Day 1

We awoke early in Pokhara for a 9am departure. Most of our surplus gear went into a storage closet in the hotel for the duration of the trek, and we set foot outside to meet our guide and driver.

Our guide was a Nepalese man called Tanka. He had a masters degree in economics, but apparently found it more profitable to act as a guide. Paid 2000NPR or about £16 a day, he would earn about twenty times the national average wage.

Our driver turned out to own a small car rather than the expected jeep, and so with a bit of grumbling we crammed in and set off on our hour long journey, over hills and through valleys, further and further from any major settlement. As we progressed we could see a visible shift of goods on the road. Lorries carrying commercial goods, metals and the like, were replaced by rickety trucks loaded high with fire wood- the default currency in the mountains.

We were dropped at the roadside in a small settlement called Nayapul. At a small café we were served up a round of Nepalese tea and we got our bearings with help from the guide and our GPS unit, before starting the walk through the sleepy village. Vendors offered us their inflated drinks and high-energy packet foods as we passed, but we declined as we were already fully equipped with food we had picked up in Pokhara.

Tanka led the way, up a muddy path and over a large bridge wide enough for a large truck. We all marched on, the sticks which we hired, chinking on the concrete floor as we walked.

Up ahead of us lay large hills covered in a dense blanket of trees, and somewhere beyond the hills, lay the vast Annapurna peaks which we would see on the third day.

The march was fairly easy going to begin with, but as we climbed higher into the hills Nicole found the weight of her backpack to be slowing her down. We would turn a corner and look up at the road as it climbed ever upwards and Nicole would let out a groan or an exasperated squeak. Soon the fourteen kilos on my back was dragging me down as well, and yet we trudged on. Our march led us twelve kilometres and finally we reached a small settlement called Tikhedunga. A handful of tea houses straddled a river, where a tiered waterfall spilled down the cut in the rocks. Over this waterfall ran a swinging metal bridge, which we passed over in order to drop our bags at the guest house. As we reached the far side of the bridge a convoy of mules came up behind us, laden with goods expected further up the hill.

A long hot shower followed, then a bowl of spaghetti and a victory beer. After dinner Nicole and I wandered back down to the waterfall bridge and spent some time looking at the Milky Way, brighter and clearer than I have ever seen it before. Finally the cold started to bite and we withdrew to our rooms where we promptly passed out.

Day 2

I awoke at 6am as the light began to fall through our mesh curtain. Soon the birds were chirping in an unfamiliar language, and I dragged myself out of my sleeping bag for the promise of a hot shower. No luck. The water came out freezing, and I clenched my jaw and tolerated it as I was already cold from the walk to the outhouse. I returned to the room shivering and dived back under the quilts to warm up.

We took a mixed breakfast in the dining hall. Nicole had cornflakes, Adam an omelette and I chose a cup of hot milk to add to a bag of granola I picked up in Pokhara. Never had a bowl of soggy granola tasted so good!

Our trek today was going to be tough. To begin with we would have to rise over two thousand meters in altitude over just a couple of kilometres. To accomplish this ascent we were faced with an impossibly high, stone staircase which wound up above the village and out of sight. Tanka told us that we would have to climb over three thousand of these large steps before the trail would even out a little, and that would still only put us about a quarter of the total distance needed to reach our target of Ghorepani which lies at the foot of Poon Hill.

Our struggle with our bags yesterday, gave us pause. Nicole and I conferred with the guide and decided it might be best to hire a porter for the day. At least this way we would have a fighting chance of reaching Ghorepani by nightfall! Our porter was a middle-aged Tikhedungun who bound our two rucksacks together and then anchored them to his forehead with a large band. With a forward posture, he set his gaze to the floor and spritely began the ascent leaving us both feeling very unfit.

I still don’t quite know how we made it up those stairs. Up we climbed for about five hours, stopping occasionally to pause for breath and a look back at the collection of guesthouses dwindling in size behind us. Slowly but surely we stuck at it and in time the scenery changed from the dusty staircase zig-zagging through stepped fields, through small settlements with dry stone walls, to the first signs of snow banked against the small houses as we neared the top of the stairs. The villages changed as well. The hill folk could be seen doing carpentry, drying seed in the sun and butchering buffalo with long knives. All the while we were met with salutations and smiles as we passed through these people’s homes and lives.

