See our album link for Jaisalmer at
In the very early seventies Roger and Delaney emerged from the local first-run theatre in downtownYpsilanti
In the very early seventies Roger and Delaney emerged from the local first-run theatre in downtown
Brother One: “Whoa. That James Bond. He Bad!”
Brother Two: “He badder than Shaft!”
To be badder than Shaft has since been the ultimate travel standard. Flash forward forty years. “So John, how did you and Nancy enjoy your North Sea cruise?” “We were badder than Shaft!” Delaney says, and we know that it was over the top. For all the experiences we have had in India , we crossed that threshold with our overnight camel safari in the Thar Desert . We badder than Shaft.
Jaisalmer is the camel safari capital of India , and nearly all the western tourists who come here take a camel safari—some out alone with their camel driver for 21 days in the Thar Desert . The town is otherwise typically Rajasthani with a definite desert culture and the nearly constant scream of Indian jet fighters during the day remind us that we are only 40 miles from the Pakistani border. But it has the enormous Rajput fort and palace and museum, much like Udaipur and Jodhpur
We drove into the desert, where we met Bidiya, our camel driver, and our two stalwart steeds, Alex and Jaisal. We climbed aboard, which is no small feat for those us blessed with short legs. Bidiya led us into the desert. We looked much like 5-year-olds who are led in a circle as they sit upon their ponies. We felt a little trepidation as Bidiya chatted on his cell phone as he walked, wondering if this would be ridiculously lame. It wasn’t.
As we rode, the dunes grew larger, the footprints became a little scarcer, and the eerie quiet of the desert wind grabbed our attention. Our ride was comfortable and the stories we’d heard about motion-sickness were blessedly not part of our experience. Shortly before sunset, we stopped at the edge of a dune for the night. Bidiya set to work removing camel saddles and tying the camels’ front legs loosely together so they could graze without getting too far afield. He then set up his kitchen. He found 3 fist-sized rocks and placed them a few inches apart to support a cooking pot, found twigs and small, kindling-sized branches, lit a fire, and proceeded to make us a pot of chai. He brushed the sand out of metal cups and served us the best tea we’ve had in India
Eating with our fingers as we knelt in the sand at sunset with these gracious men was quite an experience. As we chatted with Bidiya, we found that he didn’t know what year he was born (he looked about 35), didn’t know how to write his name, and had never attended school. He doesn’t own these camels, he is just their handler. Yet he spoke good English as well as Hindi, was bright and had a great sense of humor. It was very strange to meet someone with such an enormously different background from our own, and we still can’t quite wrap our minds around it. Illiteracy is much easier to understand when it is distant and abstract, and very hard when it has an amiable face, like Bidiya’s.
As we sat and talked, a man walked through the desert into our camp carrying a burlap sack. He asked, “Anybody want cold beer?”, and pulled out a few. We had to buy one, I mean, the man walked through the desert!! It should have been a commercial.
Later, Bidiya set out thin mattresses and heavy blankets for us. The stars were the best we’ve ever seen, but we fell asleep before we had much of a chance to look. Fantastic. This is as good as it gets.
“Roger and Linda…they baaad Mother F…”
“Hush your mouth!”
“But I’m talkin’ bout Roger and Linda!”—Isaac Hayes
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