There is a castle on a cloud.

Before we get to the wonderful city of Agra, home of the Taj Mahal, let's talk travel.  Sabrina and I agreed that no trip to India would be complete without a journey along the legendary railroads.  Typically, things in India are relatively inexpensive, but when our four hour trip cost less than three Canadian dollars each, we knew we were in for a ride.  Sure enough, the "Sleeper car" we rode in had not one, not two, but three bunks per wall, one on top of the other, and while the seats are assigned by ticket, no one really pays attention.  Sabrina and I ended up slouching on the bottom bunk (there was certainly not enough room to sit up). Several window latches were broken so the car was a bit chilly  (although I imagine in the dead of summer, the lack of air-conditioning is infinitely worse than an evening draft).  Every half hour or so, despite being close to midnight, a small man would trek down the aisle with a big urn of tea calling "Chai, chai, chai."  Since we only had to endure it for a few hours, the whole thing was quite entertaining, but we were thankful when we finally pulled into Agra.

Any residual stress from the trip instantly melted away when we stepped into the lobby of our hotel.  Like I said, things can be very inexpensive, so when we booked our reasonably priced rooms, we didn't realize that we were staying in what was without a doubt one of the most beautiful establishments in which I've ever stepped foot.  As we had an early day, and it was already nearing 2am, we headed straight for bed.

DAY 8 :
Before sunrise the next morning, our guide was waiting for us in the lobby.  Well-spoken, funny, and very knowledgeable, he led us to the car and we headed for our first sight:  the long awaited Taj Mahal.



The entrance alone is pretty impressive...





... but the structure itself is indescribable.

"The Taj" has been described as the greatest love letter of all time.  When Shah Jahan, the fifth Mughal Emperor, lost his beloved wife Mumtaz during childbirth, he swore he would honour her dying wish : build her a tomb which would preserve her memory and the memory of their love for the ages.  Now one of the most recognized structures in the world, the Taj Mahal accomplished just this, and all in the name of eternal love.

While the sheer immensity of the Taj is astounding, I believe the most breathtaking feature is in fact the smallest.  The white marble walls are covered with miniature geometric and floral designs formed by inlaid semi-precious stones, such as onyx, jasper, and malachite.  This method, known as pietra dura, can incorporate hundreds of individually carved and polished stones in a single flower or pattern.

For example, this marble table top Sabrina bought is the size of an LP and contains 600 individual stones.

Surrounding the Taj Mahal are beautiful gardens, as well as a mosque on the left, with an identical building on the right, historically used as a guest house, built to preserve the symmetry of the grounds.


One of the most surreal experiences we had was when we walked around to the back of The Taj, which faces a river.  It was still very early in the day, and the morning fog was so thick that it completely blanketed the landscape right up to the walls of The Taj.  To quote Les Miserables, this was our "castle on a cloud". 









After a quick nap back at the hotel, we headed off to the next sight, The Agra Fort : a massive red sandstone fort, not to be confused with The Red Fort in Delhi, which is similar, but not nearly as awesome.

Dating back almost 1000 years, this fort grew as subsequent Mughal emperors added buildings, courts, and palaces.  As such, there is a range of styles, from sandstone to white marble.  Originally, it even had a double moat : an outer one full of water and crocodiles, and an inner one full of shrubbery and panthers!













 While it took us a solid couple hours to see everything, less than 20% is open to tourists, as the rest of it is still used as a barracks and training ground for the Indian Army. 

 This fort hosted hundreds of years of Indian history, and saw some of the most incredible and horrifying stories, including this one :
The sixth, and final, Mughal Emperor was Aurangzeb, son of Shah Jahan (the builder of the Taj Mahal).  However, Aurangzeb was not the first in line to inherit the throne.  In fact, Dara Shikoh was Shah Jahan's favorite son. However, Aurangzed seized the throne through the murder and betrayal of his siblings.  Once he had his place in Agra Fort, he imprisoned his father within the walls.  As legend has it, on his father's birthday, Aurangzed had a servant deliver the head of Dara Shikoh, his father's favorite son, with the message "Your son sends you this to let you see that he does not forget you."

