From the rooftop of the Bara Imambara, Lucknow lies flat to the horizon, and a few flights of stairs feel like a climb up a peak. Below, the Rumi Darwaza frames the road into the old city. Under your feet runs the Bhool Bhulaiya, a maze of narrow passages where getting lost is part of the plan.
Down in Chowk, embroiderers stitch white chikankari onto fine cotton, and the lanes smell of slow-cooked food at dusk. Summers are fiercely hot, monsoon rains arrive in July, and winter brings cool, foggy mornings. A Local Friend can pull up a chair for you at a family-run counter in the old city you would never have found alone.
