Goa: The Last Indian Adventure

After our camel safari, we had all unfortunately gotten pretty sick once again. Right when we thought we were in the clear, we had gotten hit again pretty hard with something that kicked all of our butts. Kelli had it the worst by far, then Ryan next, then I, not to discount the amount of pain any of us were in. We tried to do everything right. We ate the food that was safe, we drank only the bottled water, we even had an extremely simple diet of bread, bananas and peanut butter and sometimes the occasional hardboiled egg; we wouldn’t even touch fried eggs for precautionary measures.  For weeks this was our staple, and yet we still managed to get sick. Ryan, Kelli and I had all lost a substantial amount of weight; we no longer had the energy and drive we normally had to go out, meet people and get ourselves into crazy adventures like we normally did. All we wanted to do was sleep and pray that the next day we would feel good, or even normal for that matter. Kelli wasn’t doing well at all. Borderline needing to be hospitalized, so she decided to take a train to Delhi and fly to Thailand, where she knew she would be able to recover. It was hard saying goodbye. I had spent the last two months with her doing some of the most amazing things that I will definitely remember for the rest of my life. It is all part of traveling though. You meet so many truly unique people that you wish you could hang out with all the time but at moment’s notice you have to catch a train or flight or move on to the next destination and there is a good chance you may never see them again in person. Luckily we have the internet and phones to keep in touch.

While Kelli was on her way to Thailand, Ryan and I originally had plans to go to Pushkar, but now we decided that we must go to the one place that we know would make us feel better. The beach.

Out of any part of the earth to go to whether it were the mountains, rivers, valleys, deserts, cities, lakes; we knew that the beach was our one safe haven, our place of refuge, our asylum from anything that could hurt us. All we knew is that we needed to get to the beaches of India so that the beach could heal us. It was our new motivation. “THE BEACH”, we would say over and over again. “THE BEACH”, “THE BEACH”. All we have to do is get to the beach and things will get better. All we have to do is get away from the smog, smoke, burning trash, dirty cities and just get to the beach so that we could recover and feel well again. Every time we said it, it brought a smile to our faces and gave us inspiration and new hope. “THE BEACH”.

We knew that we had to first get to Mumbai, and then from Mumbai get down to the beautiful, tranquil beaches of Goa. Going to a travel agent, too exhausted to make it to the train station, Ryan and I found out that the next train ticket available to Mumbai wasn’t for over two weeks! Were we really about to take another overnight bus ride through India? Yep, you betcha, and not only that, but if we really wanted to leave soon, we had to sit regular coach seats because sleeper buses weren’t available for another day and a half. With both of us very eager to leave, we both said, “Book it” to the travel agent, as we simultaneously pictured the sand beneath our feet, the sun shining through the clean, windblown air as it hit our faces and warmed our cores. We just knew we had to get there.

Now, I’m going to spare you the details of yet another terrible bus ride through India. Basically you can read the blog about my last bus ride and it will be pretty much spot on the same as this one. Essentially bus rides in this part of the world are hell; literally hell, especially if you are sick and need a restroom constantly. Plus I feel like I’m becoming a bit winy here, which is completely unnecessary because I am so incredibly blessed to be able to be doing what I’m doing here, so I’ll just skip the negativity of the twelve hour bus ride from Jaisalmer to Mumbai, as well as the ten hour bus rides from Mumbai to Goa and focus on the awesomeness of what is to come.

So… Upon our arrival, we walked from the bus stop to a small beach town called Arambol. Normally we probably would have seen the beach and started running for the water, forty lb packs and all, but due to our weakness and now instinctual thought process to take care of ourselves first and play later, we went for the first restaurant we saw to get some nourishing breakfast. Opening up the menu, Ryan’s face went to pure disgust as his stomach turned in knots from our sickness. As hungry as he was, his body would not allow food at the time, so he decided to walk around to find us a Guesthouse to stay at for the next ten days. Ordering a very basic breakfast of two fried eggs with toast, I sat content, and happy to have finally arrived at our beautiful destination. Ryan came back as I was paying the bill ecstatic at his new found treasure. He wouldn’t tell me anything about the place he had found and that I just had to follow him and see for myself.

 As we walked down the rock path towards the beach, Ryan was more excited than I had seen him since first sight of the camels upon arriving in that small village for our camel safari. It was like he had the most exciting wrapped gift for me and couldn’t wait to watch me open it.  As we came to a small metal gate, Ryan opened it up, leading into what looked to be a small primal village. Stepping through the gate onto soft sand, we entered into a tropical village type community, with literally huts for hostel rooms to stay in and coconut trees all around to lie in hammocks. Wide eyed and in disbelief I looked over at Ryan smiling from ear to ear, head nodding rapidly up and down. I uncontrollably began doing the same as he showed me to the hut we would be staying in.  Opening the palm frond woven door, we entered inside a simple room with a bed, toilet and shower. It was perfect. I couldn’t have chosen a better place to stay. There was even a mosquito net around the bed! This was truly the coolest place we stayed in all of India. As I put my bags down, I slowly laid myself down on the bed, and fell asleep to the waves breaking just beyond our woven hut.