At the top of the stairs we stopped for lunch. Previous experience had taught us to order the same dish if you want it delivered a) at the same time, and b) relatively quickly. Unfortunately this tactic didn’t work for us today and we waited for a good 40 minutes before our fried rice arrived. As we waited, other travellers we had managed to pass on the stairs before came up and overtook once again, often calling out in good-spirited competition.

After lunch, and a few stretches to get our legs moving again, we were happy to find that the path did begin to even out a bit. Some parts of the hill which faced the wind had frozen up however, and we slowly picked our way over icy and treacherous ground. Our path took us alongside a small stream which frequently fell from high ledges. This was by far the most beautiful part of the journey so far and the snow gave everything a magical feel.

Eventually, after seven hours of walking we came into Ghorepani, our bodies screaming for rest. As we climbed up through the village (on yet another long and terrible staircase), we turned a corner, and there in front of us, providing the perfect backdrop to our home for the night, were the Annapurna peaks. These mighty, white-capped mountains jutted into the sky, dwarfing us and everything else in sight. The grand hills that we had just climbed paled into insignificance, and I felt incredibly humbled. Despite the awe, we had to get into in to the warm, and so joined some other travellers inside the guesthouse alongside a giant wood-burning hearth.

Tomorrow we wake at 4.30am. As long as the weather is clear and not snowing, we will climb for an hour to the top of the nearby Poon Hill. From there we should see at least fourteen peaks as the sun rises in the east.

Day 3

Getting up for five in the morning was a pretty tall order, but amazingly we managed it. Gorhepani lay at the foot of Poon hill, and the promise of spectacular sunrise views of the range got us dressed in as many warm clothes as we could fit on. Armed with head torches we joined a procession of other hikers up the stony, snowy path.

Fresh snow had fallen overnight and this made our climb a little slower than anticipated. We reached the summit just after six, moments before the sun crested over the foothills. Everyone on the hill stood there in collective appreciation of the amazing view that surrounded us, and we spent a good hour taking photos and drinking tea served by a team of opportunistic traders.

After dawn we headed back down the hill for breakfast. The way down was icy, and each step felt hazardous. It was here that Adam found a huge wizard staff with a forked end. As he neglected to pick up walking poles before, this lucky find saw him down the hill without any problems. It was this walk that convinced us to hire our porter for the second day. Unfortunately at the prospect of another day lugging our bags – this time in the ice, our porter shook his head vehemently and refused. Luckily we were able to find another man willing to bear the load and when Adam offered him an extra ten dollars, he even agreed to carry his bag. The total load must have been 35KG, but this man lifted it like it was nothing. With all our backpacks bound together, he headed out the door and set the initial pace for us to follow!

We trekked east out of the village and into a forested area thick with snow. Horses ran free here, and a poorly behaved group followed alongside us, biting at each other’s flanks, and kicking at each other’s heads. The stony path we followed climbed up even higher and soon we were on a ridge, again looking north at the insanely massive mountain range.

We must have trekked for a good four hours before stopping for some lunch and our route took us slowly down into a thick forest. The path was icy still and we had to take extra care so the going was slow, but soon we came to a river which we followed more easily for some time. We passed many waterfalls, one of which had icicles suspended alongside the flow of water. This had to be the freshest air I had ever breathed, and the only sound in the forest was the crack of twigs under our feet and the occasional call from a distant Yak.

After lunch we hit the mud. Hours of hard slog took us up muddy hills and then back down again. At one point we ascended again and came around the side of a hill. Below our sheer path stood distant foothills, and circling nearby, a massive eagle hunting for its next meal. After a few turns it issued a cry and soared into the distance.

We came into Tadipanni around five in the afternoon, and after dumping bags and taking warm showers, we had some dinner. Here the prices were massively inflated compared to anywhere else so far, mainly due to its remoteness. Even if I wanted an expensive beer though I didn’t get the chance. After eating I felt so shaky I hit the sack at an early half eight.

Day 4

Today we got up at a leisurely eight am. I peeked out of the curtain and what was thick fog the previous night, had been replaced by the side of a mountain. Awesome.

We left the tea house by nine and began a muddy walk back into the forest. Soon, the mud dried up and the path dropped slowly but steadily into warmer woodland.

I don’t remember too much about the rest of the day, because shortly after we fell into a steep descent, down uneven and jagged rocks. This lasted for about six hours and was really heavy on the quads and feet. By the time we were halfway down and stopping for lunch, my knees felt swollen and we were all cursing the infinite staircase both strongly and loudly.

