Jaisalmer Evening and Day 1

Dear all,

We were now in Thar desert proper. Like the Talkamakan desert, it was bleak but not empty, there were pockets of life and the odd fortified city. Of course following a tourist trail isn't a representative sample of a desert, but I like to think that as in China the chai, pee and lunch stops brought us closer to the real lives of Indians than any of our city hopping. Of course touts and trinket vendors have real Indian lives too but those aren't the lives that tourists are looking for.

We stopped somewhere in the desert en route to Jaisalmer. It had big pots visible from the road that suggested they may have enough food for all of us. And so they did. We sat on plastic beds and either tried to spot or ignore the rats in the back shed.

As usual everyone was pleased to see us and gathered round to stare, especially at the girls. Frenchie joined the cook at the stove and tried his hand at making chapatis, forming a new audience.

It was difficult to eat dhal off a bed while sitting on a bed using only fingers. I made a big mess. The others got a good laugh out of it and all of it fell on the easily wipeable plastic bed so no big deal.

The food was excellent as well as fun to eat, better than any restaurant meal in Delhi. Everybody else enjoyed it also. It followed a pattern that would become familiar. Dhal, fresh and plentiful chapati, some kind of highly spiced and rich mixed veg, and white, bitty, sour curd to drink. I began to realise that I've been making dhal "wrong" my entire life. I found at home that when I followed dhal recipes it came out like soup, so I began adjusting and reducing so that it came out with the consistency of mashed potato. Now I was learning that according to the authoritative source (Indians cooking at truck stops) it was supposed to have the consistency of soup. I'm not sure how I'll cook my dhal when I return.

I'd finished my seconds so I began wandering. Danni had pointed out an elderly chap with a colourful turban and said she wished she could get a photo of him so I approached him and asked if I could take his photo. He accepted. I got the impression that he liked the attention that was attracted by his colourful turban. His friends also liked to pose. Most Indian men liked to have their photo taken.

A small boy borrowed my camera and took many photos with it, all a bit sketchy bar this one.

I'm wearing a 600 rupee (£6) Kurta I bought in Delhi's government emporiums (well stocked fixed price places selling goods from all round India). It keeps the sun off and it seems to get a positive reception from most locals, even when they're all wearing tshirts and short sleeved shirts.

We arrived at our hotel in Jaisalmer at around 4pm that afternoon. Paul, Danni and Trish saw the pool and expressed an interest in getting in as soon as possible so I did also. We don't talk much on the truck and at lunch I'd chatted mainly with John (and about his son's job growing the hair of the blue folk in Avatar for WETA in New Zealand) so I welcomed the opportunity for poolside bonding time with beer.

At the pool I mainly reclined against the side and chatted with Trish. I learned that though she was Australian, she'd lived and worked in London for long enough to get her British citizenship and now was working as a nurse in Saudi Arabia. She lives on an expat only gated compound and was randomly assigned other expat workers as villa mates. She said it was so hot you couldn't go outside for long, men's attitude to women was worse than in India, she had to be careful of the religious police if she wanted to walk alone without a man to escort her, and that alcohol was unobtainable unless you became good friends with someone from the American embassy or brewed it yourself. Personally she made grapefruit wine.

I questioned why she wanted to live there and didn't receive a clear answer. I can only presume that the money is very good.

The question of dinner came up. The four of us were unanimous that we didn't want to eat at the hotel restaurant, despite it now getting dark and us not knowing where we were, the direction in which the fort (the centre of Jaisalmer) lay, how far it was or what was there. I was glad that these young folk had a sense of adventure because it is far preferable for four to venture into town of an evening for dinner than for one to do the same.

Danni suggested we meet at 7pm and go from there. On my last trip, whenever we arrived at a new location Claire would always say something like, "We'll be meeting at 7:30 in reception to go for dinner. Come along if you like, or you can do your own thing, no worries." Dave was making no such statements, possibly to leave himself free to do his own thing. This had the consequence that we were splintering into subgroups, each small group venturing out independently. Of course if you stuck at the hotel restaurant and went to dinner at 8 you would inevitably find company, but where was the fun in that?

