After elephants, kangaroos, and monkeys, I figured camels should be the next logical progression in strange animal encounters for the trip.
Making my way west, into the Thar desert, I arrived in Jaisalmer, another fort town with a colorful nickname (The Golden City), with the agenda of getting on a camel and riding off into the desert, never to return again. Perhaps I’d find my treasure there, like Santiago in The Alchemist, or better yet, find a genie lamp in need of a good rub-down. After about 2 minutes on top of the lanky, awkward, goofy, smiling horse-cousin, I began to re-think my whole plan. With each awkward step through the sand, my legs stretched a bit further out than they’re meant to and the pressure mounted in regions it never should. Once I became sufficiently number all over, I began to enjoy the vastness of my surrounds, as we rode through mostly arid dry-lands with low-lying shrubbery before happening upon patches of rolling dunes, with sand as soft as a SoCal beach.
There’s not all that much to do on a desert safari, aside from marvel at the quirkiness of the camels and the utter simplicity of life in the desert. During break times, unruly camels in our crew would try their best to scavenge through the supplies, wander off as far their tied up legs would allow, or simply roll in the dirt before being relieved of their gear and food-laden saddle. Watching a camel attempt to gallop with its legs tied together while being chased by a camel boy is a sight to behold.
As the sun began to set, the heat finally became a bit more manageable, and we hung our turbans for the evening, lounging on the dunes as our meals were freshly prepared. We climbed the dunes and enjoyed the views over a couple special delivery beers and a pale blue sky. We reflected with the guide, as his affection for the desert was clear in his wanderings toward an empty patch of sand. Untouched landscape (save for the controversial windmills recently put up in the distance) had provided a home for his family for generations, every year at the whim of the rains and the brutal, ever-present sun. We made our beds on blankets at the top of a small dune, waiting for the stars to begin their nightly act, this time with about as unobstructed of a view as you can find. Satellites passed and I reflected on the notion that the same species that was living the most basic of lives in the most remote of places, completely dependent on the changing of the weather for nourishment and survival, that same species, put an object into space, over a hundred miles above our head, speeding along at miles per second, relaying or capturing information about our world, perhaps the weather patterns that would affect the very region I was lying in. I realized I was at the crossroads of this divide in human development, having lived a very simple life as of late, and especially in that moment, while at the same time fully aware that just last year I was working every day towards putting one of those very same satellites into space. While perhaps a bit cliché, I was reminded, as I often am, of one my favorite Macklemore lines:
“And when I lose perspective, need to go to a place where I lose reception…lookin’ at the satellites pass by, reflectin’ on my past life…”
Making our way back to Jaisalmer the next day, after another couple hours’ ride on a camel with a bit comfier seat and a quick game of 3 fly’s up with some local village children, I explored the Jaisalmer Fort in the blistering heat. The cow-filled narrow lanes and vantage points within the walls of the fort provided photo ops and an even stronger feeling of being lost in not just another land, but another time. A time and place where desert oases provided the nourishment and splendor that becomes so vital in the overwhelming and exhausting desert abyss.
Perspective regained, I hopped on the night train, on my way to yet another time and place…
