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TRIP TO JORDAN - DECEMBER 2005
Dr Ingrid
Realising a dream is always an intensely satisfying and a rather humbling experience. When I was a child, many, many moons ago, I loved to read a book called 'The Natural Wonders of the World'. This tomb bound in green artificial leather and illustrated with black and white, rather grainy photographs, happily depicted wonders ranging from cannibals in Papua New Guinea to weird and wonderful animals, insects and places. The latter caught my attention and I remember gazing at the Pyramids, the Sphinx, Ankor Wat and Petra, and deciding that I wanted to see these man-made wonders. Well, I visited the Pyramids and the Sphinx in 1993, Ankor Wat seemed rather out of reach, but Petra remained a goal for nearly 50 years.
Steve and I had tried to visit Jordan and Petra in 2003 as part of our trip to Malta, but thanks to the impending Iraq invasion and President George Bush, no travel agent was prepared to make our booking to the Middle East. This year, Steve decided that we would make another attempt to visit Jordan as an early 25th Wedding Anniversary treat. Making the bookings was easy, we obtained our visas and payed our fees on a Wednesday in November 2005. That evening I happened to hear about the devastating hotel bombings perpetrated by Al Queda in Amman. They had blown up 3 of the top hotels. You can imagine that we were not amused. We talked it over and decided that we would persevere and not cancel our booking. South Africans are made of sterner stuff!
We arrived in Amman on Wednesday 21 December after an 8 hour flight to Dubai, a 3 hour stop-over, and a 3 hour hop to the capital of Jordan. A representative of Green Arrow Tours fetched us and whisked us to the Imperial Palace Hotel, a good, comfortable 4-star establishment situated next door to the Prime Minister's Residence. This was not quite what we had in mind in our hope to avoid prominent areas and fancy hotels in view of terrorist attacks, but 'Inshallah', what will be will be. The Imperial was really super and we were touched to see a sparkling Christmas tree festooned with lights and baubles in the lounge. Despite being a predominantly Muslim country, we experienced more of a Christmas feeling in Jordan, than in SA. As a gesture to their Christian guests they also played Christmas carols over the loudspeaker system and every evening a pianist played a medley of ancient and modern carols for the tourists.
We were relatively tired after our long flights and spent the rest of Wednesday relaxing. When we had rested, we asked the concierge where we could go for a walk. He looked rather surprised, but gamely arranged a taxi to take us to what he considered was a safe area of town. Amman is a mixture of old and modern buildings, some of the areas are ancient with narrow alleys and open markets, other areas have apartment blocks and western-type shopping malls. Overall the city is built of white stone on 7 hills, like Rome. The safe area the concierge had selected for our walk was rather staid and insipid, and we only found the street vendors who sell mountains of cooked yellow maize and purple beans, rather exotic. Having exercised our legs we flagged down another taxi to take us back to the Imperial. Each hotel, Government building, embassy and the Prime Minister's Residence was guarded by soldiers round the clock. We also had a security check every time we went into the hotel and our bags and luggage were searched, so the Jordanians are taking the terrorist threat very seriously.
Driving in Amman is quite an adventure, but not a patch on Cairo. There are no beasts of burden clogging the streets and although the driving is rather chaotic, everyone is polite and allows other drivers to cross over busy lanes without aggression as is the case in SA. Hooting is a polite way of indicating that you are about to pass another vehicle, so the traffic is rather noisy.
The Jordanians are basically friendly and it was a relief not to be harassed by beggars as is the case in SA and Egypt. It is primarily a male dominated country and one does not see many women on the streets. The latter do not have to wear the veil over their faces any more, but they do keep their heads covered with scarves. According to the warning in our travel documents, I did not look any of the men in face, but concentrated on addressing their midsections and leaving most of the talking and buying up to Steve, like an obedient female!
