Jaisalmer and the desert

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I have previously wondered why Indian public transport seems so devoid of westerners. Where are all the backpackers going, and how are they getting there? Well now I know the answer. They are all on the train to Jaisalmer.

At the station me and French-Canadian Girl (henceforth, for the sake of convenience, to be known as FCG), actually met some other tourists! Who talked to us! This was quite unlike my previous solitary railway experiences, where I have been either totally alone or studiously ignored by the one other white dude. I then found, to my total astonishment, that my carriage was full of French boys, who were nice but visibly annoyed at having to switch to broken English in order to avoid linguistically shunning me (see! it happens all the time).

Arriving in Jaisalmer at 5am (I hate speedy, punctual night trains), me and FCG formed a loose association with two other pairs of girls, including those we met at the station in Jodhpur. Oh my, the touts in Jaisalmer are a resilient breed. The worst of India so far. Sleepy and confused, I had hoped that organising ourselves into a larger group would offer some degree of protection. Safety in numbers! Mistake. Large group of white girls? Every hostel-owner-rikshaw-driver-tour-guide in the place descended upon us. I'd forgotten that they're actually easier to deal with when you're on your own. You're a less lucrative target when you're merely one person (plus lone travelers are often tight bastards), and you also have the option of just slinking off to hide, which is denied when you are immobilised waiting for others.

I also have a theory (though this is controversial) that as a girl traveling alone (so long as you're calm but firm) touts don't persist with you too much because they assume you must know what you're doing else you simply wouldn't have the balls to be there. When you're in a large group it's much harder to get rid... say no and they move on to your friends and continue systematically until they start again at the beginning with you. Repeat ad infinitum. It's also impossible to pretend you've already booked a room, thanks, when standing in a circle, guidebooks out, openly debating where to go.

It was interesting observing the tout evasion strategies different people employ. The approach varies so much, as do results obtained. I saw one middle aged American man full on scream at someone. Was this successful? Well yeah. But is it worth making yourself look like a wanker? Debatable. Do you really want to go around India screaming at strangers? Not my idea of a fun trip.

So anyway, though we would all have been quite capable of dealing with this situation individually, as a group we were strangely paralysed. This is what I don't miss about traveling with other people. The indecision... the faff. Standing in stations at 5am being shouted at and having things thrust in your face while people discuss which hotel, whether to call first, to walk or get a taxi...

I considered just escaping on my own but the other girls seemed nice and after much haggling and viewing of various rooms we managed to procure for ourselves three nice yet cheap double rooms for the six of us in two different hostels on the same street.

Jaisalmer is so much more touristy than Jodhpur. Wasn't really expecting such a difference. I would venture to say that the fort itself is not actually as pretty as the much less popular Jodhpur's, though it is far larger, containing the whole of the old city within it's walls. The pretty old city, however, is given over almost entirely to tourism. The fort looks exactly like a sandcastle. I know this is hardly an original observation, even the lonely planet says so, but it REALLY does and for some reason this pleases me. Looks as if it was constructed by a kid on a beach.

Me and FCG thought we'd do something cultural and check out the palace museum, though the other girls gave it a miss. I think many people who spend a lot of time in Rajesthan become somewhat fort overloaded. I did briefly wonder whether I could be arsed since it was a whole 250 rupees, more than my accommodation for the night, and I had just seen the one in Jodhpur... but I could hear the voice of my mother (a history teacher) in my head saying something along the lines of -



"You came all this way then didn't go in the museum because it cost FOUR POUNDS?!"



So I went in. And it was good! Though the Jodhpur one was better.

Aside from this we just wandered around the old city, looked at various temples and had a meal in a gorgeous Italian rooftop restaurant right outside the fort, which is all lit up at night. Forgot my camera, obviously.

