We journeyed across from Udaipur to Agra. I was sad to see the back of Udaipur, it has been a good resting point but I did feel like a tourist now.

Our train tickets were in the best class of carriage and seat, this being one of the better connections by rail that I experienced! Sitting in my comfortable seat I read my kindle and tried to use the 3G phone signal to try and find out the previous evening’s football results back in England.

The landscape rushed by, at what point does it become the norm and you do not take any notice of what is passing by your train window?

Eventually we approached the city of Agra. Unfortunately it had a low cloud cover, the problem being that this was a man-made issue: smog. As soon as we stepped off the train we were aware of the poor air quality.

And then the problems began…

The hotel was not quite what it had looked like when we booked it. It was a tall thin building, every part of it looked tired. There was a gang of porters waiting for us and looking forward to the tips they were hoping to receive, except they did not realise that this was a group predominantly made up of students.

Eventually I was taken up to the top floor, a small room without a view and dimly lit even with all the lights on. An air-conditionng unit hummed away in the corner. I looked at the porter trying to express my displeasure, but previous experience made me realise that I was not going to get anywhere.

We were tired from the day’s travel and all we could arrange was to meet up for an evening meal on the hotel’s balcony, which allegedly had a view of the Taj Mahal.

Not having experienced air-quality this poor it was probably not the correct choice to eat outside. In the distance there were some floodlights in the haze lighting up a building but nothing was distinguishable. Some old cats circled our table waiting for scraps of food and small ghekos climbed the walls in the warm evening. It was a mediocre meal and we were all tired from the day’s travelling. With hopes of a big day at the Taj Mahal in the morning we went to bed.

My air-conditioning unit was still humming. As well as making a noise that meant I could not sleep it was also pumping out hot air. I thought it better to turn it of and pressed the switch.

Zap!

An electric pulse went through my body. And still it hummed and kept pumping out hot air. Obviously there ws no phone to contact reception and I knew nothing would be done anyway.

On my pillow were these red beetles. As soon as you flicked them they just exploded into a crimson puff leaving a mark. They were a few on the bed, but there was nothing I could do. It just added to this merry night.

At night as I rolled in bed they weren’t merry bedfellows, leaving red marks on me and the bed.

Somehow I slept and made it down to breakfast, others in the group complained of poor stomachs after the meal, at least I had been spared that. One student had improvised by using a sock when he had run out of toilet paper. Quite ingenious I thought, until I found out that he had flushed it down the toilet. The building was creaking and decrepid enough without pipes being blocked… And he had done it twice!

Of course, there were going to be problems with visiting the Taj Mahal. We had arrived on a public holiday, so it was busier than normal. We had arrived on a day when the prime minister of Canada was visiting, so security was going to be very tight.

Masses of people moved between various gates, we had picked up our guide and he had got us through to one of the entrances, walking past thousands of Indians.

Here was my big moment. I had brought a small toy with me, a character known as a Basil Brush, a fox from a tv programme in my youth. My aim was to have a picture of me, Basil and the Taj Mahal. He had travelled the world with me, there are pictures of him standing in front of the Colosseum in Rome, in Chicago, Toronto, Paris and other locations around the world – but now for the big one – the Taj Mahal.

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I stuffed him in my pocket as we prepared to pass over our bags to security. You are not allowed to carry anything into the grounds of the Taj Mahal. Have you ever seen a picture of anyone standing in front of the building holdng anything?

A guard noticed something in my pocket and asked me to pull it out.

“What is it?” he asked.

“A small toy, it belongs to my daughter,” I replied as if to make light of the situation.

“You cannot take it in,” he firmly replied.

I looked at him, shocked. My real concern was that if I handed him over I would probably never going to see him again and I could not bear the thought.

I reiterated that it belonged to my small daughter and he always travelled with me.

And then two soldiers, both holding large, black machine guns moved towards me. This was not an argument I was going to win, and yet it was me and Basil versus two men with machines gun.

At this moment our guide stepped in, he had realised the situation and thankfully he had a solution. He took Basil from me and passed him through some coiled barbed wire to a man outside. Apparently he was a photographer that he knew and he promised me that I would get Basil back.

International incident averted, Basil was safe and hopefully it would be the last time I would have two men holding machine guns approach me. Just another India moment.

The Taj Mahal was choked with people and poor air-quality. For the students it was one of the highlights of the trip to visit such an iconic building. On another day I would have been more imressed, but I don’t do crowds very well.

There are stories of how it was built that make it one of the greatest buildings on earth. Delicate gems carved into marble. Workers brought in from all over the world to bring their expertise to it. All of it repeated four times as the building is identical on all four sides.

All of this to hold the body of one woman. It was commissioned by Mughal emporer Shah Jahan to house the tomb of his favourite wife, Mumtaz Mahal. Shah Jahan was also placed inside this mausoleum. It is one of those ancient buildings that, although built in the 1630s, could probably not be replicated today.

Some of the group queued to enter the dark vault of the mausoleum, I felt it best to leave Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal alone and wander the grounds.

People were queuing up to sit on the ‘Princess Diana’ seat, where she had her picture years before. Again, I decided I would rather not queue.

I did enjoy the building, it is a marvel and rightly one of the wonders of the world. But this was not my type of tourism. For me it was a ‘tick the box’ moment.