On Thursday 22 December we had what was to become our traditional breakfast: fruit juice, cereals, the most delicious thick yoghurt with honey, boiled eggs with cheese and toast, croissants and various cakes with tea or coffee. The breakfast buffet also featured traditional Jordanian fare such as cheeses, hummus, eggplant, pickles, pitta bread and cottage cheese, and a mysterious copper pot which contained cooked beans called felafel, which some of the locals ate with olive oil, spices and herbs - a bit much early in the morning.
Our guide Aladdin and our driver Fadi fetched us at about 9 am for an Amman city tour. We then discovered to our great surprise that we were on a solo tour - just the 2 of us with our guide and driver. We never discovered how this came about - was it due to cancellations caused by the terrorist attacks, the time of year ( only mad South Africans travel to Jordan over Christmas), or some facet of our booking that we were not aware of? We were delighted as sharing tours can be a mixed bag, unless one meets super people like Roger and Lyn who were with us in Egypt all those years ago and are still our good friends.
Amman, built on the site of the Biblical Rabath Ammon mentioned in Genesis, which was later one of the Decapolis cities of the ancient world, boasts a citadel with a temple dedicated to Hercules. The temple was built on a much more ancient place of worship as attested by a large crude rock which used to represent the blood thirsty pagan god Moloch. Some of the graceful pillars with their Corinthian capitals still rear up against the blue sky. The statue of Hercules must have been massive. All that remains is a single marble hand the size of serving platter which is exhibited at the Archeological Museum. We found the exhibits in this museum most interesting as they include the oldest known statues, rather crude child-like figurines, and examples of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Alas, the latter are written in ancient script and we could not decipher their messages. At the museum we were treated to our first free drink, scalding hot black coffee laced with cardamom. Firmly forgetting all injunctions to never, ever eat or drink anything not prepared in a 4 or 5-star hotel or sold in bottled form, we sipped the aromatic brew and found it good, except for the irritating bits of cardamon which had us spitting like a pair of camels to dislodge the gritty fibres. No comment on the state of the glasses or the primitive kitchen where the coffee was brewed.
The citadel is built on one of the seven hills of Amman and afforded us a panoramic view of both the old and the new cities. The old city was built on the site of Philadelphia and still retains the atmosphere of the ancient East.
We then visited the Lower City which still houses a well preserved Roman theatre. Restoration work has ensured that the theatre is still used today and is evidently very popular in summer when a variety of performances are put on for the inhabitants of Amman. On either side of the stage, are two stunning museums: The Museum of Jewellery and Costume, which had me in ecstasies of delight when I saw the dazzling Bedouin robes with their beautiful embroidery and the heavy silver jewellery studded with lapis, turquoise and amber; and the Folklore Museum which illustrates traditional crafts and trades such as weaving, silver and inlay work. The latter museum also houses a number of excellent mosaics found in many different digs.
During our visit to modern Amman we saw the mosque of Malik Abdallah, which has a dome covered with the most beautiful blue majolica tiles and twin minarets. By now we were rather tired and getting cold. The temperature was nippy and as the daylight waned, we became aware of the fact that the Middle East can experience fierce winters and that we were woefully underdressed (I longed for my Alaska outfits, but this was only the first installment!). Aladdin, who was a most resourceful guide with many years of experience of tourist frailties and foibles, then took us to his 'Cave', a shop or rather a warehouse filled to bursting with the most incredible artefacts and souvenirs I have ever seen. So clever to take use where it was warm and we were served glasses of steaming mint tea (we got to love this refreshing beverage and stuck to it for the rest of our tour, thus avoiding floating cardamon debris in coffee), and then expose us to all the glories of a souk. The glittering cabinets filled with jewellery, the bales and bales of fabrics, table cloths, embroidered cushions, carpets, the shelves of brightly painted porcelain and glass in stunning colours, the racks of exotic dresses and burnouses, all clamoured to be purchased and who were we to resist? I felt like the Queen of Sheba, while assistants paraded their wares for my approval and Steve, like King Solomon before him, would have bought me the entire shop. A lapis and silver necklace, inlaid bangles in every hue, little embroidered bags, camel necklaces, prayer beads in turquoise and dark blue, two table cloths with Eastern designs, Berber cushion covers with intricate embroidery in bright primitive colours, woollen cushion covers in scarlet and black (very typical of Jordanian art) and a small camel bag decorate with metal plaques - we bought and bought, until reason and the size of our suitcases dictated that we stop. What an experience. I have never, ever understood the meaning of the phrase 'Shop till you drop!', but now I do and it was glorious.
