train, or a (minimum) 90 minute journey - mostly travelling at single-digit miles per hour - around the M25 from Dunstable to Godalming. For those readers unfamiliar with the M25, it is anathema to the concept of mobility - you may as well stay at home, set fire to a tank of petrol and then sit around looking at a photo of the tail end of a truck for an hour or so. Here, I can either stroll down to the station (14 minutes) to catch a train one short stop (4 minutes) where I have another short (6 minute) walk to the office. The more pleasurable alternative is to cycle - the quickest route takes a little over 12 minutes, but I often lengthen this to take in a more picturesque route into the vineyards on the hills, which also has the benefit of giving me something more like a 30 minute work out each way to and from the office. Add to that days so clear that you can see the Mont Blanc shining out of the Alps on the other shore of the lake, and you can see why this is a vast improvement on
commuting in the UK.

4. It's clean and well ordered
The Swiss are famed for it, and rightly so. You just don't see litter, let alone dog turds on Swiss streets, and the recycling regime here is so comprehensive that they have different recycling containers for used and unused batteries ...though why you would need to discard unused batteries is perhaps a more pertinent question. Just last week, we received a letter from the regie saying that some residents had been putting bags of rubbish in the communal bins that had not been tied well enough, resulting in bad odours coming from the bin room. Swiss bin rooms are presumably supposed to smell of new born babies rolling around in alpine meadows... OK, so the cleanliness and good order are perhaps taken a bit too far at times, but it's just a pleasant, clean place where things work and where, therefore, you can rely on them to work.

5. Swiss National Pride

I've mentioned before that the Swiss are fervent fliers of flags. But this is just one manifestation of helvetic pride. What's as noticeable are the stickers and labels on things proclaiming 'Swiss Made', or 'A Swiss Idea' although I dispute the latter on many occasions, such as the clothing shop 'Switcher' which it claims is a 'swiss idea' when I'm fairly sure they can't really claim to have invented either clothing or shopping. Still, there appear to be many products, aside from chocolates, multi-bladed pocket knives, watches and finance products that are Swiss and which seem to be very popular with Swiss shoppers, and as mentioned above, there is also a good deal of pride in local food produce. But we have 'Buy British' in the UK, so why should we be so impressed with the Swiss equivalent? Well, I think it's because the Swiss and Swiss produce have invested a lot of time and effort in making sure that they are associated with with the concept of quality to the extent that Swiss products are now pretty much synonymous with it. Also, they have built up this association with high-value and luxury products - and tangible products at that, rather than 'service' products.

6. Other Things...

Bread and pastries, skiing in the stunning winter scenery only 25 minutes' drive away, finding out about Swiss history and politics, seeing the flow of streams I cross on the commute to work change through the seasons, Lake Geneva being a 15 minute walk away...

All in all, we like it here because of the comparably better quality of life - we live a better life here than we did in the UK. That's not to say that everything is pefect here, or that we never want to return back home, but we're thoroughly enjoying being here, and are a little apprehensive about what we would lose out on when we return to the UK. No news on when that will be, so we'll just continue to enjoy it while we can...

Annoying things about Switzerland...

As I may have mentioned before, there are some subtle but noticeable differences about living in Switzerland compared to living in the UK.

I mean, it's not like being somewhere where people communicate by way of bouts of chest-thumping accompanied by primitive howling, ritually rub themselves with pig sweat and scratch around in the undergrowth for food (although France is only 20 km away), but every now and then, we experience or notice something that makes us say ,"Eh?" ...and sometimes worse.

It's nearly a year since we moved here, and seeing as the blog that marks that milestone will likely be very positive about Switzerland, this one gives an opportunity to vent a little about what's not-so-good.

