Jaisalmer
India
What started out as a miracle Christmas turned into the lowlight of our trip. For a month we had been on a waitlist for an overnight train from Varanasi to Delhi, departing on Christmas Eve, with a flight to Jaisalmer booked for the next day. Only 24 hours beforehand we received confirmation that we had secured 2 beds in a first class cabin: perfect. When we boarded, we discovered it was just the 2 of us in a one-bunk berth: even more perfect. The train departed on time and we settled in for the night.
Little sleep was achieved. The beds were rock hard and the train driver kept his finger on the horn most of the night (this shouldn’t have come as a surprise). When daylight broke, we checked the map to see how close we were to Delhi. The answer? Nowhere near. The train booking app told us we were at least 3 hours delayed (how we lost 3 hours was a mystery to us). Even though we had given ourselves 4 hours between the train arriving and the flight departing, we eventually accepted the fact that we were going to miss our flight. The train crawled into Delhi, dropping us off over 3 and a half hours later than expected. With no other flights available, we booked a hotel in Delhi for the night and purchased another flight to Jaisalmer for the next morning. Merry Christmas to us.
Arriving in Jaisalmer felt like entering a different country. On the drive from the airport, we were surrounded by a flat, sparse landscape with an enormous 12th-century fort sticking out above the horizon. This fort is the major attraction of the town, and a quarter of the city's population live inside its walls. The sandstone structure glows yellow at sunrise and sunset, giving Jaisalmer the nickname the 'golden city'. Its location on the Silk Road meant it was a popular trading hub back in the day, but now its existence depends mostly on the tourist dollar.
Being peak season, the entire city was jam-packed with visitors. There was only one entrance/exit to the fort, creating a bottleneck that brought us to a standstill several times. Motorbikes winding their way through the constricted alleyways only added to the congestion. Every single lane was lined with souvenir stores, guesthouses and restaurants, with the occasional temple thrown in. The architecture was incredible, especially the detailed carvings along the exterior of the buildings, but the narrowness of the roads meant it couldn't be truly appreciated. Occasionally we were afforded a view over the fort walls to the rest of the city, although this wasn't overly picturesque. Amazingly, there were clear blue skies and the sun was burning down, a complete contrast to Delhi. The overall vibe and scenery reminded us of Morocco but with a distinct Indian flair. It was fascinating, like nothing else we had seen so far.
All storeholders we passed tried to draw us into their shop, and touts continuously offered us one thing or another. Most of the souvenirs involved camel hair accessories, sculpted sandstone objects, traditional Indian clothing and Hindu paraphernalia, none of which interested us. Danny became caught up by a non-speaking man who was determined to fix his shoe, as the sole of his runner had started to peel away. The man methodically sewed the sole back on, and he gave it a clean while he was at it. Total cost: about A$8.
Outside the fort walls, the traffic and horns increased exponentially. Souvenir stores continued and food carts lined the streets. Now that we were in the state of Rajasthan, new foods were available, but everything on offer here seemed to be deep fried. Cows wandered casually down the roads, oblivious to the honking tuk-tuks and motorbikes. There wasn’t much to sustain our attention other than the occasional view of the fort from below, although being able to walk around freely without the crowds was a luxury.
In the early afternoon we set off for our Thar Desert safari. We opted for the secluded 'non-touristic' camping option rather than the overcrowded, noisy alternative with permanent camps set up near the main road. However, given it was peak season, there ended up being 50 people in our group, which was much larger than usual. We were the only Westerners.
A jeep carried 7 of us out of town into a flat, pale landscape punctuated by power lines and wind turbines. Goats and cows lined the road, along with the occasional stray camel. On the way we stopped at a local village with a dozen villagers sitting outside a handful of basic lodgings, asking for money. It was entirely unremarkable; the most interesting part was the kids posing for photos.
The 5 others in our car each jumped on a camel and rode across the desert into camp. We skipped the camels and instead travelled by jeep (given the way we saw the camels being treated, I was glad we didn't participate). It was a bumpy, sometimes erratic ride along a sandy track bordered by dry grass and pale bushes, but it wasn't the thrilling adventure we were expecting.
At camp we were allocated a tent and an outdoor cot for sleeping under the stars if we wished. The rest of the afternoon was ours, which I spent climbing barefoot up and down the soft sand dunes in the blazing hot sun, trying to avoid the beetles and the bindis (successful on the former, not the latter). I spotted a couple of wild camels, free of ropes, saddles or branding, hiding away behind the bushes. They wandered off as soon as I approached. It was blissful being out in nature, away from horns, vehicles, touts and crowds, and the perfect way to recharge from the sensory overwhelm that India had thrown at us so far.