Well pleased, we returned to the Imperial Palace, which was warm and snug, for a bath to prepare for our outing to a traditional restaurant. Fadi fetched us at 6 pm and drove us about 30 km out of Amman. Perched on a hill is the Kan Zaman village. In days of yore this was a proper caravanserai providing shelter, food and water for the caravans that crisscrossed the Middle East laden with spices, frankincense, silk, gold and other wildy romantic cargo. Happily someone had the bright idea to restore this haven for weary travellers and convert the erstwhile stables into a lovely restaurant. The other buildings have been turned into shops and a café which is very popular with the locals who come here to smoke their hooglies, chat and eat. In one of the shops which is run by an NGO that provides work for Bedouin women, we saw the most beautiful handcraft, especially cross-stitch embroidery on every imaginable type of clothing, table cloths and cushions. I fell in love with a black shawl with vivid red embroidery, which I purchased to keep me warm in the evenings.
Our traditional dinner consisted of a buffet featuring all the meze dishes of the Mediterranean such as bowls of green or black olives, pita bread, yoghurt, pickles, hummus, aubergine dip, felafel, cottage and goat's milk cheeses and luscious salads. Aladdin had pronounced a ban on raw salads so we could only look longingly at the bowls of crisp tomatoes, lettuce, cucumber and cole slaw. Beetroot salad being cooked was deemed safe. After the starters we selected a variety of kebabs, including spicy minced meat grilled on skewers with rice and baked vegetables - delicious. The pudding buffet was lavish with a number of tasty choices such as creme caramel (my favourite), almond cakes, chocolate cake and various brightly coloured jellies. Our meal was rounded off with mint tea, which had already become a firm favourite.
On Friday, 23 December, we were taken to Umm Quays, which was founded in the 4th century BC, and was once the capital of the area now known as Jordan. Because of its political leanings, the city was partially destroyed by the Romans in 70 AD. What remains is a theatre interestingly constructed from black basalt rather than white limestone like most of the other ruins in Jordan. I was fascinated by the restored shops that lined the cardo or main street. I can just imagine those ancient Greeks and Romans selling food, wine and beer to the theatregoers and passing housewives. We then climbed up onto a hill and were able to view the Golan Heights (looking pretty peaceful), Lake Tiberias and the Valley of the Jordan. It felt strange to look at these sites that have either featured in the Bible or in our daily news lying peacefully at our feet. In some places time seems to stand still.
Our tour then took us to Pella, were we stopped for mint tea and a view over the valley where excavations are revealing the Greek and Roman remains of the ancient city. Then on through the Jordan Valley to the Dead Sea. The Jordanians are immensely proud of the Jordan Valley, and regard it with awe as it is fertile and capable of growing many crops, which in an arid land that is mainly desert must seem like a little bit of Paradise. Alas, Paradise is very grubby and it is evident that Jordanians have not heard of ecology or recycling. I comforted myself by looking at the brightly coloured vegetables that were for sale in every village - great mounds of purple aubergines, rioting red tomatoes, various shades of green cucumbers, lettuces and zucchini, purple onions, yellow lemons, oranges and apples, piles of brown dates and dried nuts and beans - a veritable gourmet's delight. Another colourful distraction were the vegetable farmer's lorries - each one is decorated with intricate wooden and metal ornaments in bright colours, a practice we could introduce in SA.
