India – December 2025
I arrive in Jaisalmer by sleeper bus from Pushkar. In the fresh morning air I walk to the Little Prince Hostel, which a lady I met at Zoola Palace Hotel in my previous destination recommended to me. Despite the early hour, I can already check in and am quickly introduced to the desert safari on offer by the brothers who run the guesthouse. As that’s my main purpose of visiting Jaisalmer and the price looks reasonable, I sign up right away for the next day’s scheduled tour. After a quick nap on the comfortable hostel terrace, I head out into the streets of the desert town. Here I am over the course of the day approached by at least 3 random guys who offer me tea, followed by an invitation to join their own desert safari. I politely decline the “best price” offers, saying that I already have a booking. I later hear different stories of people who have had great experiences joining guys like that on tours, and others ho reported animal abuse and blackmailing for good reviews. As for me, my biggest concern is that I’ll be able to sleep under the stars without any kind of “bedouin camp” dance performance.
The small, open jeep waiting for us in front of the hostel the next afternoon does provide a little reassurance in the sense that there is definitely not enough capacity for a large group. With Akira from Tokyo occupying the front seat and the 2 British guys, named Kesh & Andy, squeezing in the back with me, space is already limited. While waiting for Lari and Paula from Brazil to join, us Europeans in the back slowly start to get to know each other. After covering the classic traveller questions, we soon graduate to philosophy talks and discussions about the use of complex math in sociological context. It’s the kind of conversation that I haven’t had in a while and I’m especially enjoying the random expressions in Austrian German that Andy throws in every once in a while. He recently studied in Vienna for his PhD and picked up a very local German accent too.
With this entertainment, the 65 km drive into the Thar desert simply flies by. We soon leave the city behind and after kilometers of well-maintained highway roads, pass through small villages, where kids are on the way back home from school. When the driver stops at an ATM, a few of them run up to the jeep. While we are prepared for the usual enquiry about chocolate, the boy asking for “10 Dollars” rather than “10 Rupees” takes us a little aback. We pay them off with candy, and then, our drive continues towards the India-Pakistan border. Of course, we don’t go quite that far today. Our final destination lays just a little north from the Sam sand dunes. But before we can take in the sunset there, we stop at a slightly underwhelming oasis and a ghost village. The highlight of the first place are the relicts of a temple that we find half buried in the sand. The ghost village mostly consists of random piles of bricks and a fort that the driver says is closed, but there are still people walking on its outer walls.
Then again, all 6 of us tourists are mainly here for the sand experience. While I have spent quite some time in the desert of the UAE, I never actually spent a night in the dunes. And neither have I ridden a camel. Unfortunately, the latter is the popular mode of transport to reach the place where I can experience the former. After a bumpy ride through the bushy dunes (which gives me flashbacks of the time my car got stuck in the sand in Dubai) our driver tells us it’s time to switch to the 4-legged desert dwellers. Andy opts to walk his camel, while the rest of us let out little screams as the animals swayingly get up from their seated positions. I put all my trust in the young boy’s hands who’s expertly leading my “Shakira” through the dunes. We later find out, that most kids of the desert families only have classes part-time, whenever the teacher is visiting their village (ca. 3 times a week). But back to the ride. Everything goes well, and there is only a minor incident when Kesh’s camel decides to finish early today and suddenly lies down.
Kesh then also resorts to walking alongside the animal until we reach the nearby sand dunes, just in time to see the sun set behind the golden hills. There are only a few other tourists around and the camel driver reassures us, that they too will be leaving by the time it’s dark. While I think to myself that there is enough sand for all of us, another man walks up from the small camp at the bottom of the dunes with a tray of chai in his hand. We sip the hot tea and look at the sky turning all shades of red. The Brits and I continue the theme of the afternoon with banter about the surprising amount of trees and bushes in the desert, and I find myself very content in this effortlessly sarcastic European setting. With each of those group tours that I join as a solo traveller, I worry less about the other participants. I simply trust that the experience will be worthwhile no matter the company. Nevertheless, it’s always nice to find people with similar expectations, outlooks on lives and sense of humour.
