I’ve done a lot of hikes in my life, but this one is the best by far. I was amazed. My sons amazing Boy Scout leader, Rich Powell, lead this motley expedition. I could go on and on about it, but a picture’s worth a thousand words, so see for yourself!

If you want to do the hike, it’s tightly controlled, and restricted to only 80 hikers per day, and permits are hard to get. Contact the Back Country office at Zions National Park to get in the lottery- it’s worth the wait!

Just double click on the first pic to start the slide show, then the arrows on the bottom to advance. Enjoy!

[View with PicLens]

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I had heard that driving in the Philippines was just like India, which it’s not, but it’s sure not what a North American is used to! Check out the live action:

The Taj Mahal may be the most photographed building in the world. Every picture, from every angle, in every lighting, has already been taken, and I’ve seen many of them since I was little boy, yet when I walked through that North Gate for the first time and saw it with my own eyes it was as new and inspiring as if I’d never seen a picture of it before.

It’s big. It doesn’t seem that big because of the perfect proportions and layout, but when you get up close and see, for example, people at the bottom of the towers and realize they’re really tall, it was surprising to me.

And the decorations that look like paintings- aren’t. They’re all semi-precious stone inlays. Miles of them. And a lot of intricate carved marble pieces, many of which were hewn from single slabs about six feet long and laid in the walls, or used as lattice style fencing around the tombs.

It took three hours to get there, and four to get back, but was well worth it, if you’re ever in India…

The only hard part about finding a tour guide at the Taj Mahal is getting to India. The rest is easy. Show up in the Taj Mahal parking lot, and voila! A host of tour guides, book sellers, and other sundry and miscellaneous sales professionals show up before you can even open the car door.

We were careful in our choice. We went with the very first one who reached our car. He iced the deal by flashing a warn out piece of paper and saying, “I’m a real tour guide!” and hastily shoving it back in his pocket.

But we had been warned by people that went the week before that it was worth having a guide, even if all they did was help you “jump the queue, as the line just to get in was two hours long. He pointed that out to us as well, and reminded us the the Taj Mahal was closed on Friday’s, so Saturday is a very popular day, best to have a guide. My associate, Vimal, did the negotiating, and informed me it would only be 200 rupees (about four bucks) to show the three of us around (Vimal, his son Naman, and myself) so it seemed like a good idea.

When we got to the entrance, however, there was no line whatsoever. “There isn’t a queue today.” I said. “Not today.” He said. “This way please.” And he carried on like nothing had happened.

But luckily, he was worth his weight in gold. Salman (that’s his name, pronounced just like it looks) was a very cheerful and knowledgeable host. He lined us up on the correct bench to do the “I’m holding the Taj Mahal in my hand!” cheesy tourist thing, stopped us at many key points along the way to give us tidbits like, “Notice the eleven domes on the front and back of the North Gate. Twenty two in all. They represent the twenty two years it took to build the Taj Mahal.” And later, “See the fountains? There are fifty three of them. And sixteen gardens. This is because the Taj was finished in 1653…” and so on.

When we got to the place where everybody else is instructed to take off their shoes, he provided little white disposable booties so we didn’t have to walk in our socks. He told us all about the history, construction, materials, etc. “Notice the towers are leaning just slightly. This was future planning on the architects part. Each one leans away from the Taj just two degrees, in case they ever fall down, they won’t destroy the building…”

“Three days a month, during the full moon, you can come and visit the Taj at midnight, for extra money. Marble is transluscent, and the moonlight makes these flower inlays glow in a special way… I will show you an example at the end… ”

So, we completed a wonderful tour of the Taj Mahal. He was very patient while I took more than the average amount of pictures. Then he reminded us about the lighting example and lead us to a small shop just outside the gates, where he informed us that “Actual descendants of the original 20,000 workers still work marble here in Agra…” And he pointed out some craftsmen working marble in the street. “Come inside for the lighting demonstration.”

We were lead into the back of a shop, filled with small marble Taj Mahal replicas, marble boxes, t-shirts, and shawls. Here, our trusty tour guide became quiet as a mouse while his colleagues put the pitch to us. He started by showing us some inlaid marble, and shining a light behind it, so we could see how pretty the orange inlay looked in the light. He then went on to pitch us on his storefull of stuff.

But it wasn’t too painful, and Vimal actually did buy a small replica for Naman, after some hard negotiations. They wanted 1500 rupees for it, but Vimal offered 500. Intense negotiaions ensued. In the end, he shoved 600 rupees in the guys hand and took the replica. It wasn’t the first time I saw an item go for less than half of the original asking price while I was here!