Eventually we reached the Dead Sea, a shimmering stretch of water that is receding at the alarming rate of 1 metre per annum. According to Aladdin, there have been a number of proposals to stop this ultimate demise of one of the wonders of the world - the death of the Dead Sea in fact! One suggestion was to build a canal from the Red Sea to top up the dwindling La Mer Mort, but as is so often the case, the funds for such a mega-undertaking are still lacking. We went to a seaside resort which must be stunning in summer, but was rather chilly in the depth of winter. Nothing daunted, we changed into our bathing costumes and took our first steps into the Dead Sea. What a horror! The sand is covered with encrustations of salt that cut ones feet to shreds. Needless to say, I got stuck after advancing about 2 metres and when the gallant Steve came to my rescue, we both fell into the deadly brine. I was lucky and did not suffer any injuries, but the Steve's feet were cut to ribbons. At least he did manage to float for a few minutes, while I just got cold and wet, and decided that this was not fun and struggled out of the clutches of the salt and the sea. Afterwards we found out that the local shop sells takkies for the purpose of entering the vicious waters, but by then we had had enough. The Dead Sea is for the birds (come to think of it, we did not see many birds in Jordan, just crows and sparrows).
We were pleased to be back in our comfortable hotel where we enjoyed dinner and an evening of relaxation listening to the pianist playing Christmas carols.
On Saturday 24 December, Aladdin and Fadi took us to Jerash (Gerasa of antiquity). This Roman city that was laid out in 70 AD, is stunning because so many of the original buildings, temples, theatres and gates have survived to this day. One of the problems with the antiquities in Jordan is that most of them have been repeatedly damaged by the earthquakes that devastate this region on a regular basis. Jerash has managed to survive in much better shape than places like Umm Quays and Pella, and it is a most exciting experience to walk along the Cardo Maximus, the main artery of the city, to stand in the Forum with its many pillars (Jerash is also called the city of the thousand pillars), and to sit in the theatre eating sandwiches and fruit (our obligatory 'safe' lunch). In the ruins of one of the Byzantine churches we were fascinated to see a mosaic which features swastikas used as a symbol of fertility and not of destruction.
We also stopped at a river which according to tradition was the site where Jacob wrestled with the angel. We need another Jacob to come and wrestle with the modern-day demons of pollution, because this stream which should have been pristine, was covered with flocculation caused by the waste that is dumped into the water. Sigh. I'm sure Jacob is turning in his grave.
Our next stop was Ajlun Castle, which has been lovingly restored. This may be due to the fact that the castle was built by the Arabs in 1185 and used by Saladin in his wars against the crusaders. We found on a later visit to another castle (which is engraved on my soul - see below), that castles built by the Unbelievers or Crusaders have not been given this careful treatment - the Arabs have long memories. Ajlun Castle was most exciting and as we climbed up the steep stairs and visited the many rooms to peek out of the narrow windows once used to fire arrows at besiegers, one could feel the ghosts of those ancient defenders all round us.
The view from the castle was breathtaking and we could see why they had selected such a strategic site which even permits a view of Syria.
During the day, it got perceptibly colder and dark clouds came rolling in from the West. Once again our hotel was a happy haven from the elements.
On Christmas Day we left Amman at about 8 am (very early for Aladdin who believed in leisurely starts) and first drove to Mount Nebo, where Moses caught his glimpse of the Holy Land before expiring and being buried on this site. Understandably this mountain top has been venerated for centuries by Christian communities and once boasted many churches and a cathedral. At present the Franciscans are restoring some of these holy places and according to Aladdin a midnight mass was held there the previous evening 'with the whole Jordanian army surrounding the mountain to make sure that there were no incidents'. Verily nothing has changed in two or even three thousand years. Just as we reached the summit, the glowering clouds parted and the sun shone so that we could see the Jordan River, Jericho and even a mystic vision of Jerusalem. Like Moses we saw the Promised Land. Ten minutes later the clouds closed up, an icy wind started howling round the mountain whipping up the cedars that grow on the peak and sleet came pelting down. We ran into the restored Byzantine basilica to warm our frozen hands and feet and admire a mosaic which was completed in 531 AD and depicts hunting scenes and various animals such as an ostrich, a zebra and a dromedary.
