My Inner Critic: “Yeah… this article is shit.”
Welcome to Notes from the Road—a travel series where I try not to try so hard.
This will be more stream-of-consciousness than crafted narrative. Less editing, more honesty. I’ll definitely lose most of you, and I’ll probably cringe before hitting publish, but I’m hoping it helps me keep up with the daily “experience overwhelm” of traveling in India—and that some of the color and richness of this place pours through to those of you willing to ride it out with me.
Ok, Last post we were in Jodhpur, The Blue City. Catch up here.
The Desert People of Rajasthan
“We are desert people. The desert is our home.”
The camel guides on our safari have never left the region.
Like, What!?!?
“I love the desert. The quiet. Not all this loudness of cities. My father was a desert person, and so was his father. Why would I leave?”
I was perplexed. To reach the ripe age of fifty and have never left the ~25 square mile area from which you were born—it felt unimaginable. As someone kissed by whichever god is the purveyor of wanderlust, I find it remarkable that a man can live in his home, work a job for 25 years, and never feel the urge to explore what lies beyond the edge of his horizon.
I carry the need to move like a flame that never quite settles. And yet, he seemed so sure, so rooted. So still.
The Golden City
Yesterday, I woke up in a palace. Not technically a palace, but the biggest bedroom I’ve had in weeks, in Jaisalmer—a city that looks like it was carved from sand and left to glow.
I ate some food. (As one does.)
To see more of the desert and have Abit of a thrill, I rented a Himalayan motorcycle after haggling like my wallet depended on it (it did), and rode south into the desert. Villages popped out of the heat haze like secrets. Everyone waved. Some tried to talk. I felt like an astronaut stepping off a lunar bike. A man in one small town, realizing we couldn’t speak to each other, happily showed me his massive coin collection.
Later, I somehow found a tour guide by sheer dumb luck. Then, sat on the roof with the hotel workers sipping watered-down whiskey, and listening to Rajasthani folk music.
The city was soft and flickering around us.
Next Up…
The longest mustache in the desert…. maybe the world?
Colin – From the Road