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Tourists attempt to take their photos of the Taj Mahal - Source: ONE News -
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Commonwealth Games reporter Jack Tame is now travelling in India, where he attempts to beat the crowds at the Taj Mahal.
The alarm went off at 5.30. By 6.00am I was in a queue, waiting for the man to haul open his massive gates. He seemed all too relaxed about the growing mass of people waiting on him. He strolled around and laughed on a cell phone, taunting me with the confidence of a man whose boss probably cares as little as he does.
I was early, but far from the earliest. Lots of Western tourists had the same idea as me - to get up and watch the sun rise over that most magnificent and exotic architectural wonder, the splendid and extraordinary Taj Mahal. But today I have a special plan of attack.
I'm going to outwit these tourists.
In a month in India, I've discovered almost all Western tourists can be sorted into three groups and this queue is a perfect example. All three groups can be defined by the pants they wear.
The Cargo Crew is the most common. They are young travellers, in their 20s or early 30s. Most of them are from England or France. They wear polyester cargo pants, bought from outdoor sports stores which use photos of people climbing mountains or crossing wind-swept deserts in the adverts. They are the kind of pants you rarely need in England or France, and don't really need in the middle of a queue to the Taj Mahal either.
Team Tie Dye is the second group. They've recently gone all hippy-ish, and now they wear pants they will probably never wear again once they leave India. Their pants are loose fitting and brightly coloured. They look like the pants Aladdin wears. They have bracelets and anklets to match, and facial hair and piercings and dreadlocks.
The Three Quarter Crowd is the final group. They always do things in three-quarters. Most of them are roughly three-quarters of the way through life, and all of them wear three-quarter pants. They play things safe. They wear lots of insect repellent and stay in hotels with reliable hot water. They always eat at restaurants with English menus. They have well-spoken guides, and hired drivers, and the husbands carry enormous cameras which they pretend to know lots about, but rarely switch off "auto" mode.
Boom! We're in. The queue disbands; the tourists ogle and stare at the fantastic courtyard which surrounds them. No one is in a rush but me.
My plan of attack is back on. I walk briskly past the oglers, ducking under their skyward lenses, my head down and my feet stretching out in uncomfortable big strides. If it wasn't inappropriate, I would run. I'm going to the spot, and I'm going to be first there.
You already know the spot. Everyone knows the spot. Even though the spot is tens of thousands of kilometres from home, and even if you've never been to India and the Taj Mahal, you'll still have a pretty good sense of the spot. Certainly of its view.
The spot is the place where the classic Taj Mahal photo is taken.
Google Taj Mahal right now, and I guarantee the first photo you see will have been taken from the spot.
The spot is about a hundred metres or so in front of the Taj Mahal, where the wonderful ivory building stands perfectly straight on to the photographer, the morning light reflecting a brilliant yellow shimmer across the garden pools which separate the tourist from the Taj.
The Taj Mahal has 10,000 visitors a day. Every one of those 10,000 visitors eventually goes to the spot to try and take exactly the same photo. And every one of the 10,000 tourists wants their photo to show no sign of the 10,000 tourists around them. It's a delicate balancing act.
I, too, am a tourist; I, too, want a photo from the spot. But my plan of attack has been thwarted. I am one of the first here, but not the supreme winner, and already the spot has become a most popular spot.
There are people from every group, the Cargo Crew, Team Tie Dye and the Three Quarter Crowd, hustling and bustling and trying to take tourist-free photos. It's hopeless, everyone is in everyone's way.
There is an American man (Three Quarter Crowd) standing at the front of the spot. For a few seconds, there are no tourists behind him. This is his chance at the perfect spot photo, but his wife is struggling with the enormous camera.
"Come on Linda, this is it! Everyone's waiting!" the man hisses at his wife through his gritted teeth and false smile.
"Mark, it's not working!"
She's already panicking. This is her big moment, her only chance to nail the spot shot.
"Just push the button ... the big button ... push it!!" says Mark.
His teeth still haven't separated. Even as he hurries her he looks straight at the camera with a big cheesy fake smile. But the smile is tiring.
"Ohh, uhh, oh it's turned itself off now! Oh heck it's just gone all black," cries Linda. She looks flushed and bewildered.
"What'd you do?"
"I just pressed the big button like you said, Mark!"
"That's the power button, Linda!"
It's too late, Linda has failed Mark. Mark should have let her play with the camera before this moment but he's always been the photo expert. Now it's all backfired. The pressure was too much. The group of tourists straining to take their tourist free photos have snapped up the spot. Mark and Linda will have to settle for a tourist-full photo.
In the end, so will I. In fact, almost 10,000 people will. Half an hour after opening time, tourists are flooding to the spot, and they will stay here until after sunset.
The Taj Mahal is an astonishing building. This morning it is the smooth colour of rich cookies and cream ice-cream. It is intoxicating.
Like the other 10,000 tourists, like Mark and Linda, like the Tie-Dyers, the Three Quarter Crowd and even the Cargo Crew, I will gush about the Taj Mahal for weeks to come. And in our digital memories of this glorious scene, the symmetry of the marble masterpiece will be sullied only by a smattering of tourists in the background. Wearing three different types of pants.
Read more Delhi and India articles.
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