Mr.John – the camel, and superb ice-cream

The day of arrival in Pushka we drove into the hotel just after noon, and where told a Indian wedding was to take place in eveningtime. I was instantly invited and looking forward. I really needed a nap, as the experiences from the previous days had sucked the energy out of me.

At the exact moment i was to fall asleep, i was clear awake again, listening to the rehearsal of the wedding orchestra. This included a horde of military drums, trumpets and god knows what (I’m sure he does). It all sounded off-key and like a total mess.  I was sure it was a rehearsal, cause’ by the sound of it, they needed just that…It was no rehearsal, they where going on until the evening.

The wedding was great, beautiful, and superb! Home-made ice cream was given to me, probably the best ice-cream Ive had. They also gave me soup, which looked like broccoli-soup, but was in fact some other vegetable thing, with enormous amounts of sugar, which ive gotten used to in India now (and I’ve only spent a few days).

Here’s the Indian recipe for success in the kitchen:

  • Make a thing
  • Put shitloads of sugar into it
  • Enjoy

I mean Im a sugar lover, but these people are killing me, i have to order black coffee, cause even the white coffee without sugar taste like chocolate.

I also went for a camel safari, which Sanye had arranged to pick me up at the hotel. A small boy (8 years old) was in control of this huge animal. I was excited, but quite soon felt very uncomfortable in the situation. The ride itself was very confy (i cant imagine another animal or vehicle that will keep you sitting straight up, when they walk up 45 degrees of hillside!), but the way they treated their animals was just not giving me a good vibe. They pull and twist a rope that is attached to some pierced metal stick going trough its nose. The camel looks constantly in pain (but i don’t know, all camels look like they are to old).
However, my camel safari turned out to be a walk of shame. As we walked trough town i felt as if everyone looked at me thinking “How can you do that” “How are you thinking?” or “Do you torture children too?”. I was 2 meters above everyone, a position i did not enjoy much as i felt like some diktator, and an animal torturer who was proud of it.

The camels name was Mr.John.. what the fuck? I renamed the poor bloke to “Lonesome warrior of struggle” and made sure my safari would only be half time of the original plan. I don’t regret the safari, as it thought me something important:

If you love animals, don’t make profit on them

Coming back, my dear driver, Sanye, had proven to be quite a man of planning. As the day went on he was basically making a schedule for me. Including trips to town with a guide, upcoming travels to other cities,  visits to temples etc etc. I told him later that night when we drank Whiskey, that I’m not in India to make plans, its not what i plan to do. He had a hard time understanding this, but respected me.

However, the next day he asked me to join his friend on motorbike, around town, to get the sunglasses and small book for notes i had expressed a need for earlier. This was a free ride, with a small tip to the driver only, so i agreed. I don’t know where i should have had my alarm going, my hustle alarm, but no matter what, i would later understand i was already deep into the hands of big hustlers…

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