The main reason people come to Jaisalmer is for a 'Camel Safari'. I was pretty keen to do this. Not that I'm a massive lover of camels (all things considered they're a pretty crappy mode of transportation), but I've been to the desert once before, the Sahara in Morocco, and I loved it. Probably because it was such an extreme environment. I liked being so far out that there were no signs of civilisation... it looked like nothing else I've ever seen, a bit like visiting another planet (the same reason I love scuba diving, sort of, if that makes any sense). Anyway, basically I wanted to go camp out in the middle of nowhere and count shooting stars. Unfortunately due getting delayed in Jodhpur I had run out of time... the other girls were off into the desert, but I had to catch the night train to Mumbai. After a bit of negotiating with the Camel man, I managed to convince him to take me along for the first day of the trip, then drive me back that night in the Jeep. The one complicating factor, he warned, would be if it rained, in which case the jeep might not be able to make it across the sand without getting stuck.

It rained. Yes, in the sodding desert.

The previous day, at the museum, I distinctly remember the audioguide informing me, somewhat poetically, that in ancient Jaisalmer, a child could reach his tenth birthday without ever seeing a drop of rain.

I managed two days.

(Yeah I know, climate change, fueled by inconsiderate consumers of jet fuel such as myself. Serves me right?)

Now the desert around Jaisalmer is no Sahara. Not the bit we went to, anyway. No rolling dunes, no vast untainted horizons, no creepy yet exhilarating sense of isolation. That was shattered when a bloke from a nearby village rocked up to our camp on a camel, flogging ice cold Kingfisher (I didn't say it was all bad). But there are deserts and then there are deserts, know what I mean? To be fair we were not far from Jaisalmer and my previous desert experience had involved spending a day and a half in a Jeep before getting on a camel, so it's hardly a fair comparison. All I'm saying is if you're doing a short trip out of Jaisalmer, don't expect Arabian nights standard top quality desert. It's more dry and scrubby, fairly desolate land with the occasional dune. Still interesting though. There were villages, and people bravely attempting to farm crops here and there. We visited some ruins, tombs etc. And camels are always good for a laugh. We had just one camel wrangler attempting to control the whole... herd (collective noun for camels, anyone?), which were tied together in pairs. They were all relatively well behaved bar one, a belligerent bastard who had his own agenda and kept escaping, attempting to eat everything we encountered and stopping abruptly for no good reason. My camel was tired to the back of this one, so we kept on colliding, becoming entangled and causing camel caravan pile-ups.

Anyway, as I was saying earlier before I started rambling, I had to avoid getting stuck in the rain. As night fell clouds were building ominously, so after we'd had our campfire meal and beer I said goodbye to the others and headed off with the driver to try and locate the Jeep, which had been left a fair distance away. Neither me nor the driver had had the good sense to bring a torch. We walked in the pitch black, him leading the way and me following the sound of his swearing. I had thought that maybe, as a native desert type, he would... you know... know the dunes like the back of his hand, or something. Not so. After a while I became aware of something walking close behind me, stopping whenever I stopped. Having no source of light other than my camera flash I turned around and took a photo, well aware that this was not unlike a scene from a horror film. The flash revealed some kind of desert fox-dog thing, gazing up at me hopefully, doubtless waiting for me to fall on my face and knock myself unconscious so it could eat my legs. Fox-dog had to go hungry though, because miraculously the driver found our way back to the Jeep. Aside from a few fat drops of rain the storm never actually reached us, so I made it back in time for the train without incident. I have no idea what happened to the girls though. Since rain is such a rarity these desert trips don't bother with details such as tents, so everyone was sleeping out in the open...

Next! Train to Mumbai

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Comments

[K]

LOVE IT

[mum]

Four pounds!
Too right, how well you know me. Hope the desert dog makes you lok at Hugo in a new light - kind, sweet? Keep it up, really enjoying it. Hope this goes to theright bit XX

[Jen]

Thanks!
Heading to Delhi in a week, just read all yours hilarious posts. Thank you so much! Very helpful and informative, not just the 'glorified' view of travelling. Helped alot, cheers :)