All packed, we began our trip down the hill. The aroma from a nearby bakery put our walk on hiatus. The bakery's walls were lined with an array of sweets: honey-drenched pastries on trays on the right, rolling racks with roles in the middle, and a machine that rained down khobz (unleavened bread) in the left corner. Dodging the bombardment, the bakers weighed, bagged, and sold this miracle bread on the spot. After a few minutes of admiration, we continued down the road to the visitor's center with our honey-sugar role and bread in hand.
Into the Siq, the rock walls rose on either side of us. The small groups and couples didn't distract from the rock patterns, formations, and carvings. Unlike many of the canyons in Utah, these rocks were split by an earthquake. Drainage canals, a paved road, and rock carvings were then incorporated. These ruminants of human development accompanied the natural decor, a timeless accessory to the rustic rocks. One side of the ravine ran the gamut of the sandstone spectrum: beige, cream, rose, and blood orange. These shades contrasted with the streaks of black that permeated the opposite rock face, filling any cracks and crevices in the rocks.
Up ahead, the few groups began to pause for pictures. The most famous site of Petra peaked out from a bend in the textured sandstone walls. The passageway opened to the well known rock-courtyard of the Treasury. The legendary rock tower seemed untouched since its "Raiders of the Lost Ark" days.
That was at least the thought as we admired the architecture with a dozen other people.
That afternoon the site was transformed from this tranquil scene to a circus. Lines of camels awaited riders, mule-drawn carts raced people in and out, groups shouted, and the restaurant was packed with tourists drinking over-priced Coca-Cola. Although this hubris seemed somehow unnecessary, it was hard to dismiss the circus as a mere masquerade. The Treasury's size and grandeur remains uncaptured by any image I have ever seen of it. Additionally, like the rest of the monuments in the ancient city, it didn't stand out of its surroundings but dissolved into them, maintaining its reputation as one of the architectural wonders of the world.
The remainder of the day was filled with donkey's braying, craftsmen peddling Bedouin silver, men singing Indiana Jones on donkeys, and a growing number of people filling this valley of ancient monuments. We climbed through royal tombs, a Romanesque amphitheater, the Great Temple (of which Brown University was proud to declare their excavation work), a Byzantine church, and the Monastery. The sheer variety of the sites amazed us.
Within the period of ten minutes, we saw mosaics depicting the Kingdom of Heaven, stone carvings of Egyptian deities, and a Hellenistic temple, all showing the diversity of influences on the Nabataeans. The expanse of the city also surprised Julie and I. Whereas the Lalibela churches were carved out in a small site, the main city streched for miles (and this didn't even include the additional sites within half a day's hike).
As the crowds grew, we felt that one day was sufficient for what we hoped to see. This influx also caused stress on the few toilets in the park. The sceptic system on one toilet started to overflow. One woman was quick to complain: "Where am I supposed to go?" The snappy bathroom attendant put the woman in her place, answering, "In a cave, behind a bush, by that rock. Anywhere." With the turmoil growing, we followed an ungainly camel with the habit of bumping into oblivious amateur photographers.
Leaving the camel at the Treasury's circus, we followed the Ben Hur chariots race up the Siq to the visitor's center.
Our day ended as it had begun, at the Sanabel Bakery before having falafel for dinner.
To finalize our triumvirate, we began the next day at the bakery. We were then picked up by Saleh who was to take us to Wadi Rum. He raced out of the valley as if he could complete the drive both blind and blindfolded. He would cross both lanes on blind curves where he "knew" no cars would be. He used a scenic lookout for a shortcut. He stopped at the pass to announce one of King Abdullah II's mansions. The king has the perfect location for his house, overlooking the Edomite mountains surrounding Petra. Even on this rainy morning, the valley was dry and foreboding. This terrain only intensified as we neared Wadi Rum. The sand redened, the cliff faces grew taller, and more camels crowded the landscape. In Rum Village, we met Mohammed, our tour organizer. Chain-smoking with a lanky build and greased-back hair, he was everything and nothing you'd expect from a Bedouin-turned-businessman. He was a rock-climber who had travelled all over the Mediterranean in between organizing trips into the desert.
The Jordanian government has developed a sustainable and profitable business around tourists fulfilling their Lawrence of Arabia fantasies. Only guides living within the village are authorized to arrange trips. In addition to the 4x4 or camel tour, each overnight trip ends at the agency's own Bedouin camp in the desert. Our trip was conducted with a Swedish couple and another American. We all crammed into a Landcruiser that transitioned from falling apart slowly in the morning to rather rapidly by the end of the day. There were no mirrors, no gas cap, no spare tire, it had a broken odometer, and the horn on the steering wheel fell off mid-journey. Unlike Utah's Canyonlands or Arches National Parks where you spend most of your time above the surrounding desert, we drove amidst the valley bottom in the rocks. I imagine that Monument Valley has a similar feel.
