4 friends discover a piece of North India (page 1 of 8)

Hello fellow travelers!

I’m adding my small contribution to the reopening celebration by posting this travel journal from India, made in January 2024. We’re 4 friends (2 couples), and we did a 3-week loop in Rajasthan, stopping by Delhi and Agra (which, as everyone knows, aren’t in Rajasthan 😛). Delhi - Agra - Jaipur - Bundi - Udaipur - Jodhpur - Jaisalmer - Delhi

We rented a car with a driver from Agra to Jaisalmer, 550 € for 14 days. https://chauffeurpriveeninde.com/fr/

We took the train from Delhi to Agra and the plane (Spicejet) from Jaisalmer to Delhi.

Most of the accommodations were booked on Booking before we left.

I’m sharing this story written by Richard and illustrated by me. We dedicate it to Nathalie and Bruno, our amazing travel companions.

Hello,

Forty years have passed since my first trip to India, which was organized after winning first prize in a literary competition hosted by Éditions Gallimard. A lot of water has flowed under the bridges of my life, as well as those of the Ganges and the Indus. This time, we’re traveling as a group of four—two couples—and we’ve organized our journey ourselves in what you might call a semi-adventurous way, since an Indian driver will handle our transportation for three-quarters of the trip. It’s a setup that leaves less room for the unexpected, but it saves us time by sparing us the hassles of public transport.

Day 1. Arrival in Delhi

We hesitated for a long time about including Delhi in our trip. So many negative preconceptions: dirty, polluted, noisy. But it’s the capital of India, and we finally decided to spend two nights there.

We arrived at Indira Gandhi Airport two hours late due to a technical issue with our British Airways flight out of London. But it didn’t stress us out too much. It was only 10 a.m., and we had the whole day ahead of us. Kate and Nathalie firmly negotiated the taxi fare to the city center, where our accommodation was located in a quiet neighborhood near Humayun’s Tomb. 1,800 rupees instead of the 2,500 quoted. Great job! Three weeks later, we’d pay 650 rupees for a roughly similar trip. That’s how the learning begins. Negotiating well in India still means getting taken advantage of—just less than expected.

The first surprise came after stepping outside. The airport exit looked like any other in the world—neat rows of taxis waiting for customers in a standardized urban setting. After settling into a charming guesthouse with a warm welcome (Eleven Bed & Breakfast), we decided to visit Humayun’s Tomb, the 16th-century Mughal emperor’s resting place.



Our first encounter with a driver of those famous “Tuk-Tuks.” After negotiating, Bruno and I hopped into one, while Nathalie and Kate took another. That was the only time we were cautious. Later, we’d squeeze all four of us into vehicles meant for three—three in the back and one up front next to the driver.



At the ticket counter, we were surprised by the price difference: 40 rupees for Indians, 600 for “foreigners.” No outrage there—it’s only fair that we contribute to the upkeep of local heritage and that Indians enjoy reduced rates. It was a Sunday, and the park was packed with families, likely locals from Delhi as well as Indian tourists, with few Westerners in sight. The vast park was dotted with red-stone funerary monuments, but the most stunning was Humayun’s Tomb, appearing to float, immense, in the hazy sky under Delhi’s veiled sun.



The cool, damp evening settled over the city. After exchanging money at Khan Market, we decided to have our first Indian meal at a fairly upscale—and thus not very budget-friendly—restaurant. The food was pretty good but “very spicy.” More fiery than subtly spiced, really. The start of an intense hazing period for our Western intestines.

Ah, here’s that repatriated travel journal! I’ll dive back into a slice of it with pleasure.

Day 2. Delhi: Chandni Chowk - Jama Masjid - Lodi Garden.

This morning, the metro—which has an excellent reputation—will take us to Old Delhi to visit the Chandni Chowk neighborhood and the massive Jama Masjid mosque. Clean, colorful, spacious, and easy to navigate, Delhi’s metro is a really practical way to get around the city over long distances. Nathalie and I feel right at home in this underground world. Like kids on a scavenger hunt, we carefully spot the different lines with their colors and the connections that will take us to our destination. We’re in control. Perfect before diving into the chaotic universe of "Old Delhi."