DAY 9 :
In stark contrast to the cruelty of Aurangzeb (whose reign proved very repressive, seeing the destruction of Hindu temples and the banning of music and other indulgences), the third Mughal Emperor was so accepting and caring of his people, he earned the title Akbar The Great.   It was Akbar who, in 1571, built Fatehpur Sikri, an immense and beautiful red sandstone palace dedicated to Saslim Chisti, the Sufi saint who foretold the birth of Akbar's son.

We were fortunate enough to be the first visitors of the day (the site is about 30 minutes outside of Agra).  Fatehpur Sikri is often referred to as a ghost city, because it was abandoned 14 years after construction due to a water shortage.  For this reason, I felt it was very appropriate that Sabrina and I got to wander around for an hour completely alone.

One of the ways in which Akbar earned his greatness was through his religious tolerance.  While he himself was a Muslim, he had three wives : a Muslim, a Christian, and a Hindu.  As such, Fatehpur Sikri features three separate palaces, each decorated in the religious style of its inhabitant : the floral designs of Hinduism, the geometric patterns of Islam, and the crucifix of Christianity.

It was certainly one of the highlights of the trip to be able to enjoy such a magnificent sight before it was packed with the usual tourist crowds (it also makes for better photos.)

Similarly peaceful, though not quite as barren, was Itmad-ud-Daula's Tomb, known more adorably as "the Baby Taj."  This 400 year old tomb was built by Nūr Jahān, wife of the fourth Mughal Emperor Jahangir, for her father.  It is considered a draft of the Taj Mahal, as well as a major link between the two major architectural periods of the Mughal Empire, sharing the red sandstone of the Red Fort, and the white marble of the Taj Mahal.  While paling in comparison to the Taj itself, this site is notably less crowded and overall a much more relaxing experience.
 
And with that, our adventure comes to an end.  We took a (slightly) more comfortable train back to Delhi, had one last delicious meal at hidden gem called Gunpowder, and headed to the airport.

Thanks for reading.  Now that India is sufficiently documented, I'm working on a couple of musical projects which will be making an appearance soon, so stay tuned!

24 hours in the most spiritual party city of India.

After a morning at the Qatb Minar, we headed to Indira Gandhi National Airport and hopped a plane (Spice Jet Airlines) and made the short flight to Varanasi, located on the River Ganges.  Besides producing some of the finest silk in India, and being an artistic hot bed full of poets, artists, and musicians (Ravi Shankar was born here),  Varanasi is the single holiest sight in the Hindu faith.  According to legend and scripture, Lord Shiva himself founded the city, and it was on the sacred banks of the Ganges that he ascended to heaven.  As such, every hotel, shop, and alley way features ornate idols, temples, and shrines.

 

















The Ganges, often referred to as Mother Ganga, is regarded as a gateway to heaven, and as such, three different practices occur on a daily basis :
Firstly, the banks are the site of some 300 daily cremations. The sacred water of the Ganges is believe to have the power to wash away one's sins, and for this reason, people long to be cremated here in hopes of achieving Moksha, Hinduism's ultimate escape from the cycle of reincarnation.

However, the cleansing powers of the river are not reserved solely for the deceased.  Every morning, thousands of locals and pilgrims descend upon the banks and take a dip.  As well as the religious aspect, there are many myths various healing powers of the water.  Being that it was sunrise in late January and the Ganges is one of the most polluted rivers in the world, Sabrina and I passed in favor of staying warm on the boat. However, it's hard to imagine that there isn't something special about the Ganges, considering that locals claim no one has ever fallen ill from bathing in it.

The third and by far most spectacular occurrence on the banks of the Ganges is the sacred ritual of Aarti, when young Brahmin (priests) perform a series of songs, prayers, and fire rituals to worship the Ganges. This occurs every night, and, as the rituals are performed to Mother Ganga, the best view is obviously from a boat.  I believe we have a clip!