A dog began to follow us down, darting in front of our legs as we struggled down, then hopping away onto the wall before disappearing for a minute or two only to return. The dog took a real liking to Adam and after he was almost tripped and sent tumbling down the steps for the third time, he emptied his bottle of water over the creature to try to get it to go away. No luck, the dog just stood next to Nicole and shook off the water all over her, then ran back to Adam’s heel.

Finally we came to the bottom of the steps and encountered a large mother goat stood in the middle of the path, guarding her newly birthed offspring. We carefully passed by the side and the goat gave us a wary but permissive look. No such luck for the dog however, who on trying to creep past was chased away by a very angry and protective mother.

We had arrived in Syauli Bazar, a small collection of homes and guesthouses that sat flush to a fast river with rapids that frothed and surged. Dinner was served just after dark and we all had a massive helping of Dhal Bhaat, a lentil curry which keeps getting refilled by the waiter.

Tomorrow we have been promised a fairly flat walk of only two hours, then back to the car and on to Pokhara for some good food and a solid sleep!

Pokhara sits next to a large lake, in the shadow of the Annapurna mountain range. In the days you can see flocks of paragliders swarming around the near hills, and the town itself is pretty much just a staging area for the many travellers wishing to hike into the nearby hills and mountains.

We set up camp at a hotel called the Marigold and spent the last few days planning out a walk into the Himalayas. Mindful of our inexperience in all things trek, we found an easier five day circuit which takes us high up into the foothills where we get to see fourteen of the Annapurna peaks, but doesn’t require crampons, ice picks and superhero strength.

The highlight of this trip should be the third day where we reach the summit of Poon Hill, from here we should be able to see for miles around.

Pokhara is full off vendors selling knock-off trekking gear, and so we loaded up on “North Face” and “Mamut” clothing as well as some more traditional yak wool blankets, to help us deal with the cold nights. Nicole bought some nice boots, whilst I decided to rent some, along with some sleeping bags and walking poles. How much of this we will need should quickly become apparent, when it’s too late to turn around!

Tomorrow we rise early for a 9am start. We take a Jeep to Nayapul where we begin our walk.

I’ll try to post as we go, but if mobile range doesn’t permit then it will be when we return to civilisation.

Today we were told about a cave system which lay one and a half hours walk from Bandipur. We fancied a walk and felt the need to get some practice in before attempting a trek in the Himalayas to the north.

Before we set off we said farewell to Eiji who was headed to Pokhara, and we filled up on toast and porridge which put us in good stead for the afternoon.

What I wasn’t expecting was just how far we would have to walk today. The journey started off fine. We left the village and walked up to the outskirts which overlooked the large valley which separated us from the great mountain range. We stopped in awe off the sight.

Below us, stood some distant towns and a winding river that threaded through the valley. Beyond them, the Himalayas stood tall and proud.

We found a sign by the side of the cliff which showed the way to the cave. It pointed down a steep staircase that ran down into the dense foliage, and we set off. The path wound back and forth and plunged ever further down.

We passed a trio of Nepalese ladies with giant bushes strapped to their backs, which they lugged back up the hill to the village. They all beamed us wide smiles as they passed and greeted us in the Nepalese fashion with an enigmatic “Namaste”.

The path became steeper and steeper and the flat stone steps turned into loose gravel and rocks. A little further down we encountered a lady looking after three cows which were feasting on the grass verge. Each cow had a large cow-bell (the first time I’ve actually seen this) and they clanged loudly as we walked on by. All this time I was looking back at the road we had come down and worrying how we were going to get back up.

We walked for about two hours down the side of the large ridge, stopping occasionally for a breather and some water. Adam led the march, really setting the pace, and by the time we got to the cave entrance at the bottom we were all feeling pretty wobbly. Our legs had turned to jelly and we kept our newly acquired cave guide waiting, as we recovered enough strength to carry on.

The cave was the largest in Nepal, and soon we were climbing down ladders and steadying ourselves on tethered ropes as we descended further into the dark, dank, subterranean pit. At one point we all turned off our torches and fell silent. The silence was oppressive in the Stygian darkness and we soon turned them back on again to avoid the sensory deprivation. Large calcite deposits fell as petrified waterfalls, and up above us metal or crystal deposits glittered in the rock.

