Pushkar, here I come!

By bus that is! The other two westerners on the bus and I padlock our backpacks together in the luggage hold ... all the while arguing with the driver that we will not pay him RS 6 to store our bags.

Aaargh ... we arrive and are descended upon by everyone. There aren't any rickshaws or taxis, but there are these rolling wooden platforms that are pushed/pulled by a guy. I negotiate to go to the tents ... who knew there were so many tent villages. I had a sneaky suspicion he had no clue where mine was. He pushes me a short distance and STOPS, pointing into the distance through sand dunes with livestock - that way Madam!

Backpack on, very deep breath in, I start walking through the deep sand, past camels, horses, cows, goats and pigs, past children begging. Up and down a couple of dunes and like a mirage I see tents in the distance. Trudge, trudge, trudge through a little village, over a low fence, through a gate, crawling underneath some barbed wire ... it becomes real. But, it's not my tents!

But they were kind and I plopped onto one of their chairs, they gave me some water, and called the number I had (why didn't I think of that). Half hour later, a driver arrived!

Lovely tents, bathroom with TP, two towels, and a hot water bucket.

With all that, I'm home!