Camels, camels everywhere…

In case you have ever wondered what the market value of a camel is, I have it on good authority that a healthy, mature male camel would set you back in the region of 20,000 rupees (250 quid). If that's a bit out of your budget, then a baby camel is only a snip at 7,000 (a mere 87 pounds). Bargain. I acquired this knowledge, along with a whole host of other fascinating camel related facts, during the week long Camel Fair at Pushkar in Rajasthan.

The Camel Fair is an annual event, during which people from all over the region flock to this small desert town to buy and sell their camels. It has also become an excuse for a whole host of weird and wonderful Camel themed events, which draw travellers and tourists in their hoardes. Although, due to the Jaipur bombings in recent years, and the global recession, these hoardes are somewhat diminished and the locals are sadly feeling the pinch. So Jen and I thought we should do our bit for the local economy and play the role of the obliging tourist, which I feel we performed with great aplomb.

We actually pitched up in Pushkar a couple of days before the start of the fair, which meant that we got a taste of the town sans camel. We were also able to feel a part of the build-up and preparation. As the town began swelling with traders, toursists, touts and travellers, it was transformed from a laid-back, sleepy retreat to a full-on and frenetic hot-spot.

The hotel we were staying in had given us a programme of events - by far the most organisation I have encountered in India so far. This promised, amongst other things, a camel race, best dressed camel competition, camel dancing and, in case one should develop camel fatigue, there were a sprinkling of non-camel focussed events such as "Cultural Performances" and a Locals v Foreigners Ladies Hockey Match!

On the first day of the fair, we arrived early at the Mela (Fair) Ground's small stadium, as we wanted to make sure we had good seats for the 9am Flag Raising ceremony. We were surprised that the place wasn't busier and easily found seats (well a concrete bench) with a good viewfrom which we watched the officials erect a make-shift tent, test the sound systems ("Hello, Hello"), put out some seating, test the sound system again ("Hello, Hello"), manoevre some fencing into place and test the sound system once more just for good measure ("Hello, Hello"). Nine am came and went, with no sign of any flag raising.

Eventually a woman, who it seems was presiding over the event, started making announcements over the loudspeaker - so clearly all that testing didn't go to waste! These were mostly aimed at imposing some order over proceedings and jollying along the crowd; "Please show some encouragement to the performers", "Visitors please move back from the camels so that everyone can see". Poor woman may as well have been talking to a brick wall as no one paid a blind bit of attention.

At one point she attempted to rally the officials; "Officials can feel free to move visitors back". In England I think that 'officials' at these types of events quite relish the authority it affords them and would be keeping people in line, sometimes with too much zeal. I'd have thought that in India , a country obsessed with power and status, the same would have occurred. But as far as I could see, the officials were more interested in talking to their friends, and keeping the peanut and poppadom sellers in business.

Although, this can prove frustrating, it is also conducive to a very laid-back, no worries atmosphere - none of that 'oh no, please don't let that tall guy sit infront of us', 'quick you bagsy the seat and I'll get the icecreams', 'we better leave five mins early to avoid the rush', 'I think the parking ticket's going to expire' anxiety that often accompanies such occasions in the UK. The events themselves seemed to spring from nowhere, unannounced, impromptu, without any fuss - just like when I spent time with the social work agencies, my contacts in Delhi and also at APK, all of a sudden we were in the middle of a meeting, or before I knew it there was a family party taking place, or we were being presented as guests of honour in front of a whole school. So it was that, before I had chance to get my camera from my bag, a flurry of camels galloped by…and that was the camel race over and done with!

Organisation levels were stepped up however for the Foreigners versus Locals Ladies' Hockey Match, for which repeated announcements were made, along with increasingly anxious pleas for foreign participants to volunteer themselves. I tend to give any sports involving fast-moving inanimate objects a wide berth as my instinct is to run as fast as possible in the opposite direction of them - not exactly a desirable quality in a ball-game player. Fortunately Jen is more game than me and rose to the challenge; subjecting herself to fifteen minutes running around in the baking hot sunshine along with team mates from France, Japan, Holland and Belgium. They did stirling work keeping up the foreigners' side and even scoring a goal against the Local Team , who play semi-professionally. Their participation turned them into local celebrities and they were subsequently interviewed by a gang of reporters, presented with camel trophies by the Maharaja, and appeared in the local press next day!

