The awakening of the Taj Mahal belongs to those who get up early. We get through a gigantic entrance and the first glimmers of the dawn unveil the outline of the mausoleum. A long shimmering pond stretches out up to the white tomb.
Fascinating collection of stones and marble blocks that hypnotizes me a little bit more for each new step.
Crazy construction of a mad king, mad in love with his wife.
Symbol of the absolute love and the dementia which can upset the heart of an inconsolable man.
The rectangular gardens and pools contrast to the undulating lines of the domes. Overdose of harmony in this perfectly symmetrical complex where the death tarnished a endless love in no way.
The History is cruel and a tragic fate will wait for the builder of the white mausoleum. Dethroned king, Shah Jahan will be imprisonned. In his cell, a tiny window as only mate. A mere window through where he could contemplate the building of his life dedicated to his defunct wife.
A lot of human buildings impress due to their gigantic proportions, their sizes challenging the physics laws but very few make shake the heart and vibrate the very inside. The Taj Mahal belongs to that world. We can walk around several times and nothing will soothe the inner fire and the swirl of sensations that swamp you. I sit down to gather my emotions. The mausoleum bewitches its residents with a kind aura, erodes the sharpest spirits and awakens the gentlest hearts.
I tread a last time around the white mausoleum, bewildered by these same feelings which submerged me a few hours before, as from the first seconds I got in the enclosure of the Taj Mahal. I leave with the illusion of living a dream. A dream in which I stepped on a marble-paving path. A dream in which I stopped leaning with my back on a wall, sheltered by an alcove. On the wall of a palace smooth as the silk.
With these angelic radiant-white pictures, our Indian trip ends. We simply picked at a few crumbs of this country full with culture and life. Completely dishonest the one who, in one month, boasts of visiting India. This short interlude opened a gap in our spirits, a crack we'll have to fill in coming again. To discover other facets, other landscapes and other people of the Indian subcontinent. And above all to enjoy new adventures that only India can bring.
Keyword - emotions -
Monday 15 October 2007
Sunrise feelings over the Taj Mahal
By dorian on Monday 15 October 2007, 23:31 - RTW-India
Friday 10 August 2007
The stone colossuses of the Wulingyuan
By dorian on Friday 10 August 2007, 14:03 - RTW-China
Absolutely unknown by the Western tour operators, the jagged massif of the Wulingyuan is certainly one of the most beautiful in China. Personnaly, it's the one I like the best. With great pleasure, I come back to this place with my family.
We arrive in Zhangjiajie city by the nighttrain and a local travel agent drives us to Zhangjiajie village, one hour from here. This village is located near the south entrance of the Wulingyuan national park and is still the best spot to begin the stroll and to rest after a day spending in the park. We buy a 2-day valid ticket and in order to avoid the magnetic cards trafficking, the entrance turnstiles are equipped with fingerprints readers. Nothing to forget about the exorbitant price of the ticket: 245 yuans (24,5 €) ! 8 € more than 2 years ago!
We go through the entrance and on the left side, monkeys families expect we throw some sweets.
200m after the entrance, a map shows the different paths which ornate the park. We turn right, cross a bridge and walk forward on a paving stone trail that runs away into a thick nature. A few games (short hurdles and stone mushrooms) decorate the way.
Approaching the summit, our steps slow down then stop at a breathtaking viewpoint. The ascension inside the undergrowth didn't portend such a splendour while our eyes open up in front of this nature-bequeathed marvel. Balustrade-leant elbows, our eyes scan the scene. Stone colossuses face us. The Gods relax playing a game on this giant chess board. These natural obelisks, tall as the Eiffel tower for some of them, harmoniously flaked and gorgeously topped by a tuft of pine trees beautifully vie with themselves.
A mist halo intensifies the mysticism of the place. Several viewpoints were built along the way; but none of them gives us a rational explanation of this granite columns field. Our spirit can't however analyse any more. He's overwhelmed by this flood of light and splendour bringing by our eyes.
Several hours went by, the ascension efforts are completely forgotten. We walk down to the valley to sail among the towers. Strips of green forests cling to the spurs of the stony titans, attempt a vain ascension to its steep walls and bump into its breathtaking verticality. Among the columns, wayfaring ants move about. We wander about into these wildly big petrified fields.