Waking up around 5pm from a well needed nap gave me just enough time get in the warm ocean, swim around a bit and eve do some body surfing as an incredible sunset began to fall right before me on this beautiful western shore of India. This first day was certainly an improvement from how I was feeling the days prior. I just knew that getting to the beach would make everything better. That night we walked around the spirited beach as we watched fire dancers twirl about and spit flames, joined dance parties at different beach bars, and chimed in on music circles that had us singing and playing instruments well into the night. I had a good feeling I was going to really like it here. Everyone we met was so unique and interesting. We were all the same in that we shared the same burning passion for traveling and adventure yet so different from what we had learned from our experiences and how they affected us. So many amazing stories were shared about the most fascinating encounters we had come across through our travels. Everyone had something to tell, which motivated and inspired the group even more to continue to see new places and experience new things in this fantastic world we live in.   

The next morning brought incredible pain, dizziness and disappointment to Ryan and I. Just when we thought we had beaten the bug, we could barely get out of bed and felt like we had fell from the sickness tree and hit every branch on the way down. I guess we had exerted too much energy the night before with our excitement and fervor of being in a new place with so many new, interesting people. We wouldn’t leave the room that day with the exception of one agonizing trip to the store, which usually takes two minutes, but took us nearly half an hour with all of the stops we had to make due to the dizziness we were feeling and blurry vision we were having. We couldn’t believe it. We were on the mends just ten hours before, and now we were full blown back in the storm, struggling to even walk. With the symptoms getting worse the next day, we knew we had to go to the doctor to make sure we didn’t have Malaria. With the doctor sounding less than encouraging about not having it, we were advised to get our blood taken at “the lab.” First of all, the doctor’s office was a room with a high ceiling, with cubicle type walls set up for “privacy.” Second of all, the “lab” we were told to go to was a room on the second story above a gas station that had a less than qualified looking couple drawing blood and running tests. We must have asked ten times if the needles were new and clean. I think they were getting a bit annoyed at our thoroughness of our safety and well being with their equipment. None the less we had our blood taken and 30 minutes later we were given a printout saying that we didn’t have malaria. Great, well what do we have then? Being advised back to the doctor, we were told the best he could do was to give us names of medication to get for the symptoms we were having and to hope for the best. Man, I could have really used some modern medicine and a legitimate hospital at that point. Going across the street to the “pharmacy” wedged between a curry restaurant and a convenience store was pretty much the last straw for us as we grabbed our medications and eagerly began heading for our beds.

After popping about four different pills and passing out around 6pm, Ryan and I did actually feel a bit better the next day. Our friends we had made from that first night came around to see what the deal was with us and why they hadn’t seen us around. We explained our long story of sickness in India to them and with their sincere wishes of us feeling better, we planned to do a motor bike tour of a day market as soon as we felt up to it. We did end up making it out of the room that day after their visit, but it was only to sit in the sand and get our toes wet a bit in the ocean.  Retiring early once again, we woke up the next morning feeling even better than the day before. Apparently the meds were working! Thank God, because we were sick of being sick. We were even able to join our friends for dinner that night at The Olive Garden. Not the Olive Garden you are thinking of, but the name intrigued us and got us in there and I have to admit it was the best food we had had in all of India. This would soon become our regular hangout for the rest of our time in Arambol.

The next day we were just about as good as we thought we would feel, so we rented some scooters and headed for the day market. As we scooted along down the road we got a great little self tour of our surroundings and what the coast was like in Goa. It was a beautiful drive as the landscape went from sandy beaches straight into to lush green jungles. Passing over bridges with huge bodies of water passing underneath them with small skinny fishing boats scattered about, the warm sun and cool ocean breeze made for the most pleasant drive through the winding roads leading to the day market. By no means was it easy to find, but with the help of many friendly locals, and about ten wrong turns, we finally saw the giant market across a rice field.

Pulling up to the market and parking the scooters, we hear all sorts drums, guitars, instruments I had never heard before as different people were trying to sell their different items of interest. Among the huge swarms of people, we made our way through the dense commotion of bargaining and purchasing. This was a huge tourist attraction, for everything in this market could be bargained down quite cheap due to the many shops selling nearly identical products. I was in the lookout for a small backpack I could fit my laptop and a few important items in. Stopping at yet another backpack stand, I asked how much for the green Northface bag hanging from a string. Meeting the salesman for the first time in my life, he gave me his name as he put his hand on my shoulder and almost whispered as if to not let anyone hear the bargain he was about to give me, “My friend, for you, I can give for seven hundred rupes.” Nearly fourteen dollars, which is a great deal in the states, but unheard of in India to pay that much for a bag, if you know what your way around that is. As I laughed I said back to the man in a sarcastically humorous voice that only someone from the states could pick up on, “Raj, I thought you were my friend. Why my friend would you charge me three times as much as anyone else. This hurts my feelings and to be honest, I do not know if I can buy from you now.” Surprisingly ashamed at what he had just done, he sincerely dropped the price to four hundred Rupees. Knowing I was going to buy the bag from him eventually after already checking other prices in the area, I said to him, “I am sorry, but I need to think about this now that you have tried to trick your friend in buying a bag for seven hundred Rupees. After pulling my arm and dropping the price even lower, I said I would come back and see. As I walked away he shouted out one more price that I was pretty sure I would not be able to beat. Going back and paying him three hundred Rupees for the bag, I gave him a high five and walked on to see more of the market.

