Day 24 - 28

Headed off to Jaisalmer. We had left it too late to get the train, I refused to get a bus (see earlier blog) so we resorted to private driver again. Unfortunately the grumpiest Indian ever arrived and drove the five hours in third gear with a scowl. Everytime we turned the aircon up, he turned it down. Arse. We did smile sweetly when Clover vomited all over his front seat. Sadly, being the kind of ridiculous man who leaves plastic covers over his seats, the damage and smell was minimal. Still he was cross though, which was the main thing. During the journey we all marvelled at the beautifully dressed women working in the fields and waving at us - real manual labour all day long in 45 degree heat - and that is before the housework and childcare chores they have to look forward to in their mud huts. How hard they have to work, how happy they seem,
how hot it is, how spoiled and pathetic I am, how dignified they are. Imagine some 40-a-day benefit-bothering fatty from Blantyre being asked to do the same thing. And it can't
be about life chances, I have no doubt these women are also survivors of sexual or domestic abuse, sufferers of mental health problems and poverty, with sadness and loss. It is a cultural problem, our country just doesn't seem to have the same hope or expectations. In Scotland, failure is an option.

I had booked a hotel online which, despite being recommended by Lonely Planet turned out to be a disaster. I was happy to settle for it and Fern, bless her said brightly 'this is nice mummy' as she slipped on the mildew and got tangled in the moth eaten single curtain. Rufus bravely put his foot down and negotiated with the manager to 'leave instantly'. We then found a lovely old haveli with large, bright rooms, aircon, and a roof terrace. Best bit was being able to watch heavily censored films on HBO. Perfect. NB - watching the censored version of Sex and the City cuts the movie down to about 40 minutes, and there was no character development of Samantha at all.
Had to stay in nearly all of day one as Clover developed the ubiquitous squirty bum to accompany her vomit.
I must have been up 20 times during the night, the last 19 times really pissing me off. Rufus also did his back in, probably carrying my toiletries up the stairs, and needed to lie down for about 12 hours.

The next day we were up and out early and everyone seemed recovered.
Was kind of thinking forts fell into the same catergory as cathedrals and museums for me, as in 'seen one, seen them all'. Not with Jaisalmer. The most beautiful, spectacular building I have ever seen (and I include St Peters in Seville, Leeds Castle and Greggs
in Paisley). A giant sandcastle. Nearly half of the city's inhabitants live inside the fort walls where there are also hotels, restaurants and a million shops selling tablecloths and bedspreads at very good price. The views from outside the city walls are obviously the best bit as you can see the fort from all angles. Absolutely stunning and we all loved it. Apart from the fort, Jaisalmer looks much like the rest of Rajasthan - golden, hot and dusty. Managed to find a second hand book shop and bought myself a book on serial killers which made me very happy. Had dinner at Little Italy which annoyed Rufus intensely, being determined to only eat traditional Indian food. I couldn't face another
curried cauliflower and wolfed down my traditional pineapple pizza. Lovely roof terrace with a view of the fort, silk canopied ceiling and the normal quota of Indian men randomly sleeping under the tables. I bought a silk Ali Baba jumpsuit which appears to not suit my natural body shape as much as I had hoped.

After two days in Jaisalmer, we relocated to Minerva Nature Resort, another internet deal. Promised a traditional mud hut with luxurious finishings in the middle of the desert, with assorted animals and birds we were not disappointed. Lovely pool, aircon, giant mud hut with stained glass windows and no menu! They literally provided food three times a day and you ate it politely. Well, Clover didn't. She was angry to discover the 'noodles' she was eating was actually cabbage, spat it out, and was sent back to the room. Rufus happily photographed kingfishers all day (birds not beers) and Fern and I happily threw cushions off the sun loungers into the pool. They didn't dry out as well as we hoped. We befriended a Sikh in the pool, resplendent in chic white swimming turban, who quizzed us about our salaries and our sporting interests and then got angry about why we hung Saddam Hussein. The language barrier got in the way of clarification.
Nothing much else to do and the relaxing is doing me good after all the city stress and sightseeing.

Clover still not feeling very well and has a sore tummy and sore throat. Starting to feel slightly anxious about her health.

Turns out the national bird of India is the kingfisher, not the peacock as we were originally told.
I thought it was Shilpa Shetty.