We then ran the gauntlet of the storm to reach our cosy car and proceeded to Madaba, one of the cities where most of the Christian Jordanians live. En route we visited a mosaic factory which had us enthralled. These mosaics must be seen to be believed and I was very tempted to buy one or two to decorate our entrance hall at home. Reason prevailed, although we were assured that they ship these lovely artefacts to any place in the world. In Madaba we entered a Greek orthodox church dedicated to St George who battled the dragon. The Christmas mass and communion service were still in progress when we sought shelter in the entrance of this church which has the most beautiful chandeliers. The priest was just serving communion to his flock and we were fascinated to see that he handed out whole loaves of local bread to the faithful. A far cry from our tiny morsels. The church of St George is famous for its mosaic floor which once was the wonder of the East depicting a map of the entire region. Nowadays only small pieces of this geographic map of Palestine remain, but we could still make out sites such as Jerusalem, Bethlehem and Lake Tiberias. I wish I could have seen this map when it was complete in all its glory.
Our journey continued through one of the most exciting mountain passes I have ever seen. The Kings Highway as this road is called, is the same road used by caravans since time immemorial and was one paved in its entirety by the Romans (such energy they had!). The most breathtaking experience was the decent into Wadi Mujib where a newly constructed dam divides the land of the Ammonites from the land of the Moabites (where faithful Ruth lived). The road twisted and turned between bare, rocky outcrops dropping down into the valley only to climb torturously towards Kerak. While Fadi navigated this switchback it started to snow and according to other travellers, the road was closed about half an hour after we had passed through. The temperature dropped sharply and we were grateful for the comfort of the heated car. When we arrived at Kerak, a massive crusader castle built on a high mountain, the snow and sleet was pelting down. Nothing daunted, we crept out of the car and tried to view the castle. It was so cold and pitch dark (note that this castle was not lovingly restored or illuminated like Ajlun!), that we ran at full speed through the echoing chambers trying to get out of the cold. After about 15 minutes of agony, Aladdin announced, 'The tour is over' and hustled us back into the car. My hands were blue and it took ages for the feeling to come back into them. Only mad South African tourists would charge around a pitch dark castle in a snow storm without the proper clothing on Christmas Day! Oh woe. So much for Kerak, where famous crusaders like Reynard de Chatillon, lived and fought to preserve the Kingdom of Heaven.
Aladdin informed us that this arid region is covered in beautiful flowers in spring. Most amazingly, the desert blooms with black irises, which are the national flower of Jordan. In view of my sister's name, I was thrilled that Jordan has such a unique floral symbol. Aladdin also mentioned that the national bird is called 'the pink bird', which looks a bit like a sparrow with a pink head. We did not manage to see one of these avian symbols in our peregrinations.
On and on we drove down the Kings Highway towards the South. In the high-lying areas the yellow sand and grey rocks were transformed by a covering of snow and as our journey progressed I became more and more nervous. Having waited for 50 years to experience Petra, I did not relish the idea of rushing through its marvels in a snow storm whipped by a piercing wind in my inadequate clothing. I nearly drove the 3 men insane with my suppositions: "What if it is freezing cold? What if it snows? What if we can't see Petra? How will I stay warm? Will you buy me a burnous? etc" until it became evident that the weather was more clement the further South we drove. Occasionally we even glimpsed the sun and when we at last arrived in Wadi Musa, the town that houses 63 hotels for tourists making the pilgrimage to Petra, life had become quite bearable again.
