Jan 12, Jaisalmer and the Great Thar Desert

Jaisalmer is a living museum. Overlooking surrounding desert plains, the fort is carved from a golden sandstone, encloses the palace, magnificent havelis [mansions], series of Jain temples and a maze of still inhabited narrow streets lined with shops selling local textiles, embroideries, and everything from leather bound notebooks to beautiful glass lanterns. Colorful facades and winding lanes lure with enchantment, concealing the best and most enriching experience within citadel’s remote corners. It was precisely one of those secret pockets that was home to one very temperamental bull who harmlessly chased Sebastian for several feet. 

Breakfast on the terrace with the view of the fort in the background is unrivaled.

The city was founded and positioned on the camel-train routes between India and Central Asia and camels are definitely the holy grail of the desert in Rajastan. There’s a whole culture revolving around them - they provide skin, fur, milk, and transportation for their owners as well as an iconic attraction and a way of experiencing the Great Thar Desert for hordes of tourists. This time we also couldn’t resist and dropped all pre-conceptions about organized group travel just for this occasion. We were to be taken by Jeep across off-road desert plains, ride the camels to the dunes near Sam village and spend the night under the starry desert sky, sipping masala chai by the bone fire and enjoying the performance of the traditional folk musicians and dancers from Rajasthan. It sounded so perfect we couldn’t resist.

Before we’re even loaded into a Jeep with two other travelers from the Netherlands, I commit a major act of nonchalance and step ankle deep into the open street sewer. Just what the doctor ordered. [If there was one major warning our doctor beat into us before we left Chicago was to never wander in standing water anywhere in India or Asia]. Paralyzed with fear and visions of my foot falling off and/or contracting a major case of a bacteria that leaves you with arthritis for life, I shook off the access, entire shoe and laces glued with few inches of racy feces, then poured water over it to wash as much of it as possible. When my sock soaked through, I finally stepped out of the tainted shoe. We put it out to dry in the sun, hoping UV would kill the smell and cosmos of germs. I was off to the camel adventure in sandals, slightly shaken but happy as a cricket.   

Balancing act payed off. I was told I failed as a hair stylist that day.

The bumpy and hectic ride through the desert zipped pass camels grazing in the bushy plains forcing us to swivel around them as they lazily wandered onto the road. As we later learn, they show a lot of personality and no two are alike. Mine, quoted as an “easy rider”, constantly went astray from the path when something to the side caught her attention and had some real issues with slowing the pace and sitting to rest. To calm her down our guide talked sweet words to her which worked magic. To Sebastian’s enjoyment, riding in front of him she also farted constantly and nearly kicked him in the shins several times, his one foot always inches away from her behind. She’s was one feisty lady regardless of her peaceful gaze and charming looks. In return, Sebastian’s camel wiped his nose in my pants. Overall, it was an easy ride, with saddles nicely padded and camels riding gently following their master‘s calling - although Sebastian wouldn’t entirely agree with me on the level of comfort.

Dunes and desert plains bathed in sunset light stretch to infinity on all sides, no other embellishments are required. Even talking seems superfluous. The soul of the region goes to sleep here long after tourist caravans disappear for the night. Shamefully, many of them move on to the next hot spot leaving their trash behind.

These are the moments of deep silence that make you feel interconnection of these men with their land and animals. Wisdom in his gaze, every wrinkle witness to life’s journey.

His presence alone truly solidifies this experience for us. Kishanaram doesn’t speak any English but little of Hindi we know allows to exchange our names and, mixed with hand gestures, clues us into making a stirring tool from wood sticks. Originally we thought he was trying to start a bone fire.

Exchange of goods - one hand rolled of desert mixture for one LM.  We agree to send copies of the photos to the hotel upon our return.

 Folklore night in Rajastan with rhythms going straight into your heart. Most of the musicians are from the nearby village, some come from the greater area just for the tourist season. Gypsy dancers were fifteen at most.

  

We spend the night under the stars. Cold air brushed our faces, but we stayed warm throughout the night snuggly wrapped in our sleeping bags .