No more than ten minutes later I saw the same bag hanging from a different vendors shop. Curious at what he might be selling it for, I asked him how much for the bag. As he gave me the same first line as Raj, I laughed and began walking away however this vendor went even lower than Raj. Shaking my head in amusement, I realized that even though I had been in India for a month, I still fell into the ever so clever trap of the Indian market gypsy.

The day at the market was splendid to say the least. I was able to eat a coconut, walk around, go to the beach and hang out with my friends. It felt great to feel good again. There is a lot to be said about your health. So many, including myself take it for granted. Even small illnesses like I had throughout India take a lot out of you and can become very serious without the right medicine or prognosis. It’s something you don’t really think about in the states. If you get sick, you go and pick up medicine knowing nine times out of ten it is going to work. If your sickness is serious enough, you know nine times out of ten that your doctor knows what he is talking about and that his instruction and prescription on how to get better is going to work. This is not the case in India, which scared me more than any of the other dangers present there.

As the sun began to cast long shadows throughout the market, we decided it was about time to start heading back to Arambol. We hopped back on the scooters and began making our way back through the winding roads, asking for directions every other minute. I didn’t mind; it was fun just to be out doing things again. Out of that imprisonment of illness that had me shackled to my bed with little hopes of getting out. Stopping at an inlet, we watched as thousands of birds collected in the center of it as if there was some sort of mandatory flock meeting taking place. It was beautiful. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen so many birds all in one area, and just like that, meeting adjourned, all of the birds rose from the water, and took off into the sky.

With about twenty minutes left of sunlight, we knew that if we wanted to get one last quick dip in the ocean before the sun went down, we were going to need to hurry. As we whizzed along the coast, we finally came to our usual restaurant, The Olive Garden, parked the scooters and made a dash for the warm waters. What an amazing way to end the day as we cavorted about in the temperate waters and filled our stomachs with gourmet cooking. Completely satisfied with the day, we went to bed that night thankful for what we had done and eager to see what our last day in Arambol would bring tomorrow.

Waking up to our foreign friends outside our door, we lethargically got up to see what they were up to. They had heard about an unreal hike through the jungle to an enormous banyan tree where apparently some guy lived. Obviously intrigued and excited, we both quickly got dressed and headed out towards this peculiar destination. As we hiked along the beach, we soon came to some steep cliffs that had a narrow pathway cut out from it, taking us to yet another beach. As we set foot back on the warm sand, we noticed that not more than fifty yards from the shore, there was a small lake that had people swimming in it. Being that it was hot out and that we could use a little refreshing, we hopped into the revitalizing waters and swam about for around an hour, not wanting to get out of the cool lake. Even so, our curiosity of this magical banyan tree got us out of the water and on the trail into the jungle. The scenery drastically changed from palm trees and tall beach grass to massive tropical jungle jutting out from the ground, towering above us. Each tree seemed to have a network of vines that came down from its ascended branches. Some vines touched the ground and gave root to the rich soil, becoming thick and almost trunk like in themselves while others dangled and swayed in the breeze, leaving us half expecting Tarzan to appear and swing from one to the next.

Finding a brook along the path, we noticed that there were people not too far away covering themselves in some sort of mud. My first thought was that they were just some crazy hippies acting weird, something I’ve come quite familiar with, but when I shouted down to them asking what they were doing, they replied in broken English that the mud was good for the skin. Charmed at what they were doing, we continued despite how much our curiosity wanted us to participate. We were on a mission to find the banyan tree and we weren’t going to stop until we did. Hiking deeper and deeper into the jungle we continued to hear the calls of the tropical birds and as we looked above us, the umbrella of foliage became more and more opaque the further we went. Suddenly we heard a drum off in the distance. Excited, inquisitive and fervent to explore what was ahead, we increased our pace to the beat of the drum. As we faintly began hearing voices through the trees, we continued to follow the sounds our ears were leading us to. Suddenly we came upon a group of people sitting in a circle. What did we just stumble upon? The drum stopped. The large group of around fifteen laid twenty-nine eyes on us as we stepped into the boundary of the well manicured circular area that laid both in and below the biggest banyan tree I have ever seen in my life. Suddenly a small brown man, with a beard white as the rice around your sushi stood up and said, “Well join us! Have a seat anywhere you like. Did you bring any music with you?” Ryan had brought a Ukulele that he had since we had been living in Guam that he took out from his bag.  Everyone began to agreeably vocalize their excitement at this new instrument joining the group as Ryan began to play some island songs. The drum started up again and other foreign instruments began making their intrinsic sounds and whoever didn’t have an instrument would either clap or sing or do whatever they wanted to participate. What an experience. We must have sat there in the circle for an hour singing and drumming and loving life so much. It was beautifully calming and exciting all at the same time being surrounded by the jungle, the birds singing, and good people.