Aladdin and Fadi dropped us off at the Petra Panorama Hotel, no doubt with a sigh of relief, and we booked into this cavernous place which is expressly designed for blistering heat and hundreds of guests. The bitter wind still howled around the glass-fronted balconies and foyer and the magic mountains of Petra were wreathed in mist and clouds. But oh they were beautiful to behold and despite intermittent panic attacks concerning the weather, I gazed and gazed at them and anticipated the secrets they have guarded for thousands of years. Once again the hotel had a cheerful Christmas tree for our benefit. Our rooms were comfortable and luckily the heating was working overtime. Dinner was a rather subdued affair as there were only 8 guests in total. How I wonder what this hotel is like in the height of the season when it overflows with guests and the massive swimming pool is filled with ferengi trying to cool down.
The 26th of December dawned cold, but sunny and the men all heaved a sigh of relief. The Petra mountains looked totally different in the sunlight with pinks and purples making them glow like jewels. After breakfast Aladdin arrived late to take us on the momentous tour of Petra. He had spent the night in prayer that the weather would be clement! I was so excited I felt like a child again just before opening my Christmas presents, filled with nearly fearful anticipation.
We drove back to Wadi Musa (Valley of Moses) and Aladdin hired us two horses to ride from the Tourist Centre to the start of the Siq. Great excitement, as I had only once in my life actually sat on a horse, much less ridden one. The ride was perfectly pleasant and the horses extremely well behaved. I wonder what tales they could tell of eccentric tourists they have carted back and forth. We dismounted at the entrance to the Siq, a 1,5 km long declivity in the mountains that is, and was used as the only entrance to Petra. Walking the Siq is one of the most wonderful experiences I have ever had. The towering rocks rear up on either side of the relatively smooth path which is in places still covered with its original paving stones. On the one side of the path is a water channel and on the other side is a water pipe, which the Nabateans used to ensure that their city had a permanent water supply. This was one of the secrets of their thousand year success: they always had sufficient water for their needs and those of the caravans that passed through this area. The sandstone rocks of the Siq are awesome to behold, varying in colour from grey to brown to black to red and ochre. Along the way there are remnants of statues erected to the gods worshipped by the Nabateans. These Arab people came out of the southern desert and are reputed to be the descendants of Nabath, the son of Ishmael. They founded their city at Petra because it was easily defendable thanks to the single entrance via the Siq and the surrounding circle of impenetrable mountains. The city flourished because of the extensive caravan trade that passed through here on its way to the Middle East and the West. The first settlers are believed to have reached Petra in the 6th century BC and their power lasted until 600 AD. Thus for a thousand years the people of Petra lived, traded and prospered until a violent earthquake destroyed many of the most important buildings in the city. Gradually the city was abandoned and sunk into obscurity. Legends of a 'Lost City' abounded, but it took until 1812 when a Swiss explorer called John Lewis Burckhardt rediscovered this lost treasure.
We continued our walk through the Siq taking endless photos to try and capture the magic of this special place. Eventually we rounded a corner and there before us was the Treasury, the most beautiful and best preserved tomb in Petra. This rose red marvel is more than 40 metres high with imposing columns that dwarf the camels and humans who move around at their feet. The Treasury or al-Khaznah, is truly one of the greatest monuments made by human hands. It equals the Pyramids, the Sphinx and the Great Hall at Karnak. What adds to its glamour is that first glimpse one has of the softly glowing red sandstone and its elegant design when one peeps round the rugged rocks of the Siq. Built as a tomb for a king, its chambers are totally empty and we are left to wonder about its purpose and what splendours the king may have been buried with. We just looked in awe at the matchless beauty and elegance of this building. I think one could return to Petra a hundred times and still be thrilled by the first view of the Treasury.
