Khuri / Jaisalmer, Part II

**pics/vids added as of 6/1; post complete**

I thought Khuri was quiet, but the desert, the Thar Desert on the border between Indian and Pakistan, specifically, is really quiet.  So quiet, you’re wondering if your ears are working.  The kind of quiet you experience when you get super lightheaded and your vision starts to crowd down, and it gets quiet.  This is the kind of quiet that the desert is.

I got on the camel back at Badalji’s place, and the camel driver (I don’t think they have a cool name like the elephant drivers’ “mahout”) leads Laal, the 9 year old male camel out of town by a rope.  It doesn’t take long.

Once outside the village proper, we head to a well, where the camel driver uses what looks like part of an old innertube from a large tire to pull opaque water from the hole in the earth.  There are flies everywhere.  The area around the well smells like excrement, and I think the animals come around to drink what water spills over, and then take care of their own business in the same spot.

With water jugs full, the driver leads Laal a short distance further and tells the camel in either Hindi or Camel-ese to get down.  Now, when a camel kneels with you on his back for the first time, you feel like you’re going to be pitched forward off the animal and break your fool neck.  A bit of experience proves, however, that if you lean way back and it becomes kind of like a really short rollercoaster ride.  Cool!

Laal kneels, and the driver gets on in back of me.  So now, I’m in front, as IF I were driving, but really, the driver is driving from the backseat.  Kind of like my wife.  Wait, where’s the delete key.

Riding a camel seems to be a lot less herky-jerky than riding an elephant.  I actually liked riding the camel more, though I never would have thought it before I tried them both.  You kind of get into the rhythm with the animal, and you don’t mind getting a little jostled.  In fact, when the camel runs (yes, the camel ran a few times while we were both on him, and with all our accoutrements), things kind of smooth out.  I love the way the camel’s head bobs up and down while he’s running; the black sweat patches on the back of his head, glistening.  I think I got a video of him running, but in my current location, no pics or videos will get uploaded (I’ll update as I have in the past when I’m able to upload them successfully) *it did not turn out, so I put another up instead*.

So, off Laal and me and the driver go, a few miles into the arid scrub and sand.  I asked the driver where we would make camp just as we were pulling in.  I found some muscles or otherwise tender bits that get a bit of unwelcome attention when riding on a camel for a few hours.

Laal kneels and we get off and we all three have a seat in the sand.  The driver gathers some sticks and puts them between some stones which function as a stand for some pots he’s brought along.  He starts the fire with a single match (now that’s dry), opens up a few burlap sacks and starts cutting vegetables he pulls from them.  Some oil goes into one pot and some of the gray water into the other.  I’m thinking, so long as it’s boiled, it will be ok.  The sticks burn quickly and the driver (and now cook) he has to keep tending the fire.  About an hour later, we have wheat flour chapattis, onion/cabbage/okra/tomato/garlic vegetables with Indian spices, and rice.  Of course there was sand in it, but it tasted really good - in the same way cooking on a campfire tastes good, even if there’s a bit of ash in it.

We finish dinner, and he makes my “mattress” which means he puts a thin blanket on the sand and plops down a pillow and a blanket that each weighed approximately 15 pounds.  I think they were both made of wood.  The accommodation was simple to put it mildly, but I wasn’t there for the accommodation.  I was there to be in the desert.  The driver put a rope around Laal’s legs so he couldn’t walk very well or far, and we lay down about 30 feet apart on our respective tiny patches of fabric.

I felt seriously exposed laying on a blanket in the desert wilderness.  As quiet as it was, there were plenty of living things there.  Desert mice (which are good sized, maybe 8-10 inches with tail), tons of lizards about a foot long, desert foxes, antelope of varying sizes, and a bunch of bugs including huge dung beetles (almost 3 inches long from front to back).  These were all the things I saw in my close proximity.  I didn’t see any cobras (Badal had told me it’s too hot, they go underground during summer, to which I replied “smart snakes”), but in the back of my mind, I was thinking, that what if one of them didn’t get the memo.  Needless to say, I did not sleep well, but not just for the exposed feeling, or feeling like I was sleeping on the sidewalk.

There was some miniature sandstorm wherein the only way I could breathe was to cover myself completely with the heavy blanket.  And I could not breathe for long under it.  If I opened the blanket to try to get some fresh air and keep from overheating, I would end up with a mouthful of sand.  Sand was everywhere, and it was very fine.

A tiny layer of sweat had the sand sticking to every exposed surface in the same way glitter makeup clings to a girls face.

I had sand down my ear holes.  I had it on my skin under my beard and moustache.  I had it in my eyebrows and in every sweaty wrinkle on my neck.  It was everywhere and I felt like I was suffocating.

After a few minutes the winds died down and I could get some air and relieve the sweatbox a little.  By this time, though, sand was inside the blanket, on every surface of the pillow, and in all my clothes, so no matter which way I turned, my face was in it, my lips were coated with it, my hands and in between my fingers were in it.

These tiniest of sandstorms blew up about once every 20 minutes or so, so it was really quite miserable for a good portion of the night.  Choking, hiding, overheating, suffocating, praying, breathing, and cooling down.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  I remember waking up because I had inhaled some sand, and looking through the squintiest of eyes at the sky, and just longing for the dawn.  I thought, I was so peaceful just a few hours ago watching the stars, and here I am hating the experience.  And the stars were amazing to be sure, so many, so very many.

Luckily for me though, dawn did eventually come, and the last couple of hours before it, the winds stopped.  I woke up as it was getting light out, before the camel driver did, and was able to watch the sunrise coming over the dunes to the East of “camp.”

When the camel driver got up, Laal was gone, though we could hear his bell just a little bit.  The driver was MIA for a good while tracking him down by his unique footprints.  He returned, I declined desert chapattis and tea for breakfast, and we packed up and headed home a bit early, as I was looking forward to getting the sand out of my cracks and crevices.  Though I did not appreciate a good part of the night, it did not (in hindsight) significantly dampen the experience.  The camel driver mentioned to me something about the bad sand in the night too (when I woke, I found he had a SHEET that he had cocooned himself in, over his head and all.  A sheet would have worked much better!)

I got back, showered (in my new minimalist/water conservationist way), and got repacked.  I filled in the guestbook and paid Badal the equivalent of 17 dollars, which included my meals, the room, the safari, and the tip for the camel driver.

As I was packing up, I remembered my second set of Crocs that I packed just in case someone stole my primary Crocs when I went into a temple or something (this actually happens).  Having noticed one of Badalji’s sandals had worn completely through its sole, I pulled them out, and asked him if he could use them.  He kind of nodded and took them.

He told me later while he walked me to the bus stand that the sandals he had were some that someone had left there while visiting.  He contacted them to let them know, and they said don’t bother returning them.  He used them until I gave him the Crocs.  He said he liked my Crocs because they were lightweight, and his old sandals were very heavy.

We got to the corner where the bus was supposed to end up, shook hands, and said our thank yous and goodbyes, and Badalji walked back down the dirt lane to his little compound, no doubt to water the cows that were gathering as we left.