Finally getting up from the group, we decided to explore a bit around the massive banyan tree. My first instinct was to go up. As I began to scale the enormous limbs, I quickly rose high above the circle. Up and up and up, higher and higher I went, until everyone on the ground were as small as the ants crawling on my hands as I grappled through this enormous monument of a tree. Coming within ten yards of the top I could see everything around me now as I was elevated above the jungle. The canopy almost like a ceiling laid protection from the sun for all that dwelled below. I could still hear the singing and drumming taking place below me as I looked down over a hundred feet to the ground. I sat there on a branch larger than my body in peace and just admired my surroundings. Three days ago I was at such a low point and now, doing a complete one-eighty, I was literally and figuratively on such a high as I sat in this goliath tree.

Making my way down after a while, we thanked everyone for having us, said Namaste, and headed back towards the beach.  Excited and energized at our new experience, we had smiles on our faces from ear to ear. Suddenly we came back to the point along the trail where we had seen those crazy people doing their mud bath. We all looked at each other, nodded with smiles and headed down to become one of those crazy people. There was a man there that seemed to have participated many times, because as we began scraping the mud from a wet, clay-like rock, he began telling us how good this mud was for our skin and how after we finish the treatment we will have never felt our skin so soft. Optimistic, we continued to lather ourselves up with the grayish, yellow mud until we were completely covered. Letting it dry for about ten minutes, the rock turned us all white as it dried, making for quite a fun picture, and then it was time to wash it all off. Sure enough the man was right and minutes later, we oddly couldn’t stop rubbing our arms and faces, astounded at how soft we were. The rest of the day we couldn’t get over what interesting experiences we had been through and how much fun we had had. Being that Ryan and I were leaving early the next day, we all said our goodbyes that night, got each other’s information and parted ways like we’ve had to do so many times with so many different friends.

After a long bus ride the next day, Ryan and I ended up going straight to the airport, despite our flights not leaving until the next day. We just didn’t want any complications or mishaps to occur that would inhibit us from leaving to our next destination. We actually managed to find a good place to sleep that night in some airport chairs that were actually a bit bigger than a typical airport chair you’d come across. I’ve slept in worse, that’s for sure, but even so, it didn’t make for the best feeling neck the next morning which came fast as Ryan’s flight was at 6am. Bleary and tired we got up and after a few yawns and stretches it sort of hit us that this was it. Trekking eleven days to the base camp of Mount Everest, getting chased by a rhino in the Chitwan jungle, being stowaways on a crazy midnight train through India, riding camels through the Thar desert, and now it was time to say goodbye, like we had done to so many great, amazing people we had met along the way.  As we heard Ryan’s flight being called, we gave each other our best wishes, gave each other a quick man hug, and off he went to continue his adventure of life. Being that my flight wasn’t for another few hours, I tried going back to sleep but couldn’t as I thought of all the good times Ryan and I had had together in the past two months of traveling. We had done it well; real well.

Soon enough it was my turn. As my flight number was called over the loud speaker, I grabbed my bags and headed towards the gate. Sitting on the plane, I looked out the window and smiled as the plane took off, leaving behind one adventure and now taking me to the next: New Zealand

Jaisalmer Part 2

The next morning I wasn’t woken up by an alarm or loud guests, but rather the roasting heat of the desert sun. Rolling over in bed, I was a bit surprised at how sore I was from riding the motorbike all over the dry desert the day before. I guess I’m still getting used to the new frail, more flimsy self that I am from the sickness and lack of meat available here in India. A good stretch helped the situation and off I went to check out the Golden Fort of Jaisalmer, which was actually only a five minute walk from where I was staying.

At one time this fort was home to Kings, Queens and their subjects, but now the Golden Fort is home to a few guesthouses and many shops. Of course the palace and holy temple were preserved, but now this fort has over three thousand people residing in it! It is called the “Golden Fort” for good reason. The entire fort is built out of this stone/clay mixture that gives it a golden look to it. Also, anyone that owns property in the fort, or owns a shop, must keep up with the “golden look” by painting any non-gold color object on the exterior of their place a golden color.