Finally we emerged into the daylight, and brushing off the dust from the cave, looked up at the savage climb.

We kept up a good pace and give it our all as we climbed back up the steep bluff. The ascent took us the good part of an hour and a half, and we were overjoyed to make it to the top with the last of our energy fleeting. I caught a great victory pose from Adam and Nicole which you can see below.

We spent five days looking around Kathmandu. Our walks took us many kilometres across the dusty city and each night we would return to our hostel foot sore and weary. Despite the exercise, we found a lot of time to relax at the various places we visited, and in some of them I found a deep sense of tranquillity. The Boudhanath, which sits in the centre of the city, is the Buddhist’s largest and most holy stupa. We spent the afternoon just sitting at its base, listening to the chanting of the monks and the babble of the tourists and devotees that ambled its circumference in a clockwise motion.

When we tired of the sun, we looked to the nearby rooftop cafes and, ascending up to one of them, paused on a landing to catch our breath. Behind an elaborate door which was partially open I could see a painter atop a ladder painting the ceiling. The painter caught my eye and invited us in to see the work that he and his two colleagues were doing. All around the room they were working on frescos of Buddhist scenes and iconography. The artwork was precise and detailed, completed with small brushes. We were told that each panel took two weeks to complete and that the room was to become a yoga studio.

On the next floor up we found an art studio, packed with workers (or possibly students) creating marvellous designs on hard canvas. We stopped again to look about and the proprietor took delight in showing us all the designs that he had for sale.

Kathmandu was brilliant on the whole. I enjoyed looking around the backstreets of the Thamel district and stocking up on woollen goods. We found some great places to eat in the winding alleys, including a fantastic Chinese restaurant which did tasty noodle soup. After a while though, the dust begins to get everywhere and we all felt the need to escape into the countryside (or mountainside as the case may be). In our hostel we met a cool Japanese man called Eiji who also wanted to get out of the city, so we all ended up booking onto the same bus.

We took a 7am bus west out of the city this morning, and after stashing our bags under the bus, settled in for a five hour journey. We had heard about a town called Bandipur which was on top of a large hill, right between Pokhara and Kathmandu. Apparently it was a good location to see some of rural Nepal and so we set our sights there.

There was only one road headed west out of Kathmandu and our bus joined a long line of other coaches ferrying tourists out to the distant peaks. It took a while for things to get going but soon we were rumbling over the stony and uneven roads that hugged close to the sides of a high river valley. The valley extended for our entire journey and it was awesome looking down at the small rapids which shone white, far down below. The backdrop to this journey was ethereal. It looked like someone had literally painted the snow-capped mountains onto the blue sky. From time to time a rope bridge crossed the chasm, and you could see the hunched figures of people laden with heavy bundles as they struggled across. At one point we passed a lorry which was doing an ‘Italian Job’; the cab was hanging precariously over the edge of the road, having smashed through the concrete barrier. Luckily the driver was OK, although he stood on the verge looking a little white.

The bus dropped us at the bottom of the hill, in a small town called Dumre. We had a cup of Nepali chai (Which is a less spicy version of Indian chai) and then walked to the junction where we flagged down a taxi to take us up the hill. The road up to Bandipur took us past terraced rice plantations and buffalo which were walked along with short string. As the car climbed higher and higher the mountains appeared larger and more formidable than before.

Finally we reached the top and explored some of the small settlement before sitting down to a big plate of Dal Bhaat (essentially lentil curry with rice). As we ate our dinner we spoke with Eiji about life in Japan, which sounds very interesting. Nicole and I are more than keen to go and explore there if money allows!

Bandipur itself was clean and the air was crisp. The main street was paved with large slabs of stone and weirdly had a ‘western’ feel about it. I kept expecting to see a batwing door open and someone come stumbling out.

I met a sock seller who told me it was “impossible” to reduce the cost of his socks by ten rupees and so I ended up with some rabbit fur socks for a rather pricey £1. After watching the sunset with my now, much warmer feet, we bought a small bottle of whiskey and returned to the chilly hotel room to warm up a bit.

The time finally came to wave goodbye to India, and Nicole and I took a flight from Delhi to Kathmandu in Nepal. Our friend Adam had flown in from England the day before and had already checked into a hotel in the capital, where we looked forward to catching up with him.

