06/11/14 - 6/12/14: Bikaner, Rajasthan, India
I’d never traveled by sleeper train before, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. Turns out, I really enjoyed this mode of transport. (I think the air conditioning had something to do with it.)
In India, the layout of a sleeper train car is very economical. During the day an area for six passengers has two benches facing one another with a padded backrest. Overhead there’s a rack to put your bags on. When night falls the backrest swings up to become a bed and the upper rack, which is also padded, becomes a third bed. And just like that you’ve got six “bunk beds” ready for a good night’s sleep. Along the aisle there are an additional 2 bunks, making 8 bunks total per “room” with several rooms per car.
I’d estimate there were at least 32 bunk beds per car, each one supplied with simple linens and a pillow. Aura worked our area, charming and chatting with every passenger before asking them to swap seats. His efforts led to all of us staying close together, making it feel like one big traveling slumber party. Stark white sheets flung every which way with heads popping out from the ends like happy Pez dispensers. The vibe was fun and joyous as we made our way west to the arid deserts of Bikaner, Rajasthan.
Come morning, nearly everyone reported a good night’s sleep except me. Despite the fun I was having during our “girls night,” and the soothing sway of the train, my throat was raspy and aching. I’d hoped it was a mixture of incense and exhaustion from our day in Delhi, but I was also bone tired, the kind of tired that makes you want to wrap yourself in a blanket with a hot bowl of chicken soup. I knew this feeling well. It was a telltale sign of the same sinus infection that had plagued me whenever we’d entered a new part of the world. I’d had it at Cotopaxi where I’d been given fresh soup and time to recover. I’d had it in Melbourne while resting in a nice soft hotel bed. And now I was having it in Bikaner, just as we were about to ride on camelback into the Thar Desert in the hottest temperatures I’d ever known.
That morning we exited the train at 7am and took tuk-tuks to a beautiful red sandstone hotel that used to be a princely estate. We weren’t staying the night, but we would be staying there the following night, so they gave us a room to store our bags in. Typically groups go on their desert camel rides immediately after disembarking from the train but Aura was concerned about the temperature in the desert. He said it was supposed to be over 120°! So he pushed our tour into the afternoon so we wouldn’t be riding during the hottest part of the day, and so that we’d arrive at camp around sunset. Three cheers for Aura!
The hotel was a gorgeous burnt red sandstone. I have no doubt there were centuries of history etched into those walls. Normally I’d be fascinated by the building, wanting to know about its origins and who’d walked its grounds, but on that particular day, with little sleep and a persistent ache in my throat, all I cared about was the air conditioning which, sadly, didn’t seem to be working. None of us could find comfort inside so we all languished outside in the courtyard, either resting under a shade tree or dunking ourselves in the swimming pool. The pool was naturally heated by the sun, which meant it was the equivalent of a warm bath.
The hours crept by and all anyone could do was attempt to stay cool. Some were brave enough to venture out to a nearby fort. Not I. By this point I was feeling pretty sick, but heat was my primary issue. I’d left my swimsuit behind in Delhi, but that didn’t stop me from stripping down to my underwear and sitting in the hot water. It wasn’t cooling but it was comforting. And when you stepped out a light breeze would cool your skin.
We boarded tuk-tuks around 2pm and drove to the outskirts of town where the open sands of the Thar Desert began. There we met a group of local tribesmen who were preparing a late lunch for us under a large shade tree. They would be leading our tour into the desert and feeding us at camp. I wish I could recall the name of their people, but I cannot. I apologize. But they get all the accolades for making us an absolutely delicious meal. The best I’d had so far in India. It was all vegetarian and included lady fingers (which is a type of okra) and various spiced dishes with roti for dipping and an array of chutneys. I also drank cold Pepsi - that’s right, it was cold, and it tasted like heaven!
Anne and I walked a little ways away for a bathroom break, which in this environment meant behind a bush or mound of sand. When I finished I saw one of our guides taking his own bathroom break in clear view. There aren’t many options in the desert. I imagine you just pick a spot and go. While walking under the exposed sun I noticed the tops of my sandaled feet were burning. Actually burning in a slow and steady way, riding on the edge of painful. I made sure to add another layer of sunblock.
Once lunch was packed up we all chose a camel to mount. I was one of the last and my camel was growling and moaning, carrying on like a lion with a thorn in its paw. Aura and my handler, who was one of the tribesmen (or more accurately, tribesboy), calmed my camel down. Aura told me not to worry, that my camel would be a good boy for me. So, like a passenger on an airplane, I boarded my camel and placed my life in his hands. I straddled my grumpy friend and followed instructions to lean lean way back as he stood. Good advice since his rear legs straighten first, meaning you could easily tumble out of the saddle and over his neck if you’re not ready. Once everyone was up Aura ran around taking photos before hopping on a camel-drawn wagon. And thus began our 3 hour journey into the Thar desert.