Quite an interesting day I had walking around the narrow cobblestone streets of the fort. Of course I took many breaks in the shade to chug water and wipe the sweat off my brow. I would usually join a local trying to escape the heat as well and we would chat about how hot it was and how we wished it were cooler. [You have to keep conversations pretty basic with the language barrier and all, otherwise you’ll just have people smiling and nodding blankly at you. Oh, and sarcasm and jokes are completely out of the question. Jokes are the hardest to tell to a foreign crowd. The attempt is actually pretty funny in itself. So, I pretty much stick to the weather, what’s your name, that sort of stuff.]

Deciding that I had seen an efficient amount of what I needed to see, and sweated way more than I needed to sweat, I began heading back to my guesthouse for another cold shower. That night, I went to sleep thinking about how the next day I was going to be joined by Kelli and Ryan and how we were going to be heading out into the desert on camels.

The next morning I was woken up by the sounds of Kelli and Ryan shouting my name, trying to find which room I was in. Opening the door a bit groggy and tired, I was overjoyed to see them and we immediately began swapping stories about what had happened that one late night on the train and how we had gotten separated. We then proceeded to their guesthouse, which was a popular one for booking great camel safaris. Getting all signed up, we headed out by jeep about an hour into the desert, bringing only the essentials that we needed. The jeep stopped at a small village, where we met our camel safari leader Lucky and our three camels we would be riding for the next three days. Lucky was about five feet tall, as many Indian men are quite small, do to their diet and lack of exercise. If you hadn’t seen the scruff on his face, you would think he was just a boy. Meeting him for the first time was a bit interesting as he seemed to be a bit drunk. It’s because he was! He didn’t even hide it was he shared with us how he had fermented a bottle of orange juice and had drunken most of it before we arrived. It was 9:45am, by the way, as if there was actually an inappropriate time to drink in India. I didn’t even know that it was possible to ferment orange juice, but then again, I’ve seen more interesting ways to get drunk here in India than anywhere else in the world. They’ll ferment just about anything and drink it. 

Lucky’s  apprentice, Raj, was just a 15 year old boy that seemed to be at that age where he thought he knew just about everything there was to know about anything there was to know about. We all go through that young silly, silly stage in life, even in the middle of the Thar desert in India I suppose. He did have quite a bit of knowledge about camels and safaris and all; you could just tell that he wasn’t quite far along enough to be able to lead his own safari yet. For many apprentices, it is part of the job to learn languages. Lucky spoke many, many languages. It seemed as though he knew enough to get by with just about any guest that he took aboard his camels. His apprentice wasn’t as competent in his diversity in languages, another reason he wasn’t quite ready to lead safaris.

By 10:30am we had four camels packed with our food, blankets and the rest of our supplies needed for the next three days out in the desert. With each of us sitting on our camels, with them sitting down, we were eager to begin. Without any instruction, or direction on how ride a camel, Lucky gave a quick command, sending all of the camels into a chorus of moans and groans as they began lunging dramatically forward, then backwards, and then finally evening out. Nearly falling off from the lunge forward, I noticed my knuckles were white from gripping the saddle so hard. We were all laughing pretty hard though at the sounds of the camels. It was like a Star Wars Chubaca call mixed with the belch of very large man. It was very unique and very entertaining. Camels may actually be one of the most entertaining animals I have ever come across ever. They have so much attitude and are so rude with their flatulence that you can’t help but laugh, unless your mouth is open. That’s just not cool.

Also, we were really high. I didn’t realize how tall camels were until I was sitting on top of one. My butt was a good eight feet off the ground. I felt good, as we began our safari, atop this large animal, heading out into the middle of nowhere.  It was a bit hard for Ryan and I, for male reasons, to find a comfortable position with the awkward movement of the camel. It isn’t the same movement as a horse, or maybe it is and I just don’t ride horses often, but it seemed less comfortable.  Then, Lucky, in his cheerfully inebriated state,  thought it would be fun to run the camels, which sent us into the most uncontrollable, painful laughter I have ever experienced. It hurt, but it was funny, because I was laughing at the moaning sounds of the camels, then the painful sounds Ryan was making, and then at Lucky as he bounced along with Raj sitting right behind him. Lucky thought it was all just at hoot as he then wanted to race the camels, rope in one hand, fermented orange juice in the other. Thank God we came to a stop at a nearby village. That was the most painful fun I had had in a long time.

It was great to see how people lived out in the middle of the desert. Everything is really simple, everyone has their tasks and jobs to do and if you don’t do them, then you die. If you don’t go and collect water from the well, you die. If you don’t plant the seeds for next season, you die. Now I’m sure they wouldn’t let anyone die if little Indian Timmy forgot to feed the camels, but you get the point; it’s the desert, and the desert is very harsh and unforgiving.