Many thanks to our fantastic guide Rohit (who we didn't exactly hire, but I think was part of the hotel package).  Not only did he take us around the city (which is entirely narrow backstreets and shortcuts) but he also hooked us up with a private concert with two music professors from the University.  While I would have been thrilled seeing a concert in a concert hall with a thousand other people, I was absolutely beside myself sitting in a small room with just a Sitar and a Tabla player, talking about the Indian Classical approach to improvisation and having demonstrations.  It is well known that many musicians, particularly in jazz history, have at one time or another studied this approach, which is very different to Western concepts.  If I ever have the fortune of living in India for any length of time,  I will certainly pool my Rupees and buy/rent a Sitar and study this amazing art form.

Well, the adventure is almost at an end, but we still have a few hours on a train before we get to our final destination, the city of Agra, home of the legendary Taj Mahal!

Australia Day and the Qatb Minar

DAY 5 :

For the rest of India, it was Republic Day, celebrating the 1930 declaration of independence, but for us, it was Australia Day!  We had been invited to an apartment party to celebrate with the Australians, hosted by the same lady who had taken us around on our first day.  Now, for those of you who have ever partied with Australians, you will understand why the details of this day are hazy at best.  

Furthermore, there is only one surviving photograph of the event.  The invitation came with the insistence of Australia-inspired costumes, and this was mine.  10 points to the first person who correctly guesses. 

Hint: it's made of staff paper.

DAY 6 :

Our last chance for sightseeing in Delhi was devoted to the Qutb Complex, home of the tallest brick Minaret in the world, the Qutb Minar.

The construction of this tower began in 1193 by Qutb-ud-din Aibak, the first Muslim ruler of India.  However, to ultimately reach the final height of 72.5 meters would take the work of two subsequent rulers over the next two centuries.

This ambition but lack of foresight is mimicked in the Alai Minar, which was started in 1316 with the intention of being twice the height of the Qutb Minar.  Alas, this is how it stands 700 years later : the still impressive base of an unfulfilled vision.


Surrounding the Qutb Minar are the ruins of royal tombs, ancient colleges, and the Quwwat-ul-Islam Mosque, the first Mosque built after the Islamic conquest of India in the 12th century.















And with that, our short time in Delhi had come to an end, but our trip was far from over.  Off to the airport, and onto more adventures!  

Tombs, Temples, and Tourist Traps...

DAY 3:

After a couple days of hanging with friends and locals, Sabrina and I decided to get down to some serious touristing, so we grabbed our guide book and cameras, strapped on our fanny-packs and headed off to Humayun's Tomb.  (editor's note: Hi! It's Sabrina. I edit. I do not wear fanny packs.)

Humayun was the second Mughal Emperor, ruling northern India and what is now Afghanistan and Pakistan in the mid 16th century.  As well as being a great Emperor, reclaiming lost territory and expanding the empire, he must have also been a decent husband, because upon his death, it was his wife who commissioned this magnificent structure.  The Persian style architecture (presumably a result of the Persian style architect) was a first in India at the time of construction, as was the use of red sand stone, but both traits have become intrinsically linked to many of India's most historically famous edifices.  The scale and detail on these structures is breathtaking : the window (photo right) is a lattice structure carved from a single piece of marble, and the brass spike on the top of dome above is in fact 6 meters tall.

 

The rest of the day was spent in a couple of Delhi's most popular shopping districts : Dilli Haat, a bazaar showcasing food and handicrafts from each state of India, where Sabrina bought some beautiful pashmina scarves, and Hauz Khas Village, where we both bought kick-ass leather jackets (sheep skin, not cow hide.  Cows are sacred in Hinduism, so leather and hamburgers are off the menu).  

It was on our way to Dilli Haat where we narrowly avoided a common tourist trap, thanks to Sabrina's keen literacy.  We hopped into an auto-rickshaw and asked to go to Dilli Haat, at which point the driver passed us a business card which read "Delhi Haat" and told us that it was far away.  As well as the spelling difference, we knew that Dilli Haat was quite close.  After some arguing, we eventually cleared up the "misunderstanding" and he took us where we wanted to go. The next day, we would discover that many of these drivers receive gas coupons from the proprietors at Delhi Haat for bringing them tourists.  Furthermore, it is not uncommon for popular tourist sites to have imitators with similar names; it's the Fony televisions of tourist attractions. Nice try, guys.

