P'tit chameau, va!

From Jodhpur we made the long bus journey to Jaiselmer, on the fringe with a desert beyond which lies Pakistan.  Not a particularly comforting thought.  In fact it seems to be a bit of a running joke in these parts - being sold off to Pakistan for a couple of camels or a handful of rupees.  We stayed in a guesthouse run the well-spoken Papu.  Isabelle, my sister, had stayed there during her visit to India a few years ago and Papu had later stayed in her flat in Barcelona during a trip to Europe.  We were very well hosted and Papu even treated us to the best lassi I've ever had, in a small quarter of the town where fewer tourists venture.  Well we all like to think that, don't we...  But given the looks of wonderment and bemusement by the local punters slurping down their Kulfis, I'd be inclined to believe that they don't get visits from gringos on a regular basis.  The lassi was thick and milky, perfumed with saffron, cardamom and raisins and we used spoons to forage for the good bits at the bottom.

At the end of our stay in Jaislemer, Papu arranged for us to go on a camel treck - a must for those who have come as far as the desert.  So with some (a lot) or trepidation we clambered into the jeep and embarked on our journey about an hour from the town into the desert.  We passed gypsy settlements of make-shift tents, and women in brightly coloured saris carrying big steel water pots on their heads.  The contrast of the bright colours against the monochrome sand was stunning.  

Finally we arrived and saw our new form of transport and companionship for the night, which would take us the rest of the way out into the desert: le chameau.  I managed to bag myself a fairly small one (a baby allegedly.. I'm not so sure..) which I named Sanjay.  The most frightening part of maneuvering a camel is getting on and off.  When the camel stands up he stretches out his freakishly articulated hind legs first, which sends you tobogganing forwards, and then woop.. You fly backwards again as he stands on all four limbs.  This happens in a few seconds but the effect is quite startling.  And with lumpy, bony backs, I wouldn't say these beasts were designed with comfort in mind.  Having said that, I was quite amazed to see our guides clamber on with practiced ease and ride bareback no bother; not least the miniature little boy in scruffy clothes who bopped up and down on his over-sized camel and  bossed the animal around with confidence.

And so we plodded along through the sand for an hour, the surroundings growing more breathtaking with every hoofed step we took forward.  And finally we arrived (though how they had any clue which direction we were going is beyond me..'just left after the shriveled shrub and a couple of metres right after the sand dune!'..)  and set up camp for the night.  Our guides set to work on dinner and worked away for about an hour.  Chapatis made from scratch on a campfire.. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Jamie Oliver with your pseudo-rustic cooking on Andalusian campfire tv sets, and your 'bashing up' of this and that and incessant use of your hands to mix ingredients..  And so we lay on our blankets chatting the hours away, the sun began to set and the light changed.  And then all of a sudden in was dark, yet incredibly lit up from the light of the moon.  And then the stars began to pop out one by one.  And apart from the slight irritation of the intrusion of some shameless (and very large) beetles who tried to join our party by scuttling onto our blankets uninvited, we spent an incredible evening chatting and listening to some tunes.  We enjoyed a hearty and properly rustic dinner of some kind of courgette-oid stew, lentil daal, rice and of course the chapati.  After such a huge feed, we fell asleep under the stars to the blissful sound of silence.