Coconut Oil, Camels, and a Run-In With an Australian

           This past weekend I journeyed to Jaisalmer in Rajistan, a state in north India. This city happens to be nicknamed the “Golden City” which I can only guess it is called so for the miles and miles of golden sand and dust that are all around. This is because Jaisalmer is a desert.

A narrow alleyway in Jaisalmer fort off of
the beaten track

            I have so much respect for the weather-hardened people who call Jaisalmer their home. Each day is so blisteringly hot that I often mistook the sand and sweat mixture that covered my body as the makings of my tanned skin in India. Alas, when I finally got back into a shower last night after returning to Bangalore I saw my “tan” washing all away and leaving only a reddened burned skin underneath.

Of course, I had inklings days before this that my skin had burned which led me on a wild goose chase for some Aloe Vera lotion which has always worked wonders for me with sunburns. However, Indians don’t use Aloe Vera because they don’t have to worry about pesky sunburns but they do use coconut oil for their skin and hair. Since oil was my only option, I lubed up well and hoped for the best. Two days later, I not only found my skin healed but it had this illustrious glow and softness about it that I have now discovered is typical of Indian skin. Their secret which I have now discovered is coconut oil.

Besides discovering the secret to smooth skin, I also undertook an amazing camel safari journey into the desert of Rajistan. Fortunately for us, just before we began the trip a torrential downpour prevented us from departing with the camels into the desert. Though the rainstorm only lasted half an hour, the entire valley and desert was flooded so much that we were able to take sandbaths and make “Mudangels” (the much dirtier cousin of the Snowangel) in the sand. Before long, the camel entourage departed into a much cooler desert as the sun evaporated the water all around.

Evening approached and I was treated to traditional Rajastani-style curries and flatbreads cooked over an open fire by the desert guides. The exquisite dinner was set against the backdrop of an incredible sunset over the sand dunes all around. Away from all of the sounds and pollution of the crowded cities that I had become accustomed to in India, I was finally able to appreciate the vibrant colors that permeated the sky as I watched the sunset. Only after recalling this experience with the golden sand dunes am I able to grasp why people call Jaisalmer the Golden City. Underneath a blanket of bright stars which crowded the night sky and left imprints on my eyelids, I feel asleep to the soft braying of camels around me. 

Sunset on a cloudy day in Jaisalmer Desert

Morning came quickly after a sound night’s sleep and with it another beautiful sunrise. After a moderate breakfast my friends and I broke camp and hopped on our camels in a race against the sun and the temperature as they crept ever with time. We made it back to Jaisalmer from the desert right around lunchtime and headed straight to eat and rehydrate ourselves. The previous day we had arranged at a restaurant to have a homemade Rajastani feast prepared for us upon our return from the nomadic desert life.

Me and my trusty steed ready to take on the desert

With a teaser of fresh-squeezed chilled mango juice, our chef walked out with our first course of Ker Sangri, a painstakingly difficult dish local to Jaisalmer which must be prepared by trimming hundreds of dried leaves by hand which form the base of the dish. An even greater sight than our food however, was the chef carrying it out. A barefoot, bare-chested short-short clad man in his sixties with a chest full of hair that would make even a shag carpet cower in shame. In the Indian desert, it seems dress codes in kitchens need not apply. When the man spoke, he revealed an eclectic mix of accents from his birth in India combined with his years spent living in Australia during much of his adult life. This resulted in his uncanny ability to use the word “bloody” in both a positive and negative fashion and often conveyed both meanings in the same sentence simultaneously. His first sentence was along the lines of “How the bloody hell are you?” followed shortly thereafter by “This bloody-good mango juice is just the thing to cure the bloody heat out there.”. I wish I was exaggerating about his use of the word bloody, but I’m afraid that wouldn’t be true.

Nevertheless, we were treated to an excellent meal and conversation by this Indian-Australian man. He turned out to be a devout Hindu with strong views about the prevalent corruption in Indian government. These beliefs combined into elegant pieces of wisdom such as “All Indian taxi drivers in this life will turn out to be mosquitos in the next life – they suck money out of people’s wallets, and next they will suck out the blood of everyone”. Or better yet, “You see all of those stray dogs roaming the streets? They used to be politicians, and now they must eat all of the trash they spewed out and created during their lives”. Of course, this wisdom stays in my head much better having heard it from an Indian-Australian accented man wearing short shorts and a shirt of hair covering his chest.