My Travel Adventures

On my last day in Delhi, I managed to cross off the last few items on my sightseeing list. I began by packing my luggage, all the while congratulating myself on having remembered to ask the hotel to do my laundry in advance. That finished, I ordered an Uber to Akshardham, a massive Hindu temple east of the Yamuna River. The opening hours of the temple are not well advertised, and when I arrived by the front gate, I learned it was still closed. For a few minutes, I took pictures of the temple from afar, when suddenly an autorickshaw driver approached me. He reasoned with me that since the temple would not open until ten, I had better come with him and see other sights. I had to admit the soundness of his reasoning and gave him my next address.

On my penultimate day in Northern India, I went on another guided tour. My cab picked me up at six o’clock in the morning, and we met the guide in Agra after nine. Our first stop was Taj Mahal. While it may seem counterintuitive to begin an excursion with the most spectacular sight, it makes sense when one considers the sheer number of tourists who start pouring in throughout the day. Even at this hour, the place was bustling, and my guide hurried forward at breakneck speed in a futile attempt to beat the crowds.

Today was another sunny and busy day, with my explorations broken up by three meetings early in the afternoon. I started the morning by catching an autorickshaw to Shri Laxmi Narayan Temple. It was built on the initiative of Mohandas Gandhi with the goal of serving all castes – a very progressive idea for the time. Although quite glamorous and expansive on the outside, the interior of the temple is not overly ornate, with little to attract the eye beside the statue of each shrine’s main deity.

On Tuesday, I had an appointment at Ashoka University, a relatively new institution whose vision has attracted major investors and academic heavyweights. Modelled along the lines of American liberal arts colleges, it dubs itself the Harvard of Haryana, the Yale on the Yamuna, and several other slogans I cannot remember. I was surprised to find the campus quite small and cozy, housing only around 3,000 students. Nevertheless, it has already grown significantly since the time my friend Sparsh studied there, and is now expanding by another whole campus.  

I booked my Friday trip to Jaipur online after discovering that the Taj Mahal – a portion of which serves as a mosque – closes to visitors on that day of the week. Since I did not want to visit Jaipur or Agra over the weekend for fear of encountering a horde of tourists, my window for scheduling both day trips shrank considerably, and I realised the need to slot Jaipur very early.

As soon as my traineeship in Geneva was over, I flew to India. I do not have a job yet, and so I figured that a week spent sightseeing and networking might be just the right thing for me. Even if it doesn’t work out this time, perhaps making a few contacts will lay a good foundation for the future; it would be nice to live in India for a few years getting to know the country properly.

My traineeship at the EU Mission to the WTO is rapidly hurtling towards its end, and I will be leaving Geneva soon. In preparation for this inevitable event, my dad visited me to help me move some of my things back to Prague – namely my guitar, some collared shirts, and an extra suit. Since he is a fast walker, we saw practically everything there is to see in central Geneva on his first day here, and I struggled to come up with a programme for Sunday.

The weather remained unwelcoming during the second day of Li’s visit, though the remaining snow brightened the otherwise dreary city. This was my first time showing someone around Geneva, and I felt relieved that I did not have to come up with a very long itinerary thanks to our late breakfast. We started in the centre, walking north along the lake and past the Brunswick Monument to Parc Mon Repos, which I only recently discovered has a small grove of beautiful redwood trees. I started feeling a little cold, but awaiting us were the greenhouses of the nearby botanical garden. The papayas and habaneros were completely ignorant of the snow outside, happily growing out their fruits by the bushel.

I had the chance to pay back my friend Li this weekend for hosting me in Bologna. She and her friend Hannah visited me in Switzerland, and for their first day here, I took them to Luzern. The train ride took a little over three hours. There were options that took about ten minutes shorter, but we figured a direct train would be more comfortable. As we rode, we realised that the weather forecast for the weekend was probably mistaken and it would not turn sunny as the day went on. Rather, the entire day would continue in a haze.

Having seen a decent amount of Palma yesterday, we went about our day at a leisurely pace. In the morning, we checked out of our hotel and rode the exhilarating car-lift to the ground floor, after which we drove to the hill of Nuestra Señora de la Paz. My dad had spotted the statue from a distance the other day, and seeing as we had nothing else to do before everything else opened, we thought we might as well make a visit. Had we not stopped by, I likely would never have learned how ugly the statue really looks from up close.

We woke up at seven o’clock with a single goal in our mind: to drive all the way up Formentor Cape and back by breakfast. The task was urgent, as we knew the road to be narrow, winding, and perched atop uncomfortably precipitous hillsides. We began our ascent on the outskirts of Port de Pollença. After a while, we reached a barrier at a crossroads and, seeing that it was raised, continued onwards. I had my fair share of scares during the ride, though at least the wild goats had the good sense not to jump into the road right behind bends.

Flying into Mallorca is a magical experience. As soon as the island draws into view, it dramatically unfurls its rows of craggy mountains into the sea. The peaks occasionally gleam with a patch of sunlight but mostly maintain a dark mien; forming a high range along the northeastern coast, they hold back a barrage of dark clouds from pouring over the southern flatlands. These, the visitor soon observes, are dotted with a host of old windmills: round and quadrilateral, painted and bare, they find themselves in various stages of disrepair.