Customer Service
The Swiss are absolutely shit at it. That goes for bars and restaurants, shops, the trains, banks, the post office - pretty much anywhere where servicing the needs of customers is part of the staff's job. They haven't got a clue. This is something of a surprise due to most Swiss people one meets being very polite (people say hello to each other on the street here - like in south Wales, but without the depression). Take a normal trip to a Swiss supermarket as an example:
1. No-one welcomes you to the store - actually, I hated that in the supermarket we used to go to in the UK where they had employed some old duffer to stand around and get in people's way when they were trying to get a basket, wearing an oversized badge saying "Hello! I'm Bert and I'm here to help!" - he was a waste of space (and a waste of a badge) who they obviously didn't trust to do anything else. So, on balance, maybe the Swiss have got that one right...
2. There are never any staff around to ask where things are - aside from not being competent enough at French to ask whether they stock extra virgin cold-pressed tamarind paste, this is annoying nonetheless. I also think their merchandising and product association logic is all wrong, but I'd sound like a bit of an anorak if I went into too much detail about that.
3. It's when you get to the till that Swiss customer service really comes into its own, lowly league. There always seem to be queues and I don't think I've ever heard an announcement along the lines of (but in French), "We apologise for the long queues during your payment experience with us today, and would like to assure you that all staff - excluding Bert - are doing all they can to assist you".
4. To be fair, when the time comes around to have your shopping scanned, you are guaranteed to get a "bonjour" from the staff. However, this is delivered by the cashier, slumped back in their chair, without any genuine enthusiasm or heartfelt benevolent wish that your jour will be bonne. Now I don't expect to be hailed as a trolley-pushing saviour and gently fellated by the cashier when I come to pay (note to self: try to avoid using "come to pay" and "fellated" in the same sentence), the standard experience is that you'll be lucky to make eye contact with a Swiss cashier as they glance at you with the disdain appropriate for someone who is merely prolonging the monotonous futility of their existence.
5. What happens next is perhaps the biggest departure from how things work in UK supermarkets - as soon as the cashier has removed the 'next customer' little plastic bar thing and slotted it into its rack (unhelpfully just out of reach for the next customer to be able to use it), it's like the starting gun has gone off for the 'fastest shopping scan challenge'. Before you've even got into standard produce-receiving position at the bottom of the conveyor, soft fruit, bottles, bread, cheese and boxes of washing powder will be flying at you without let-up until the last item has beeped and the cashier demands to know whether you have a "supercard". You're left trying to clamber out of a pile of produce while also hastily proffering your payment, such is the evident impatience of the cashier to see the back of you.
6. And of course, no sooner have you paid and been handed your receipt (often without a "thank you", let alone "do you want some help with packing") but they swing one of those bars that divides the conveyor - like they used to have in the UK before they discovered customer service - and the next customer's produce is being fired down the belt, with you still in the way floundering to hastily gather your purchases into a bag. In the UK, the cashier will wait patiently (often smiling like a simpleton) while you finish packing the last of your purchases, before cheerily bidding you a lovely day and warmly welcoming the next customer as though serving them is the sole reason for the cashier having been placed on this Earth in a garish orange and blue blouse and deposited atop a slightly wobbly-seated swivel chair.

Driving
1. Swiss drivers don't use indicators (the bastards). This is particularly noticeable on roundabouts where a different rule applies to the UK - you don't indicate in advance of a roundabout, only when you are on it AND about to turn off. The result is that you pretty much have to guess whether vehicles are going to turn off or come straight for you, which adds to the excitement of the roundabout experience, but also to the likelihood of accidents...
2. Swiss motorways (at least in our part of the country) only have two lanes and very short slip roads. This means that cars in the slow lane often have to pull into the fast lane to let cars join the motorway. The absence of indication makes this a particularly annoying experience, as do the Audi and BMW drivers whose inalienable and exclusive right it is to permanently occupy the fast lane, a right they enforce by driving so close to anyone who dares to enter 'their' lane that you can see the whites of their eyes in the rear-view mirror.

Everything's so damn expensive
1. EVERYTHING
2. Is
3. SO
4. Damn
5. Expensive. ...Everything. Damn.

