In my childhood home there hung in a guest room a silk-embroidered print of the Taj Mahal. My grandfather, Warren Corey, had been stationed in India during World War II, and, I was told, he described visiting the structure as the only activity that gave him any sort of peace during his tour.
For this reason, I was very much looking forward to the second day trip arranged by HT: a visit to Agra, which is about a four-hour drive southeast from New Delhi. As far as I know, I am the only member of my family to visit India since my grandfather, who died when I was very young, and I was eager to take in his favorite sight.
Photos from the trip can be seen in this Facebook album. Quite a few things went wrong during the course of the day: it rained; the drive took longer than we expected, forcing us to pass on the other attractions in Agra; the driver and the guide, not to mention the many touts who pestered us incessantly, kept trying to get us to buy tacky things; men kept trying to take pictures surreptitiously of Karyn and Michelle; and the grounds were far from peaceful -- swarming with tourists, actually, even during one of the weaker parts of India's tourism calendar. Despite all that, I felt genuinely spoiled the entire day, and pictures like the one posted above may offer some suggestion as to why.
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