Desert Dwelling in Jaisalmer

It had been awhile since a new location usurped the title of "favorite Indian city... so far". Orchha was still hanging on strong but tragically for them, our 7th stop was Jaisalmer. Set in the thick of the Thar desert, Jaisalmer is something out of an arid fairy tale or as Lonely Planet puts it, a sand castle with a city attached.

From the moment that we stepped off our over-crowded dusty bus and found a man with a bright Shahi Palace sign to the welcome drink that awaited us on the rooftop of the hotel, it was clear that this was the perfect place to kick back and relax.

The hotel sits in the shadow of the aforementioned sand castle, or as it is better known, the Jaisalmer Fort, offering spectacular views from its rooftop lounge. Naturally, it is common to find backpackers hanging out on the multi-hued pillows at all hours enjoying the vista and kicking back on some spiced coffees. And to be clear, by spiced coffees, I mean Kingfisher beer. By this point, I had caught on to the fact that no one actually has a liquor license in India. At first I was concerned to see that most menus did not list adult beverages. Turns out this is not a problem.

Normally, you order a beer, someone jumps on a motorcycle and minutes later, motorcycle guy and beer arrive back at your table. Other times, the establishment in question has a better pay-off arrangement with the local police and the beers are kept closer by. But the one constant is that the beers are always played off as something else. In Jaisalmer, it was spiced coffee. In Udaipur, I found my bill full of dal bati. In Delhi, there was no written bill, but the beers came wrapped in newspaper. Next to the Jaisalmer Fort Palace, my beer was poured into a teapot and served that way. It is a hilariously obvious way around the law, but everyone seems to be willing to play the game, so it was spiced coffee in Jaisalmer for us.

I relaxed as long as my restless traveller constitution would allow and then quickly set out to explore the barely manageable maze of the city. I headed towards the havelis, or private mansions, that once belonged to the town's movers and shakers. First on the list was the Nathmal ki Haveli, built in the 19th century by a pair of competing brothers. Each of them designed one wing and the end result, while completely harmonious, is like an architectural game of spot the differences. The caretaker is a 6th generation descendant of the brothers, who was willing to give me a brief tour of the more ornate rooms and sat with me on the stoop chatting amiably until my friends arrived.

The following day, I got a closer look at the grandest of all havelis, the Patwon ki Haveli. Technically, it should probably be called Patwon ki Havelis since it is really five structures built for the five sons of a rich merchant, all joined together. Today, only the structural cohesiveness remains, since each building appears to be owned by a different person or entity, resulting in competing side by side museums. I opted for the one still owned by the family with rooms decorated in the same fashion as in their heyday. The brightly painted and mosaic'ed walls and furnishing were so festive and full of life that I took more photos than a Home and Garden editor on a deadline with full intent of stealing as many decorating ideas as I can. If I pull it off, I may even call my home the Berti Ki Haveli.

A simple ceiling in the Patwon ki Haveli

We finished off the triumvirate of havelis with a visit to the Salim Singh ki Haveli. As with most of Jaisalmer, it is carved from a radiantly warm golden sandstone. The degree of intricacy and the amount of delicate detail to be found throughout the building belie that toughness of the material used. It's a beauty that can best be appreciated from the outside, although the resident guide's thorough and patient explanation of the building process and the functions of the various rooms is well worth the time and entrance fee.

Having seen all the major havelis, Laura and I did what everyone visiting Jaisalmer is required by law to do, we headed out to the desert. Perhaps it is not a legal entity that requires it, but a tourist dictum that says that all who pass through here must at some point mount a camel, watch a sunset, attend a campfire dinner/ dance show and sleep under the stars. We were willing to cover two out of the four. We rode a jeep through the Thar National Desert Park stopping along the way to admire the royal cenotaphs at Bada Bagh, visit a small Jain temple and sprint through a non-descript village pursued by a relentless pack of children demanding sweets, pens and shampoo. We also paid a visit to the camels we would have ridden but magnanimously decided to give them a day off and continue on with the comfort of the jeep. Based on the recommendation of our guide, Sunny, we opted for an area of non-touristy sand dunes as our spot to watch the sunset. Second to our decision to come to India, this may have been one of the best calls we made. I felt like we had the desert all to ourselves.

It was so thrillingly peaceful to breathe clean air and not hear the car horns and commotion of the city, listening only to the sound of the wind and watching the seemingly endless expanse of undulating dunes. By the time the sun had set, I was still not ready to leave so we made the impromptu decision to join one of the touristy campfire shows. During that time, we listened to traditional music, I nearly spun myself into the bonfire during the audience participation segment of the dance and good food and drinks were enjoyed by all. But all that aside and even with a respectable fire blazing, it was hard to ignore that it had become extremely teeth-chatteringly cold. Any lingering ideas about a night spent camping in the desert were quickly vanquished as we raced back to our nice warm hotel rooms.

The next day, it was back into full sightseeing mode with our first visit to the fort we had been admiring for days. We took advantage of the morning visiting hours to see a grouping of seven Jain temples. Disorientation got the better of me and try as I might, I was only able to locate six of them, but it was a quality six. There were carvings reminiscent of the ones in Khajuraho with showy busty women and the occasional nipple-pinch here and there alongside serene Buddha-like images. Each temple was staffed with well-intentioned, if linguistically challenged, holy men trying valiantly to explain the specifics of each diety. I found myself doing a lot of smiling and nodding, that is, whenever I was not trying to locate that seventh temple. I had better results at our next stop, the Fort Palace where an audioguide was included with the price of admission. The palace was not as well preserved or decorated as some of the others we visited, making the rooftop view of the city the high point of the visit. The low point would have to be the high school group preening for photos against every conceivable backdrop, blocking access to each and every room. This was aggravated by the fact that all the main rooms were blocked off with protective glass, leaving only narrow passageways to maneuver through. It was during these times that I found the music included in the audioguide most helpful and soothing.

On our fourth and final day, we went with our original impression of Jaisalmer and opted to simply relax. We visited a "lake" or better said, a spot where a lake would have been had there been sufficient rain during the last couple of years. As it stood, it was more a puddle with hauntingly pretty temples scattered throughout. I wandered idly through the winding lanes in one last vain attempt to orient myself but ended up lost and with a henna'ed hand (as seen in the above photo by Laura). But mainly, we lounged on the rooftop with our spiced coffees enjoying the sights, sounds and, yes, smells of the city.

And when I say smell, I want to be perfectly clear that there was no one overwhelming scent. Here is where I want address another major myth about India, that the entire country smells like curry. This one comes us so often that it has a life of its own. I have heard it repeated by people all over the world. As far as myths go, this one has more legs than a Siamese centipede. But yet, I don't get it, honestly, I don't. After spending over a month in India and visiting eleven different cities, I could not find any overwhelming aroma of curry. It is possible that I have a remarkably poor sense of smell (I am similarly baffled by all the people who say that Venice reeks). Or it is possible that it is a seasonal thing and had I been there in summer, I would have been bowled over by the stench. Or perhaps the perpetrators of this myth all held part-time jobs in the kitchen of a Delhi Curry in a Hurry. Whatever it is, I have no explanation for why people say this. I can only speak for myself when I say I found no curry funk, only a new favorite city.

Patwon ki Haveli : The largest of all the havelis










Salim Singh ki Haveli


Bada Bagh: the Royal Cenotaphs


The Thar Desert


Chilling in the desert.


Sunset


One of the main entrance gates into the fort


The Jain Temples




View from the Jaisalmer Fort Palace


The view from our hotel's roof at sunset




Gadi Sagar "lake" in the background...


...and in the foreground