They say that to get to Jaisalmer you need horse of wood, legs of stone and carriage of steel. And they are right. It is far away from everywhere, the railway ends there and the roads do not lead much futher.
I had neither horse of wood nor legs of stone. But carriage of steel yes. I got there by train from Bikaner. Through strangely flat semidesert where all the railway stations looked exactly the same. And so did the houses next to them. Always 4–6 of them. Nothing else. If the train was going in circles nobody would have noticed. Phalodi was the only place of any size, almost a small town. I slept through Pokaran nearby which India tested its atom bombs. Save for the three soldiers who got off somewhere along the way my carriage was empty – unheard of on Indian trains.
Jaisalmer was visible from far away. ROck topped with imposing fort growing from the flat landscape. All sandstone. Both rock and fort. Place and labyrinth of alleys inside. Miniature squares and temples. Full of souvenir shops and hotels and restaurants. But somehow quiet and Disneyland-unlike. And people still live there. Few thousand of them. Mostly brahmins (highest caste). But then I realized that the place is nowhere near as big as Prague Castle or Carcassonne and the initial awe was gone. Jaisalmer became just a nice fort.
Town beneath the fort is all sandstone too. If Jaipur was of peach icecream, Jaisalmer is of pure gold. At least in the late afternoon. Walking around it you stumble upon havelis built only fifty years ago but looking much older, older than those in Bikaner. Some of those are still inhabited, others have museums and souvenir shops inside. And yet other ones are inhabited by pidgeons and bats only. I liked those the best.
Few pictures
Haveli Patwon Ki, built in 1950s.
Haveli Patwon Ki, courtyard.
Fort.
Hotel Swastika.
