On the train, I met a fellow traveller by the name of Christine from Canada. Having recently left her friend in Jodhpur, she was travelling South to Mumbai through Jaisalmer on pretty much exactly the same trains as I had booked. Figuring that, as a girl alone in India, she may want the company of two strapping young men, I invited her to join us. Finding it difficult to gauge her reaction, I assumed that she would join us unless she said otherwise; travelling by herself, she must be independent enough to say "I think I'll do my own thing" if that's what she wanted.
Quick introductions on the platform to Casi, who had once again slept in the 3rd Class sleeper with the peasants, goats and a sandstorm, were ticked off the list before heading into the gauntlet of touts. We had already been approached by a very nervous, fast talking Indian on the train that was clearly doing rounds up and down the carriages looking for white kids reading the Lonely Planet guide. Regardless, we were approached by an older gentleman who gave us his card and said he worked for a travel agency that can arrange camel back safaris. We suspected every might be. He also added that he used to have a hotel in the fort, but decided to close it down because of the environmental and ethical issues of overpopulation in the fort - a statement suspiciously similar to a paragraph from the the LP Guide. Tired and worn, we agreed to jump in his jeep as he promised to drop us off in town.
On the way to the fort, he finally comes out with the truth that he did have a hotel, but it was outside the fort. He wanted us to go there, see the rooms and decide what we might want to do. Fine. Whatever.
The rooms were decent. The hotel was clean. It had rooftop restaurant - they ALL have rooftop restaurants. In fact, not a single hotel does not have a rooftop restaurant. The area was in fast development; everywhere houses and hotels were springing up with white signs hand painted with red writing. We decided to have lunch there while we discussed rooms and a camel back safari package he had offered us.
Competition is tight in this market. There are so many hotels and they are all exactly the same. However, by grabbing us straight from the train station, he had a monopoly on our attention, especially given that our information was limited. We only knew what we were willing to spend and what the LP guide said. We negotiated hard, but he only came down Rs 100 from a Rs 950 initial price...which he said was non-negotiable...everything is negotiable in India. We made a deal to stay the night and set off early in the morning out into the desert.
We saw the fort that afternoon. The view of the town from the fort was impressive, but otherwise it was full of the same shops with Ali Baba pants, Indian Saris, Pashminas, Muslim made cushion covers, etc. as everywhere else. Tourist memorabilia.
We were up early the next morning for some tasteless porridge before jumping in the same jeep as the day before for the Thar desert. A conversation with Jo in the car on the way there reminded me that nights out in London haven't much changed since I left, still ending in drunken tears and a trip to A&E (fortunately it was a friend of her's and not her, though not so fortunate for him). Though it did remind me how distant that world is from where I am. Even though I have only been away 11 days, it's seems like a lifetime.
We pulled into a small village where the camels were brought over a hill, not so gloriously, by a small Indian child wearing a white pyjama like outfit. The four camels were kitted up with pillows and covers on which sat the skeletal saddles made of a hard wood and wrapped in a leather like substance. To these we attached our day packs on the front and bedding and supplies to the back.
By 9:00 we were mounted high on our respective miserable looking abomination of a desert dwelling mammals and we were off, heading South. Holding on to two ropes firmly attached to what seemed to be a nose piercing on the camel, were used to direct it left and right. Not sure about how I felt about being lead around by a nose piercing, I let the others lead and my camel naturally followed.
The evening before Casi, after an excruciating search, had managed to find a seven metre long piece of orange synthetic cloth to be used as a turban. The old man in the shop, after attempting to playfully, but painfully crush our hands with a strong wrinkly handshake, had shown us how to put one on. Since the fabric had to come from one large piece that would be split in two, I ended up purchasing an orange turban too. As such, I sat on my camel in my mustard yellow Harim trousers, blue light cotton shirt and an orange turban, my hips gyrating forward, before my shoulders and head would sequentially follow suit with every step the camel took.
Casi, going one step beyond the utter ridiculous, wore his orange turban wrapped like he was a member of the Muhajideen heading into southern Sudan, a large burgundy shirt covered in elephants...best described as a moo moo, as it wasn't so much worn as draped over him...and bright green Ali Baba trousers that could be seen from space by the naked eye. At least the search and rescue party would be able to find us.
We stopped for lunch at an oasis. Our guide, a skinny Indian chap, with no schooling but a surprisingly decent amount of English, cooked a curry, rice, chipatti and chai tea all from scratch. By scratch, I mean he literally mixed the flower, water and salt, kneaded the mixture and cooked it to make chipatti (flat Indian bread). Not terribly complicated, but impressive nonetheless.
The stop was for several hours, enough time for the lingering dark clouds in the distance to draw closer. A storm was brewing.
Just as we were loading up the camels, it hit us. Gale force winds that turned drops of rain into needles coming at us from all angles, whipping our skin through our clothes. We forced our way against the elements back to a village we had not long crossed before the oasis to find shelter in a small abandoned house. Fearing it wasn't enough, we were told to run to a nearby school.
Drenched, cold but laughing, we were greeted by curious kids, all of whom seem to be related in pairs. Our guide quickly found some blankets to warm us up. I figured we were staying in this school overnight, rather than the sand dunes that we were meant to stay on (I was happy just to be off the camel and relaxing for once). Our guide eventually set up camp, a fire, some chai, dinner and finally our beds...though not before some tomfoolery on the roof of the school once the rain had stopped.
We were hoping to wake up early to get back on track. However, our guide, only wanting to make us happy, left us to sleep until gone 8:00. Unfortunately this meant that we missed both the sunrise and an early start. However, it did mean a lot less time spent on that bloody camel.
Trying to make up some time, our guide made our camels run for several long stints of up to 30 or 40 minutes. The camel plodded along at a fast rate, throwing my body up and slamming it back down to rattle my bones inside my skin like a maraca. Straining every muscle trying to hold myself together, my back began to ache. Fearing the early onset of impotence, I found some relief by standing in the holsters, knees bent and holding my ass up by leaning forwards, using my arms as springs against the saddle to soak up some bounce. This way I wouldn't be thrown up and down like a sack of potatoes on a seesaw. I held back the internal screams as I worried I would devalue, if not ruin, everyone else's trip. I couldn't help but think that this was day 10 of 106.
After being told off by a farmer for treading on his crops, we found a sand dune on which to take silly photos, among a few normal ones. A quick baby freeze on top a dune and a naked photo of Casi looking into the distance were just worth the new Charlie Chaplin walk my sore thighs requested.
We had a late lunch before the jeep came to find us and take us back to Chandra's hotel. After a bit of awkward conversation "Hey! What hees up...mhon? I take yu to thrain station mhon. No need for seat belt". Try stopping me from wearing it.
We hung out there for the afternoon and evening, before catching the late night train back to Jodhpur and then an early bus to Udaipur, where we have just arrived.
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