We trotted (yes, camels trot) down a trail and through sparse, dusty villages. The homes were simple square enclosures with no adornments or sign of modern amenities. You’d think we’d stepped back in time if not for the kids’ modern clothing and the ever-present garbage littering the road. Garbage was everywhere in India and the desert was no exception. Children and their mothers came out of their dwellings to wave at us as we rode through their land on camelback. We were definitely a source of entertainment, like a circus parading through town. The kids would yell out “Da-da!” (at least that’s what it sounded like). I imagine this meant hello since everyone was waving and calling it out. “Da-da!” they’d shout with enthusiasm. Or maybe it meant “Morons”? If so, I can’t say I disagreed considering we were riding into the desert in extreme heat. What were we thinking? I was too tired and sick to question it.
Riding a camel is interesting. You’re atop a saddle that straddles the hump on the camel’s back, making the seat curved but comfortable, with wool blankets stacked below you for cushion. The slow pace suited me well. I could look around at the sun-drenched terrain at my leisure while my camel loped across the sand. Trotting, on the other hand, requires work. You’re forced to move with the beast below you, rocking back and forth like a pendulum. Trotting certainly worked out my core. Obviously, I preferred to go slow and steady but the young man leading me always wanted to pick up the pace. Knowing we’d be going for 3 hours made my abs cringe. Aura said in the winter they do a 6 hour camel ride! My poor abs wouldn’t be able to take it, let alone my lady parts, which were being flattened like a pancake every time we trotted.
At one point a girl behind me, Izzy, screamed bloody murder. I turned and saw her camel lurching with her holding on for dear life, very nearly falling off. A scary concept considering how high up you sit on a camel. It’s definitely higher than a horse. After witnessing her troubles I made sure not to be blasé about the ride. I gripped the rope and vowed to hold on at all times. Good thing too, because 10 minutes later my camel lurched and I almost flipped over his neck! But I was holding on tight and stayed put. Halfway to camp we stopped at a watering hole so the camels could get a drink. At that point some people opted to dismount and get on a cart instead. Anne was one of those people and I didn’t blame her in the least.
I had a scarf wrapped around my head to cover my mouth and nose and keep the sandy wind at bay. The temperature was surprisingly bearable. Insanely hot, of course, but I never felt close to passing out. Each of us had large water bottles strapped under ropes in front of us. The water was literally hot. Or, as one of the British girls said, “It’s like kettle water!” I drank it all the same. You had to stay hydrated. My mouth was constantly parched and, despite the water being hot, it definitely kept my throat from caving in on itself.
Forty-five minutes out from camp the young many leading my camel pushed it to start trotting and didn’t let up until we arrived. Like I said, lots more work for me and pancake vagina. It may have left me barren.
Four colorful tents stood in a short row with a series of cots lined up beside them. The tents were for changing, the cots for sleeping. In all directions the parched sands of the Thar Desert stared back at us. To me, the cots looked extremely inviting. I wasn’t the only one who thought so. We all made a beeline for them and crash landed with heavy sighs.
The sun was now descending. Aura invited us to hike up a sand dune and watch the sunset. Everyone except Joni and Anne took him up on the offer. They stayed on their cots while the rest of us walked along the ridge of a dune to an overlook. The desert spread out before us dotted with shrubs and small trees. The sun hung low on the horizon but the sky was thick and hazy, denying us a proper sunset. It was nice, nonetheless. Especially when two of the tribesmen brought us masala chai tea! One thing I’d vowed to do in India was drink masala chai tea whenever the opportunity arose. My first taste was sweet and dreamy, just what my sickly heart needed.
You may be wondering how we dealt with going to the bathroom at camp. Well, there was a tent set up for that. Inside the tent was your standard porcelain toilet. That’s right, your everyday toilet was plopped right there on the desert sand. The plumbing for it was somewhat lacking. There was a bucket filled with water and a large dipper. After you’d do your business you’d dump water into the toilet bowl. That, in essence, was the “flush.” And where did the flush lead? Why, through the short pipe that ran just outside the tent of course! Into the toilet and out to the desert. Why complicate things?
