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I was straddling the fence.

Not figuratively.  I was literally hanging there, with one leg on one side, and another about to swing over and join its partner.  We were in the middle of a dark alley in Delhi, at a time when the only people who would see us would have reasons of their own for sticking to the dark.  I looked down and tried to untangle myself from the wires inhibiting my progress.  Getting through the barbed wires looked tough but soon I had managed to extricate myself and hop to the ground.

I looked around to make sure the same crazy old man wasn't waiting below this time to ask us countless questions in Hindi.  Or maybe it was the same question, I don't really know since I don't speak Hindi.  Either way the coast was clear the second time we climbed to freedom.  We glanced over our shoulders one last time and walked quickly away from the shadows of the alley and toward the stench of the River of Rubbish.  A beacon of odor lit the way for us like the pillar of fire in the Old Testament.  We followed the smell to the 'Garbage Ganga' running past the med student's dorms until we located the sweets shop we were supposed to wait in front of.

Pausing to wait for the tour bus gave me the chance to strip off my clever disguise—the scarf tied around my head—and resume my prominence as a foreigner.  I felt the freedom of victory.  Twice we'd managed to sneak in and out of the med student's dorm, posing as Indians who belonged there.  It was a desperate move for desperate travelers without a bed.

Waiting for a tour bus was peaceful.  It was somewhere between dawn and daylight, the sky caught in transition when it hadn't yet settled on a color.  We watched a man wash a car in that grey light—watched the dirt get wiped away like the color from the sky.

The contrast between the beginning of this day and the one before seemed too great to have happened in the same city.  The previous day began in a conglomeration of elbows and shoulders all pushing me from every direction as I fought my way into the line at the train station.  It had taken us a minute to figure out the system but we were determined to act like the seasoned travelers we wanted to be.  Jessica got in the inquiry line and fought viciously to hold her place in the crowd as she shouted out possible train numbers to me and I submitted them to the lady selling tickets, who incidentally did not speak English.  The lady looked at me with eyes full of exasperation and I knew the answer before she shook her head.  There were no tickets to Agra on that train either.  Just like the 13 trains I'd already inquired about.  I wondered silently if I was giving her a reason to study English, so she could tell me to give up.

This time we were sure we were going to make it to Agra.  What's a traveler to India if they don't see the Taj Mahal?  After running out of trains and time on our first full day in Delhi we had booked a travel tour to ensure our passage.  The tour package was located by Prince Oswin, who came to our rescue for the thousandth time, and promised us three hours at the Taj.  I wasn't thrilled about the idea of a tour when all we really wanted to see was the world's most renowned expression of love, but decided it was better than not going at all.

After our long battle at the train station we waved our white flags and surrendered to the stronger warriors, knowing that we still had a chance at Agra the next day.  So we called the ever-faithful Oswin and asked him what to do.  He called the tour company and got us on a bus touring Delhi and leaving immediately.  Thus we began our exploration of Delhi—on a bus examining our wounds but safe from further combat.

That day was spent comfortably traveling from site to site.  We had ample time to leisurely examine each stop.  A few of my favorites were the Qutab Minar, Humayun's tomb, and the Rajghat—where Mahatma Gandhi was cremated.  Delhi is packed with historical sites, but don't take my word for it—go yourself!  And do yourself a favor and stay longer than two days.  Also, be sure you have a place to sleep.

A high pitched tune brought me out of my reverie to the realization that I was still standing in front of the sweets shop, reliving the day before.  It took me a minute to place the noise until our tour bus pulled up and I realized it was the horn that played a melody.  Little did I know how much I could come to loathe that sound in the next 22 hours.  We boarded our bus with high hopes and settled down for a long, long, long, long journey to the Taj Mahal.

I closed my eyes and let the sun spill through the window onto my shoulder.  I didn't know then that despite all the wondrous things we had seen, and were going to see, the things that would stay with me were the few minutes stolen from the trip to spend with my friends.  I smiled to myself when I thought that Ami and Akhila had given up their room for us to sneak in and out of in the dead of the night.  Remembering the late night laughter we shared warmed me from the inside out.  Hopping from place to place didn't give me much time to spare, but the meals shared and jokes told with my friends linger in a different way than the amazing things we saw.  Time may erase the words we said but won't touch my affection for them.

"True friendship is an identity of souls rarely to be found in this world.  Only between like natures can friendship be altogether worthy and enduring."
-Gandhiji