Falling Into Autumn

Today, on this 8th day of September, it is snowing. The snow is falling falling falling and as much as I try and ignore it, pretend it isn't happening- the snow continues to fall. I cancelled my evening plans and am frustrated that these delicate white flakes have so much power over my life.

This is something I wrote not too long ago. 

Aug 27th- 2014

The water laps at my neon pink toes. It is deliciously icy, the unbearable chill seeping into my bones. Nevertheless it calls my name. A week ago, I would have answered that call.I would have embraced the glacial waters because they would have embraced me back. The sun would have kept it's promise and coloured my skin golden until I was ready to plunge into the river's freezing waters once more. 

August my dear one is almost over and September is looming, I can feel it in the air. I can feel it with the extra blanket I am now throwing over my bed. There are less children running freely. A feeling of resignation has settled over the faces that pass me by. They've had their fun, now to work, to learn. To harden themselves against the coming bluster that will pound their cheeks, crack their hands and nibble off their noses.  And how do I feel? 

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When I wrote this, the coming bluster was just a poetic thing in the distant future. I'm afraid the bluster has come.  Waay too prematurely in my opinion, but nobody is asking me!

This time last year I was in India. That's all my blog has been about really, and I still think about India . I resided on a mountaintop and the weather was stubborn in it's consistency. Raining or bright days, the usual forecast. But I don't think the thermometer fluctuated too much. Bluster was rare. How strange it was to be a in a land without seasons! Well seasons that I am used to- the heat that you can swim in, the winds and changing colors of the leaves that indicate one should don a scarf, the first snowfall, then the all encompassing snow... who am I kidding? Weather in Alberta does not follow such a dreamy timeline. Ok, I definitely did not want it to snow in India, but while I was there it never felt like time was passing.

This fall has begun and suddenly I am thrown into a whirlwind of driving and scheduling conflicts. And the snow is falling falling falling. I don't want to drive in the snow. I don't want to spend ten minutes to put on enough clothing to prepare me for the outside world. I'M NOT READY!

Ah but when Winter turns to Spring and the folk loosen their collars, having braved the winds and white and wailing nights, that is when they emerge, truly triumphant, victorious and beautiful. 

But first- Autumn. It will come. This snow will melt and leaves will crunch under my feet. 

____

So no, I am not ready for fall. But I am falling into it. And my river full of rapids and turmoil and rocks still manages to whisper " peace dear" and rushes on. 

Musings from a Camel Hump

I would like to start by saying that I have never ridden a horse. I know. I think of this as a great failing in my character and hope to remedy this sometime. I have however ridden a camel. I just spent the last two days trekking around the desert on camel back. This is my second camel trek in my short existence.

Yesterday morning we began our journey after a quick pack and a hasty exit from our hotel in Jaisalmer. My boyfriend boldly proclaimed that he “didn’t need deodorant out in the wild”( he’s hard core, this one) and we were off.

We met our camel drivers some distance out of Jaisalmer. I watched them come in with the previous batch of tourists. These tourists seemed like the real adventure types. That’s the first time I have ever seen a blond in a turban. It suited him. After hearty good byes, photographs, and the blond-adventure type- travellers smoothly inhaling their cigarettes, the camels were exchanged and I found myself balancing 7 feet up on a camels hump. We began our journey, off into the land without water, the great big yonder, the desert.  I affectionately named my camel Gargle Spots. I chose this name for two reasons. The first reason was because he was a master gurgler. He greeted me with a huge open mouth and gave me a clear view of the twigs ensnared in his teeth and gums, the flies that had found their way into his mouth, his green coated tongue and all the way down, down his slimy throat. Quite attractive I assure you. Anyways he would open his mouth, give me that amazing view of his lunch and proceed to gargle. Rolling his saliva around , spitting out maggoty boogers, the whole works! The second reason I chose his name is because he was spotted. I am not sure if this was natural or if he dyed it. As you can see, I really had to reach deep into my creativity for this one.

Here is a picture of Gargle Spots with his bird friend on his head.

We were lightly stepping across the desert. I was at the back in our modest train, each camel linked to the next with a small rope. I took in the camel driver, softly humming a desert tune, and the small boy tucked in behind him. I took in the endless brown sand and perfect blue sky. My gaze moved to my boyfriend on the camel right in front of me. He was bouncing up and down, he had a pained expression on his face and I am pretty sure that his pants were riding up in a very bad way. Ah my poor hardcore-deoderantless love! And now this is my confession, I thought he simply did not have the hang of it, whereas I, being on the second camel trek of my life ( the first one was 10 years ago) was gliding smoothly along because I was very experienced. I might have even smirked.

We stopped for lunch- chapatti, potatoes in sauce and rice. Oh and chai, don’t forget the chai. We lounged in the sun. I snoozed.

Soon it was time for ride number 2. I boarded my camel easily, expecting another jaunt. I ignored my boy friends nervous face. The camel took a step. My gosh! The agony! My saddle seemed to be too far forward. And there was this extremely big lump in my saddle in the worst place.  Camels have very long necks and my entire body was jostling on a downward slope. Suddenly it was all I could do to stay up there. Bracing myself with my wrists, trying not to come down too hard on my crotch, I bounced and jostled and was flung here and there. Meanwhile my boy friend sailed by.  He showed me all the empathy that I had not shown him. My camel, for some reason was in a hurry. This was the time he decided to trot. Let me tell you, the ride does not get any smoother when a camel runs. I spent the next while gritting my teeth while being flung up and down. I am pretty sure that my boyfriend had had the same problem that morning. I regretted my earlier smirk.

Thankfully this agony and torture did not last too long. I think the camel driver caught on to my winces and groans pretty quick. Soon we were stopped for the evening nestled in some glorious sand dunes.

We watched the sunset. We took big loping strides through the sand. We found appropriate sized tumble weeds to pee behind. I have discovered that toilet paper is very pretty when it burns.

The night was chilly but the two of us had a small tent. After gazing at the stars for as long as our frozen feet could stand it, we retired inside.

The next day both of our saddles were cinched properly. The desert was calm and quiet. We trotted through, both of us doing pretty well for ourselves I think. We saw our drivers small hut. I held a baby goat that had been born the day before. My face got a little wind burned. I could now look at my camel with affection and was even a little sad to part ways. My boyfriend named his camel Mr. Gangles. You will have to ask him for the meaning.

I now understand a little, the pull the desert has. It is a beautiful, vast place. Now that we have returned to Jaisalmer the horns and bustle of the city seem even more jarring to me. I miss my brief glimpse into desert life and appreciate it immensely.