We lazily alighted from our train mid afternoon to the usual onslaught of touts and taxi drivers in the town of Jaisalmer. The draw here is the stunningly beautiful fort, a must stop on any Rajasthan tour. Unfortunately Jaisalmer’s fort is sinking under the weight of its population and defective sewage system, actually having a place on the World Monuments Watch list of the 100 most endangered sites worldwide. This is the only fort that we’ve visited in India that you can stay inside its walls. It’s a living, breathing town and not just a tourist museum. On entering, we got the sense we were thrown back to medieval times or perhaps it was a case of being shrunk at the foot of a child’s sandcastle, where the child’s imagined lively activities inside the castle actually really exist.
But as noted, the fort’s exploited beyond belief, with far too many hotels and guest-houses irresponsibility built in such a confined space. Thus, we took the environmentally sane advice of our guide book and decided to lodge outside the walls. So when one tout approached us offering a free taxi to his guesthouse and a massive room with fort views for 150rp ($3) backed by a nice picture-brochure, we actually agreed. The room was great and surprisingly as promised- we were delighted. Although the owners started the hard sale about booking a camel safari as soon as we sat down to eat, we expected this and fully intended to book one as long as we got the right price. We were provided with countless photos of happy smiling tourists, sitting around comfortable camps beside sand dunes, munching over hearty meals, along with bookfulls of their happy testimonials to match: “best safari ever”, “amazing food”, “Ask for a guide named Charlie, he’ll make your trip amazing”, “highly recommended”- all in a flurry of different handwriting and languages.
We said we’ll think about it!
Later as we were leaving the guesthouse to explore the fort, we were again given the sales pitch; prices were slightly reduced, wonderful experiences (they didn’t want other touts getting their hands on us) were promised and we decided to take the bait.
After settling on the terms and conditions of our safari (or so we thought!), we spent a leisurely evening strolling around the fort and dined in a delicious restaurant after which we watched the sunset from the forts high perched walls. But that was all of course after being bombarded with offers of different safari packages once we passed through the fort gates. We had booked a two day/one night, ‘camel and sleep under the stars experience’ at our guesthouse, but here they were offering bigger sand dunes, further secluded environment, or an extra night for the same price. They discouraged the cheaper packages (like the one we had chosen) as they said the food wouldn’t be good and the camels would be lame. To illustrate this point, a boy did an amusing demonstration of a lame walking camel- amusing as it was, we were not amused. We were beginning to feel a little screwed. Although our Europeanised hotelier (apparently living and working in Finland, just home in Indian for holidays and helping out in the family business) had reassuringly promised us that the food would be great, the camels and guides first class, and if we didn’t like sleeping under the stars- tents, blankets, pillows were all available to us. He reassured ‘bring nothing but you’.
Does it sound like we’re building up to something here?
We are.
Our impression of the trip-to-be (given to us by the hotelier and his accompanying pictures/ testimonials, infused with some romantic notions of our own):
7.30am pick-up, jeep drive to the camel site.
Camel trip to the local sites and then head out into the desert.
Ride for a few hours and stop for lunch.
Guides cook lunch, we help out, learning to cook the dishes in the process.
Pack up and ride for a few more hours.
Arrive at the sand dunes, run around like lunatics, take amazing pictures and set up camp.
Chat to all the other campers while merrily setting up camp.
Eat dinner around the camp fire, singing, chatting, card playing…
Star-gaze ourselves to a blissful sleep.
Watch the sunrise illuminate the desert, help with breakfast, pack up.
Ride some more, stop for lunch, make lunch, clear up, ride to meet the jeep and return to the guesthouse to shower around 5.30pm.
Sounds great eh?
