When I get up in the small hours of the morning, the streets are dark, almost empty and very cold. I only walk a little bit down the road from my hotel and then I'm at the gates of one of the seven wonders of the world: the Taj Mahal. I walk through a park littered with cold people and scruffy dogs. It's such a beautiful night; the moon is full, it's so quiet and there is a whiff of urine floating on the wind. A piece of garbage blows across the path, and the red blotches of beetle spittle on the tiles are like roses in a flowerbed.

My acid irony melts away as I get closer to the main gates. After the tickets have been purchased and the security check is finished, all the waiting tourists can in silent anticipation walk through the gate. Even the gatehouse is stunning, and I decide to not get lost here but look at it more closely on my way out. I don't want to miss the sunrise or the Taj Mahal almost deserted of people. When I see it I actually get tears in my eyes. I think it is a mixture of the stunning beauty of the mausoleum and the fact that I'm finally here. I never knew if I'd get to see it. For the longest time I had a picture of it on my computer's desktop. And here I am in front of the real thing. It is so beautiful. It was built by the maharajah for his first wife after she died. There is also a mosque next to it and it is still used today by the Muslims.

Everybody that is here at this time of the morning is quiet, and I get some pictures with hardly any people in it. How strange to stand at the same vantage as the photographers that made this piece of architecture so famous around the world. As the sun rises the white marble changes colour. And apparently it changes colour according to the movement of the sunlight and the moons silver rays. I would have loved to see it lit up by the full moon. My mood is elevated by this place and after a couple of hours I return to my hotel with my woolen shawl wrapped around me, it is so cold here. I sit on the rooftop in the only ray of sunlight I can find, and eat a delicious breakfast. I'm totally blissed out, and tomorrow I'm going home to Norway. I'm so happy that I get to end my Indian travels on such a high note.

My journey home follows the daylight; I keep turning the time back so the seven hours from New Delhi to Helsinki literally flies by - I have a whole row of seats to myself. The same happens on the flight to Oslo - and it almost takes the entire flight for my pulse to slow down, I had to run like a maniac to catch the flight. The crowds in Helsinki airport parted like the red sea when I came charging through - with my Indian outfit I made a racket like a one-man band. I suddenly realized how quiet people are in Europe. The colours are dark with few patterns and the jewellery and handbags have no bells on them! Everything is so clean and quiet. I look like a clown compared to them. In Stavanger my older brother and his wife and son is there to pick me up, and three of my friends are there to welcome me alongside all the girls in my class - and one of the boys. I'm drowning in hugs, cards, gifts and flowers. I've never experienced anything like it. The snow outside feels very cold off course, and I look forward to getting out of my sandals and into some woolly socks. I return exactly six months after I left.