In Which Raj is My Camel and I am His Queen

You are now reading the words of an experienced desert camel trekker, a woman who traversed the Thar desert on the back of a spindley legged mammal and lived to tell the tale. Yes, my friends, I have achieved a wisdom beyond my years, an intimate knowledge of the desert and its peoples, and an almost uncanny connection with those noble beasts who have, for ages unknown, braved the dusty and arid clime that is Northern India with forbearance and dignity. Not to mention, I learned how to pee in the bushes!! WITHOUT getting those damn desert prickers all over my pants!!! And so now, as long as I carry that lifesaver, Scott tissue, in my bag, I can do anything.

The journey began mid-morning, when Roop Singh picked Evan, David, and I up at the Blue House hotel and spirited us away on his sand-worn jeep to the desert country side, finally arriving at his family farm where he performed his formal welcome by smearing red paint on our foreheads, draping us with quite the colorful lei-like garland (which I was forced to throw out by the end of the trip as it shedded its little strands everywhere and was a total desert burr magnet), and sprinkling red dust all over our shoulders. Once adorned, they prepared the camels for departure. Our fleet consisted of four camels - Mr. Singh, the oldest at 11, and the best trained; Mr. Raj, who I considered to be MY camel, was at 5 years of age surprisingly docile and sweet and on his way to become the best of the best; Mr. Chon, the camel who lugged the camel cart, and was absolutely HUGE; and lastly there was Mumel, the baby at 4, who had been purchased only a few months before from a herd of 300, and who still terribly missed home and sang us his song of discontent every time he was expected to do anything other than walk. Pobrecito. Coming with us on the trip was Roop Singh himself and his cousin Mohan, who spoke just enough English to tell us to watch out for branches. And so! Once mounted upon our noble steeds (which got only SLIGHTLY less terrifying by the end of the trip... it's this three step process of rising and sitting down for a camel, and I was continuously surprised at just how BIG these animals were), we were off on our adventure, from Jodhpur to Jaisalmer!!

Out of respect for our untrained bottoms, camel riding was kept at a minimum the first day, so after about twenty minutes we stopped in a shady spot for lunch. Roop and Mohan had their tourist system down, so they made this little bed-couch out of the mattresses they had brought along and positioned us so the camel cart blocked the sun. From the other side of the cart, we heard the delightful sound of the camping stove being started (It was about 2 at this point, and the last we had eaten had been at an early breakfast), and what seemed to be eons later they produced this AMAZING mix of potatoes and vegetables and spices and who knows what else, but we didn't really care as it was just. so. taaaaaasty. And after lunch we lounged, and read a bit, and then noticed that over this slight bump in the topography a group of about 6 or 7 kiddos peeking at our little campsite. As soon as they saw us see them, they immediately all crouched down out of sight. This quickly developed into a wave-and-hide game, with the waves getting bigger and more flamboyant the longer it went on, but they still ran away (only to come back) as soon as it looked like we might get up and go closer to them. What finally won them over?? Ah yes, that good ol' Amherstonian past time, ultimate frisbee. David conveniently hauled a disc all the way to India, and soon there was a group of about 10 kids runningly manically around shouting "YES! YES!!" and holding out their hands to whoever happened to have the frisbee. Great, great fun. It soon became time to pack up and move on, at which point the frisbee was put away, we got all our stuff together, and all the kids requested our empty water bottles. Over the next few days this request was often repeated, and if not for water bottles, then for pens. Water bottles we sometimes had, but none of us had brought pens, at least not in the bulk supplies the demand asked for. So, so many kids.

And then back on the camels! David, by this point, had had enough of the camels for the time being and relocated to the camel cart, which became his main location for the rest of the trip with a few quick forays back to Mr. Singh and Mr. Raj (and a quickly aborted trip on Mumel, which came to an end NOT because Mumel threw him off or rolled over with him on, which I was kind of expecting, but because the saddle kept sliding). I didn't blame him. My camel-riding muscles aren't exactly well-defined, and everything ached for almost the entire duration of the trek. Evan made quite the sight on Mr. Singh, on that huge beast with his red beard and his traditionally wound red turban (the kids gave THAT look a decided thumbs down). In about another twenty minutes we stopped for the night on this beautiful sandy mesa that offered us a beautiful view of the desert sunset. Once again, our delightful bed-couch was set up, another slew of frisbee playing kids came to visit, and we had no pens but a water bottle or two to offer. I quickly learned to never, ever, EVER rest my pants on the desert terrain during burr season, and that the burrs were way more deadly than the huge black beetles that dotted the sand (they were like ugly bug BFGs).

Everything soon calmed down, the sun set, and Evan, David and I sat back and enjoyed the phenomenal desert sky. Roop had quite the culinary system, and he had us sipping on chai tea in no time, followed by a "special surprise." This he had us drink before he would tell us what it was, a beverage with a decidedly grainy undertone but milky in consistency, i.e. camel milk. According to Roop, the stuff has amazing healing qualities and is used in India to cure obesity (is that correct to say? "Cure" obesity? anyway...). Then, as if we hadn't had ENOUGH to drink, he broke out the rum, which he said was very good, very good for the desert! I think we highly disappointed him in our inability to drink it. Evan and Dave had a sip or two before giving up, and I think I was able to finish maybe half of the spiced, warm, straight-up-right-out-of-the-bottle glass before regressing to pretending to drink it and then dumping it in the sand when he next left us. Roop regaled us with stories of the huge parties he had at this location, sometimes with 20 tourists and then inviting all the surrounding village folk, with a lot of drinking and dancing and all night revelry. I think he went away thinking we were kind of wussy. Ah well. But we talked of other things too, how Roop Singh has only in the last two years really become quite successful after 11 years giving tours, thanks in large part to the help of some German customers he had who bought him two camels and a good quality cart. He now works like crazy for the trekking season for six months, and then plays for six months and builds his business. Sound familiar, anyone...? He has a wife and a five year old son, but doesn't really sound so enthralled with family and seems to get much more pleasure out of being on the road and visiting friends and building a desert tour empire.

And soon enough, we were all exhausted from our first day's journey, and all crawled into our tents for bed. And so, I think, ends this installment of this apparent novella I am writing. Dang.