Salman arranged an “Auto” for us, (short for “Auto-Rikshaw” a small three wheeled taxi) that took us back to the parking lot, where he asked if we were satisfied with the tour. I was, so I took out three hundred rupees instead of 200, and thinking he would be pleased with a 50% tip, handed him the cash.

“It’s 500.” Says he.

“You told Vimal it would be 200.” Says I.

“Oh.” Says he.

End of tour.

My son Josh, who’s eight, had just one request before I left for India. he wanted me to bring him back a rock. So imagine my happiness when, after completing a tour of the Taj Mahal, we ended up in a shop that had a wonderful variety of pretty rocks and semi-precious stones.

I was particularly taken with the “Star Of India” stone, that, when held under light, casts six very distinct rays of light. Perfect! I think to myself, He’ll love it!

“How much for this one?” I ask, pointing to a rock about three quarters of an inch across. But I knew instantly I was in trouble when he reached down and pulled up a scale, and replied, “It depends how many karats it is.” And he started weighing.

Now, I’m no rock expert, but I know what kinds of stones are measured by the karat- they’re called diamonds.

“Four thousand, six hundred and fifty rupees.” He says, and maintains a straight face. I do the mental math.

“That’s over a hundred dollars US.” I say. “One hundred and five.” He says back. Great.

“OK, look, I have an eight year old son at home who would like a rock from India, but I’m talking way less money here, what have you got?” So he pulls out a tiny version of the “Star Of India” rock and weighs it. “Thirty US.” He says. It’s smaller then the fingernail on my pinky.

I patiently explain that to my eight year old boy, this tiny little thirty dollar rock would probably be a disappointment. I ask him what he has that’s big, and less than five bucks. (The lifespan of a rock in my house if about a week.)

He pulls out a tray of polished rocks, picks one up and says, “I could do this one for twenty.” Now, where I’m from, we have vendors in pricy little tourist towns that have bins of polished rocks. You can fill a little velvet bag with as many as will fit for five bucks.

“That’s a polished rock.” I say, thinking it sums up the total thought process that went into the previous paragraph.

“No, it’s a semi-precious stone.” Maintains he.

“No, it’s a polished rock.” Restates me.

“No, it’s a semi-precious stone.” Says he, still with a straight face.

“What’s it called?” Asks I.

“Sandstone.”

I left the shop. If the conversation would have carried on any longer I may have inadvertently poked him in the eye. Disappointed, but undaunted, I found another shop, and explained exactly what I was looking for. The large, bearded man in white robes smiled and said he had exactly what I wanted. We went to the back of his shop, where he told me he was the wholesaler to all the other shops in Agra.

Trying to contain my excitement, I start looking through his tray of polished rocks, to find the perfect one for my son. “Are any of these unique to India?” I ask.

“Yes, all of them.” He smiled back at me. My enthusiasm dropped a tad, my skepticism rose, and I asked, “What’s this one?”

“Sandstone.”

OK, here we go, I think to myself. So I just tell him, “Look, at home we buy a whole bag of these things for five bucks. All I want is a nice stone for an eight year old boy, and the most I’m willing to spend is five dollars US, or two hundred twenty five rupees.”

“OK, how about this one, it’s only twenty…” he says.

“What have you got for five?” I ask. He rummages through, and pulls out all the rocks that I could have found myself if I had walked around outside for about ten minutes. My patience wearing thin, I pull out my wallet, grab a five hundred rupee note, pick up one of the “twenty dollar” stones, and say, confidently, “Two hundred and twenty five rupees.” Which I repeated three times, automatically, to whatever retort he gave me, each time shoving the note towards him dramatically.

He finally gave in, and, proud of my negotiating prowess, I walked out of the store with Josh’s rock, knowing full well that when my wife sees it she’ll say, “You spent five bucks on that? I can get a whole bag of those for five bucks…”

As you probably know, cows are sacred in India. So it’s probably not appropriate to use the word “beef,” as that’s more of a food related term. So I knew before I came that cows were sacred, but I never got the full implications of that until I got here. For example, it’s illegal to sell beef. That causes a big problem for McDonald’s, which does exist in India, but doesn’t serve hamburgers with beef, only chicken.

Cows own the road in India!

The “Holy Cow” issue also causes havoc on the roads, where cows wander aimlessly, and cause ulcers for the poor drivers, who otherwise drive like teenagers on acid playing a video game. Imagine, screaming down the road, passing bicycles, rikshaws, scooters and motorcycles with reckless abandon, then suddenly being stopped by a lethargic cow. Very inconvenient.