Chandni Chowk! And it’s a shock…

Here we are in the heart of popular and bustling India—poorer but not truly miserable, with a few exceptions. Chandni Chowk is a city within a city, a city-market. A massive bazaar where everything is bought and sold, everything is made and repaired. A tangle of streets and alleys packed with stalls, small workshops, vendors, customers, tuk-tuks, cows, dogs, beggars, mopeds, bewildered tourists—everyone sharing the same space as best they can.

We walk in single file, afraid of getting separated. We’re amazed, and also dizzy from the honking, the crowd’s noise, the riot of colors, the mix of smells—some refined, others downright foul. Amazed, but not stressed or worried. The general vibe is pretty relaxed. Everyone’s going about their business. There’s pushing, shoving, shouting, honking, but no real aggression or tension. A barefoot, dirty street kid tries to get our attention with acrobatics. One look, and he’s won—though we’ve lost. He sticks with us for nearly fifteen minutes.







We head toward the massive mosque that dominates the urban landscape with its bulk. Red sandstone and white marble. The 17th-century structure is stunning, with its large courtyard, two minarets, and three bulbous domes.



As we leave, two rickshaw drivers (the bike-powered kind) pester us for a while, insistently offering a full tour of the huge neighborhood. We half-heartedly refuse, hesitate, then accept. Deep down, it’s a great idea because we’re not really sure how to tackle this detailed visit of Chandni Chowk. And off we go for an hour and a half of sightseeing, punctuated by stops in the heart of the city-market. The route is pleasant as we explore the different sections of the market, organized by product type: spices, fabrics, jewelry… We also discover some beautiful houses that are now abandoned or run-down. Here, as elsewhere, the middle class eventually left the city centers for the more comfortable and better-equipped outskirts. Our guide is friendly, and we chat in English. Still, I feel a little uneasy seeing this fairly young man struggling to pedal while carrying two well-fed tourists—about 130 kg in total.



In the afternoon, we decide to take a more relaxing break at Lodi Garden. It’s a large park developed by the British in the 18th century, but it contains many monuments (mostly mausoleums) from the Lodhi dynasty, Muslim rulers during the Delhi Sultanate. We enjoy the peaceful atmosphere, far from the hustle and bustle of Chandni Chowk.

For the evening, we decide to buy food and eat in our guesthouse. A quick detour to Khan Market to order some pizzas. On our way back, we run into the tuk-tuk driver we’d used the night before. He recognizes us and rushes ahead of his colleagues to take us. We start chatting, and he seems eager to learn more about us. Small vehicle, three of us in the back, me up front next to the driver. And off we go! Full speed ahead, in the cold, after dark. He drives fast but with great skill. Behind me, Nathalie and Kate are laughing hysterically. It’s like being on a roller coaster. The crisp air is exhilarating, and we barely notice the danger—we trust him. Do we have a choice? Our driver seems to be having fun too; he’s laughing with us. "Do you want to drive?" He puts my hands on the handlebars and the throttle. It reminds me of my old moped. I can’t believe it—I’m driving a tuk-tuk! We’re all like kids, the five of us. Finally, we arrive at our guesthouse. Handshake, thanks. He asks if we have any euro coins for his foreign currency collection. Nathalie gives him 2 €. He looks at the coin with emotion, touched by what he sees as a gift. He thanks us again and wishes us good luck. This fleeting encounter, this little moment of shared fun with this Indian man, touched all four of us. It’ll be one of the rare times we have that kind of connection—an honest exchange, not spoiled by a purely mercantile perspective. Off to bed. Tomorrow, the train, Agra, the Taj…

Thanks Pagaljavab 🙂

Hi Kate! What an original travel journal for two! 😊 I’m even more excited to join in since I discovered Rajasthan last March—but not the same cities as you, except for Jaipur, Bundi, and Udaipur. We loved it so much that we’re definitely planning to go back, especially for Jodhpur and Jaisalmer (we’d already visited Agra a few years ago). Looking forward to the next part, then!

Hey everyone!

It feels weird discovering India in a sweater—I’ve always gone in August before...🤪

India doesn’t seem to have changed much since my last trip about a dozen years ago.😮

Hi Solene 😉

Jodhpur isn’t one of my favorite cities, but Jaisalmer definitely is. Richard will talk about it—he had the same feelings...