The actual trip:
Beginning
Went to reception a little late at 7.45am (we slept late as we had stayed up watching TV the night before- such a novelty to have TV again) and were told that we should go up to the restaurant and have a proper breakfast before heading out, they would wait. We agreed, although felt uncomfortable keeping people waiting, of course adding to the discomfort, breakfast took ages to arrive, after inhaling it we rushed back for 8.20am. There was one guy waiting, he had arrived 10 minutes before (he was told to be there for 8am, but his guesthouse was late dropping him over). Acquaintances were made, he was Jamie from England. We loaded (our sleeping bags, pillows and some water) into our taxi from the previous day- which was to be the jeep. Jamie looked worriedly at our bag saying he thought everything was provided, we shrugged and he jumped out and bought a bottle of water. Next we drove into town and the driver first stopped at the veg. stall and bought stuff, then the mini-mart and a few other places and we realised that he was actually only now buying the provisions for out trip. He certainly wasn’t worried about keeping anybody waiting- we wondered why he didn’t do all this while we were having our breakfast? What about the other people waiting, or the camels and camel drivers waiting in the desert, aren’t they expecting us since about 8am? On seeing the bread, jam and small stock of veg. I urged Mal to jump out (he was in the front) and get some chocolate- I was never a girl scout but I knew all about being prepared!
That done, we drove out of town, just the three of us and the driver and stopped at a temple, we duly hopped out, took off our shoes, walked around the newly refurbished old temple and after what we agreed would be a suitable enough time told them it was lovely and left. It was boring, once you’ve seen ten temples…
Before hopping back into the ‘jeep’ a guy came running at us offering us welcome chai in his shop, we politely declined. His real intentions became quickly apparent; he wanted to sell us beer. He advised us that his shop was the last place before entering the desert where you could buy beer and he was really doing us a great service. We politely declined again. The guy persisted asking ‘How can you look at the stars without beer? How can you dance in the desert without a beer? How can you sing without a beer? How can you enjoy the desert without a beer?’- Jamie said he’d take some. Mal encouraged, said he’d have a look at the shop, I declined.
They went inside and agreed to 100 rupees per beer, but the bottles produced were of the small kind, Mal outraged at his cunning told him as they were half the size as normal they were only worth 50rp. He immediately reduced the price to 80rp, Mal offered 60, he said 70 and Jamie got in on the bargaining, ruining it all saying two for 150rp! The guy couldn’t believe his luck and agreed the price immediately. Jamie smiling delighted with himself returned, Mal seriously confused behind … I knew the bargaining hadn’t gone our way!
We drove on – passing many liquor shops - unanimously agreeing not to visit the other temple or vaguely interesting sites and arrived soon at our camel pick up point. There awaiting us were four scrawny flee bags and their camels.
My camel was named Celia and Mal’s Rocket. Neither of the two did justice to their namesakes! Jamie didn’t bother asking about his. The God fearing Daniel was our chief guide- a ‘simple desert man’ was how he described himself.
Head bobbing
In anticipation of a fun two days I began happily chatting to Daniel about the different tour groups he takes out and the various antics that happen on such trips. Is he much of a singer himself? How about musical instruments or dancing? When I say ‘chatting’ it was more of a one way conversation. I talked he remained silent, I thought this was odd and perhaps he was hard of hearing, so would repeat my questions again; no response. We knew he spoke English, so perhaps he just didn’t understand my accent? I tried again using my teacher voice, and then I caught it, he was replying with his head. This is actually common in India, instead of nodding your head up and down in agreement, as we do at home; Indians kind of bob their heads from side to side. But whether they mean yes or no I find rather confusing as it seems to vary in different parts of the country. One single slight to the side can mean yes, and a bobbing from left to right can also mean ‘yes, I agree with you’, the way we may say ‘yeah, yeah’ throughout a conversation. But if they linger with the head slight this can be no, but if it’s accompanied with a kind of blink that’s a little longer then necessary this can be yes, but sometimes no, depending on who you’re talking to and where they live. Daniel was giving me a lot of long nods to the left but I wasn’t sure about the blinking; as it was sunny he may have been squinting. This ‘conversation’ was all the more difficult as Daniel’s camel was a few steps back to my right and taller than Celia, so his camel’s head- which was engulfed in a blizzard of swarming flees and flies- was near my mouth. I was beginning to see the benefits of a muted conversation!
