Is riding a small motorcycle round India a suitable pursuit for an over-weight old man who has had two heart attacks? Perhaps not — but what else should I do in winter? Sit at home and watch TV? Grumble about the government? By mid-January my wife would be campaigning for compulsory euthanasia. And so I'm off again...
My last two ‘offs’ were to the Americas: I drove from south Mexico to Tierra del Fuego, came home for the summer, and then resumed my trip travelling north from Tierra del Fuego to New York — 66,000 kilometres in all, and on a Honda pizza delivery bike. This trip, my Honda, somewhat inappropriately, is a 125 Cafe Racer. I sent my youngest son a photograph. The little devil laughed himself sick. But I will have my revenge in February with photos of my 77th birthday in Goa. He'll be coveting the sunshine, palm trees, golden sands, mountains of fresh prawns fast-fried with chili and garlic and unlimited piña coladas.
I begin my journey in Delhi, but move on almost immediately to Agra. The Taj Mahal features in every movie set in India. It adorns biscuit tins and T-shirts and chocolate bars. For me, such over exposure has sapped much of its magic. For a real joy, cross the river to the I'timad-ud-Daulah, the mausoleum commissioned by Nur Jahan, wife of the fourth Mughal Emperor of India, for her parents. Human in scale, the marble is delicately inlaid with Persian patterns of leaves and flowers and peacocks. The simple tombs lie side by side, a resting place for lovers holding hands for eternity. Every stone conveys a gentle love with such tenderness and beauty that tears are inescapable.
And now I find myself to the south, in Orcha. Little more than a village, it is home to two superb palaces and three great — but now abandoned — temples, one of which is a towering cruciform cathedral.
The Maharaja's hunting lodge is a delightful hotel, the Bundelkhand Riverside. I sit on my balcony at dawn, watching the sunrise across the river. An elderly man kneels by the water and raises dripping hands to the sun. Rising, he greets me with a namaste before disappearing into the garden — only to reappear with an offering of two saffron-coloured flowers. I have discovered heaven...
Simon Gandolfi will be blogging regularly about his Indian motorbike adventure. To find out more about Simon visit simongandolfi.com