Trish, Danni, Paul and I headed out into the dark at 7 and walked down the wide quiet lane to the busy  main road that gave no indication of direction of centre. Having the most past experience of the practice, I flagged down a tuk tuk and asked "how much to gate of fort?", responded "no no too much too much" to his first answer and settled on 40 rupees for the ride. We all squeezed in whereupon he  headed off down unknown alleys, past dogs and cows, ancient walls and new rubbish, until we arrived at "gate of fort" sooner than I expected.

Wanting an uncomplicated night I spotted a sign that said "restaurant" and suggested we go there but the others were not interested. They headed straight up the ramp through the gate into the fort of unknown contents. I could smell bat. The street reminded me of Prague.

Inside we found a surprising number of touristic shops open for 8pm, with various persons hanging round trying to sell us second hand books, clothes, drinking water and hashish. As we passed each vendor would list all the items they had in their store in the off chance they happened to mention an item that one of us wanted but hadn't yet sought. It didn't happen.

A man sitting outside an open door greeted us and struck up a conversation, asking all the usual questions. - where were we from, how long were we staying etc. To my surprise the others seemed interested in sticking round and talking to this man (personally I suspected an agenda) and so we all sat down on a ledge in this alley and shook hands with the man. He was slim, well dressed, well spoken and charming. He introduced his wife, who didn't speak English, as his "Elephant wife" because "she has ballooned in size". She was rather large but not so large as he made out.

Danni asked him to recommend a restaurant. He mentioned "sunset palace" and directed us. As we left he asked us to return to have tea with him the next morning.

Sunset Palace was beautiful. It was up steep steps, atop the battlements of the fort, with cushions and low tables scattered over the stone floor. We picked a spot on a turret with a long sheer drop below. We ordered from the "Rajastani Specialities" section of the menu and shared everything. Highlights included mixed desert vegetables containing some sort of edible green needles and tomatoes stuffed with creamed coconut. Each dish cost around 120 rupees (£1.20). It was a feast with a view. Danni showed me how to put my camera into "shutter priority" mode, allowing me to open the aperture for a full ten seconds to capture enough light from the darkness below.

I tried to take a picture of the others but forgot to change the camera settings back.

After our small banquet we returned to our hotel, pleased with the outcome of our venture.

The next morning I had breakfast on the roof. I overlooked desert on one side and fort and city on the other. This was quite new to me. I could not recall any stop in China where rural areas were visible from the hotel.

I had not made any arrangements to rendezvous with others so I made my way to the fort alone. It was   my first city in Rajasthan - a beautiful, ancient city, with a Jain temple, Havelis (old mansions), battlements and Indian people. I was torn between exploring freely and spending time with others. Since I was alone I decided to explore freely.

I went on foot towards the walls. I didn't know which way to go but considered that I would be safe from confusion in daylight - if you walk around a building, even a large one, you will eventually find the entrance.

I passed women carrying sand on their heads. This section of the walls looked very new. I think they were repairing it. Next was a cow standing in the middle of the road near a pile of burning rubbish. The road was wide and there was little traffic.

I turned a corner and recognised the fort gates. The street was less beautiful in the day. There was a "German bakery", numerous shouty signs and many tuk tuk drivers beckoning me. However if I looked up all I could see was the achievement of an empire past. I ascended the cobbled street, through the gatehouses, past the numerous hanging cloths and scarves indicated by ever optimistic sellers and to the Jain temple.

I don't know much about Jainism so couldn't make head or tail of the depictions within this temple. I know that they're vegetarian but that isn't much use. They worship this figure:

Of which there are many, many reproductions around the temple. I think they have a thousand because that's a magic number. You can see some more of them to the left and right.

There were some holy men wearing orange loincloths hanging round the temple. They wanted money for temple explanations. They asked for this standing next to a sign reading, "do not give money to the priests, please make donations in the boxes provided". I refused the explanations offered.

The temple also had carvings of a woman and a man who is presumably her husband.