Riding
It wasn’t as difficult to figure out why Mal and Jamie weren’t very involved in the chatting; discomfort, verging on pain. They weren’t particularly enjoying the riding. I was doing ok on my camel as I was able to cross my legs over my smaller camel’s neck making the journey a little more comfortable, but Mal and Jamie had their legs spread wide apart and their groins vulnerable. After about five minutes walk, Mal let out a ‘whoa’! He felt as if his camel had stepped into a hole or stumbled, throwing Mal forward a little and back down into his seat, and then it happened again, and then again … Mal certainly was not amused that our little friend’s prediction of the lame camel walk had come true!
Daniel suddenly became talkative in telling us that he was very hungry and hadn’t had any breakfast; alarmed I said we were informed that all food was provided on the trip. He agreed, but said that sometimes foreigners brought extra food like chocolate and he liked chocolate a lot (on his wages he probably couldn’t afford to waste money on chocolate himself). We wised up to his fishing game, but as we wanted to stay on good terms with our host, Mal handed over a bar on the sly- there wasn’t enough to give to the other guys and Daniel definitely wasn’t sharing. After only ninety or so minutes riding he asked if we’d like to stop for lunch, I thought this was very early, but given the fact that maybe it was true he hadn’t eaten today and Mal and Jamie’s non disagreement; I agreed. The boys were very relieved.
Simple waysAnother reason for stopping became very apparent, it suddenly started raining! We headed for some large shady trees (we hadn’t exactly gone far into the desert at this stage) and dismounted all the gear to rest the camels and make lunch. We were told to relax while the guides prepared it, Daniel lay down and covered himself like a mummy telling us he had a headache and needed a nap. Having nothing better to do, as it was drizzling outside of the tree shade I caught up on some sleep myself and was awoken with a plate of steaming curry stew and chapattis. Not exactly gourmet cooking, but it wasn’t too bad, a little gritty. Mal assured me that I was better off having not seen the cooking skills the boys produced and the ash on my chapatti was there for a good reason. I accepted this without enquiry or otherwise I wouldn’t be able to eat judging from the way Mal was picking through his food.
Do you know how the desert folk wash their crockery and utensils?
We do.
Wish we didn’t.
Prepare yourselves. Mum, maybe it’s best you don’t read this bit.
First they put a little water in the saucepan to loosen the food, all the rest of the plates and stuff are dipped into this pan. Then I could hardly believe my eyes, the lad ‘washed’ the plates in dirt. Now when I say dirt, I mean the soily, goat dropping, camel dung, fly, maggoty sand beneath out feet dirt. He half buried the plate into the dirt, rubbed the dirt around until all traces of food and water were dislodged and out of the dirt he retrieved the shiny ‘clean’ silver plate. I can hear Gordon Ramsey vomiting out “F*#%ing disgusting!”
I don’t think there is a word for bacteria in the desert dialect of Hindi!
Our camels were rounded up and repacked and we set off again on our safari. The plan seemed to be that we would ride for another ninety minutes or so and then make camp for the night. Not much of a safari but judging by the grey thundering skies ahead if we went any further we would most definitely get caught in the rain.
We passed through a small weird village where all the children came running out of their decaying shack tent houses, surrounding our camels asking for money and sweets. I was glad we were elevated, I had the feeling that if we were down at ground level they would have picked us clean like vultures on a Tibetan corpse.
We pit-stopped near a beautiful sand dune so the guides could collect some firewood, it was only after some persuasion from us that we could dismount our camels. It wasn’t the animals that were resisting but the guides, they wanted to move on quickly before the rain and we wanted to photograph the sand dunes. Thus for a fleeting moment we leapt about in the sunshine, before it was to disappear for good.
Tent
On approaching a dirty hay shack, Daniel informed us that we’d camp here.
I guess he caught my expressing because he asked me if I was happy and did I want to camp somewhere instead.
Ah … we’re putting up a tent, yeah? I enquired
No ma’am, was replied, you’ll sleep under the stars.