The variety and diversity of Wadi Rum separate it from anywhere else in the world that I have ever been. Each turn and each direction I looked had totally different cliffs, canyons, and rock outcroppings. The shades of red seen in Petra became even more vibrant when they were contrasted with limestone. There were red sand dunes descending from white cliffs, white dunes ascending to red cliffs.
We drove by the spring where Lawrence bathed, where he bathed, Nabataean petroglyphs, deep red sand dunes, slot canyons, cliffs, and a rock bridge, and around a slew of other rock formations. Several plateaus resembled an ice-cream cone flipped over, the red strawberry ice-cream melting from the white cone above. Two rocks looked bizarrely similar to a chicken and its egg. I walked up a slot canyon with as many twists and turns as a Jordanian soap opera. The rocks also drew more serious imagery. Julie thought one rock face looked like a row of hands praying. Another time, one side of the valley looked like the front of a sanctuary with the other side providing the pipe organ. To our driver with a partial grasp of English, the only way I could describe it was by saying, "It's big." The grandeur set Wadi Rum apart from any other desert I had ever seen. The size also opened me to the realization of just how isolated and isolating this desert was. There were no roads, only the occasional camel or 4x4 that skimmed over the landscape. The one sign of civilization were the Bedouin camps were visitors stayed.
Our camp was equipped with solar-heated showers, nearly a dozen Bedouin tents, a dining room, and a rondavel with a fire place for the cold desert evenings. Once we arrived, Julie and I walked into the desert, pursuing a camel for the quintessential desert photograph. Seconds before the picture, the camel was intercepted by a truck herding him back to Wadi Village. Back at camp, the night was spent around the fire before we moved into our personal Bedouin tent, equipped with a floor mattress, three comforters, and pillows that felt as if they were filled with sand. The next morning I gradually awoke to the most quiet I have heard in a long time. After a quick breakfast, we drove back to Rum Village where I picked all the sand from my beard.
Aqaba was our next destination. We had about one hour before the bus left to Amman. We strolled along the waterfront, wishing we had an extra day to take a dip in the deep blue water. Instead, we boarded the bus on the Desert Highway that took us directly to Amman. From the bus station we headed downtown in search of a cheap hotel. Happyland Hotel fit the criteria and we then headed out through the souq and shopping areas. Lonely Planet's described Amman as not a place to experience medieval souqs but to see a modern Arab city grappling with its identity through its heritage and newfound diversity.
description seems to perfectly encapsulate the city based on my miniscule experience of it.
Amman is home to many of the Palestinian refugees as well as an increasing number of Iraqis. Around 5:00 PM, the streets were filled with people shopping and making their way home. First walking up the main streets, we soon moved to the side streets in search of a restaurant for dinner. Instead we came across the fruit and vegetable market.
from opposite sides of the street clamored for customers, each offering the best deal on carrots or lettuce. The smell of newly picked produce faded as we passed into the meat market where goat hung in the windows, fresh from its dhabihah, or ritual slaughter.
There was no restaurant until we found a legendary place that serves bread, hummus, and falafel. When you enter you get a sheet of wax paper and a piece of fresh bread from a mound on a table. Seconds later we got a generous bowl of hummus doused in olive oil. The falafel was last and was the definite culinary highlight--at least from the savory side of things. After dinner we got a few pastries before heading back for a long night at the Happyland Hotel. The next morning we headed to Queen Alia airport for our super-discounted flight on Jazeera Airlines.
Jordan's size made it a good destination for a long weekend trip. We could drive from one side of the country to the other in less than four hours. In this light, it was dismal thinking of the even smaller area that Israel and the Palestinian territories fill. The drive between Jerusalem and Gaza City would take less than half an hour. Even before Israel's invasion, it was impossible for Palestinians to make that short trip. I saw Eilat,the first Israeli settlement I've ever seen, and also the spots of refuge camps in greater Amman. Amidst our whirlwind vacation, it was odd dropping from the sky into a country that was a pocket amidst the strife, conflict, and closure all around.
The only country I could have visited was the West Bank's territories. Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Lebanon, and Syria are all blocked to Americans. An Israeli stamp in the passport would have been my immediate ticket out of the UAE. I'm still not really sure what to make of being in that atmosphere but I look forward to going back and learning more about that part of the world (especially if some of these countries open their borders with the diplomacy of our president).
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