Sand Castles and Camels

Morning chay in the desert

Women on the sand dunes

Nathan and the two guides

It's camel time!

Traversing the Thar

Jain Temple in Jaisalmer Fort

Stylin': Jen and Ailey at Jama Masjid in Delhi

Us and our English class

Jumping for joy in forests near Sonapani

It's Holi!

Sunrise over Sonapani

Us in front of our cabin and the mountains

Just over a week ago we left behind Sonapani to begin the last leg of our journey. We had enjoyed several days of relaxation before deciding to travel earlier than we had originally planned. The high season had started in the foothills as vacationing Delhi-ites fled the heat of the plains to the south and consequently the staff was too busy for us to teach English. It was not a sad departure because we will be coming back to Uttarakhand in a month to trek to the Pindari Glacier.

Besides, all of India was calling us anyway. Which proved to be something of a head ache when we were trying to choose all the places to visit in our last six weeks. In the end, Jen's desire to ride a camel through a desert combined with my fond memories of Rajasthan made the land of the Maharajas the winning choice. So we boarded the night train from Kathgodam and headed south once again to Delhi, a necessary stop along our westbound journey.

While in Delhi we visited with our friend Rashee again and enjoyed our first taste of non-Indian cuisine in over a month. Ravioli and red sauce never tasted so good. The next day we meandered through the crowded alleyways of Chandi Chowk again, this time with our two new friends Cam and Ailey from none other than our hometown of Seattle. They had both come to Chirag to complete field research for the masters thesis for a program arranged by my 2006 Indian program director. We had a blast showing them around and getting lost in the hectic hustle and bustle of Old Delhi. That night we boarded a train and headed west to Jaisalmer, the golden city.

As you might be able to predict at this point, our train ride was interesting to say the least. I'll spare the details, suffice it to say "ticket" in India is merely a formality best suited for foreigners like us - the local commuters know better and just get on the train at the station right outside Delhi proper. We had a "cozy" first four hours with about 14 Indian men in our berth made for six.

The next afternoon after our fun 22 hour ride through the desert, we arrived in Jaisalmer. Throngs of touts greeted us at the station as thick as flies on a hot summer day (which it was). We pushed our way through to an auto only to be joined by a tenacious tout who couldn't take no for an answer. We drove around the old city and unloaded at Hotel Renuka, a small family run establishment we found in the LP. Despite the pleas of our insistent little friend, we followed our intuition to the hotel, where we were greeted by Sunny the owner.

That afternoon we strolled the lanes of the town and soaked in the sites up in the old fort. The Jaisalmer fort was founded in 1156 by the Rajput King Jaisala after he met an old wise man that relayed an ancient prophecy passed down from Krishna telling of a time when a great king would found a great kingdom on the hill Trikuta. Originally the town lived entirely behind the fort's walls, but nowadays only 25% of the old city's population still resides atop that sacred hill.

I had come here two years previously, but still the city left us both speechless. Everywhere one looks there are intricately carved flowers, peacocks and delicate symmetrical lattice work upon doorframes, windows, and balconies. The city itself is alive with the sounds of hawkers, children, cows and motorcycles. Residents bump elbows with foreign tourists while shopkeepers continuously intone their sacred mantra of, "Hello, where from? Please come in, seeing is free - make your eyes and your pocket happy together!" As long as you keep walking it's easy to pretend they're not shouting at you.

The next day we toured the Jaisalmer palace; it comes straight from fairy tales. Almost a thousand years old, countless epics have unfolded within its walls. The most tragic being the traditional jauhars. Due to undying chivalry and valor, the Rajputs that lived in Jaisalmer in ancient times were unwilling to surrender in battle. Three times in the fort's history conquerors forced the hand of Jaisalmer's warriors to die in battle. Prior to their final fight, the men would preside over the holy ceremony of Jauhar, where women ritually clothed would burn themselves alive in suicide to save themselves from the hands of their enemies. The men, afterwards, donned sacred saffron clothes and rode to battle to their death. This tradition helped to make the Rajputs' prowess as fierce fighters the stuff of legend even in the times of the Moghuls.

In the morning of the following we day we embarked upon our own epic - three days and two nights in the Thar desert. We left early in the morning and drove 35 kilometers into the desert where we met our two guides, Easera and Amba, and three camels: Rocket, Michael Jackson, and Johnny Walker. They were named by Americans - go figure. We rode for about two hours in a cool breeze; Easera told us we were lucky because the weather was good. However, our luck wasn't to last for long.