That night, we headed to the Canadian High Commission (in Commonwealth countries, the Embassy is called the High Commission) and enjoyed dinner with the family of Sabrina's colleague, a welcome departure from the past three days of butter-heavy vegetable-scarce Indian cuisine.  I've never been so happy to see a salad.

DAY 4

On this fateful day, the Hindu god of tourism was full of wrath and vengeance, and he rained fire and brimstone all over our plans.  In preparation for Republic Day,  both the Red Fort (a massive sandstone fortress at the top of Old Delhi) and the Gandhi museum (a museum ... about Gandhi) were closed.  However, we did manage to gain merciful entrance to the breathtaking and aptly named Lotus Temple, a Baha'i house of worship.  

As with all things Baha'i, entry is free of charge, and we spent several meditative minutes in the very large yet very peaceful prayer room, before enjoying the lovely gardens surrounding the temple.

Upon our return home, distraught from somewhat sub-par sight seeing success, our host promised to lift our spirits by taking us to a restaurant which has laid claim to the invention of butter chicken.  While their claim may be debatable, there is no question that this is the best damn butter chicken I have ever had, and it goes without saying that we had A LOT of it.  Keeping with the theme, we went home and lay bloated on Zach's couch.

Stay tuned for Australia day celebrations, a bit more Delhi, and our travels by plane, train, and automobile to some of the other astounding sights which India has to offer.

Delhi, Old and New

My Indian excursion can be summed up in three words : big, spicy, and loud.  The massive crowds are matched only by the sheer immensity of the historical monuments, the food is incredible, but not for the weak of stomach (and tongue, and throat, and colon) and the aforementioned crowds create driving conditions which can only be described as a 24-hour Grade-A honk-if-you're-breathing clusterfuck.  Let's begin.

DAY 1 :

Chandni Chowk, Old Delhi's biggest market

Our first day in Delhi conveniently happened to be the same day that our host, Zach (a friend from Sabrina's high school) and his roommate/co-worker were going on a tour of Old Delhi guided by another co-worker.

This charming Australian gal (known affectionately amongst her colleagues as "The Leader of the White People") has been in India for a couple years and has managed to pick-up very functional Hindi, confidently orient herself in a city of side-streets and alleys, and (most importantly) discover the best-of-the-best of Old Delhi's streets-side snack foods (la crème de la curry, if you will).  

Sabrina on a Bicycle-rickshaw

For four straight hours we hopped on and off bicycle rick-shaws to sample everything from spicy potato dishes to paneer-stuffed pancakes to Daulat ki Chaat, a dessert which takes five hours to make and most closely resembles a cloud, if clouds were made of milk and sugar and served with nuts on top.  

(not my photo)

 

As a break from stuffing our faces, we also visited a stunning Jain temple (Photography prohibited. Sorry), as well as Jama Masjid, the largest mosque in India.  This mosque was completed in 1656, commisioned by the fifth Mughal emperor, Shah Jahan, the same man responsible for the legendary Taj Mahal (but we're getting ahead of ourselves).  

Now, most guide books will tell you to ease into the culinary nuances of a foreign culture.  Furthermore, they might tell you to avoid street vendors altogther.  However, Sabrina and I had a fantastically flavourful day with minimal consequences.  That said, we were rather sluggish upon our return home, so our first night was spent sharing the gifts of Israeli wine we had brought.  

DAY 2:

We awoke the next morning comfortably late, skipping breakfast as we were all still full from yesterday.  Another of Zach's coworkers, a local Delhi-ite (Delight?) who plays guitar in a rock band, had invited us all to his family's house for lunch.  Whenever I travel, I always enjoy living like the locals, so I was thrilled to be welcomed into their home to enjoy some spectacular South Indian cuisine with mother, father, and some extended family.  After lunch, we all relaxed out back in the sunshine, enjoying a truly vacating vacation for a couple hours, strolling through topics of music, politics, and high school.