Hi Kate, Always interesting to hear the impressions of my fellow countrymen, especially since after two trips to this part of the world in 2011 and 2019, I still can’t decide if I like it or not... 🤪 So I’m tagging along with Richard! !

Hey Attila 😎

I couldn’t have handled the heat of a Rajasthan summer, but we were surprised by the cold. It was 5 to 10°C cooler than usual. We bought some Damars and Doudounes (puffer jackets) on the spot 🤪 In Jaisalmer, the guesthouse didn’t even have a space heater—I can still picture us huddled under the blankets after trying to shower in a freezing bathroom 🏴‍☠️

me, after two trips to this part of the world in 2011 and 2019, still haven’t decided if I love it or not...

I get you. Often I’ve been jostled, shaken up, pushed to my limits, taken to the edge of letting go... That’s the point of travel, isn’t it? A few days after returning, I asked my friends if they’d be up for going back to India! I thought of a metaphor: when I was little, I was scared of those wild rides, yet I couldn’t stop going back to scream and laugh at the same time. It was stronger than me!

Day 3. Delhi – Agra

We booked a train to get to Agra from the secondary Nizzamudin station. The place is huge, and the platforms are packed—it’s not easy to find your way around. The wait is long, and as expected, the train to Agra is late. The crowd on the platforms is very mixed, people from all walks of life, but few foreign tourists. Young beggars approach us several times, shouting, "Rupees! Rupees!" Bruno, the soft-hearted one, can’t help but feel sorry for them and hands out his small change while Kate tries to snap a few candid portraits. I see a young man literally dragging himself past me, his legs completely twisted and lifeless, pulling himself along with his arms. Polio, obviously. I think about that shattered life, all because of lack of access to healthcare. Anger rises in me against the "anti-vaxxers" back home…









The train finally arrives. It’s an Intercity, modern, clean, and comfortable. The journey is pleasant, but we’re a little disappointed—we’d really fantasized about a 19th-century-style Indian train ride. Through the windows, we watch the long stretches of slums on the urban outskirts roll by. An India we’ll never set foot in, just like the middle and upper classes here never do.



We arrive in Agra as night falls and meet Ajay, our driver who came to pick us up. First impression is good, but we need to build trust quickly with the person who’ll be accompanying us for 15 days through Rajasthan. The accommodation, a 500-meter walk from the Taj, is charming and well-kept (The Coral House Homestay).

For dinner, we find a small, popular restaurant that’s completely empty. The waiters rush to please us, trying to explain the dishes on the menu in English. With the help of a few photos, we manage to make our choices, but the names of the dishes and their contents remain a mystery to us: naan, biryanis, dal, kofta… It’ll take time before they become a little more familiar.

Day 4. Agra: Taj Mahal / Red Fort

For the Taj Mahal visit, we’d planned to wake up really early to beat the crowds. But the hosts at the guesthouse advised against such an early start because of the thick, persistent fog that’s been blanketing the area for days.

We set off around 9 a.m., and luckily, the sky was relatively clear. Once we passed through the red sandstone gate, the white marble Taj, veiled in a light mist, appeared in all its majesty—almost suspended in the air. For a moment, I felt the same emotional impact I’d experienced seeing Michelangelo’s Pietà at the Vatican. The crowd wasn’t too dense, and I noticed most of the tourists were Indian. Everyone had their phones out, snapping away at the monument. Kate, though, took her time—I knew her photos would be technically flawless and full of depth and meaning.

The closer we got to the mausoleum, the more substantial it became. The dreamlike moment passed, and I could admire the stunning proportions of the structure, the elegance of the minarets, and the beauty of the calligraphic decorations formed by the flowing lines of the Arabic script. It’s strange to think that in a country that’s 80% Hindu and increasingly nationalistic, the Taj—a Muslim monument—is, for much of the world, the very image of India.







After two and a half hours, it was time for us to turn our backs on the Taj. At the exit, we plunged into the scrum of souvenir vendors—something we tried to avoid as best we could. Dodging, sidestepping, quick turns left and right, slowing down, then speeding up. But the game was lost from the start. “Where are you from?” “French?” “La vie est belle!” “Come in my shop, just look!” This time, we got off pretty lightly—just the cost of a few magnets. We headed back to the hotel to catch our breath and enjoy our new favorite treat, a masala chai.