We boarded a small plane and sat down next to a Nepali man who was very friendly. The hour long flight was spent talking to him about the best trekking locations, Nepalese food and Scotland, where our newly acquired friend desperately wanted to take his wife on a visit of the beautiful hills.

Waiting at arrivals was a beat-up old mini-bus that our hotel had sent to pick us up. What followed was a very bumpy ride all the way to the hotel over the not-so-smooth roads that paved the city.

One thing that we immediately noticed about Kathmandu, was that the traffic seemed to obey some semblance of normal law and order. We were in fact, mightily impressed with the lack of honking horns and near misses that became a standard part of any journey across India. Another well received difference, was just how clean the streets were, litter was for the most part absent, and whilst a few stray animals can be found on the roads, the vast legion of cows were nowhere to be seen!

Our first day out in the city was an absolute joy. We decided to stay in the middle of a district called Thamel. Around our hotel wound narrow lanes and crumbling old buildings with intricate wooden facades. Throngs of people team these small alleyways as merchants sell a wide variety of colourful wares from the shops, each stall giving off its own distinct smell. The scent of leather mixed in with the whiff of cheese, and the fragrance of chillies and flowers followed you, as you weaved your way down the road. Occasionally you would have to make way for a motorcycle or a pedal rickshaw, and jump up to the steps of a shop so that they could pass.

We visited Durbar Square, which houses large palatial buildings, and we stopped for dinner on a rooftop overlooking the square. Momos are the main item on most menus here, so we ordered up some of these small, dense buffalo dumplings and gave them a try. They were amazing; tasty, rich and filling to boot. I shall definitely be having more as we travel further into Momo country.

Rising up over the west of the city was a large hill with a golden stupa atop. This is known colloquially as Swayambhunath or Monkey Temple to the tourists, and this impressive structure has a white dome with Buddha eyes watching you as you climb the steep hill. On top of the white dome is a golden tower which glints in the midday sun. Trailing off of the tower were festival ribbons and at the foot of the structure stood rows of prayer wheels which you could spin on their axis, and large bells which devotees would give a good clang. The most jaw-dropping aspect of this brilliant location however, was the view out, over the city. Looking east you could see the whole of Kathmandu laid out in a natural bowl, flanked to the north and west by snow-capped mountains and sheer rock faces. Atop the walls of the stupa, tourists stood enthralled by the view, as the orange robes monks in the background went about their daily duties, maybe never knowing, just how lucky they were to live in such an incredible place.

It was 4am and we were rattling down the deserted, dry and dusty roads of Jodhpur in an old, worn-out rickshaw. Our driver spoke little English and we had just bargained a price for the ride to the train station before settling down into the seats which comprised of two wedges of yellow foam.

The city was unusually quiet at that moment and the normally ambulatory cows were all lying by the side of the road when the driver pulled up abruptly, next to a group of them. From under his shawl, our driver produced a ceramic plate, piled high with chapattis. He hopped out of the vehicle and went from cow to cow, stopping to stuff a small stack into wide and eagerly anticipating mouths. The driver stepped back when done, intoned a little prayer, and climbed back into the rickshaw.

It was a nice reminder of just how entwined the Indian culture is with the autonomous cow, and how much respect and care they can offer to what at the best of time appears to be a nuisance.

Since arriving in the north of India we have been hitting the tourist trail hard. After leaving Agra we took to the rails once more, and after an afternoon in transit arrived in Jaipur. Some call this the pink city, for 140 years ago, the Raj of the time had all the walls in the city coloured with a red vegetable dye. Now every five years the citizens re-dye their shops and houses to keep the tradition alive.

Rajasthan has a lot of tourist attractions and Jaipur is no exception. We arrived in the city and met a rickshaw driver named Rehan. He was friendly and also fair with his pricing, so we took his number and called him the next day to take us around on a tour. We visited the city palace which housed the various maharajas, and contained an excellent armoury which was stuffed with savage swords with serrated edges and, amongst other items, an axe which shot bullets from the shaft – the tag read: Axe cum gun!

From the city palace we drove up to the Amber Fort which sits on nearby ridge overlooking the city. Most people walk up the last leg, from the car park to the main gate of the fort, but Nicole and I boarded an elephant instead and rode atop the little castle as the giant animal lumbered up the hill. It was a brilliant experience, and one that I had been looking forward to since arriving in India.

