The Camel Safari

  Jaisalmer, India
Tuesday, February 6, 2007

Desert Man

Laying in the dunes under the rising full moon in the western desert of India, drum beats in the distance, I wondered.

To the west, Venus and Mercury set into the pink horizon.

Gypsies played music and danced.

Camels carried turbaned and mustachioed men.

Music with raag rhythms of tabla and bayan played.

Demoiselle Cranes at Keechem, part III

Sand grouse flew with arced wings. Flocks of Demoiselle Cranes rested in oases. Eurasian Vultures searched for carcasses in the yellow-white landscape of shrubs, sandstone, dunes, and periodic shade trees.

This was the Thar Desert of Rajasthan.

For three days, I traveled with Richard from France, Antonia from England, Ilkwon from South Korea, and Yushi from America on a camel safari through the desert. We were going on the "non-touristic route."

"How can you say it's non-touristic when you are advertising it," I asked Little Johnny at the front desk?

We all thought that everyone now would take the non-touristic route and that the touristic route would be non-touristic now. All the merchants who once worked the touristic route were wondering where all the tourists went. The answer was: the non-touristic route.

We met at the Isha Palace Guesthouse in the Jaisalmer Fort, where I was staying.

Jaisalmer Fort Scene

Jaisalmer was an old desert town centered arounnd the 1,000 year-old fort, all made of golden sandstone. For several days before and after the camel trek, I relaxed in the fort at the guest house, sometimes talking with the various other travelers about music or festivals in England or other places in India to go or Indian food.

Jaisalmer Fort and Town

The fort enclosed an entire town, of sorts, a microcosm of brahmin, rajputs, their shops and guesthouse havelis, and the tourists. Throughout the small meandering streets, sacred cows wandered past internet and travel agencies, and souvenir shops, uninterested. Hardly an alleyway was left undecorated by postcard pictures of alleyways, showing you what the town looked like without postcard stores, at some point in time.

On the "non-touristic route" we passed tourists on their camels, but still, it was the desert, so most of the time, we were traveling alone through the dunes, the brown shrublands, and the desert milkweeds in bloom.

"One pen...one rupee," the kids called on the non-touristic route.

Mr. Desert

The full moon marked the climax and final day of the Desert Festival, which drew nomads, gypsies, villagers, and tourists from afar. We watched camel races and some of the best musicians in India perform as the moon rose behind the stage. The traditional music was mesmerizing with its intricate beats and heart-stopping pauses. The musicians seemed to fuse into one as they commenced simultaneously as the singer moved his hand in a flourish.

A satara flute master sent shivers down our spine with his tremolo, his double flute playing rhythm and drone together, backed by tabla players and a man blowing into a large pot, throwing it into the air during the off-beats.

For the finale of the Desert Festival, before we retired to sleep under the full moon in the dunes, we watched the Maharasilila, the Great Circular Dance, as dancers threw thousands of marigold petals into the moonlit air, covering Krishna and his favorite gopi with gold.

Playing Guitar in the Desert

On the non-touristic route, we continued our camel safari, more acurately described as desert R&R. Most of the time, we rested under the shade of a tree, taking an hour or two by camel to reach the next tree twice a day. Under the tree, we would eat, nap, and play guitar, which I hadn't played in many months.

My Friend, The Camel

I grew fond of our camels. Looking closely at the camels, they seemed out-of-this-world, like a creation of Jim Henson, with a head from the film The Dark Crystal, and flat heart-shaped feet like Imerial Walkers, perfectly adapted to the soft sands and desert prickles.

I scratched behind my camel's ear.

"Thanks for the ride, my friend."