Kate, eager to immerse herself in the “real” India for her photos, asked Ajay, our driver, to drop us off at a local market square. It was a produce market. Part of it spilled into the streets, while another section was inside a dilapidated building—more like an open-air enclosure. Depending on the vendor, goods were displayed on stalls, carts, or even directly on the ground. The noise was deafening: blaring music from an ancient sound system, the usual relentless honking. We wandered through this exotic world, weaving between cows, dogs, and tuk-tuks, careful to avoid the cow patties. But the explosion of colors was incredible—all those fruits and vegetables, often beautifully arranged, and the vibrant saris of the women.







In the afternoon, we visited the Red Fort, an impressive 17th-century Mughal fortress. The morning fog had lifted, the air was mild, and we enjoyed exploring the palace’s various halls and gardens without paying much attention to the historical details. The Guide du Routard stayed in the bag.





We pulled it out again in the early evening to pick a small restaurant in the old town: “Joney’s Place.” The ride there was in a tuk-tuk, always at full speed, with Rachid—a very young guy in his twenties. During the ride, I shouted over the engine noise to ask if the vehicle was his. “I rent it. 2000 rupees a day.” The math was quick: if we assume 150–200 rupees per ride (tourist price), he’d need to do at least ten trips just to start making a little money. The restaurant was tiny—just six tables—but the welcome was warm. The owner, a young man, spoke remarkable French. He was eager to chat with us and proud to show off his deep knowledge of French literature. He talked about Camus and recited Baudelaire’s “L’Invitation au Voyage” in full. We were stunned. But not for long—our mouths were soon busy. Kate and I savored the best malai kofta we’d had in India, and Bruno and I finished with a delicious banana lassi for dessert. Tomorrow, we’ve got our first long drive to Jaipur, with a stop in Fatehpur Sikri.

Hi there,

I’m jumping into this travel journal with a destination that fascinates me and I haven’t explored yet

Welcome, there's still room 😉

Hi Kate,

Here I am, jumping into this travel journal too, though just for a few words. I wanted to react and compare emotions and feelings with each of Richard’s posts. But, as you know from our private exchanges, my troubles since returning home to India still aren’t resolved (I don’t even know if "troubles" is the right word—do troubles have a solution?). No phone, which is a huge handicap when you "live" in India and a risk of running into issues with the authorities if they decide to call me for a check. Internet access that keeps cutting out... And on top of that, today at lunch, I sliced a piece of my finger with my mandoline while cutting a cucumber. No details here about the state of my finger or the "care" I received—two great topics to kick off the journal I promised elsewhere.

Just wanted to say I’m in a lot of pain and it’s not exactly practical for writing long posts. But as soon as I’m feeling better, I’ll be back to join this journal and share. And hopefully with a "real" connection, not the one I’ve cobbled together with a borrowed SIM card just to get minimal internet access.

See you soon here and elsewhere...

Hi everyone! In Jodhpur, I loved getting lost in the neighborhood of the blue houses. Around the stepwell, the area is nice, but it wasn’t my favorite—I definitely prefer Udaipur without any hesitation. I really loved Shekhawati, which I explored from Nawalgarh to Choru, passing through Ramgarh Shekhawati ❤️❤️❤️❤️. Off-the-beaten-path Narnaul is a cool and very interesting town. I don’t have time to repost this travel journal, but you might have followed it on the other forums. Marijo

I couldn’t have handled the summer heat in Rajasthan

The worst isn’t even summer—it’s just before the monsoon.

I don’t remember it being unbearable. Less so than in Puglia or even Clermont on a scorching day.

In Jaisalmer, the guesthouse didn’t even have a space heater. I can still picture us huddled under the blankets after trying to shower in an ice-cold bathroom

Now you’re ready for the Altiplano!

Hi Richard,

It’s an Intercity train, modern, clean, and comfortable

Ahhh! That’s something that’s changed!

Unless it’s India’s showcase train, the local TGV that only takes 2 hours to reach Agra?

Hi Attila, It's true that the other trains we saw in the station were less flashy!