There was a long table set up for dinner. With the sun now set, Aura set up a campfire off to the side for a bit of ambience. By all accounts the dinner was good but my illness had me dragging, no appetite at all. Our guides performed some traditional music with a big flat drum that they played while singing into it. Two men would sing together, one pressed tight against the other. Which reminds me, an interesting aspect of Indian culture is how comfortable men are with one another. Public displays of affection are frowned upon between the opposite sex, but it’s commonplace to see two men holding hands or with their arms around one another. I find it refreshing and sweet.
After a couple songs I threw in the towel. I took a Benadryl and collapsed onto my cot. Usually I would’ve basked in the food and music and atmosphere, but I was running on empty and I desperately needed sleep. Joni and Anne were the next to turn in but Katie stayed strong, representing the “old ladies” amongst the young’uns. From my cot I watched as the drummer led a conga line around the fire. With my head filled with fog, I listened to the music and admired the dance under the bright light of a full moon.
Nearly everyone hit the hay after the music died down. All except a few diehards who wanted to stay up reveling until midnight. The only young man on our tour, Joe, had a birthday the next day and they were aiming to celebrate the occasion at midnight with fireworks atop a dune. When midnight hit the fireworks shot into the air. I gazed at the display in a daze.
The medicine had made me drowsy despite the heat, allowing me to sleep in fits and starts. Night was upon us but the temperature hadn’t dropped below 100°. I wore a t-shirt to bed with a thin sheet stretched over my legs, waking up frequently to soak my bandana in water and lay it on my face. The full moon drifted across the night sky in intervals that I witnessed only during wakeful moments. Katie was always awake, staring at the sky, her eyes reflecting the moonlight.
The stars were difficult to see due to the brightness of the moon, but at one point I awoke to find the moon had dipped below the horizon and what remained was a glowing midnight blue cloaking the desert sands.
I floated thick and dreamy on the surface of another world. Trees fluffed in the soft breeze and danced in the creamy gray of night. Joy enveloped me; to see what I was seeing, to scarcely believe where I was, laying on a cot in the middle of the desert, steam practically rising from my skin, and the unearthly glow of the fallen moon washing over everything. I felt as though I was dreaming, that at any moment I could wake up back home in my bed. Feeling the way I did, that sounded appealing, but I told myself it was real. This was no dream. And I drifted back to sleep with a smile.
When the sun rose and everyone stirred I looked over at Katie who was still wide-eyed. She told me she’d stayed up all night pouring water on her body while watching the moon travel across the heavens. She listened to musicals on her headphones the entire time. She was tired but also joyful. We’d both experienced a night under the desert sky like no other and wouldn’t change a thing about it. Even the heat.
As for my condition, it had not improved. My sporadic sleep had done nothing to alleviate my discomfort. I needed rest. I needed to cool down. All of us had now gone 24 hours without air conditioning. I was yearning for our hotel, praying the A/C would work so I could finally sleep.
We ate breakfast in the early hours and boarded camel-drawn carts for our journey back to civilization and tuk-tuks. We returned to the same hotel we’d toiled at the day before. I opted out of the day’s activities without hesitation. I’d be missing out on a visit to a Hindu temple dedicated to rats. Apparently, rats live in the temple where they are fed and worshipped. Yeah, I could skip that. Katie, Joni and Anne agreed. We all felt good about our decision.
When Katie and I entered our hotel room I felt a spurt of hope - there was A/C and it worked! We soaked up every molecule of cold air blasting from the vent. But our relief was brief, for the air quickly turned hot. Our unit was schizophrenic, transitioning between cold and hot randomly throughout the day (mostly hot). I did the only thing I could think of to cool down - I soaked a bath towel in water and laid it over my naked body while the unit blasted hot air on me. It worked! The air, though hot, cooled when it hit the wet towel. I’d managed to create a modicum of relief for myself. But laying under a wet towel isn’t comfortable for a long period of time, not to mention having to constantly wet it. In the end I joined my friends poolside where we jumped in and out of the outdoor shower, willing the light breeze to keep blowing. It wasn’t so bad. I might’ve even loved it if my head hadn’t been tight as a drum.
That night, to our surprise, the A/C unit started working consistently and lasted until morning. I can only figure they had an energy saving system affecting the units during the day. Whatever the reason, I nearly cried with joy. Or rather, I would’ve cried if I hadn’t instantly fallen asleep. In a shocking turn of events, Katie and I even had to use our blankets that night!
We finally got a decent night’s sleep and by morning the worst of my illness was behind me. It’s a good thing too because India was showing no signs of cooling off. We’d need all our strength for the coming weeks. That morning we were embarking on a six-hour train ride traveling west to the golden city of Jaisalmer. This time our train would not have air conditioning. But have no fear! Our water bottles were full and our bandanas were at the ready.