Obsession with 'noise'
Our washing machine cannot be used during the hours of 11:00 and 13:00 because this is the time of day that old people an children sleep. In fact, the power to the machine is centrally switched off at these times. Every Day. This is crazy on a number of levels:
1. This assumes that all children and all elderly people sleep between these times, which may be true of Swiss children and old people who are doubtless genetically conditioned to conform to this regulation, but certainy isn't true for The Bug.
2. The building has been designed and prewired so that the power to all washing machines in every apartment can be centrally controlled (by the noise police, presumably). That's serious enforcement of rules and surely an unnecessary complication of the job of architects and electricians?
3. This also suggests a certain lack of trust in citizens that they would not obey the rules - which is surprising as the Swiss are such sticklers for conformity, they make the massed ranks of North Korean soldiers on parade day look like dropout yoofs hanging around housing estates drinking cider when they should be in class.
4. Another indication of noise intolerance is the official letters posted by the 'Regie' (kind of like a cross between an estate agent and the Gestapo) in the foyer area of our building periodically warning tenants that vacuum cleaning has been heard on Sundays (heaven forbid!). These letters include a polite, but unmistakable warning that such heinous crimes against sensitive Swiss eardrums (I don't think this is for the benefit of children and the elderly, unless they are expected to sleep the whole day through on Sundays) will be severly punished. I suppose, to be fair, this is not such a hardship and does make for nice quiet Sundays, but it just goes to show how dogmatically obsessive the Swiss can be about 'regulations'.

Stupid opening hours
This works well when combined with the shite customer service in terms of escalating the irritation levels of British expats in Switzerland:
1. Swiss shops are closed, or at best miserably understaffed, at any time that it would be most convenient for customers to use them - many supermarkets close at 5:30pm meaning that it's virtually impossible for a working person to do a shop during the week, and you can forget about going to the post office or bank during your lunch break as they'll be closed. Oh, and like those lazy part-timers in France, lunch here apparently takes about 3 hours...
2. Such is the failure of Swiss shopkeepers to grasp the concept of optimising commercial potential, that some shops and restaurants are even closed on Saturdays. This, coupled with the stupid closing times of supermarkets on weekdays, makes shopping in those shops that are open on Saturdays an unmitigated nightmare, such is the throng of people taking advantage of the slim window of opportunity to get some food in.
3. Switzerland is closed on Sundays. At first this was annoying, accustomed as we were from the UK to being able to do our weekly shop, or visits to garden centres on Sundays. But we've come to really appreciate this as it now means we're more inclined to spend time doing more pleasurable things.

There are other things that are mildly irritating about Switzerland - for example, the worrying conservatism that has resulted in the 'minarets ban' (although our Canton was one of few to vote against the measure), and the strange milk-labelling system (full-fat or 'drink'... eh?) - but as I said above, generally we think this is a pretty good place. The next post should hopefully explain why...

2.5hours of Swiss Prime Time TV...

I've mentioned the state of TV in this part of the world on a few occasions, but the spectacle to which we were treated (or subjected) recently cannot pass without mention.

What may be most remarkable about it was that - to the Saturday night viewing audience in this alpine part of the world - it is completely unremarkable. Prime time Saturday night scheduling on the main German-speaking Swiss channel is often devoted to two and a half hours of 'traditional' Germanic entertainment.

By 'traditional', I mean lots of lederhosen-clad men with twirly moustaches, women with cleavage-enhancing 'dirndeln', lots of 'schunkeln' (swaying from side to side, ideally with arms linked to the people either side of you) and plenty of hand clapping in time to waltz-tempo music. Indeed, I'm sure it must be possible to identify people from Bavaria, Austria and German-speaking Switzerland purely from the ruddy-red palms of their over-clapped hands. Here's a short video to indicate the scale of what I mean:

Then there's the show's host, with his sparkling grin, crash-helmet hairstyle and a penchant for breaking into song himself. Just look at him:
One aspect of the show pits three acts - one from Germany, one from Austria and one from Switzerland - against each other for the votes of the viewing public. These acts tend to feature wholesome youths from small alpine communities singing sentimental songs in tribute to their family or hometown.

