A great gob of shaving cream-like foam landed on my forehead. I tried to wipe it away with my arm only to find more on my sleeve. In fact, my shirt and turban were covered with the stuff.

For the last several hours, we had been trying to find a way through Sikar, a medium-sized city on our route. Trying to avoid traffic, we had entered a twisting maze of narrowing alleys. Ponds of raw sewage blocked the streets along the way, forcing us down other alleys. And we were being shadowed by a group of 30 boys who made the camels increasingly nervous.

Finally, we were forced to go back to the main road through the city. And worst case scenario, night had fallen. The road was filled with cars, buses, auto-rickshaws, and trucks. They all seemed to be honking at us, a custom in India, and their headlights were blinding. The gobs of foam spattering my clothing came from my two camels. They were foaming at the mouth with fear. I was fighting to keep their heads down. A high head, when the camel is under stress, indicates camel panic. A lower head gives more control. My hands and arms were burning with the strain of trying to keep their heads down by holding them on a short rein close to their chins. Sometimes they'd lift me off the ground when a big bus rumbled by.

Dan and I were resigned to walking all night if necessary to get out of this traffic nightmare. Periodically, we'd dip into an alley to give the camels and ourselves a break from the traffic. But curious crowds would form. People were oblivious to our repeated requests to stay away from the camels. Our warnings that the camels bite and kick were ignored as people crowded in for a closer look. So we'd have to abandon our rest spot and move on to lose the crowd. It was exhausting. At one point, we pulled into the only open space, a gas station. One of the attendants came up to us just as two of the camels pooped on the clean concrete. He motioned for us to leave. Here's where our luck changed. The owner of the station came out. We explained our plight. He told us we were welcome to stay. Mercifully, he shooed away the beginnings of a crowd.

Dan had spied an ice cream shop just before the gas station and left to get us a treat while I camel sat. He took a long time. When he returned, he had a treat better than any ice cream. Sachin, the owner of the ice cream shop, had asked his father, Randhir Maharia, if we could stay at their family home. We would be able to keep the camels in an enclosed courtyard. The Maharias have a lovely home. We were given a room and bath. Over the next two days, we were treated like royalty. Mrs. Maharia cooked us an array of delicious Indian dishes. We were taken on a sightseeing tour of the city and surrounding area, including a 1105-year old temple high on a hill overlooking the city and rarely visited by foreigners. We had all the ice cream we could eat at their ultraclean restaurant. Our clothes were washed. We had a press conference (the next day we appeared in five newspapers and on the local television station). On our final day in Sikar, we were escorted though city traffic. Big goals attract helpful people.

Next, how rich would you be in India?