But time was marching on and Aladdin urged us to explore the valley with its hundreds of ancillary tombs, temples, the theatre and buildings, all carved out of the red rocks of Petra. Every step of the way there was another sight to see, another human endeavour to marvel at. Petra also met with my approval because for the first time we started seeing dogs! Aladdin probably thought I was totally wacky when I said 'There is a dog' every time we came across one of our canine friends. My enquiries after a dogless day or two earlier on had revealed that most of the Jordanian dogs in the northern areas had been eaten by Korean labourers who came to construct a series of bridges - horror of horrors. Imagine a country without dogs! What a tail (!) to tell our Label, our Labrador at home. The dogs of Petra were not exactly prime specimens belonging as they do to the local Bedouins, but at least they lent some appeal to the rocky landscape. The camels, donkeys, mules and horses also gave that living touch to this otherwise overpowering place.
We walked for hours through the valley to view the remains of temples, other tombs carved out of the sandstone, and the amazing colours of the rocks varying from pink to turquoise. At the halfway stop we gratefully drank mint tea from the most dubious of glasses of our entire trip, but the tea was heavenly - Inshallah! Eventually we reached the end of the valley where the Petra Museum is situated. We sat on a bridge admiring the stately Amphitheatre, and ate our 'safe' sandwiches and fruit and then my dearest Steve embarked on his lone adventure. The second most famous and beautiful monument at Petra is the Monastery - El Deir - a magnificent tomb that can only be reached by climbing up 759 very treacherous steps. Needless to say, I declined this honour and Aladdin vetoed any other forms of transport such as a donkey, because as he says going up may just still be safe, but coming down is too risky. Steve later confirmed that he was correct. Aladdin then suggested that I 'catch a camel' back to the start of the Siq, a suggestion that I was delighted with. I have always adored camels and my only experience with them in Egypt when we mounted them for about 5 minutes to have our photos taken at the Great Pyramid, had not satisfied my desire to get acquainted with these ships of the desert. I was introduced to a very handsome camel, which the Bedouin driver said was called 'Grass' (Aladdin later informed me with great good humour that 'grass' is 'hashish' in Arabic!). We took to each other instantly and after the rather undignified scramble to mount (there is only one stirrup and I have very short legs), there I was 2 metres taller than before. Riding this camel was one of the great treats of my life. Old Grass was very relaxed and oh what a difference it makes to be so high up. My view of the valley and the tombs was totally different and superior to what I had seen from my usual lowly level on the inward journey. Contrary to reports, I did not feel seasick and found the ambling gait most enjoyable. Grass only rumbled when we passed other camels and donkeys and otherwise behaved like a true gentleman. Meanwhile Aladdin bumped along on a donkey miles below me. I wish I could have ridden Grass for the rest of the day, but all too soon Aladdin and I were back at the Treasury and I had to say goodbye to my new long-legged friend. He rumbled and grumbled when he had to lie down to allow me to alight, but I think he also enjoyed our amble through the wonders of Petra. There was time for a few last photos, the chance to buy some trinkets from the Bedouins ("Lady, make my day, buy a souvenir!"), and then Aladdin and I slowly retraced our steps through the Siq. I shall never, ever forget the marvels of Petra or the towering gorge of the Siq with the clopping sounds of the horse-drawn carriages that ferry tourists through this rocky cleft. Embedded in my heart is the Siq, the Treasury, the wonderful valley and old Grass, my camel.
Feeling quite the equestrienne, I rode a horse back to the Tourist Centre and rewarded him with the apple cores I had been saving from lunch. Aladdin and I then sat in the warm sun (yes, the weather was perfect, cool, but slightly overcast with intermittent sunshine, so my fears had been in vain) waiting for Steve. He appeared in record time, even surprising Aladdin, having scaled the dizzy heights to the Monastery and retraced the entire journey on foot, not even riding the last 2 km. What a marathon man I married. He reported that the Monastery is very beautiful and excellently preserved and second only in majesty to the Treasury. Well, I have his excellent pictures to admire and I did have my ride on Grass to compensate me for not seeing this marvel of Petra.