When it was time to go, Zach took us to one of his favorite spots :

Pleasantly devoid of the usual tourist crowds, Deer Park is an expansive ground of ponds and paths, as well as a 15th century Madrasa, a great stone complex which served as a theological college.  After strolling through the park for a while, we were joined for dinner by another of Zach's friends at Park Beluchi, a nearby restaurant which is a definite contender for "best meal in India."  Not only were our stuffed kebabs delicious, but they were served on flaming swords!  No joke.  

That night was similar to the one before; incidentally, sitting bloated on Zach's couch would quickly become a theme of the whole trip.

That was our 48-hour easing in to life in Delhi, and now that we were settled, it was time for Sabrina and I to strike out on our own and be tourists... stay tuned.

Gone in 60 Seconds ...

I'm so glad I got a video of this, as it is one of the coolest things I have seen.  This is an Israeli tow-truck, and it literally just pulled up beside this car.  As with so many things, Israelis are remarkably efficient at ruining someone's day.

Back with a vengence...

After a fantastically unproductive few weeks in Canada, during which practicing was replaced by drinking, and exercising by eating, I have returned safe and sound to the Middle East.  In an attempt to reel in the Christmas slack,  my first week back has played host to great leaps forward in my musically educational adventure across the sea.
The catalyst to all this recent success can be attributed to one man : Eddie Gomez.  This Puerto-Rican born, New York raised bassist is credited as one of the visionaries of the instrument, spending eleven years in the Bill Evans trio and playing with essentially every major jazz artist since. 
As luck might have it (and for those of you who know me well, luck often DOES have it) Eddie was flown in by the Rimon School of Music (an affiliate of Berklee College, located just north of Tel Aviv) for a week of concerts and workshops, all open to the public.  Being the public myself, I drove up to the school everyday and soaked up the vast experience and knowledge this delightfully easy-going man was offering.
Besides attending workshops by a master of the instrument, my mere presence on Rimon's campus proved to be of great benefit.  In three days, I shook hands with a bass teacher I've been trying to track down for a month, realized it wasn't geographically feasible to take regular lessons with him, and almost immediately found another teacher, based in Tel Aviv, who seemed very willing and even pleased to teach me.  Furthermore, this new teacher rather resembles one of my composition professors from university, who was a great inspiration to me during my time there.  I tend to believe, or at least take pleasure in, little coincidences such as this, and I'm very excited to start lessons.
My final achievement is one not only of musical benefit, but also of personal growth.  A young pianist of great talent had been playing during all of Eddie Gomez's clinics and such, and on the last day, I mustered up the courage to introduce myself and get his email for future jamming purposes.  Despite my outward comfort and confidence, I am prone to bouts of timidity, something I will have to get over if I plan on dropping in and out of various music scenes around the world.  Further mustering led me to ask Mr. Gomez if he would have time for a lesson, which sadly he did not.  However, I got his email as well, and if I'm ever in New York (which I very likely will be in the next few years), he said he would gladly give me a lesson then.  Come to think of it, that alone is as good a reason as any to go to New York.
All in all, my plan to drop everything and fly across the world is seeming less and less insane by the day, and my prospects for the next few months have me teeming with excitement.  I've tracked down a few open mics and jam sessions around the city, which is another big step towards actually playing with people.  The first is this Monday at Tel Aviv's Shablul Jazz Club, so wish me luck!

Music aside (though it's never that far aside), Sabrina and I are furiously reading up in preparation for our next great adventure : INDIA!  Yes, faithful blogdience, the girl and I are heading to the land of elephants, curry, and yoga for a week and a half.  Rest assured, there will be plenty of photos, and thanks to some cunning thievery of my mother's Christmas present, videos as well!

Thanks to everyone who made my trip back to Canada so wonderful, and my deepest apologies to those people I did not see due to scheduling, traffic, and inclement weather.

Cheers,
- Dony