Friday, 25 January

The photo-album has “Camel Safari” printed on the front, in the Times New Roman font. Rather neat and professional to have a computer-printed title, we observe. No spelling mistakes.

We have crossed the entire state of Rajasthan, India, from its eastern to its western side, slowly but surely, and reached the fortress town of Jaisalmer. This photo-album and a comment-book, for us to browse through, are placed before us before we have even registered into our chosen guest-house within the fort.

The photo album reveals a vast array of pictures of people from all around the world riding camels. There are photos of sand-dunes, night-time gatherings around a bonfire with some individuals playing the guitar under the stars, some desert dwellings, an oasis... the lot. All the people in the pictures are smiling. They certainly have picked an inviting selection of photographs!

The comment-book has a comment by a different traveller on every fresh page, some including their picture. This seems to be a rather common practice here in Rajasthan – a very valuable marketing tool for the guest-house or hotel owner, and a very useful source of information for travellers. Most comments are in English, to keep things simple for most travellers, but there are also comments in almost any language imaginable – Japanese, Italian, German, Hindi and so on. All the ones we could read had positive things to say about the experience, and most added a few tips.

We have been riding for 10 days or so, yet the idea of riding a camel rather than a noisy motorcycle, through the dunes rather than on the road, still seems appealing. We haggle a price we feel is fair considering that the safari organisers handle all the necessities, including supplies of food and water, camels, desert-guides and the rest of it. All we have to do is hand over a deposit on the trip (we insist to settle the difference afterwards to ensure we get good service – it was one of the tips), and prepare a small bag with bare necessities and some change of clothes.

Within a couple of hours since our arrival in Jaisalmer, it is arranged that we will leave again first thing in the morning. We do not even register at the guest-house organising the safari, since they offer to allow us the first night free-of-charge as part of the safari package, and we can leave our luggage in storage thereafter. We are content and excited at the prospect of venturing deeper into the wilderness of the Thar Desert.

Saturday, 26 January

Within an hour of being picked up from our guest-house, we are standing beside four enormous camels on the outskirts of Jaisalmer city. The huge, golden-coloured creatures seem rather content, perhaps due to the upward curve of their mouths which make them look like they are smiling constantly.

The camel-driver, or desert-guide, Imam, and his assistant also seem very cheerful. “Careful ma'am, camel spitting!” warns Imam, who speaks some English. His assistant only nods and smiles. They are wearing a long shirt over what looks like a wrap-over skirt down to their ankles. The turban and the moustache are standard.

Shortly, I find myself straddled across the wide back of a squatting creature that nonetheless makes me feel very small and vulnerable. “Hold on tight!” says Imam, as he taps a stick across the camel's neck. The camel responds by raising his hind legs to a standing position, while still squatting on the front ones, which results in me swaying forward about 60 degrees! The front legs come up and I am relieved to be upright again.

Leonard is riding one camel, I am on another, Imam and his assistant on another, and the fourth camel carrying our bedding and supplies is held on a long leash. Progress goes on in a rocking motion that has me convinced that people who suffer sea-sickness could not possibly enjoy a camel safari.

I begin to feel rather confident with my huge, furry friend after a short while, and attempt to steer him this way and that, but the stubborn animal always returns to the original route followed by the others, or ignores me completely. I am ahead of everyone at one point, and feel extremely surprised when my camel head towards a large tree, and squats (in the same 60 degree leaning fashion but reversed) in its shade.

I look at Leonard in dismay. He is laughing his head off. His realisation obviously came much before mine: these camels have done this trip so many times before that they know the way, and also where our lunch-break is going to be. They simply move on automatic pilot!

Sunday, 27 January

The days are quite pleasant but it gets really cold at night. Yet the cold has one major advantage – the crisp, clear air also means that the night-sky is absolutely stunning out here in the middle of the desert, miles from the nearest artificial light source. Even the bonfire we make does little to ruin the effect.

Fire proves to be particularly valuable to us. It keeps us warm, allows us to cook our food, and keeps any wild-animals at bay. Imam and his assistant take turns at ensuring that the fire burns all night – it is particularly important in the early hours of the morning when the temperature drops considerably. Despite the fire, our plentiful bedding and settling for the night inside an envelope of water-proof, insulating material, the cold still somehow manages to creep stubbornly into our bones.

