[Note: On my facebook page is an album full of pictures from this entire journey with a matching chronology. If you want, feel free to check that out, though not all the pictures have been uploaded yet. The album name is in Arabic and it's my most recent photo album]
Our bus pulled into the front lot of the Silk Road Hotel in
Wadi Musa at about 9PM. Thirty slightly exhausted but visibly excited students
shuffled into the front lobby to receive room assignments and keys. The
building was constructed on the side of a cliff, so the ground floor lobby on
the eastern side of the building was the four stories above the ground on the western
side. Entering my room, one level under the lobby, I went straight to my window
and opened it. Sitting astride the ledge, I breathed the cool night air and
glanced across the valley to the entrance of the ancient city of Petra – البتراء.
That morning all the
US students – 13 of us – had left from our apartment building in Irbid with a
motley assortment of our language partners and roommates for a meandering three
day sojourn through the south of the country. After driving for about two hours
through the Jordanian countryside – rolling hills symmetrically covered with
stubby greens and scruffy olive trees – we arrived at the Dead Sea البحر الميت. We spent about three hours here at a resort which clearly
catered to tourists. A large swimming pool sat 20 meters above the sea, as the
valley gradually wound down to the beach.
To say the least, the
Dead Sea was surreal. It’s one thing to read about how the maniacally high salt
content causes the human body to float. It’s another to swim 30 feet away from
shore where the water depth is fifteen feet and just lie there without the
slightest effort in the world, staring at the imposing cliffs of the West Bank
on the other side of the sea. The mud is also easily accessible – you can
literally just scoop it up with your hand from the ocean floor. Like children,
we all played with it until our bodies were covered with a ragged collection of
smiley faces and handprints.
After lunching in the
excellent resort restaurant, we continued our journey. Our next destination was
Karak – an ancient city high in the rocky Jordanian mountains which was home to
an old crusader castle
قلعة الكرك.
Ascending from the sea to the city was breathtaking, as the bus climbed near
vertical roads winding through mountains which towered over the ocean plateau.
Upon arriving in Karak we dived straight into the castle, as we only had an
hour to explore. Entering through a lowered drawbridge, we were immediately
treated to a gorgeous view of the valley sprawling out before us. It was another
surreal experience, standing in the middle of a drawbridge connecting an
ancient castle to a modern city and looking out across the chasm to the valley.
I stood on the rampart from which Renaud de Chatillon – the French lord who ran
the Castle during the crusades – threw his prisoners to their deaths and
contemplated the fall. I walked through tunnels dissecting the belly of the
castle which seemed to have no end – somehow running into two perfectly modern
couches randomly sitting next to a window. And I stood atop the highest part of
the castle where everything I saw lay below me.
The next day I woke up
at about 6:30 in my hotel room at Wadi Musa. Though the sun had not yet broken
into the sky, it was effectively light outside as we all ate a small breakfast
before departing from the hotel. It was about a ten minute walk from the hotel
to the official park entrance, where we presented our tickets. From there, the
massive trail heads into Petra. We walked for about another ten minutes before
we encountered the Siq السيق- the iconic canyon
guarding the entrance to Petra. Although the size varied, the gap generally
stayed between ten and thirty feet across and continued for another fifteen
minutes before we came to the Treasury الخزنة, the
most famous site in Petra. In reality, it was most likely constructed as a
place of burial by the Nabateans, but the local Bedouin thought it was their
treasury. The first view of the Treasury through the Siq was absolutely
breathtaking, as but a ragged slice of the iconic façade was visible through
the rocks in front of us. There is an urn at the top of the building covered with
gun shots – the Bedouin thought it contained treasure and would shoot it trying
to break the urn get the gold.
After the treasury,
the Siq begins to open up gradually, eventually transitioning into a wide courtyard-like
space housing the amphitheater before disappearing entirely into wide plain.
There are several divergent paths available at this point – I decided to take
the stairs climbing up to the High Place of Sacrifice, or the Altar – المذبح. From the floor of the canyon, it took about half an hour of
steady climbing to ascend the relentless stairs to the highest point of the
adjacent mountains. The apex of Jebel Madhbah is relatively flat, perhaps 30 ft
by 80 ft, in the center of which sits a 2 foot deep rectangular depression, 10
ft by 20 ft, which the Nabateans used for sacrifices. Sitting atop this point
it was possible to see the entirety of Petra. The city’s ruins dotted the
landscape. Tombs and caves spread across the mountains like flowers, not
connected to any tourist path of sightseeing route, just sitting there. Several
clusters of columns in the plain indicated two-thousand year old centers of
activities, while a larger assortment of buildings indicated the city center. About
the only thing we couldn’t see was the monastery – الدير –
which was located on the other side of a mountain pass, perhaps a 70 minute
hike from the Treasury. A testament to the grand size of Petra. All of this was
clustered on the North and East side of the mountain – to the West lay grand
mountain ranges stretching out as far as I could see. Although I had started
the climb by myself, about halfway up I ran into three of my good friends from
the group. Together, we sat in silence atop the mountain, listening to the wind
and taking in the enormity of what we saw.
