31st October

Happy Hallowe’en dudes!

Here in Pushkar, everything seems to just get even busier. We found a small haven though in the Honey and Spice Café, as recommended by our new bible (the Lonely Planet – without it we would be lost). The café is run by an Israeli (there are a lot of them here also) and they do rose jam and toast. Pushkar is famous for it’s rose jam apparently. Amanda bought some, so now we can have rose jam and lemon curd for breakfast! We will feast like kings! I have to say, one of the things about Pushkar is that we have eaten incredibly well. Because they are catering for backpackers, every café has really nice falafel and salads or museli because the market is lame Europeans like ourselves.

This afternoon we are going on a camel ride. It is all very exciting. Ward has organized the entire thing. We are meeting at 5pm and taking camels out into the desert and then camping overnight. There are 29 of us going – a ludicrous number, but oh well. We will see. Before camels though, we decided to get some more Christmas shopping in. I managed to find the stall with the Kali beads on it again. I have been searching for it since I first saw it on the first day. I haven’t seen these beads anywhere else. They are bone and have skulls carved into each bead, like Kali who wears a necklace made of human heads.

We all assembled at the hotel for the camels, but lo and behold! There are no camels. Waited an hour for any sign of a camel, and then a man appeared saying he was the Camel Man, and that we should follow him. We followed him into the Mela, where there were five camels. Five camels, 29 people. I see a problem! It seemed these were just the taster camels, and we were brought to a field beyond the Mela full of horses and camels waiting to be sold. We stopped at a large group of the camels and began to pair off. I paired up with a French girl called Marchellen (maybe…) and we sat on the camel. The camel saddles are just pillows placed between the humps so your legs spread out quite a lot and there is nothing to hold on to. You just have to hope and clutch at the fabric of the cushion. A camel standing up is an interesting arrangement to watch. Aactually being on it though is bloody scary. The hind legs go up forst so you have to lean back to stop yourself being thrown forwards and off the camel. And then the front legs come up and you get jerked the other way. Once you are up there though and ignoring the lack of things to hold on to, it is great. A bit strenuous on your pelvic muscles, but no more than riding a big horse would be. They are such large creatures as well. Our’s must have been 10 – 12 feet off the ground. My mum called me at one point. It is a bizarre feeling being on a camel in the desert at night answering your mobile. We were in the full moon light as well. To be honest, not bad for Hallowe’en so far.

We trekked for about an hour before coming to this little space of ground which was our campsite for the night. We were slightly apprehensive though as there was nothing there. We got off the camels (also tricky as the front legs go down first and so you feel like you will be thrown off again and then the black legs come down afterwards) and built a fire with the help of the camel drivers. One of them gave me a Hindi-English phrasebook and just stood with the rest of them saying ‘yes!’ at me. I flicked through the phrasebook but I had no idea what they wanted. I tried to ask where food was and they just said yes some more. They moved onto ‘camel driver tip!’ after a while which was far less ambiguous, but we ignored them as we were already paying an awful lot of the privilege. And there was nothing there any way. We were promised tents and food, and so far the camel men had managed to light us a fire and give us a cup of tea. Thankfully Woeter had brought a bottle of terrible Indian whisky with him and we started passing it round. We are an odd little group: Americans, French, Brits and Dutch. The French have their band, and the Americans have theirs. And we Brits seem stuck in between people not speaking English and people who were being too American at times to bear. I cant count how many ’Fuck dawg!” ‘s and ‘Fuck My Life!’ ‘s there were, but there were too many for sure. Eventually the French started calling for us to leave and get our money back, but a truck appeared out of the blue with our tents and cooking equipment. I am so happy they came, if the hadn’t we would have had to walk back. It is only an hour or so, but I would have been unhappy with our lack fo a sense of adventure or patience. Once it finally appeared the food was amazing. Just what we needed – hot! As we ate the camel drivers danced around our fire in their terrible embellished jeans.

After dinner there was call for alcohol, despite it being illegal. However, much like Prohibition, there are speak-easies in Pushkar! We sent a delegation of Woeter, Lauren and Ward to bring us back some beer. They all climbed onto the same motorbike and set off with one of the camel men. I have no idea how the motorbike coped, but apparently Ward lost his fli flops at some juncture along the way. When they reappeared some time later, they were on two motorbikes. We asked Lauren what had happened, and she said they had gone to this shack with bars across the windows outside of Pushkar and had had to argue a lot for the price of the alcohol. Then one of the men of the speakeasy decided he would help Camel Man back, so offered his motorbike. But once they had started out it became apparent very quickly that the man driving the new motorbike was drunk, and so Ward told him to sit on the back and he drove the rest of the way. Despite not having a motorbike license. They somehow managed to get back safely with three crates of beer, so it was all good. Once we had had the beer, as with the whiskey, everything looked a lot rosier and we began to enjoy our campfire and someone brought out a bongo drum (of course) and we had a singsong and it was all very lovely. The Americans got to be loud and ridiculous and the French got to be quiet and relaxed. The only issue was that every time you went out for a walk to use the loo or whatever, you got covered in these little thorny thistles. They embedded themselves in the fold of your clothes and your shoes and they hurt like hell. I was finding them in me for days afterwards.

The men had set a tent thing up for us with blankets and mattresses, so me and Marie went to bed at about two in the morning. The other stayed up smoking and laying around the fire. An interesting Hallowe’en, even if not quite what I usually do.