All of the homes were made out of mud, which left them nice and cool on the inside. It was incredible the temperature difference from the sun outside and the shade inside the mud huts. We came across a small family that welcomed us in and talked to us a bit. They offered us watermelon oddly enough, but it turns out that watermelon grows like weeds out in the desert. They soak up all of the water during the typhoon season, and are able to grow as big as basketballs out there in the desert. We were shocked as we later saw miles of vines and watermelons growing in the blazing heat. We spoke with two very old ladies with interesting features. It was all basic conversation, but it was fascinating to interact with them, not because the conversation was extraordinary, but because their appearances were. Their skin was like leather, beaten and worn from the sun. Their eyes, also sun damaged and light. Their faces, without saying a word, told the most interesting story of a unique life in a most unforgiving geography. These ladies knew only what they had to about living in the desert. I couldn’t imagine they had been too many other places in their lives other than these barren lands.

The women are the strong ones in the family. Aside from essentially being single mothers out in the desert, due to the fact that their husbands work in the cities and send money home, they also have a very unique skill that is critical to their survival. They have the ability to carry gallons and gallons of water. They don’t just carry the water; they carry it on their heads, stacked in metal containers that hold about two liters, and sometimes piled ten containers high! It was quite the sight to see these brave women balance the water.

After watching the camels drink out of a troth, which is actually quite impressive the amount they consume, well needed of course, we headed on towards the dunes that lie ahead. We had gone a good distance already, but had much further to go. We had taken a rest for lunch around 2pm under a giant desert tree that provided a great deal of needed shade. Ryan and I got a little nap in, while Lucky and Raj collected firewood, and made lunch. You could always count on chai tea no matter where you are in India. There is always a chaiwalla that has piping hot tea ready and every young boy must know how to make tea. Every single one; it’s like learning how to pour a bowl of cereal for them. Even in the desert, we always started each meal with a tea and then ate whatever it was we were having. It is weird that whenever we stopped for a meal, Lucky and Raj tied each of the camel’s front legs together so that it could only take only these tiny steps. It was quite funny because it made them looked like they were wearing high heels on their front pads with the way they stepped. After their legs were tied, they just let them go. Sometimes it would take forever to find them, but I guess the camels needed the space and chance to find different food. So after finding our camels, bellies full, we pressed on. The sun began casting long shadows now that made everything look much larger and remarkable. Finally we had come to the dunes where we were going to sleep that night.

The sand in the desert is much different than that you would find at the beach. This sand is almost powdery soft and sinks in deep when you step on it. Doing a little exploring during sunset, I could see the squiggly lines left from high winds, pushing the sand across the dunes, erasing any trace of what may have stepped foot there hours prior. The dunes were unpredictable with not one of them being alike. Some would be long and rolling, others would have sudden drop offs. One thing remained pretty consistent however. There were these black bugs about the size of your thumb that scurried all about the dunes. They were harmless however quite annoying when their little feet would grab onto you and try to scale your pant leg or arm. More alarming than anything really.

 As the sun was now diminishing beyond the dunes, we watched as it turned the sky colors and made for amazing pictures of the desert landscape. Darker and darker it got. Raj had gone to tend to the camels but hadn’t come back for quite some time. We just figured he was staying with the camels for a bit just to make sure they would be alright for the night, but then Lucky became anxious. All of the sudden we were rummaging for flashlights and going out on a search party for Raj. It took half an hour to find him in the dark. When we finally did find him he was just wandering across the dunes in the wrong direction When we asked him what had happened, he said he was tending to the camels and walking with them for a bit, and then before he knew it he had gotten turned around and didn’t know which way was which. The dunes are a mysterious place, and during the night they become even more arcane as they seem to shift shapes right before you. Quite a bizarre place really.

Making it back to camp with a nice fire to keep us warm and to give us light, we ate dinner and talked about the day. Now pitch black all around, I decided to let my eyes adjust so I could experience the desert in the dark. Immediately my pupils opened wide, allowing me to see thousands of stars in the sky. The Milky Way shone bright and was more defined than I had ever seen it. Deciding to retire for the night I laid there on top of some blankets on the sand dunes and watched the heavens above me. Satellites slowly crawled across the sea of darkness on their perfectly straight projector as if they were on a spark, buzzing across a telephone wire. Shooting stars burned through the earth’s atmosphere and left trails of their gasses. Sometimes I would blink, and only know a shooting star had gone by, by its conspicuous trail it left behind. As I rolled over on my side, I then watched for the first time a familiar constellation rise into view one star at a time.  I could see Orion’s belt one star at a time come into view like a curtain slowly revealing a performer, and then with the rest of it coming into sight, it formed the Big Dipper.  It began to get very late, and as my eyes fought to stay open to watch the incredible stage of lights perform before me, I could hear only the sound of the desert breeze pushing the sand across the dunes and nothing else.