Afterwards, my
language partner and I headed south and began climbing the mountain, while our
two other friends began the descent down the opposite side of the mountain. For
perhaps half an hour we meandered up and down the peaks of the mountain,
exploring and seeing how far we could go. No path lay before us – we wandered (التجول) and sought out the highest points going forward. I have never
encountered hiking such as that which I did at Petra and it was by far one of
the most enjoyable experiences of my life.
Taking the trail, we
descended down the western side of the mountain and walked around the base,
heading back towards the treasury and collection of buildings where the eastern
mountain trail (which we had used to ascend) begins. At this point, my language
partner retired, heading back to the hotel, but I kept going. I thought to myself,
“Petra could very well prove to literally be a once in a lifetime opportunity.
If I end up running myself into the ground, that’s a small price to pay for
another hour of exploration.” (Note: kinda did end up running myself into the
ground. The one hour hike back from the courtyard-valley to the hotel was preeeeetty
sucky.)
The western face of
the mountain to the NE of Jebel Madhbah (جبل ام الأمي) is
covered with ancient tombs; a path leads to the most grand of these: the Urn
Tomb. About half-way up I stopped at a sign to take a breath when a voice
called out to me in English – “would you like some tea?” I looked up,
surprised, to see a woman clothed in all black sitting in a souveneir stand,
waving towards me. Having made the somewhat stupid oversight of not bringing
water with me, I walked over to the stand, offering my thanks. She pulled out a
second plastic chair and we sat in the shade of her stand, speaking and sharing
stories. Somehow, I managed to have a 20 minute conversation with her –
completely in Arabic. She talked of her Bedouin heritage, how fifteen years ago
the government had forced her people out of Petra proper into a smaller
village. She talked of how it was difficult making ends meet, especially with
how tourism had slowed after the Arab Spring. She talked of sending children to
University, and trying to pay for that.
As I finished my tea,
she asked if I would like to buy anything from her stand. Feeling it would be
rude not to, I asked if she had any Jewelry, figuring I could give it as a gift
to a friend or family member back in the States. Her first offer was a necklace
– for which she asked 40 JD. Really not wanting to spend that much money, I
ended up selecting a smaller necklace and haggling the price down to 15 JD
before continuing on. Afterwards, I felt like I might have gotten screwed on
the price, as I saw a sign at another stand advertising bracelets of similar
make – 2 for 5 JD. Though, the way I see it, I paid for the experience, which
in that light was absolutely worth 15 JD (roughly 23 USD).
After visiting the Urn
Tomb, I continued the path up the mountain, which dead-ended several minutes
later. Undeterred, I continued to climb (التسلّق) up
the face of the mountain, free form. About twenty minutes of hard climbing later,
I stopped on a shaded ledge to take a breath and behold the beauty of the
valley before me. I sat there for a while, just looking around. I was high
enough up that I couldn’t hear any tourist – only the wind – and had a perfect
view of the amphitheater directly across from me. After my breather, I descended
slightly and continued towards a plateau above the valley floor which was
covered with structures but devoid of tourists. I spent perhaps an hour in
total climbing and exploring that mountain before I decided to return to the
hotel, realizing that it would take an hour to walk back from my current
location, as I had to descend to the valley and walk the entire way back to the
hotel.
Climbing that
mountain, what was most astonishing to me was how you could just find old tombs
and signs of settlement – stumble across them only by chance. I wasn’t
following any path of directions, I was wandering across the face of the Jebel.
Occasionally, stairs would appear and disappear. At one point, there was a
lonely spire of rock ahead of me which ancient stairs carved into the side – I
began to ascend before feeling my own fleeting mortality and subsequently
chickening out. Near my breathing point, there was a small trawl-like space
clearly carved out of the rock, forming a square 3 foot depression. Perhaps a
resting place for ancient Nabateans, or the local Bedouins? Regardless, a clear
sign of habitation. My favorite moment from that part of the hike was standing
before a great tomb directly above the valley floor. I could see the sprawl of
tourists below but I was utterly alone before the cavernous resting place, a
fifty foot cliff separating me from the masses. I sat for a second, resting,
and laughed in joy.
