Dan and I have both considered trading our camels in for bicycles. Dealing with an unruly camel on a busy road is like working on a bomb squad. You never know what is going to happen. In the village we are staying now, we discovered someone who we thought might help us with our difficult camels. Jagmal has a wrinkled face, thin legs, and a bit of a stoop to his 72-year old body. He is a camel dancing instructor. He travels from village to village teaching camels to dance. A dancing camel lifts its feet in time to music and will respond to the slightest command from its master.

When Jagmal mounted Reika, she showed him her naughty side. She swirled, backed into walls, and took off at a wild gallop. Frail looking Jagmal stuck to her back like a desert burr. An hour later, he returned. Reika looked like she had run a marathon. Over the next couple of days, Jagmal has had Dan and I getting on our camels and galloping across sand tracks. We weave through waving grain stalks, patches of watermelon, and dal bean fields. At a camel lope, we pass mud-walled huts, villagers calling out the greeting "Ram-Ram", and an occasional water buffalo. Riding a cantering camel for several hours leaves me more tired than if I'd gone for a run on my own. Jagmal takes no pity on me, and pushes me back on Reika for more riding. Jagmal says it takes 30 days to train a dancing camel. If we had the time, we could train our camels to dance across India. We explain to Jagmal that we will be happy with a camel that stops or goes on command.

Next, changes to our plans.