![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYFZxwECN_UMNdpf4nHHwHKd43Ny0ej8BF9wpEuZVR1XZ8qBpnLSNzeo-V2_Sk9-qQla7SJLVp8x62x_dl4iGPjGRk7HcR-2nGb7nPXA0Aszkr3EqOpED67JJ9w6T1ST-cLlF6ZvGifcAx/s320/STH70367.jpg)
The hordes standing in line at the entrance - and my guide who saw to it that I could jump the queue.
The many who took photographes inside despite an announcement that said that it was prohibited.
A brief conversation with a visitor from Mali who said that she had come here because she had always wanted to see the Taj Mahal.
Images from dirty and crowded Agra - the friendly waitress at Pizza Hut, the smart rikscha driver who guided me from one leather factory to the next, the kiosk owner who tried to sell me a coke for four times the regular price, the excellent chicken curry at a restaurant I would have not dared enter had my guide not convinced me, and sitting in traffic surrounded by constant noise.
It does not cease to amaze me how many of my memories triggered by this photograph seem to have nothing to do do with what the photograph shows.
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