But what if it rains, then we’ll put up the tents?
No ma’am, we’ll sleep inside.
Then it started raining- hard. We scrambled inside the gloomy, dark small hut and watched for it to pass; all six of us. Not exactly the ‘songs around the camp fire’ vibe. All illusions of other travellers joining our camp had long been dispelled earlier when Daniel told us he hadn’t had a trip in four days and business was very slow this year (where he also proceeded to tell me how he gets paid so little and really only survives from the generous tips from the tourists. He enhanced on the bit about tips for a while.). The rain eventually eased and the guides quickly made a fire to cook dinner while we took a walk over the dunes. Despite the fact that it was dark and dull, the sky looked amazing, all angry and cruel, ready to spit down on us. After running up and down a few dunes we sat and watched the ‘light show’; every few seconds it forked with lightening, we trained our cameras, competing to see who could picture the lightening first. Mal won. Daniel delivered us our food atop the dune with the beer and we continued to watch the amazing scene before us: distracting from the fact that we were eating sand, hoping we wouldn’t get a dose of the runs. Considering there are no toilets, this wouldn’t be the best place for it!
It began raining again so we piled back into the hut, where Daniel told us as he wasn’t feeling very well he was going to go home for the night and see the doctor, his house was apparently a few kilometres away.
We said fine.
He said he wouldn’t go.
Confused, we advised him that it would indeed be best if he were to see a doctor (instead of spreading his germs in the small hut!).
He informed us that he wouldn’t go anywhere until we were happy.
Are you happy? he asked.
Hmm, it’s pouring rain outside, we’re in a dark, damp, smelly, small hut instead of the nice comfortable tent we were promised, all six of us piled in together. There is no light or fire and we just ate sand and probably the traces of goat faeces for dinner, were we happy? Not particularly.
Then I will stay.
It was his job to keep us happy. I asked him did he think the rain would stop.
It is the will of God.
Yeah, but in your experience of living in the desert and constantly watching the weather, what do you think? I wanted to know. Perhaps he had listened to the weather forecast that day; we stupidly hadn’t thought to check, especially since for the last month the weather had been fantastic.
I don’t know, only God knows, it is his will.
Right.
Are you happy ma’am?
As happy as before - disappointed.
It is not my fault, it is Gods will. I want you to be happy.
The conversation went on like this for a while, we tried to tell him we were happy for him to leave, but couldn’t be happy about the weather or tent situation. He should go home.
I will stay.
Here we go again! We asked him what good would he do staying, considering he is sick, whether he stayed or left, nothing would change; except perhaps we’d pick up his germs, but he didn’t understand this, obviously along with bacteria, there mustn’t be a word for germs either! Then he told us that if we returned and told them we had a bad time or that he left us for the night he might lose his job, so he’d stay and make us happy.
We eventually had to concede that we were indeed happy after all, just previously mistaken by the situation; he should definitely go home and leave us happy folk here.
He jumped up and called a friend who spoke English well to stay with us for the night along with the other young guides. The friend arrived, tried to sell us beer and Daniel left saying if we got frightened during the night they would call him and he would arrange for the jeep to collect us. Naturally he has a mobile phone, as any self respecting desert camel man should have! Actually Daniel spent most of the day on his; we were beginning to think he had a second job as some sort of tele-sales man. No wonder he had a headache and sore throat, he’ll benefit immensely when video phone become cheap and popular!
Bhang
It stopped raining after some time and we rejoiced as blankets were laid outside for us to sleep upon. It could be a starry night after all. Then Jamie offered us half a bhang cookie each that he had bought in the government bhang shop at the fort.
What?!!
A government bhang shop?!
Bhang is basically cannabis and is legal in India as the Sadhu- holy men- use it to aid meditation, and sometimes it’s used in celebrations and religious occasions. It’s common to find bhang lassie, where a lassie is a sort of yoghurt milkshake. It doesn’t seem to be a problem to have bhang in food stuffs like cookies, chocolate, juices or the lassies, especially if it’s bought from the government shops of which I don’t think there are too many- they work whereby the government directly sell the bhang to the shop that way controlling it’s sale and distribution. Of course the tourists take full advantage of this fact and you often see a number of stoned pseudo hippies walking around.