Aladdin later told us that he had many a fraught moment at Petra with tourists who insisted on clambering up to the Monastery and getting stuck halfway up or down. Then there was the tale of one chap who started shouting 'Moses is coming!' when he saw the Treasury for the first time before he collapsed in a heap at Aladdin's feet. And there was the group of Dutch tourists who came to Petra to commit suicide in expectation of the second coming! He must have been quite satisfied with me, who only exclaimed at dogs, fell in love with a camel, and heeded his warnings about the dangers of scaling the heights to the Monastery when one is neither fit, nor athletic.
As a treat Aladdin then took us to look at the 5-star Mövenpick Hotel which has the most glorious lounge decorated with gold leaf and sumptuous chandeliers. He also showed us another Aladdin's Cave of a shop filled to overflowing with carpets, kilims and jewellery. I was so tempted, but decided that we were already weighed down with luggage and that a carpet would just not fit in any more. Our host plied us with a very interesting tea containing 11 different herbs - most refreshing.
That evening I felt like a traveller who has been to the ends of the earth and back, deeply satisfied and grateful that I had been able to realise one of the great dreams of my life.
On the 27th Aladdin and Fadi fetched us for the last true day of our journey. We waved goodbye to the mystic mountains of Petra, which guarded their secret for more than a thousand years, and drove to Wadi Rum. This magical desert came a close second in beauty to Petra. The sand is red and out of the endless vistas rise incredible sandstone mountains weathered into fantastic shapes by the wind and heat of the desert. This is Lawrence of Arabia country and the people speak of him as if he is still alive. We gazed at the contorted Seven Pillars of Wisdom that featured so strongly in Lawrence's life. At the Bedouin village (alas more than 97% of modern day Bedouins live in villages, sport cell phones and have satellite dishes, what a tragic loss to romance), we met our Bedouin driver Mohammed, who took us for a 4x4 drive through the desert. I kept on asking him to stop so that I could photograph another towering mountain rising above the red sands. We stopped at what is still know as Lawrence's Well, where sweet water springs from a rugged mountain bringing life to the parched desert. Then on to one of the gorges between two fantastically eroded mountains where proof of human habitation from prehistoric times has been found. While we walked over the sands two camels came gliding over the horizon towards a black Bedouin tent and we felt as if we had turned the clock back to the time of Lawrence and the sheiks. Wildly romantic.
Unfortunately our magic journey into time and history had come to an end. Aladdin bade us a fond farewell as he had to join up with a group of tourists landing at Aqaba that evening. We were sorry to see him go as he has been a most informative guide with a great sense of humour. Fadi then drove us back to Amman along the Desert Highway which bisects Jordan in a North-South direction. The trip only took 3 hours and it was with sad hearts that we also said goodbye to Fadi, who has 2 university degrees, but has to work as a driver because there are not enough jobs for graduates in Jordan. He was also most charming and we felt quite bereft when we got back to the Imperial Palace Hotel for our last night in Amman. Warm and cosseted we enjoyed the luxury of delicious food, comfortable rooms, and the pianist who now treated us to a medley of popular tunes while we sat in the cosy lounge and reminisced about our marvellous tour to Jordan.
The next morning another driver ferried us to Amman airport and we reversed our journey via Dubai to Joburg. The horrors of this return journey were endless, with having to wait for 12 hours at Dubai airport where they make an announcement every 3 minutes first in Arabic 'Horaheb, horaheb, and other unintelligible words', followed by the same announcement in English. Torture by sound for 12 hours is enough to make a strong man weep. Then there was the flight with seats so narrow that Twiggy would have felt cramped, and the lack of leg room which drove Steve dotty. No, let us not dwell on these miseries of modern travel, but reflect on the realisation of dreams and the joy of seeing the matchless beauty of Petra and Wadi Rum.
Inshallah.
Dr Ingrid van Heerden
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