So I knew when I came to India that I wanted to get some custom tailored clothes.

The Raymond Shop-

It took some local knowledge, but I found a great place and with the help of my volunteer helper, Greeny (real name!), I was able to find the deal I wanted.

One hour of measuring later I had picked out the fabric, ordered a suit and five shirts, for a grand total of 8,500 rupees, which at the current exchange rate of .44 cents, cost me a grand total of $190 US.

Gotta love it!

What’s not in India? The weather, first of all. 120 degrees today! But otherwise, here are some of the interesting news items I found through scanning the hotels paper of choice, The Hindustan Times:

In The News

Government accepts new figure for poor: 372M Wow.

These roadside hovels area everywhere in India, very sad.

Just slightly more poor people than the entire population of the United States! Luckily, things are looking up in India since the internet pipes across the ocean opened up the country to international commerce. It’s exciting to see how much business there is here now, and the improvements in education. It will take a long time, but India is on the upswing.

Lost chance of redemption. There are 11 days, every 12 years, in which faithful Hindu’s believe that bathing in the Ganga river washes away their sins, or even guarantees them a place in heaven. Seeing that there’s 850,00,000 Hindu’s in India, and the perfect bathing spot is only 100M long, it can be a tough spot to take a dip in. Unfortunately, today is the 18th of April and the best day was the 14th. I arrived in India 4 days too late to take advantage. 12 years from now, I guess I better plan my trip better

Heat Wave Strikes India! The hottest April in 52 years. Average temperature so far: 45.6 degrees celsius. Normally April averages about 43.7. If you don’t understand celsius, the correct translation to fahrenheit is simple: 45.6 degrees is way over 100, off the chart some where in the “freakin hot” category.

This last one isn’t exactly newspaper news, but it was news to me. In reference to the last point, I decided it would be wise to get some sunscreen. Earth to Dave- “sunscreen” doesn’t seem to have a Hindi translation. And if the clerk at the Chemist does happen to speak a little English, it’s difficult to explain the concept. There’s plenty of creams that promise to lighten skin, promising even one or two shades lighter with a single bottle. But if you happen to be a pasty white tourist, forget it.

Now I know what a 15 hour plane ride is like. It’s easy to describe: Extremely long! Luckily, I made a conscious decision before I left to be as non-productive as humanly possible on my trip over.

Screen shot of the in flight real time map

Usually when I travel, I have my laptop, some books, and other miscellaneous work stuff ready for me to tackle on the plane. Then I arrive at my destination disappointed in myself because I usually don’t get much done. So this time I approached things very differently. I chose to be absolutely worthless for 24 hours, but brought along some good stuff “just in case.”

My plan worked beautifully. Other than a handful of brief productive lapses I was able to, for the most part, be highly ineffective, doing little more than sleeping and watching movies.

In the interest of full disclosure I am ashamed to admit that I did break down for a few hours and read about half of “Leadership And Self Deception,” although I was able to snatch myself back into non-productivity with one of my favorite movies of all time, The Shawshank Redemption.

I had a fascinating first impression as I exited customs and turned a corner where the very first shop greeted me. I don’t know what I was expecting, but rather than any exotic Indian wares, the first thing I saw was a wall full of English style candy like I would expect to see in England. Flakes, Galaxy’s, Toblerone’s, and Licorice All-sorts were piled high and deep, with US dollar prices, not rupees. Made me feel like I was back in England.

My first "Indian" wares: English chocolate and treats!

Two people greeted me outside of baggage claims, a manager from the hotel and a driver. It took about 30 minutes to get to the hotel, during which time I learned about the fabled driving conditions in India. I’m not sure why they paint lines in the road, they seem to be completely irrelevant. As the manager explained to me, the lines aren’t the real “rule of the road,” rather, it’s more based on “if there’s space.” In other words, if you can fit, go for it! Our driver seemed to enjoy his job a little too much, and drove like he was playing a video game. He had a foot on the gas, his hand on the horn, and I’m sure there are still scooter drivers pulling themselves out of the jungle this morning as I write this, that he drove off the road without even noticing.

But we arrived at the Claridges Hotel safely, and I was greeted as if I was nobility. Wow. Between the car and the check in I must of been bowed to and smiled at by a dozen people, all extremely friendly.

And now, after a good night’s sleep, I’m waiting for Sanjay to pick me up and show me the sights of Delhi!