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ONE News reporter Jack Tame on Mr India - Source: ONE News -
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Commonwealth Games reporter Jack Tame is now travelling in India, where he discovers not to listen to the travel guide.
I lay silent as the sun disappeared into the smoky crimson of India's desert twilight. My feet bare, I pushed them deep into the warm sand beneath me. I sighed, and lay back perfectly relaxed.
In this most romantic of settings, I gently turned to my side. My companion, none other than Mr India, gazed into my eyes.
His lips quivered just a little. His long slender legs stretched, he lowered his head and batted his eyelids quite purposefully.
Then he farted.
Then he whinnied.
Then he spat some green stuff and it landed on my shorts. Eww.
Mr India is my camel. He and I have a brief but chequered past. We've laughed together, we've been just a little stroppy with each other, and in the time we've been companions I've never stopped sweating.
This morning, I woke in Jaisalmer, a remote dusty desert town in the far west of India. With a Dutch steel engineer, an Australian social worker and a Japanese art therapist I headed 30km into the nothingness, to ride through the desert on a camel.
Yes, it's a little touristy. Yes, it's a bit lame. But 36 hours on a camel sounded just like the sort of thing you can't do in Grey Lynn.
We headed off, each prepared for a night under the stars.
The guide boy had told us we wouldn't need to bring much at all. The desert doesn't have toilets, so be prepared for that. Insects can be a bit bitey, so be prepared for that. The sun can be quite burny, so be prepared for that.
But no, honestly... we wouldn't need much, he said. We wouldn't need blankets. We wouldn't need pillows. We wouldn't need water.
We wouldn't need water.
Well, let me tell you what you should always take if you're heading into the desert, even if the guide boy definitely said not to bring it.
Let me tell you what your body screams for when it's 40C and there's no oasis or shelter or Starbucks in sight... Let me tell you what everyone else packed first, and I failed to pack at all.
Water.
Goooood.
It's ok, I told myself. These other tourists are posers. Look at them, they brought sheets and toilet paper... they're soft!
I have a casual shirt and an Indiana Jones hat that makes me look like I'm an expert in desert survival. I'll just guts it out for a few hours and hope the curry we cook for lunch is a little bit runnier than usual.
Water.
Ten minutes in, what I would have done for water. The sun was cruelly intense. I could feel my casual shirt stuck to my back, following my spine all the way down. I could taste salty sweat running from the brim of my Indiana Jones hat down past my eyes and into my mouth.
Water.
We had curry for lunch. The guide boy made it with fresh chapatti and everything and it was delicious. But it wasn't runny.
Water.
After lunch we sheltered from the sun under a tree. I slept - I think we all did - but by the time I woke up my mouth was filled with white goopy stuff. Mr India had a drink at a brown, murky dam. It seemed Mr India was taunting me.
Onwards we pressed, past the odd goat and tumbled little
villages.
Heading west, very slowly, from rock and weed we moved to big
glorious sand dunes.
We took many photos and laughed aloud many times. We joked about accidentally crossing the border into Pakistan. Everyone took a turn to sing a national song. It wasn't lame. It was an adventure. And Mr India was staunch throughout. He faltered only occasionally to scratch himself, or to strip leaves from a sickly looking plant.
At 5pm the sun was tired and no longer intense. Before our final resting spot, we stopped briefly at a little hut, where a man, who knew a sucker when saw one, offered us cold drinks.
"30 rupee? Mate I would've paid 500."
I grabbed a bottle of water. I grabbed a bottle of beer. I grabbed a bottle of Mountain Dew.
Twist. Chiiii... Slam.
Twist. Chiii... Slam.
Twist. Chiii... Slam.
I have whetted my thirst. Mr India has done the same. We have a big day of trekking tomorrow, and a big sky of stars to sleep under.
For now though, I am hydrated, and I am happy.
Read more Delhi and India blogs here .