So Jamie had purchased two large strong cookies from the government shop and had eaten half of one the night before. He said it had just made him sleepy. Considering he wasn’t exactly the sprightliest chap we’ve ever met, perhaps the cookies hadn’t yet worn away! We asked the guides if they could rekindle the fire so we could at least salvage some atmosphere for the evening; they refused. It seemed that they only had enough fire wood left to cook the morning’s breakfast.
Couldn’t we get some more? we asked.
Wood won’t be dry enough – it’s God’s will.
Of course.
We decided the only thing for it would be if the three of us shared the cookies having half each. We settled down in our alfresco beds, delighted that we had the foresight to bring our sleeping bags; the blankets had never been washed. Thankfully some of the clouds had parted for us and we got our first glimpse of the desert stars. We were hopeful that the sky would clear altogether and we would have the magical starry night we’d come for. The guides, obviously up on God’s will, remained indoors, telling us to wake them if it started raining. We star gazed, watching the cloud patterns form in the sky, not such a bad night after all - apart from the fact that over the sand dunes a few kilometres away the sky was illuminated in lightening every couple of seconds.
Ahead to our left was Pakistan only thirty kilometres away and from our vantage point it looked like we were watching a distant war. Every time the sky lit up to the right, a few seconds later the left would follow- the Hindustani side returning fire we imagined. The war raged on. To put this in the context, our little lightening war was playing out across the sand dunes only a few days after the Mumbai terrorist attacks, which India believe Pakistan organised. Eventually we were able to see actual forks of lightening, not just the reddened sky, and we knew the battle front was drawing nearer. Then things escalated when the Hindustani’s brought in air support; thunderous claps roared overhead. We practically saw the air crafts whizzing past, bombs were dropped bringing the fighting even nearer and our whole camp site lit up and we felt the debris rain down on us in the form of … well, rain! The big splashes on our faces woke us from our war watching trance. Our imaginations – or the bhang cookies- had taken over, but now it was most definitely time to move inside. Perhaps without the cookie I may have been a little more worried about the ‘air support’ i.e. clapping thunder right above us, or the bright as day sky the lightening was producing, but I wasn’t.
Inside the smelly cramped tent we heard the rain raging around outside as we tried to make space to lie down. With every clap of thunder and lightening our young guide sang out a mantra of prayers to his God. If we hadn’t been so bhanged, we probably would have been as frightened as he was. It was a horrible tremendous storm outside and we were in a little plastic hay hut. We passed into sleep listening to the protective chanting of the guide. At one stage I felt a continuous drip on my forehead, like Chinese water torture. What was happening? I felt too tired to move, but managed to turn my head away from the drip. I hoped the storm wouldn’t get any worse as I was too comfortable and sleepy to move; this was definitely the effect of the cookies.
The storm couldn’t be any worse!
I felt ‘comfortable’?? There was a raging storm outside, lightening was threatening to hit the hut, the wind was about to blow it away, the roof was in danger of caving under the weight of the heavy rain, the guide was chanting fearful protective prayers, there was water dripping on my head, no space to turn, we six were packed like sardines, with a dog. When, where and how had the dog come into the picture? The place smelled, all in all your typical nightmare, but I was too comfortable and sleepy to move!!
Thank you Jamie for the cookie.
I did have to scoot further down into the sleeping bag to avoid the flood, pushing Mal practically atop of Jamie; my pillow was absorbing the drip, sponge like, sitting in a bath of water. But once we had scooted, it was back to sleep again. I woke at seven a.m. with wet hair and face and decided enough was enough, it was dark and dreary outside, but nothing could be worse than inside. Mal awoke with me and scouted around outside. Everything was the same he informed, I expected dunes to have moved, perhaps a few bodies from the war, but everything was just wet and new. The guides rose and busied themselves with the fire and breakfast while we sat miserably back into the hut. It had started raining once again.
