En route in Rajasthan

"Land slides, madame, land slides". Deciding to follow the advice of Lafit, an honest-looking muslim Indian, claiming that this year's long-lasting monsoon is still to be found in Himachal Pradesh, Lixian and I found ourself hurtling down the bumpy roads of Rajasthan, westward towards the border of Pakistan. Hardly being able to talk due to the countless impressions provided by the thousands of pilgrims walking along the road on their annually pilgrimage, we're now getting used to the smell of our own sweat and the constant feeling of being part of an over priviliged class of post-colonial young travellers, of whom there are many.

Yesterday, rising out of the afternoon heat, the magical fort of Jaisalmer appeared surrounded by the Thar desert. PAssing the city, we headed for the barren dunes and suddenly, before we really wanted to, we were riding camels accompanied by a father and son who had long been in the camel driver-business. My camel, a friendly-looking animal named Romalia, had trotted the path with many tourists on her back and knew how to take her time out to the sand dunes. Heading home though, towards her food, was a different matter entirely. A camel can run pretty fast.

India is diverse beyond compare. Experiencing New Delhi and the empty-looking desert under a vast starry sky in the same week, is incredible. Walking amongst devoted pilgrims making their way towards the temple prostrate on the ground for every step, hearing stories of how the Lord Ganesha got his elephant head and listening to the music of the desert make a sharp contrast to the hustling buzz of every city, the trash on the street, and the smell of muck and sweat.
We still love every breath of it.
Elise