In one intro piece, Désiree, a musician from a small village near to the borders of Austria, Switzerland and Liechtenstein declared innocently that, "I mostly play with my father". So, not an explicit mention of him also keeping her in the cellar, but I don't think I'm the only one who had suspicions.

The host then made a big fuss about introducing a 'British star' with a career spanning over 40 years. Of course, I feared the worst, expecting Cliff Richard to be wheeled out to croon to the assembled teutonic mass. After all, his hairstyle would have fitted right in. But no, the 'star' in question was none other than Roger Whittaker. Yes, that's right - Roger Whittaker.


No, I had never heard of him either. His Wikipedia entry reads "Roger Whittaker (born March 22, 1936) is an Anglo-Kenyan singer-songwriter and musician with worldwide record sales of over 55 million. His music can be described as easy listening. He is best known for his baritone singing voice and trademark whistling ability." In my opinion, his music can otherwise be described as 'shite' and I was not at all surprised to read that one of his songs was entered into the Eurovision song contest - as good an indicator of shite as a blocked public toilet.

Caroline had heard of Roger Whittaker, on account of him being a regular on German TV 15 years ago. This also says a lot about how slow things are to move on in this part of the world. So, Roger Whittaker is a bit like a British David Hasselhoff ...but without the early career as a TV hero with a cool car to 1980s kids, and a TV hero with voluptuous breasted co-stars to 1990s teenage boys.

Now 74, Roger sang his latest offering, 'Shannon River Lady' which was truly an offence upon the ear-drums, and that's without mentioning Roger's cheeky winks to the camera. But for all of my ridiculing of him, he does have record sales of 55 million to his name... So I guess he has the last laugh.

The rest of the programme (it's oh-too-easy to get sucked in) was filled with songs dedicated to 'papa', and about 'heimat' (like homeland, but basically an ode to how good it is to be from where you call 'home') and a little ditty praising the Berner Oberland. You get the picture; pretty much a celebration of being seriously conservative, something which if I'm honest, does have its mildly endearing (but also slightly disturbing) qualities - kind of like Boris Johnson. But, same as for Boris, I don't think it's right that they should get any public attention, and certainly not on prime time TV on a Saturday.

Here's one last clip, same hand-clappingly predictable tempo as every other song. You can clap and swing along if you like... Oh, and look out for the quality hairstyle at the end!

Apple trees blossoming on the cycle ride to work this morning...

Bubble and Standing Up

One of The Bug's First Words...
New trick: standing up.

The Bug Shuffle

Nothing more to be said...

Taj Me Baby One More Time

Taj Mahal at Sunset
So, my Indian adventure continued this past weekend with a day trip to Agra to see the Taj Mahal - something I had not managed to do on my previous visit to India, and which was looking in doubt on account of a lively bottom, right up until the morning of departure.

The lack of repeated trips to the lavatory through Friday night, which I attributed to the wonder pills prescribed to be me by the doctor, and my tactic of not eating (nothing going in means nothing to come out again) meant I was fairly confident that I would be OK. And without going into unnecessary details, I was proven to be largely correct.

Departing an hour later than planned (for no discernible reason other than the cat-herding that seems unavoidable with a group of 12 people) we soon found ourselves in the thick of thickest Indian Saturday traffic. I have absolutely no idea where the multitude were heading, but they were doing so with much determination, noise and characteristic disrespect for any sort of traffic laws.