After showering and
eating a delicious buffet lunch in our hotel, we continued on to Wadi Rum – the
desert. A two hour drive from Petra, pretty much everyone on the bus slept the
entire way. Except for a few of the Jordanians, who felt that it was the
appropriate moment for karaoke on the bus loudspeakers.
Upon arriving in Rum
Village, we all excited from our nice tour bus and loaded all our stuff into a
convoy of four open ended pickup trucks. With six people sitting in the rear of
each truck, we entered the desert, the trucks rumbling across the sands as the
setting sun cast a red glare across the land. For the next two hours we drove,
stopping twice for a half hour break each time to climb and explore on foot. The
entire desert was composed of broad expanses of flat sand broken up by jutting
towers of red rock – the original skyscrapers. The second stop was particularly
memorable. This particular mountain featured a sliding hill of sand that went
about three quarters of the way up the mountain. As a group, all the students
took off their shoes and socks and raced up the sand barefoot… before losing
steam and stopping for a breather. By the time we had managed to make it to the
top of the sand we were perhaps seventy feet from the desert floor. I continued
climbing, carefully watching my footing, and made it to the top plateau of the
rock in my bare feet. The wind was deafening and the scenery gorgeous, as I was
lucky enough to be sitting there about half an hour before the sun set. If I
look away from the group, the wind blocked out any noise and I was utterly
alone, without any other being, standing on top of the desert.
Upon descending, I
raced down the sandy hill with three of my friends, running at a breakneck
speed. In a sprint, the hill that had taken me about five good minutes to
ascend took me literally twenty seconds to descend. It was really fucking
awesome. After a third stop to watch the sun set, we entered the camp where we
would be spending the night. It was a good bit more developed than the camp I
had been expecting, which to be completely honest was really nice as I was
dog-tired. There was a stone building complete with full bathrooms, showers,
and electricity. A longhouse sat next to a fire ring while 20 identical sedentary
tents finished off the camp. The entire complex formed a hollow square and sat
nestled in the shadow of one of the Desert Mountains.
That night, we ate a
delicious meal. I forget the name, but the main course was traditional Bedu
chicken and beef, literally cooked inside a cylindrical hole in the ground. The
meat was delicious and melted off the bone. Afterwards, everyone gathered in a
circle around the firepit as the Bedouin brothers who ran the camp played music
and sang for us. However, my strongest memory of the night is of wandering off
into the desert with a group of friends to watch the stars. After a while, I
was by myself, being the fastest walker. I lay down in the middle of the
desert, the only earthly lights coming from my friends’ phones in the distance
and past that the camp, and looked up. Galaxies sprang to life above me, as I
saw the Milky Way with such clarity as I have never experienced before. For
twenty minutes I lay there, my mind empty of all thoughts. There were only the
stars (النجوم), the moon (القمر) and the quiet rustling of the wind.
Later in the night, a
few of the Bedouin came out to join our group in the desert, only about five
minutes away from the camp, still clearly visible. They began to assemble brush
and sticks, and illuminated by the light of their smartphones set about the
making a fire. If that’s not globalization, I don’t know what is. Until 11PM or
so, we sat there, trading stories against the dying fire.
My alarm woke me up at
about 5AM, as I wanted to walk to the mountain opposite the camp and watch the
sun rise. When I stepped out of my tent, I let out a cry a shock and called for
my roommate to look. The crescent moon was embedded in the sky, casting out
light like a second soon. The desert landscape was clearly illuminated by the
moon, a new beauty my overloaded brain had yet to see. After climbing about
halfway up the mountain, an easy task with the moonlight, I sat down with four
friends and we waited. We never actually got to the point where we saw the sun
peak over the opposite mountain, as it was really tall and we didn’t want to wait
another two hours, but we got to the point where it was clearly day around us.
After everyone in the
camp awoke, we cleared out at about 9AM and spent the entire day driving back
to Irbid, stopping in Jerash (جرش) for a really fancy, delicious bite to
eat. And… that was my weekend! Sorry if I sound pretentious here (I felt a
little pretentious writing this), but this trip was grand beyond belief. In the
future, I would absolutely love to return to Karak and Petra, as there was so
much I didn’t see in either site. We’ll see whether that’s possible with time
and money constraints, but one can hope. It was amazing, it was beautiful, it
was really freaking awesome and undeniably unforgettable.