The next morning we were woken up by the hot sun that was beginning to cook us in the sun. We were immediately met with some chai tea that Raj had prepared, and began eating a breakfast of toast, biscuits and jam to get us through the morning. Before we knew it we were mounting the camels and with a bunch of groans and grovels from our noisy chariots, we were off, heading even deeper into the Thar Desert. This morning brought sights of all sorts of interesting desert animals. We saw the desert fox, mischievous and sly as it moved about the small brush as if it had known it was a little trouble maker. We saw wild deer skipping along, always on the run from something. Probably the scent of us as our camels continued to pass gas. By far the most breathtaking desert creature we saw were the incredibly brilliant brown eagles that soared through the sky with ease as they surfed the warm updrafts that had them gliding effortlessly through the sky. Coming over a small dune we truly got to see just how large this bird was as we caught it off guard perched on the bones of a large animal. At moment’s notice of us, its piercing eyes gave us one look and then with its mammoth seven+ foot wingspan opening up, it gave one large, downward thrust of its wings and began taking off. Another downward swoosh of its enormous wing span kicked up sand and twigs, sending the iconic bird even higher up.  Before we knew it, this large bird of prey was just another silhouette in the blinding sun above us.

Stopping for lunch right around noon, we oddly heard a phone ring. Somehow Lucky got cell phone service out in the middle of the desert. We sort of laughed and gave a “Can you hear me now?” joke and didn’t think much of it, but when Lucky got off the phone he looked as if a family member had died. He was bewildered and shock in his eyes. We quickly asked what was wrong. He looked at Raj and said something in Hindi. Raj got up and went over to put a hand on his shoulder. “Lucky are you okay”, we all said in almost unison. Lucky looked at us and then back at the ground and said, “He’s gone”. We had thought his father or brother or close friend had died, but just as important to him we found out that the only camel he owned had died. The one we were riding were owned by his uncle, and Lucky had just gotten a cut of what was paid for the safari, but the one camel he did own had died during the night, and getting another camel would mean years of safaris to afford another one. Trying to be sensitive on the subject, we said how sorry we were and that there would be more camels, but we would later find out just how hard it is for a young man to come about owning a camel. For Lucky, that camel meant everything to him. It was his ticket to earning money, transporting goods, water, supplies to his family. It was his support base for a marriage that now had to be postponed. It was more than just a fun ride, like we had seen it. It was his livelihood. I guess what had happened was that his camel had gotten sick, and like most animals, people, or things that get sick in India; they don’t last very long due to the lack of money to take care of the sickness, or just plain unavailability of treatment.

Needless to say, the rest of the day was a bit glum due to the news, but Lucky being the fun loving guy that he is did his best to make light of the situation and still have a good time with us. That night after dinner, Lucky had us each sing a song that we had learned growing up. Mine was some Chumbawumba song my sister Judy had played for about a month straight that is literally burnt into my brain to this day. Kelli and Ryan also sang songs from top hits of bands they like when they were younger. Lucky however sang a song that his grandpa used to sing to him when he was a boy. It was beautiful to say the least. It had so much character and meaning to it, and I didn’t even know what the words meant. I could just tell that it had importance and history behind it.

That night as I laid on the sand dunes, I thought about culture, and how unintentionally I had learned so much about Indian culture out here in the desert. It was fascinating and heartbreaking all at the same time. These people in India are so happy, yet they have nothing; and if they do have something, in a moment’s notice, it can be taken away from them, reducing their wealth, status and even ability to be able to marry the one they love.

The next day after breakfast, we began heading back to a village where the jeep could pick us up. Upon our arrival we thanked Lucky and Raj and gave our goodbye’s as we parted ways. As the jeep putted off across the desert, back to Jaisalmer I began to think about how another adventure had gone by and how now I would go back and start planning for my next adventure in Goa. I then began to think about Lucky. What was he going to do? How was he going to afford another camel? Would he still try and marry the girl he loved? Such different lives we live. I have so much to be thankful for. This camel safari turned out to be a bit of a culture shock for me as I realized just how much a single camel could affect a person’s life. 

Jaisalmer Part 1

With one of the younger rickshaw drivers unable to capture a passenger, his dejection turned to excitement as I approached him for a ride. “City tour, restaurant, shopping!” he said overenthusiastically. “Just a cheap guesthouse will do”, I said with a dry mouth, exhausted from the sun. Off we went; putting down the road to what I hoped was a cheap, decent guesthouse. Sure enough, he surprised me with doing just as I asked, with no side tours or quick chewing tobacco stops. A nice guesthouse with wifi and a decently priced room. Pleased at the choice, I gave him a tip and began searching the internet immediately for any sign of Kelli and Ryan.

I was in my room for most of that day; sleeping here and there, eating what I could and frequently checking for any replies from Kelli or Ryan. Finally one came from Kelli. They had safely made it to Jodhpur (the stop where I had gotten off and searched frantically for them) and were at a nice guesthouse.  With an enormous sigh of relief I continued reading on with the details; the next train wasn’t for a couple of days and they would meet me in Jaisalmer to do the camel safari then. Replying with sincere relief of their wellbeing, I began thinking of what I was going to do in this desert town.