The journey ended up taking nearly 5 hours - only 3 of which were on roads of a standard fit for speeds over 50kph - and was surprisingly devoid of topographical features. Not that it was without interest. As well as the sights of ridiculous numbers of people squeezed into an auto-rickshaw (I think 11 was pretty standard - driver sandwiched between 2, 6 in the middle seats which would comfortably seat 2, and 2 hanging off the back corners), the main sights were a beautiful Royal Enfield motorcycle (they still make them here apparently), the remains of 3 truck crashes, an enormous and elaborately painted statue of one of the Indian gods (I forget which multi-limbed, lion-bestraddling one it was), and abject poverty.
Bonkers Temple type thing viewed from side of the road to Agra

It goes without saying that India is a poor country, 'emerging' though it may be in crude economic terms. Yet living in our Swiss bubble, and not having ventured out of Europe for a while means I hadn't seen such poverty for a few years now. Mere glimpses of 'camps' of assorted mud-walled, tin-roofed improvised shacks, cannot provide one with a true understanding of what life must be like for the inhabitants - we see the poverty, but only fleetingly and on the surface without appreciating its depth or persistence.

Seeing a young boy of perhaps 4 years sorting through litter on the central reservation of a dual-carriageway really brought home how fortunate The Bug - as well as I - have been to have had the pure, random good fortune to have been born into the privilege we so often take for granted.

Yet, as noted in my previous post, India is a country of contrasts as opposite where this child was squatting was one of India's shining new petrol stations which seem to be the most modern buildings, all ablaze with white lighting and corporate cleanliness - perhaps an interesting indication of where India is heading, while also posing the question of whether it's the best route, or how many of its people will be taken along on the journey.

Anyway, I digress.

Eventually arriving into the (now de rigeur) chaos of Agra, we had our first sighting of the Taj Mahal at a distance of a few kilometers, while weaving our way along in the shadow of the ramparts of Agra's fort. Arriving at the hotel where some of our groups would stay the night, we were provided with other tantalising glimpses of the famous dome and towers. In fact, if I am honest, such views were somewhat underwhelming - expecting to be agape in wonderment and the merest sight of Taj marble, my immediate thoughts were, "oh right, so that looks like it's the Taj - hmm, I guess it looks better from the other angle...". But our proper visit to the Taj Mahal was to be at the end of the day, following a trip to Agra Fort.
First Glimpse of the Taj Mahal, Agra

Agra Fort used to be the seat of the Mughal emperors of India and is an imposing red sandstone structure. And as if the whole of Agra is all about one place, it also provides views across the Yamuna river of the Taj Mahal, like it's constantly beckoning you, like it knows it's the real reason you have come all this way.

Still, having spent a decent amount of time at the Fort, and in view of not wanting to push my luck with my toilet troubles on another 5 hour journey back to Delhi, I decided to investigate the fast train back to Delhi for myself and another member of our group who was so ill that he saw no more of Agra than the inside of a dingy hotel room.

While passing polite queue conversation with some young Korean tourists at the train station, I made an off-hand comment that I was aiming to get out of Agra station within the next 5 minutes to go and join my friends to see the Taj Mahal. At which point I hear, "it'll SOOOO take longer than 5 minutes to to get out of here" from some foppish young British traveller-twat at the front of the queue. I judge him, perhaps cruelly, on account of a number of things I observed while waiting in line, not least his obvious disdain for the ticket clerk, and his attire of drain-pipe pink jeans, a shirt of such unfeasibly brilliant-white crispness that it is surely the envy of every man between Agra and Jermyn Street (in either direction of circumnavigation), and crimson neck scarf. At least when I was a foppish young British traveller-twat, I had the decency to dress more as traveller than twat. I also thought it a bit much that he insisted on getting his 50 rupees change (about 80 pence) ...but then again, maybe he was on a budget - that might explain the clothing, at least.

Of course, when I finally got to the head of the queue after a further 15 minutes queuing, I was told that tickets that were entirely sold out. Bugger.

And so quickly back to the Taj on an auto-rickshaw before sun-down to find out whether it is better when seen 'properly'. And, oh! - how much better it is...

In its full landscaped setting, and when guided to the most breathtaking vantage point from which to view the Taj, one cannot fail to be awed by the simplicity of the architectural proportions, irridescence of the marble, and beauty of the colour detail around the arches.




Pictures can say more than a thousand words of an already-too-long blog post. ...and just as soon as I am able to, I'll upload some...