Wednesday 10th February
Hands and feet very sanitised with wet wipes, antibacterial handgel and dettol-filled water, we're now a few kilometres past Karni Mata Temple- famous for its 20,000 sacred rats! These are no horrifying New York subway rats, or the biting rodents of Winston Smith's 1984 nightmarish torture. They are more milk-drunk, coconut-stuffed, happily squeaking mice, very assuredly content with their place in the world. We walked barefoot around the temple complex, hoping to feel the tickle of rat feet scurrying across our own, which signifies good luck. The kabas (holy rodents) are reincarnated dead storytellers.
Our 14'ish hours in Bikaner made for a pleasant stopover. Though its famous fort was closed, we admired it from the outside during yesterday's sunset and then took a meandering dusk stroll to the old town. The train was coming through town and the closed barriers (which we ducked under to run across the tracks, sorry mum) created total chaos as the hundreds of Enfield motorcycles and endless tuk-tuks backed up further and further on either side. Hunger and exhaustion (we'd been up since 4am) may have contributed, but I think carbon monoxide poisoning may have been the main factor in how dizzy I felt when we finally sat down to eat in a cheap diner with two Australian retirees, Robert and Stephen. In restaurants it seems to be a crapshoot whether what you order will arrive and when.
Back at the hotel, we enjoyed a quick drink on the rooftop before a hot shower (only available between 6-10, am and pm, when a man is stoking the fire) and an early night!
The 400km drive yesterday and 385km today offers plenty of time to get to know our fellow travellers (representing England, Netherlands, Denmark, Germany, Switzerland, Australia and Spain) over cards and storytelling, read (I've already finished Wolf Hall, and a travelogue of Kerala to Kathmandu, and have now started my second reading of Shantaram, in preparation for reaching Mumbai in 2 weeks) and stare contemplatively out the window. The Delhi to Bikaner road was miles of desert, broken up by the occasional glimpse of a working camel or extravagant roadside temple. We often had to slow down as we passed through endless bustling towns - sometimes less than towns, just small collections of entrepreneurial roadside businesses and homes. Everywhere we went, our truckload of the 21 white people attracted a lot of stares, but many smiles and waves too- especially when we passed dozens of children heading into the Catholic school for the day!
We'll now spend the rest of the day on the road, safe in the hands of our trusty Dragoman drivers Dutchy and Laura, heading southwest to Jaisalmer.
(Patrick's addendum: we each had rats scamper across our feet. Not scurry, but scamper. The bastards are adorable.)
Evening update: It may be a desert mirage playing tricks on my eyes, but the Golden Haveli in Jaisalmer may be the most beautiful hotel I've ever been in. It's 9.15pm and we left the rats at 10am. We spent the last 5 or so hours squished 7-9 people per van into a caravan of vehicles (driven by maniacs) sent to rescue us. About 90 minutes after leaving the rats, we heard a delicate smashing as the entire windscreen disintegrated into Laura and Dutchy's faces, courtesy of a flying rock. They safely navigated us to the side of the road, then everyone sprang into action cleaning wounds and sweeping up broken glass. After the initial flurry of activity, there was nothing to do but sit and wait, about 4 hours. In true Dragoman fashion, everyone took the situation fully in stride, setting up camp chairs and enjoying the desert air. We had frequent visitors as passing vehicles often stopped, as the sight of 20 stranded foreigners was too exciting to miss!
Hands and feet very sanitised with wet wipes, antibacterial handgel and dettol-filled water, we're now a few kilometres past Karni Mata Temple- famous for its 20,000 sacred rats! These are no horrifying New York subway rats, or the biting rodents of Winston Smith's 1984 nightmarish torture. They are more milk-drunk, coconut-stuffed, happily squeaking mice, very assuredly content with their place in the world. We walked barefoot around the temple complex, hoping to feel the tickle of rat feet scurrying across our own, which signifies good luck. The kabas (holy rodents) are reincarnated dead storytellers.
Our 14'ish hours in Bikaner made for a pleasant stopover. Though its famous fort was closed, we admired it from the outside during yesterday's sunset and then took a meandering dusk stroll to the old town. The train was coming through town and the closed barriers (which we ducked under to run across the tracks, sorry mum) created total chaos as the hundreds of Enfield motorcycles and endless tuk-tuks backed up further and further on either side. Hunger and exhaustion (we'd been up since 4am) may have contributed, but I think carbon monoxide poisoning may have been the main factor in how dizzy I felt when we finally sat down to eat in a cheap diner with two Australian retirees, Robert and Stephen. In restaurants it seems to be a crapshoot whether what you order will arrive and when.
Back at the hotel, we enjoyed a quick drink on the rooftop before a hot shower (only available between 6-10, am and pm, when a man is stoking the fire) and an early night!
The 400km drive yesterday and 385km today offers plenty of time to get to know our fellow travellers (representing England, Netherlands, Denmark, Germany, Switzerland, Australia and Spain) over cards and storytelling, read (I've already finished Wolf Hall, and a travelogue of Kerala to Kathmandu, and have now started my second reading of Shantaram, in preparation for reaching Mumbai in 2 weeks) and stare contemplatively out the window. The Delhi to Bikaner road was miles of desert, broken up by the occasional glimpse of a working camel or extravagant roadside temple. We often had to slow down as we passed through endless bustling towns - sometimes less than towns, just small collections of entrepreneurial roadside businesses and homes. Everywhere we went, our truckload of the 21 white people attracted a lot of stares, but many smiles and waves too- especially when we passed dozens of children heading into the Catholic school for the day!
We'll now spend the rest of the day on the road, safe in the hands of our trusty Dragoman drivers Dutchy and Laura, heading southwest to Jaisalmer.
(Patrick's addendum: we each had rats scamper across our feet. Not scurry, but scamper. The bastards are adorable.)
Evening update: It may be a desert mirage playing tricks on my eyes, but the Golden Haveli in Jaisalmer may be the most beautiful hotel I've ever been in. It's 9.15pm and we left the rats at 10am. We spent the last 5 or so hours squished 7-9 people per van into a caravan of vehicles (driven by maniacs) sent to rescue us. About 90 minutes after leaving the rats, we heard a delicate smashing as the entire windscreen disintegrated into Laura and Dutchy's faces, courtesy of a flying rock. They safely navigated us to the side of the road, then everyone sprang into action cleaning wounds and sweeping up broken glass. After the initial flurry of activity, there was nothing to do but sit and wait, about 4 hours. In true Dragoman fashion, everyone took the situation fully in stride, setting up camp chairs and enjoying the desert air. We had frequent visitors as passing vehicles often stopped, as the sight of 20 stranded foreigners was too exciting to miss!
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