Another view of camel drivers

Having just returned from a 25-day adventure in India and Nepal, I was shocked when I read “Taken for a Ride” (Nov. 23). Not only were Lori Mayfield’s experiences the opposite of my own, but her observations were so off the mark that I wonder who was being taken for a ride.

My husband and I also rode camels for sunset views of the sand dunes in the Great Thar Desert outside of Jaisalmer, Rajasthan. We had a marvelous time, and the experience was far better than we had anticipated.

Why did Mayfield fail to notice the carnival atmosphere as hundreds of tourists were at the sand dunes, riding camels and caravaning on the ridges as far as the eye can see? The destination was clearly in sight. Everyone was riding camels out to the ridge of dunes.

The only garbage-strewn area I saw was the area adjacent to the tented camps of camel drivers, which were along the road.

I had a hard time believing the leering cheat she portrays as her camel driver. Our camel drivers couldn’t have been more courteous. They were concerned each time we mounted that we lean way back when the camels got up from sitting. If not, you will fall forward and off the camel. It was clear to me that every camel driver was taking great pains to make sure his clients remained safe.

We were asked, admittedly in broken English but not the cave-man script of Mayfield’s article, which dune we wanted to park ourselves on to watch the sunset. We were asked if we wanted to guide the camels ourselves or be led, whether we wanted to walk, lope or run. Not once did they pressure us for more money, but knowing the ropes we volunteered to tip them when we took pictures of them and at the end of the ride.

The ride out to the dunes, walking, took about 40 minutes; the ride back, running, took about 10. The ride wasn’t as rough as I had feared. On such a short ride it isn’t possible to accumulate pain and discomfort.

On the dunes, musicians and pretty dancing girls in brilliantly colored Rajasthani costumes walked from one group of tourists to another, trying to drum up business performing or posing for pictures -- all for tips.

I suppose some might describe Rajasthani music as a “wail” or “screeching,” but I found that it’s just different from the music we’re used to. It’s tribal, charming and interesting.

Boys wandered the same route selling water. You could take it or leave it, and after five weeks in India, Mayfield should have been familiar with the tactics needed to avoid any of this.

Linda Minoo

Agoura Hills

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