Finally getting out of the room at around 4pm, it was now a decent temperature as the sun began to set, encouraging those trying to beat the heat to now come out from their cool, shaded homes. Only a few steps out of my guesthouse and I was approached by a salesman trying to rent me a motor bike. Instinctually I immediately shook my head no and kept walking, but as I continued on my way, I began thinking that renting a motor bike and doing my own tour of the city could actually be a lot of fun. After walking around a bit, getting some fresh fruit, and two liters of water, which didn’t stand a chance against my thirst, I made my way back to the motor bike salesman and the haggling began. In India, no matter what price someone gives you, you cut it in half and start working from there. After going back and forth, we finally agreed on a price. You know you’ve gotten an actual decent rate, or a rate close to what local’s pay, when the salesman gets angry or becomes all frowny and tells you how he is losing money on the deal. Our local friends we’ve made along the way have told us multiple times that this is a very common sales trick they use and that an Indian would never make a deal where he is actually losing money. What good salesman would, right?

The next day I grabbed a map of Jaisalmer and had my motorbike salesman circle the points of interest, and best sights to see. He said there would be no way to see everything he circled in one day and tried to give me a “special onetime deal” for a two day rental on the bike. Kindly rejecting his many attempts at this offer he finally threw me the keys and I began heading for the open road. Before that open road however, I had to instantly get used to driving on the left side of the road. Easier said than done as I had a few near collisions, well over a dozen honks towards my clumsy direction, and I’m sure some unfriendly language beyond my comprehension. I ended up getting the hang of it just fine after a bit. The way I saw it, this was just preparing me for driving in New Zealand.

My first destination: the Bara Bagh temples. Overlooking farmlands, these temples stood high above all of their surroundings, making them visible from the highway. Incredible intricacy lied in the construction of these magnificent temples. There were so many of them, all ranging in different sizes, shapes and detail. I spent about two hours here, mainly because of how peaceful and nice it was to be away from the buzzing city. The temples offered a sanctuary of relaxation and shade from the blistering sun.

After deciding that I should probably get a move on if I was to see everything I wanted to see that day, I headed back to my motorbike and headed off to my next destination: The Loderwa Temples. Similar to the Bara Bagh temples, these had a magnificent lake just beyond its towering walls. Another quite tranquil place to come for relaxation. Too bad I was on a time schedule to fit in everything I wanted to see, so after snapping a few photos, I was back on the bike off to Amar Sagar. Another magnificent lake with ancient walls at the water’s edge. Ruins of what might possible have been a castle or a fort lay beyond the walls. To see such a structure during its better days truly would have been an amazing sight to see.

After heading a bit uncomfortably deep into the desert and seeing a few more spots on the map, the sun quickly began to set. I pulled off to the side of the road and climbed up a small sand dune to watch the sky put on a magnificent light show for me. Never have I seen such a spectacular sunset. It looked as though the sun was twice as big as it normally was and twice as vibrant with color as well. Everything the light touched began to change colors, cast obtuse shadows and almost change form right before my eyes. Unable to look away from this God given miracle, I sat and thought about all of those I missed so dearly back home. Reminiscing and wishing I could share this moment with so many of those friends and family, the big ball of fire continued on its way below the horizon, leaving its remnants on what few clouds were able to catch the last bit of beauty the sun had to give.

Hopping back on the motorbike, I turned the key and noticed that my fuel supply was dangerously low. I was a good thirty to forty five minutes away from any sort of town or even gas station for that matter. With the electronic start not working, I tried kick starting the thing. This couldn’t be happening. I wasn’t going to be one of those careless tourists that get stuck out in the middle of the desert because their motorbike ran out of gas. Sure enough with one forceful kick of my foot, the bike rattled to a start and began to run. With darkness now engulfing everything around me, I tried my hardest to keep my sense of direction about me and remember how to get back on these nameless roads. The directions I had received were lefts and rights at statues and odd shaped bushes and abandoned trucks, which were now all lost in the sea of black that my little headlamp on my motorbike tried so hard to pierce through. I was like the little engine that could. I kept saying to myself, “I think I can, I think I can, I think I can”. The needle was now below the “E” marking. Finally a crumbling statue that I recognized came into sight. I must only be fifteen minutes or so away, I thought to myself as the needle jumped a bit and then fell as if to give me some false hope that more gas magically fell into the tank.  Finally another land mark, as I passed by a sports arena. It was all downhill from here. Literally it was downhill from the sports arena to my guest house, which was about a two mile stretch, so I put the bike into neutral and began to coast on what little fumes I had left. As I pulled into the bike rental shop, the salesman was quite upset with me and demanded that I tell him where I went. “Everywhere you circled on the map” I said with a smirk as I tossed him the keys. “Impossible! Even the sand dunes?” he cried in disbelief as I began heading for my guesthouse. “Sunset on the sand dunes my friend, I’ll show you pictures tomorrow” I said as I went down the driveway to my guesthouse and retired for the night.