Before settling for the night though, Imam and his friend cook and we all eat together (Leonard and I insist, since they would have waited for us to finish before eating, otherwise). The pots and plates are cleaned by rubbing them with sand, an amazingly effective water-free method. Finally we sit around the fire, chattering and laughing. Imam somehow manages to entertain us night after night with innumerable stories, told as the dunes and small bushes scatter shadows dancing around us.

Imam claims that he has no passport but that he has been around the world by wandering through “his” desert. Indeed, his occupation, dealing with tourists from all corners of the globe, has given him a fairly good idea of what lies beyond his desert home, which in itself is a definite source of inspiration for inner reflection. He adds, “And when you know yourself, you know everything you need to know and need look no further.”

Monday, 28 January

I spend the day pondering over Imam's statements from the previous night. It strikes me as quite true that everybody is trying to establish who they are... whether by travelling or by pursuing some career or anything else. Maybe modern society has moulded us to the point that throughout our lives we are in a constant, subconscious search for ourselves. Is this is what they mean about being alone with your thoughts in the desert? I decide that Imam is indeed a wise man.

We come across some abandoned mud dwellings. Imam has been preparing us for this all day. I think he likes this place. He lets the camels rest here for a while, while Leonard and I snoop about. I am fascinated, but not surprised that the place is abandoned and falling to pieces – nobody could possibly live out here in this day and age could they?

Here there is no sign of a water supply, let alone electric power. There are only a handful of mud houses in varying degrees of destruction. Some of the buildings are round with dome-shaped thatched roofs. Others are like cubes of mud with no windows, only a broken wooden door leading into the dark space inside. I figure that some of the mud-houses were meant for animals. I wonder what living here was like.

Tuesday, 29 January

I do not have to wait long for the answer. We come across an inhabited village today, not unlike the abandoned one we saw yesterday. The only difference is that the mud-buildings are well-kept and people and animals really do live there. Still no power and no water. How do they live like this? Imam says that they simply go to sleep when it gets dark and wake up at first light, and they fetch water daily from a spring “just” a few kilometres away.

Imam grabs some flour from our supplies bag and ventures towards the houses. He emerges a few minutes later with some milk in a plastic water bottle. In our modern-day world ruled by currency, it is almost inconceivable that out here money has no value, and that barter is all-important.

He is smiling and says that we are invited to spend a few minutes with the family. It is not surprising that they are interested in this six-foot tall man with waist-long dread-locks and this white woman wearing trousers. Meanwhile the camels are able to get their first drink of water since we left Jaisalmer, and to have a nibble at the leaves high on the trees nearby.

Two well-dressed and lavishly decorated girls, who appear too young to don the red line drawn across their hair-parting signifying that they are married, kidnap me. I cannot resist their excited giggling. I allow them to paint my finger- and toe-nails bright red, surprised that they also like to paint a few dots on my skin to finish the job nicely.

It turns out that all of the six houses in the village belong to one family, ever-expanding as the sons grow to marry girls from nearby villages and bring them to live within this five-generation family. I am surprised at how happy they appear to be, living in such a small, close-knit community made up entirely of family members.

Imam proudly states that he comes from a similar village about ten kilometres further into the desert, where his wife and children are still living. He visits them every few weeks.

Wednesday, 30 January

You can tell that we are on the way back to Jaisalmer, because a land-rover speeds past us in the same direction. It is amazing how many people can fit into one vehicle. Something happens and for some reason they halt just ahead of us and pour out of it. When about fifteen people emerge from the land-rover I expect that should be it, but they continue to pour out. There are about twenty-five people standing in the sand around the vehicle in the end, including women and children.

Shortly after our camels overtake them again, they are back in the jeep and speeding along again. I get the feeling that this vehicle is some kind of desert transportation service for the remote-desert-villagers requiring supplies or other business in the city.

Thursday, 31 January

We are back in Jaisalmer. Our back-sides hurt, like horse-riding aches to the extreme... but it was worth it! Anyway, we have time to recover so we can look forward to riding the great Royal Enfield machine again.

We scribble something in Maltese in the comment book, beside a picture of a happy, smiling couple on nine-foot-tall camels. I wonder if anybody will ever be able to read it. I hope so!

Episode 28 of Melanie Drury's diary is due on 18 February

www.melaniedrury.com

[email protected]