While we chatter away, the camel driver, his son and other male relatives are busy preparing dinner. Over a small bonfire, a vegetables are simmering in a large pot. It’s getting dark quickly and in an attempt to be of any help, I offer my headlamp to the young boy stirring the stew. Looking for other forms of entertainment while waiting for dinner to be ready, Akira, Andy and I busy ourselves with making a second bonfire to sit around. We light branches of the dry bushes dotting the landscape at the cooking fire and transfer the flame to smaller sticks at the fire pit in the eating area. By now, the temperature has already dropped significantly, and everyone scooches a little closer on the blankets surrounding the fire. Then the food is served and we warm ourselves with multiple servings of vegetable stew, rice and fresh roti. Some of the village men also sit with us and everyone is asked about their home country.
With a good mix of nationalities, the question of religion comes up soon. Everyone has a different reply, and I sense that Kesh seems most hesitant to answer. Born to Indian parents raised in the UK, he’s Hindu but says that it’s more cultural than spiritual practice for him. Given the geographical proximity to Pakistan and certain words being used in the conversation, both Kesh and I are aware that our hosts are likely muslim. While multiple cultures have been coexisting in India for a long time, religion has also played a significant role in the partition struggles and the different believe systems continue to divide people. Throughout my journey across India, I mostly meet people who are openminded and would like for everyone to live together peacefully. But like in any other country, politicians are doing the most to villainize those who don’t follow their own beliefs. So, I think it’s totally natural for people to evaluate what they are comfortable sharing depending on the situation and gauging the present audience’s reaction.
Luckily, the mood is soon lightened again when I spot the first shooting star. It brings us back to Andy’s area of expertise (mathematics) and we try to come up with creative ways to calculate the probability for all of us to see more of them. Those stupid hypothetical conversations where none of the participants take themselves too seriously are honestly my favorite. Wrapped in layers of shawls and scarves, we spread out on our blankets in the sand and lay on our backs looking up into the night sky. With little to no light pollution in the area, star constellations are clearly visible, and I spot one shooting star after another. At one point I stop counting and bundled up under my weighted blanket, fall asleep soundly. I wake up just before sunrise and see that Andy is already up, walking around the dunes. Wanting some peace and quiet, I grab my sandals and opt for another sandy hill facing east. But it’s only a short while before the rest of the group joins us, including the desert dwellers who serve us freshly brewed chai.
I could easily spend another day like this, but unfortunately, our time in the desert is slowly coming to an end. We head back to the camp to pack our bags and I eat the first continental breakfast in a while. Suddenly, we hear loud bleating from behind the kitchen shed. A herd of about 30 goats pulls up from out of nowhere, swiftly scanning the sand dunes for anything edible. While the few bushes around the camp seem like the most logical choice, the livestock is more interested in the rice bag that is being reused as a trash bag. One of the animals actually pops its head into the bag and emerges triumphantly chewing on a banana peel. Our hosts quickly shoo the goat away, only for another one to try its luck a minute later. While the villager’s older son fights off the goats, the younger 2 are busy preparing the camels for transportation. This time, 5 out of 6 of us opt for a leisurely desert walk rather than another ride. Only Akira climbs up on the camel once again and lets himself be carried ahead of us.
45 minutes later, we arrive in the small village where our hosts live with their families. Kids of all ages are playing together in the large courtyard between the cubic shaped concrete houses. A lady is filling large copper vases with water from the underground tank, and in the semi-open building next to the tank, another woman is rolling out dough for fresh roti. The only adult man visible is our driver. He greets his baby son and plays with him for a while before ushering us into the jeep to return to the city. During the 1-hour drive back to civilisation all of us take some time to reflect on the last night. We exchange Instagram handles before first the Brazilian girls and then Akira are dropped off at their accommodation. Then Kesh, Andy and I get off at the Little Prince Hostel, from where we venture into the town to explore options for the guys to go on a quad ride in the dunes. However, we only get one proposition from a dubious man who’s known across town for scamming tourists left and right. So we resort to spend the rest of the day with the best activity one can do in India: eating.
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