In all of our travels there are some places we have been that have brought me to tears. The Taj Mahal is one of those places – it is breathtakingly beautiful, and we are so fortunate to have now visited twice.

On our first visit all those years ago we fell completely in love with the Taj Mahal. We had brilliant clear skies and bright sunshine, our photos all squinting into the camera and shielding our eyes from the sun. Our randomly chosen guide fabricated his stories, and I finished the visit by dropping my iPhone into the squat toilet. Later that day a monkey stole Don’s bananas.

It was the perfect day.

No such shenanigans this time. We had a late start, waiting for a heavy fog to lift, but by the time we arrived the sky was a beautiful grey blue. The small arched entry gives away very little, just glimpses of white, until you emerge into the complex and the full building reveals itself – beautiful and grand, perfectly symmetrical. The sheer size is astounding. The magnificent white dome of the mausoleum fills the sky, the minarets stretching up around it. Beautiful red sandstone gateways and a mosque sit framing the grounds. Past the gardens and fountains huge tiled spaces spread out like mosaic carpets, whole panels of marble carvings make up the walls. Up close to the mausoleum the intricate decorations are revealed; perfectly carved flower petals, inlaid coloured stone, Arabic lettering surrounding the entrance.

The light was perfect. We took multiple photos of ourselves and of the Taj Mahal from every different angle. I even went back to the same toilets – the scene of the crime so to speak. And Monika our guide was fabulous, carefully weaving us through the crowds, providing stories and information, taking our photos and giving us our own time and space to explore.

I took a long last look as we left today, knowing deep down it’s unlikely we’ll get a third visit.