After the rain; more rain
Daniel arrived sopping wet, told us how frightened he was for us last night (but yet he didn’t call for a jeep to collect and return us to our hotels, which is what definitely would have happened if we hadn’t had the cookies!). We were served some sandy gritty porridge (we fed this to the dog), ashy toast, boiled eggs, bananas and chai for breakfast. After this feast we were advised to wait for the rain to stop before proceeding probably for another hour, after which we’d probably stop and prepare the gritty curry for lunch. We declined. We wanted out.
Call the jeep.
Although we were not on God’s direct line, we were fairly sure the sky was telling us it would continue raining for the day. Get us out of there! We didn’t care that we were forfeiting a days ‘safari’ with ‘gourmet lunch’, Mal couldn’t get back on the camel and there was no way our stomachs could be subjected to another lunch.
The jeep was called. We had to ride (walk in Mal’s case) for an hour to the road, where our chariot awaited and drove us back through the continuing torrential rain.
On returning nobody asked us how our trip went and the ‘European hotelier’ was nowhere to be seen. Surprisingly they didn’t ask us to sign the recommendation book!
We showered, slept, ate and caught our midnight train out! Jodpur here we come. Let’s hope it’s not as exciting!
After a few hours Mal started to feel crap again, just as he had been getting better. We couldn’t understand the digression, he was taking medication, had talked to the pharmacist, was drinking plenty of fluids… fluids there was the problem again! He bought 5 litter bottles of water at the station, checking the seals, but would you believe that when we examined the bottles later, only two of the five bottles contained mineral water, and the other three had been refilled with tap water, and to Mal’s misfortune he had once again drank contaminated water – I had been lucky drinking from a fresh one. You can imagine the litany of abuse Mal expressed on discovering this. That shop keep is lucky we had long since pulled away from the station (no doubt the ploy he usually relies on) as Mal was fit to strangle him. Thus poor Mal passed the journey between the toilet and fitful sleep while I could do nothing for him but worry and read.
Now it’s dedicated to tell his life’s story and struggle for Indian independence.
Where Jaisalmer was hectic and alive, this fort is tidy and organised, which in India means a hefty entrance fee. Although you get real value for your money here as an audio tour is included in the charge and it’s actually great! It sounds more like a bedtime story than a tour with a perfectly chosen narrator. From entering to exiting I was enthralled, totally lost in a by gone era.
It took over two hours to complete the tour, with the Anthony Hopkins-like voice in my head but it flew by, integrating plenty of little asides and extra information if you wished to press a few different buttons.
The walls of the town are painted blue I learned as it’s a royal colour, it also keeps the buildings cool and apparently repels insects. I guess in that case there wouldn’t be a lot of demand for blue houses in Ireland!
Reportedly he cooks through 1,000 eggs a day! He is recommended in the Lonely Planet, which he naturally has maximised upon with laminated enlarged typed copies of the recommendation pasted either side of the stall, along with dozens of notebooks filled with travellers comments and photos - which are handed out for you to read while you wait for your food. As the wait is short, the reading material is more of a suggestion for your inevitable entry into the books. We were prompted into ordering one masala, and one masala cheese omelette, apparently these are the best. I have to say I was a little disappointed by the famous omelettes, but this was probably due to expectations and circumstances. The thick omelette is divided between four slices of white loaf bread and lots of sauce, creating two, slightly messy, slightly greasy sandwiches – and this is just for one person! As we weren’t particularly hungry the four sandwiches were far too much for us, making us a little queasy. The setting may have had an impact on the noxious feeling, you are after all eating your food sitting on the road beside flea ridden roaming cows and the smell of open sewers wafting in the air. Our chef didn’t look like he’d even heard of, no mind passed any hygiene standard. Although that being said, we were not actually sick after eating the food, so score for the omelette man! I doubt I’ve ever written or even talked this much about an omelette before, they’re not big in Ireland.