Whilst the vistors are being kept happily amused with these antics, behind the scenes, the serious business of camel trading is taking place. At the back of the stadium a sea of tents and temporary shacks and of course, camels, stretched away as far as the eye could see. Very Lawrence of Arabia. We had been advised that a good way to experience this was, well, from astride a camel! So we succumbed to the truly tourist experience of taking a camel ride around the fair. Turned out to be the best 100 rupees I spent all week.

Our camel's owner was an easy-going guy, who didn't try to take us for a ride (well, other than the one we had paid for!) or sell us any extras, or any of that BS I have become so used to expecting. We quickly discovered that getting on a camel is impossible to do with any dignity or grace, and that the bit where the camel stands up with you on its back is rather like being on a very wobbly and uneven see-saw and is good fun, in a slightly nerve-wracking way. But I tell you, camel travel is the way to go. You have a fantastic view over everything; the elevation means you are too high up for people to hassle you (although some still gave it a good go, shouting up to us, "See this jewelry maam, very good price"); you save your feet from getting covered in filth, and I personally liked the swaying, swaggering motion of the camel walking.

Our camel was called Maradona and he was HUGE. As he/we plodded along, our camel dude explained that he was hoping to sell Maradona for 20,000 (as above) and buy a new camel. He asked us if we knew of any up-and-coming footballers he could name his new camel after; of course my mind drew an absolute blank. Jen proffered a few, of which Wayne Rooney, proved a favourite. Rooney...an excellent camel name. It was a beautiful time of day, just before the sun starts its descent and, as if feeling generous or grateful that its days work is done, bathes the world in its most flattering and soothing light. The camel ground was a hive of activity and mingling with the usual beeping, shouting, and general Indian noise was a cacophony of camel sounds; grunts, hrrumphs, belches, and other unscribable noises which we decided most closely resembled the communication style of Chewbacca from Star Wars.

By the time we left Pushkar I had definitely caught a touch of camel fever and was very excited at the prospect of an overnight camel trek, departing from our next destination, Jaisamler. There is something about camels, perhaps the way they fix you, or rather they can't quite be bothered to fix you, with that expression that only a camel can; indifference, mild disdain, no hint of interest, not a single bat of their super-long eyelashes. Plus they just have so many great design features; their feet - the satisfactory way they spread like huge furry sucker pads with each step across the searing hot desert floor, the long sand-screening eye lashes and their uber hi-tech water preservation system. Genius.

So we sign ourselves up with a camel trekking company (LP approved of course). Before we commence the trek we are given a comprehensive 'Guide to Camel Riding'; how to get safely on and off, start them up, steer, accelerate, decelerate, conduct emergency stops, parallel parks, what to do in case of emergency etc.....You didnt believe that did you? C'mon this is India! We were basically given a camel, told to hop on, the reins placed in our hands with the following instructions, "You want go left, pull left. Right, pull right", and off we went. Although camel driving is actually not too taxing, some instructions would have been useful, in particular;'What to do when your camel trips over its own feet', ' How to help you camel select the most logical pathway downhill as opposed to the steepest and least stable', 'Teaching your camel to walk round prickly bushes, rather than right through them (ouch!) and 'What to do when your camel decides to stop and snack on surrounding shrubbery'.

On being introduced to my camel I had been somewhat alarmed to learn that he was called 'Rocket'. If he lived up to his name I could be in for an interesting time. However, Rocket proved to be pretty docile and other than the occasional hiccup (see desired instructions above), we got on swimmingly. He got me safely to our camp-site on a small sand dune, where we watched the sun set and the moon rise. Our camel drivers prepared dinner over a camp-fire and we all sat round talking till, ooh gosh, as late as nine o'clock! Then when we bedded down on the mattresses that had functioned as saddles during the trek. The moon was almost full and cast an extraordinary amount of that strange, silghtly hypnotic light; such that there was no need for torches. It was a complete traveller cliche....and it was absolutely brilliant!

The next day, after an energetic and occasionally more thrilling than was entirely comfortable cantering session, we returned to Jaisalmer. I climbed/fell/lurched and hobbled off Rocket for the final time, bid him a fond farewell and so ended my camel extravaganza. But it left me with a new found respect for these slightly odd and amazing creatures, and when the little boy on our train to Mount Abu, keen to practise his English asked what my favourite animal was, I didn't hesitate - camels, of course!