The eyes glued skyward, we go back to the park entrance.
The next day, we go again through the park to reach a lift hanged on one of these granite obelisks wall. A last fill-up of feelings before leaving the park.
In the evening I take Armelle to the airport. She got promoted up to backpacker apprentice. The rhythm was a little bit sustained and I was happy to share a part of my trip with her. And she followed without turning a hair.
A sample of the traveller life I have enjoyed for 2 months.
Saturday 14 July 2007
adventures in the Mongolian nature (part 3)
By dorian on Saturday 14 July 2007, 11:23 - RTW-Mongolia
if you want to read the beginning of the story, click here for Part 1 or here for Part 2 ...
At the beginning of my 6th trekking day, my pace gets slower and my blisters hurt me. At the end of the morning, a young Mongolian who brags astride his horse tackles me while I drag my painful feet. He will be the only real trouble throughout this expedition. He puts his horse in front of me and prevents me from going forward, he tries to open my bag and seizes the rope I hold my horse with. The situation starts to aggravate until we reach a herd of goats watched by one of his brother. I make him laugh and he enjoys looking at me, embarrassed. I finally offer him to walk back and to have a drink in his ger. When we arrive, his behaviour changes completely. His family and above all his father are kind and happy to share a bit of their time with a foreigner.
The situation has calmed down when I start again. Despite everything, I'm in a hurry to move away to forget this episode. But before climbing the hill which faces me, I hear the young braggart arriving at a gallop followed by another one of his brothers. This time, he wants to buy my horse. His calmer, elder brother understands I won't sell my horse and calm down his younger brother. At last, I leave the place and walk for a long time to camp as far as possible.
The next day, in the morning as I go on the side of the mountain, the spectre of the day before comes back when I see two young horsemen approaching. But, both of them have the kindness that characterizes the famous Mongolian hospitality.
I suffer and it's a pleasure to stop at the neighbouring house. In exchange for the usual photos, the family invites me for the lunch and for a rest.
I'll finally stay up to the next day in the morning. We watch together the wrestling final of the Naadam festival broadcasted on television. It's perhaps the main sport event of the year in Mongolia. In spite of the distance, every ger or house possesses an enormous satellite dish which lays down on the ground. The electricity is supplied by batteries which ones are loaded by a solar panel, a windmill or a generator. The anachronism of the solar panel laid down on the white cloth of the ger is fabulous. I give my fishing pole I haven't used yet. We improvise a fishing course in the middle of the steppes. Every member of the family I hardly know for a few hours adopted me and takes care of me as if I belong to the family.
Early in the morning, after warmly thanking them for their hospitality, I pack up my stuffs and start walking along the river.
The path is harder and harder and the rain complicates my progress, I've sometimes no other choice than walking into the river. The horse slips on the stones of the river bank. That's here, close to a green, hard-to-reach field, I take off its tie and drop the rope. I free my companion. I wish it delights a few days of freedom before he's probably captured. I disappear in the land of stones that erects in front of the river. The walk is rough in this unexplored, footprintless area.
After several hours, I begin to go down on the other slope of the hill. I reach a Ider Gol tributary where I sit down, exhausted. A few Mongolians tackle me and looking at my state of tiredom, invite me at their house. The atmosphear is warm and relaxed. It's here I decide to finish my trek.
I show all the different gears I carry in my backpack in front of the admiring eyes of about ten Mongolians. I feel well here, they cook an excellent dish for me and I prepare one of my freeze-dried meal with the boiled water coming from the camping stove. 2 of them share a "rice and fish in a provencal sauce" and they find it savoury.
The next day in the morning, I go to Tomorbulag by motorbike. Then, I take a jeep that drops me off in Möron. Did you know we could be 15 in a jeep?
In spite of the physical difficulty, the undernourishment and the loneliness, this adventure will have shown me virtues such as the mutual support, the hospitality and the pleasure of sharing are essential not to say vital. Communication problems ang cultural differences didn't scratch the happiness I lived with these families of the steppes. My heart will keep these smiles and this joie de vivre for a long long time.
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