The elephant passed underneath the large main gateway and emerged into the fort’s main square. This is where returning armies of old would show off all their loot to the inhabitants who lived inside, and running up from our position was a wide staircase which climbed to a second high entrance leading to the inner fort.

Further inside this inner fort was another maharajah’s palace, famous for its walls which are studded with mirrors and gems. This gave a very opulent feel to the fort, and an appreciation for just how much comfort and style the maharajahs lived in.

The Amber Fort was full of high walkways across the ramparts, and I regressed to a childhood state as I ran from turret to turret. I hadn’t been this excited since I was ten! Inside the fort we also encountered a snake charmer who used a flute to summon forth a cobra from inside a basket. One Indian tourist got a little too close as you can see in the video below!

By this point we were getting hungry and asked Rehan to take us to the best samosa shop in the city. He took us down dusty roads to a small, roadside stand hosting a mountain of savoury treats. We bought a bag of samosas and sat in the rickshaw to tuck in. As I bit into the first one a rising heat nearly blew the top of my head off! The samosa was loaded with so many chillies I could barely talk. Nicole had tears running down her face from the burn and Rehan began to chuckle as he informed us that “Rajasthanis like their food hot”. After having my taste buds burned off from the first samosa I was actually able to enjoy the second one which went down much more quickly.

We then took a look at the Water Palace which sits alone in the centre of a large lake and after that headed to the Hawa Mahal, another building designed to hold the royals and their courtiers. Both were impressive to say the least.

We finished our day by visiting the Jantar Mantar, a massive observatory quite unlike anything you would see in England. For starters, the site was huge. A walled enclosure held vast geometric structures which were used as tools to monitor the stars and tell the time. A central sundial was so large that it could tell the time to an accuracy of two seconds- a remarkable feat considering this was a sundial.

Jaipur had come to represent all the aspects of India that I initially expected to see, but never did in the south. From turbans, to sandstone forts, to snake charmers and piped music, the north of India is much more culturally exciting than the south and I look forward to our next stops of Jodhpur, called the blue city and then Jaisalmer which is known as the golden city.

We had arrived in Agra to see the Taj Mahal, but as our first day here was raining; and incredibly grey, we decided to put that off till the following day.

Instead we paid a visit to Fort Agra which stood across an open expanse of meadow, slightly up river from and on the same bank as the Taj.

An important Indian fort throughout history, this place has seen the imprisonment of the Raj who commissioned the Taj Mahal and also the leadership of successive governments. The East India Company operated out of the fort for a while, using it as a prison.

The size of the place was immense and we spent some time looking around the many sandstone or marble inner buildings. Large curated gardens and waterways split up the structures, and the trees were full of green parrot-like birds and tame chipmunks.

The next day saw an end to the rain and so we had a lunch in a nearby café before heading into the complex. As foreigners, it cost us £7 each for tickets, whilst Indians get in for 10 pence apiece. Whatever the cost is was worth every penny, for when we passed beneath the southern gate which opens into a large gardened area, I just stopped and stared at the huge, symmetrical mausoleum in front of me. The Taj Mahal is without doubt the most beautiful building I have ever seen. Even in the grey light of a cloudy day, the white marble stonework shimmered and captured all thoughts as we both stood enchanted.

It’s difficult to describe just how stunning this ‘Great Wonder of the World’ really is, but some adjectives might help: breath-taking, magnificent, awesome. The Taj Mahal demonstrates the meaning of all these words and many others as you stand and take it all in.

Finally we broke from the spell we were under and stepped forward to explore the grounds. Large well-kept gardens, broken up into rectangles by the path; and by water courses which contained fountains, stood in front of, and below, the great structure. Behind the Taj stood a large sweeping river, which meant that from the gardens and even from the gate at the entrance, there were no buildings to ruin the skyline behind.

The Taj Mahal was built in the 1600s as a mausoleum for the Raj’s favoured wife. She died after bearing him fourteen children and was interred under the large dome in the middle of the structure.

The large cuboid part to the structure is supposed to represent earth, with hard angular lines, whilst the dome atop is meant to represent the peace and perfection of heaven, with its smooth rounded nature. Also the writings that you can see climb the front of the building are carefully set to be larger in size at the top of the building to account for perspective. This ingenious structure came at an immense price for the Raj who spent 40 million rupees on the construction. In the day 15 rupees was able to buy 10 grams of pure gold- to put that into a little perspective!