I exited this temple and headed to the second room opposite. On emerging back into the courtyard I saw some of my truckmates sitting on a ledge. There was Gill, her husband Dennis, Lutz, Danni and Paul. Gill waved to me. I was glad to see them. I joined them and they informed me that they were on a tour led by the charming man we met the night before. The man himself then appeared, shook my hand, asked me how I was and what I had seen so far. I explained I was halfway through looking at the Jain temple. They promised to wait for me.

The second room was smaller but very busy with carvings. More women, elephants and kings resided here. I tried to hurry but not to hurry too much. I wanted to do the temple justice but not make my considerate co-travellers wait too long. But when I reappeared they appeared unworried by this delay. We set off with the guide.

I asked them where we were going. We were going shopping. The guide had a few emporiums to show us, as well as a few Havelis. We were walking slowly. I began to regret joining this tour. I explained to the nearest person that I did not want to shop today then headed in the opposite direction, feeling a little guilty about abandoning them after they waited for me, but still confident I was doing the right thing. The same logic applies to restaurants and movies. If you sit down in a restaurant or begin a movie then realise that it is not an experience you wish to undergo, the only sensible thing to do is to walk out rather than finish only because you have begun. A little embarassment for a minute is worth it for the two hours it will give back to you.

I wandered, picking alleys I did not recognise where possible. Most were dead ends, led to people's back yards, or both. However one took me to the walkway along the battlements, opening up my view to the towers above and the expanse of city laid out beneath me. This was the way to see a fort, not from the inside of shops.

My way was partially obstructed by boulders, overgrown plants, rubbish tips and diversions through backyards but it was possible to continue around the perimeter. As I continued the fort gate came into view. It made more sense from above.

Further along I spotted an window in a tower. It had nice curtains and there was a sign mentioning Cafe. I looked for a way to reach the inside of the tower. I passed a pile of rubbish in which a dog was suckling pups in her home under a discarded tin roof and found my way to a courtyard. There was a man waiting to beckon me in.

Inside there was a beautifully furnished room, with many cushions and carpets and low tables. There was a young couple on phones in a bay window and a middle aged man sitting inside the room with a laptop looking at The Guardian. I struck up a conversation with the man. I learnt that he was from Sheffield and some other facts which I have now forgotten. I didn't approach the couple (it is harder to approach a couple).

It was a pleasant place but the window that was not the bay window was a little small. I settled down next to it anyway and ordered a pot of Chai.

Jan and John, the retired couple from New Zealand, appeared. We were surprised and pleased to see one another. They had noted there were seats on the roof of the tower. We relocated. It was a clear, hot day. We could clearly see the city but the sun was uncomfortable and there was no shade. I put my hat on and did not mind it.

I drank and chatted with Jan and John but they did not stay long. I relocated again, this time to a rug  at the edge of the tower, on a section jutting out over the bay window. All around me was open space. When I stood up I felt a bit giddy, a sudden gust of wind would send me over the edge. Or maybe not.

I spent my time standing there, cup and saucer in hand, admiring the view in all directions. To the right of me was a cannon that appeared to be a tourist attraction. Pairs of Westerners would periodically appear, take a few photos, then leave. A crowd of Indian tourists appeared. They saw me standing in my jungle hat and Kurta and began taking pictures of me. We waved at one another many times.

After I left I visited the cannon and took a picture from there of my home for an hour, my vantage point above the bay.

I was back amongst the alleys. Some scruffy but healthy and happy looking children were sitting on a rooftop inside a construction site. I stepped inside to take a picture of them but I was obstructing the paths of workmen. I departed.

I passed two boys playing a game. I stopped to watch and they invited me to join them. It appeared the goal was to flick a counter to hit a counter to get that counter into one of eight holes. But it had to be the right counter at the right time. He explained the rules to me with gestures and single words. It was enough.

The game took a long time because the board wasn't level and I wasn't very good at it but I was happy. Afterwards I asked if I could take a photo of them by gesturing with my camera. They ran away. I was surprised as I thought we had been getting along. I heard conversations in the back with a persom who sounded like his father. The boy reappeared with outstretched hand and said "money". I refused and left.

I returned to the hotel to meet the others and pack a small bag. That afternoon we would be heading out into the Thar desert on camels to stay the night.

Stephen