At lunch we set up under a tall mesquite-like tree for the afternoon to cook and escape the heat. Easera and Amba collected fuel wood and fried up sabzi and chapati with three stones over a bed of coals. They deftly made fat chapatis, or desert roti, that I so fondly remembered from my last trip. After lunch the wind began to pick up and blow sand into every crack, cranny, and crevice of our bodies. It was miserable, but we passed the time playing cards...and chasing cards.

By mid-afternoon, with the wind still blowing, we climbed back onto our humped-steeds and set off with the sun blazing. I rigged a haphazard turban with my scarf and settled into the not-so-comfortable sway of Michael Jackson's lumbering stride. We soon strolled towards a vast wall of rolling sand dunes. A flock of babblers raced beneath the camel's feet while a shrike chirped a lonely desert song. The dunes, as we had feared, were shedding layer upon layer of fine sand into the wind that cut into our eyes like glass.

Just as we were contemplating making our trip shorter, our guides directed us behind a giant desert shrub that provided refuge from the lethal gusts. Then, to make things even better, a lone figured garbed in sand-colored clothes approached through the desert grass lugging a massive burlap sack filled with ice-cold beer. I know what you're thinking - in the desert? Yes, truly. I recalled over two years ago my similar luck - refreshments brought to your fingertips (brought often over two hours away by foot) in the middle of a desolate land.

Our moods soon lifted, obviously, and we settled in for the evening as the wind slowly quieted down and the evening unfolded around us, sipping beer and watching our guides prepare dinner while the desert turned a radiant gold and then a deep dark purple. That night we slept under the Milky Way.

The morning sun broke over the horizon with a fiery crackle the next morning and soon we were out of bed frolicking in the dunes again. We sipped chay as the camels stumbled back into camp with a fully belly after a night of heavy grazing. We departed our camp and went swiftly to Kanoi, a nearby village teeming with goats, broken stone, and brilliant saris. There were almost no men, except for a handful of goat herders and others who made a life off the camel industry. According to the beer-wala who had visited us the night before, all men leave their wives and families to work in Gujurat, Pushkar, or Mumbai in the furniture industry. Otherwise, there are no jobs for them in that run down village. Even Easera admitted that he only made 1000 rupees a month...that is less than one dollar a day.

It is a hard life for these Rajput descendants. Our path through the village was followed by shouts for school pens and rupees. A woman collected cow-patties to prepare a fire and seal cracks in the walls of her home. Families trudged a kilometer in the heat for water. It brought up mixed emotions in both of us, some pity and shame, but we too quickly left behind the village to learn more.

That afternoon we ate lunch like the day before: under a vast tree and with lots of desert roti. We played cards and napped. We also saw a flock of peacocks - massive, regal birds with the most vivid gold, blue, and turquoise plumage I have ever seen. They flew with a radiant golden aura. We were mesmerized as we followed them in the blasting furnace. Marvelous.

We galloped across the Thar that afternoon for hours. I laughed gleefully, not so much from joy, but the exhilarating pain of being so alive. The camel bounced and leaped over rock and shrub, sand and field. My stomach followed suit. We raced another safari (and won) and shouted like cowboys from some dusty old western. Our only soundtrack the incessant flatulence of our over-fed camels.

When we arrived at the dunes our bodies were broken from the sun and the humps of those leggy creatures. WE made camp and watched the sun set. Desert doves hooted a melodious chorus across the land. We gazed in rhapsody, our muscles pounding and faces blazing, at the setting sun while soft sand wraths glided over our feet. We could almost feel the cogs of time grinding in reverse.

At dinner we tried our hand at making chapatis. A beer-wala emerged from nowhere to sell h is treasure. We bought rounds as our misshapen roti burned over the coals. With too much spice, we feasted in the desert darkness and shared stories. Then, with our bellies full and a cool breeze blowing, the four of us sang and danced in the moon light. The desert men chilled us with their foreign warble and seductive beat; we returned the favor with nasally Dylan.

Before retiring for the night we shared our binoculars with our guides and we moon-gazed together. I told them that 40 years ago a man walked on the Moon - they either didn't believe me or didn't care, I think the latter. We fell asleep and woke up again tired, sandy, and happy. We rode the camels back to the far-off road and parted ways with our trusty steeds and helpful guides. The next day we came to Jodhpur, but that is another story...