Tata India
Jaisalmer
Rupert writes
When we left Jodhpur Laura’s minor stomach trouble (with the usual side-effects) had progressed into emergency toilet sprints every two minutes. Digging deep into our medical supplies we found some pills and re-hydration sachets that would see us not missing our train to Jaisalmer. Fortunately we had been booked onto the plusher part of the train (not what we asked for, but needed it turned out), which meant we got blankets, pillows and – above all else – a western toilet for Laura to use regularly throughout the twelve hour journey.
To those that aren’t familiar with Jaisalmer; picture a sandstone fort rising from the desert like a mirage. Something out of a movie. That’s what it was fifteen years ago and you can still see the resemblance, but tourism, like anywhere else, now dominates this majestic place, with a city growing around it. This doesn’t take away all of it’s charm though, and wondering through the small alleys inside the fort walls is relaxing and a purifying change from the big cities of India, despite the echoing of shop-owners beckoning around every corner.
For the first two days we stayed at Hotel Simla, a budget recommendation in the Lonely Planet that turned out to be a mid-range hotel with matching prices. But it was too romantic and picturesque to resist; with a large bed and window cushions, and possibly the nicest bathroom we’ve ever had the pleasure of depositing temporary weight in. A perfect base for Laura to recover.
After a visit from the doctor -who confirmed my guessnostic of Travellers Diarrhoea- and a day of medication and bland food Laura was ready to face two days on a Camel Safari.
Camels are the oddest of creatures. Their faces provide timeless expressions whilst they plod through the sand, ignoring every attempt of control you might wish to throw or whack at it. They’ll follow the one in front unless hungry or, like Laura’s camel, rogue and wanting to do quite the opposite from the rider. Mine refused to speed up unless another camel had started trotting, then it would be off, with me desperately clinging to anything that wasn’t slipping off it’s hump – which wasn’t a lot – and slurring a mix of words that resembled my eagerness for my camel to outrun the the pack and my fear of not being on the camel if it did so.
Laura’s camel did a lot of frothing at the mouth, which smelt worse than Bangkok’s sewage. Her camel also joined in the race to the dunes on one memorable occasion, but after Laura’s misplaced trust in the camel avoiding a tree left a branch entwined in her hair whilst still galloping through the desert, ignoring – as were the camel drivers it seemed – the shrieks and yells from it’s passenger, Laura decided that walking was nice sometimes to.
I say passenger in the above paragraph and not rider, because my definition of a rider is someone in control of the thing being ridden, which is entirely inaccurate when you ride a camel. The Lonely Planet boasts it’s knowledge on the matter, informing the reader that “the reigns are attached to the camels nostrils, enabling the driver to easily steer the camel”. Rubbish. Their nostrils must be made of steel, trying to stop them lowering their huge muscle of a neck on a walk-by-eating maneuver (my camel a master of this) left one choosing – ultimately – that the risk of being snorted at by a frothing face wasn’t worth the effort. And besides, who was I to choose when he eats? I’m just a passenger.
During one of a few stops at the local villages (if you can call them that). Yes, that’s a watch. My watch. Erm, no, you can’t have it.
Although persistent, when quiet they could pass as cute
We made camp just before sunset, then everyone got their cameras out and shot those classic sunset with camel as foreground postcard pictures. Apart from me, who’s camera had leaped out of the pocket and into the sand on the last saddling, leaving it clogged up and out of action until I could take it apart to de-sand it (finally, after two weeks, I’ve done so). Then we ate a good meal and sat around the fire singing a lot of terrible songs (and a few good ones) whilst listening to the camel drivers drunkenly sing their own. That night we slept under the stars, on the dunes. It was a full moon, which left it nearly too bright to sleep, but more comforting than pitch darkness, since there had been a lot of large black beetles crawling around earlier. Despite a sandy face in the morning it was an awesome experience. The silky sand, the bright stars, the glowing moon. Very romantic.
The next day was much of the same thing, although we did come across a lone camel, which one of the parties camel decided to attempt mating with, apparently – said the camel driver – not a good thing whilst someone is on the camel. No, I can imagine.
Tags: Agra, Australia, Darjeeling, Delhi, India, India, Jaipur, Taj Mahal, Travel
Monkey
Submit comment? Oh Laura , eat lots of good clean things as soon as you can, the jewel so cruel, love you both , mumki
And that was only the first time! 😉
Two weeks after that I was poisoned with a re-frozen ice-cream and then two weeks after that a gone off milk-shake. Lucky me!
Unfortunately Rupert didn’t escape too light either, some dodgy custard came and attacked him a few days ago. I’m looking after him though don’t worry – after all, I think its about my turn!
Hope all is well in France and wishing you all a Happy New Year.
All my love,
Laura x
*And Rupert in the background give a little wave*
OK… so you are really making me very envious now! What with the January blues and dark cold evenings – ummm really must get my travelling shoes on again!
Sounds so fab – really want to go to India now big time!
NY@NEC was good however very big and the sets not as good as hoped for. So we are all having a well earnt rest from partying at the mo.
Hugs always
Vanessa and Gary
You know, I’ve just noticed we don’t have a picture of Laura actually riding the camel. She did, honest (we do have photos, but apparently not good enough to share with everyone – so maybe one day when Laura’s not looking).