The funny thing about traveling is, that sometimes, maybe most of the time, it ends up that the destination is not what you remember, but more of the journey getting there. In the case of the Taj Mahal, looking back, I rememeber the long train ride, the taxi, the man getting shaved on the side of the road near a “public toilet”, the women carrying loads of grass on the top of their heads, the cow shit, the camel shit, the horse shit, the loads of people, and the woman who asked for some of our water once we got inside the Taj (which of course we simply gave her the whole bottle, I mean it is water, we all need it). The Taj itself, is indeed beautiful, but the brillant moments on our journey to get there are even more stunning.