Sunset wasn't the fiery spectacle I was hoping for, but it was the first time we'd had cloudless conditions for us to even witness colours in the sky. As soon as the sun had dipped below the horizon, we were offered a tasty appetiser of pakodas (spiced vegetable fritters) and masala tea. Then, once the sun had completely disappeared and the only light available came from the fire, the live folk music commenced, with one man singing in Hindi accompanied by traditional instruments. Eventually, the Indian tourists joined in the singing too. Having never heard the songs before, we had no chance of participating.
An eternity later (sometime after 9 p.m.) dinner was served. On offer was a carb overload of rice, roti and potato curry, with a fantastic chilli sauce on the side (I had 4 helpings of the chilli). Not long after this we were about to head to bed, yet that wasn't the end of the festivities. An unexpected night walk began around 10.15 p.m., where 30 of us followed the one guide who had a torch. The rest of us had to rely solely on the minimal moonlight to find our way across the sand and around the shrubs. By waving his torch around, the guide could detect the reflection in the eyes of various animals across the landscape. Twice we located a tiny baby deer, and we also spotted a fox running along a dune in the distance. The thrill of the chase was the most exciting part, but when 30 people were trying to stick close to the guide so they didn't miss anything while also not tripping over anyone’s feet, it wasn't a relaxing experience.
It was 11.30 p.m. before we arrived back at camp, and at midnight we finally collapsed into bed, underneath the stars, wearing every single layer of warm clothing we had brought with us.
While Danny had taken the cot, I had slept on a thick blanket on the ground. And by slept I mean I tossed and turned, trying to avoid all the bumps in the sand. I was barely warm enough and would have appreciated more layers. Sunrise was an understated affair, with clouds on the horizon blocking most of the colours. After this, a simple breakfast was served before we hit the road.
Along the way back to Jaisalmer we detoured via Khaba Fort, part of a series of ruins of a 13th-century village. Approximately 84 towns in the area were suddenly abandoned overnight in the 19th century, for reasons unknown. Possible theories include high taxes, water shortages or a curse. The fort itself had been well maintained, but the village was a crumbling mess, with only the rocky outline of former buildings remaining. Although we couldn't explore the village itself, we were permitted to climb up and down the 2-storey fort, which offered views out over the ruins. It was a fascinating place and well worth the deviation.
Back in Jaisalmer, we pushed through the hordes of tourists to check into our hotel inside the fort. Despite the lack of sleep, I still hit the ground running. First up was the Jain Temple, made up of 7 interconnected temples. Dating from the 12-15th century, each one looked similar to one before, filled with detailed carvings and statues of one god or another. Everyone else was there for prayer and religious rituals; I was there to photograph the fascinating architecture.
Outside the fort I walked up to a popular viewpoint, sidestepping hundreds of cows and trying to shelter from the blistering heat. In the middle of the day the sun cast a hazy glow over the city, so it wasn't really worth the climb.
Next I went haveli hopping, havelis being traditional Indian mansions built to symbolise a person’s wealth. They are usually taller than they are wide and feature a central, open-air courtyard that allows light to flow down to each floor. Usually there are ornate carvings on the doors and balconies, as well as decorative lattice screens over the windows. I passed several havelis on my walk (as well as hotels that had been reconstructed to look like havelis), and I explored the interior of 2 of the most popular in Jaisalmer. One was still being used as a private residence, so I could only enter the bottom level courtyard. The other was a 19th-century, 5-storey building consisting of empty rooms and a rooftop that offered the same fuzzy views of the fort as the lookout. It would have been interesting to see how they were furnished back in the day.
Gadisar Lake was constructed in the 12th century to provide water to the city. Now it is heavily polluted, but that didn't stop thousands of fish and other sea life living in the green water or tourists paddling out across its surface. Old pavilions and shrines were located in the middle of the lake and along the shore, resulting in it being a popular selfie spot. It wasn’t the most picturesque of sites; I didn't stay for long.
As the sun sank low in the sky, I made a loop around the interior and exterior of the fort, trying to capture the golden hue that the city is famous for. Near sunset the crowds started to dwindle, and by nighttime much of the fort felt like a ghost town. Hardly anyone called out to us to buy their wares and we could walk at a regular pace, although the motorbikes didn't cease the blare of their horns. Despite being in Jaisalmer a day shorter than anticipated, we truly enjoyed our time here, particularly the warmer weather and the escape from India's chaotic pace.
