Aqaba (AUK-a-buh) is Jordan’s only port, on the eastern side of the very northern end of the Gulf of Aqaba. From Aqaba, it is only 25 minutes by boat across the Gulf to Israel’s only port (I forget the name), and you can see Israel across the water. By car, it is only about 30 minutes to Saudi Arabia. In contrast to Alexandria, Aqaba is neat, well laid out, houses are painted (usually beige, soft peach, soft yellow, or soft aqua), streets are lined with trees and shrubs, and there is no rubbish. We saw people sweeping sidewalks and picking up rubbish. Our guide told us that Jordan has about 6% Christians and the rest are Sunni Muslim; Shiite Muslims are not allowed in the country. I asked how you can tell who is a Shiite because Arabs look like Arabs, so what is the difference? The guide gave me the color code that answered a lot of questions I’ve had over the past -- you can tell by the color of the head coverings that men wear: red and white are Jordanians, black and white are Palestinians, all white are Bedouin, which also includes Saudis, all black are Shiites, and blue and white are tourists. OK, so you knew this already, but it was new to me. And this may be the color code that the guide knows and may be different in other parts of the world.
My sister and I took a 10 hour tour to see Petra, another World Heritage Site. Petra has a very interesting history -- it is at least 7000 years old and was kept hidden by locals until the late 1800’s when a Swiss explorer disguised himself as a Muslim and told the locals that we wanted to make a religious sacrifice in Petra so they took him there. He proceeded to broadcast his discovery to all of Europe which gave rise to a Jordanian saying that you can never trust the Swiss.
The 2.5 hour drive from Aqaba to Petra was fascinating. Outside of the city, Jordan is all one color -- sand color. Sand is everywhere -- in dunes, rocky outcroppings with sand blown up against them, big, jagged rocky mountains. Interesting shapes and contours, all monochrome. We saw towns with neat houses painted beige and soft peach, many of them with rebar sticking out the roof because they plan to build another floor when they can afford it. The houses are built on hillsides and on cliffs, and on the hillsides were flocks of goats (white ones, brown ones, and black ones) and occasionally camels. (Sometimes I have a strange altered reality feeling -- am I on a movie set or or is this real?) In the vast distances between little towns were some vineyards, olive groves, watermelon fields, and occasional Bedouin tents. Apparently the government has tried hard to settle down the nomadic people by requiring that all children attend school, and giving the Bedouin free land and houses and encouraging them to start farming. So far, some of them have settled but some persist in living a nomadic lifestyle in tents. So where does the water come from in a land that looks totally arid? From springs. Enough to provide water for towns and a bit of agriculture. I did spy water gushing out of a rocky bank as we drove by, so there must be water under all that sand and rock.
The ancient city of Petra is located near the modern city of Petra. Our convoy of 20 busses all parked in a huge bus park and we walked down to the visitor center. Note the word “down.” Walking through a gauntlet of market stalls and roving sellers (almost as aggressive as Egypt but not quite as bad), we reached the official, policed, gate. After that we walked along a dirt and stone road down (there’s that word again) for about a quarter of a mile to the beginning of the canyon (the Siq). There was a parallel dirt and stone road along which horses were available for riding through the canyon (the horse ride is “free” but you must pay a tip at the end and I believe that the “tip” is negotiated) and 2-person carriages drawn by horses and donkeys were available for hire. We walked along with the other several thousand people, in the hot sun (although I must admit that it wasn’t as hot as I expected and there was a bit of a breeze). We walked, paused to look around, looked up the canyon walls, sat on benches, and walked some more.
The path narrowed as we entered the canyon, in some places it was only about 4-5 people wide. The canyon wanders, snake-like, down (note!) and is paved in some places with large, very uneven, potholed stones that are treacherous to ankles if you are not careful. It is very deep -- the red-orange-yellow colored striations of sandstone, the sculptured quality of the stone from ancient floods and rivers, and the play of sunlight against shadow, all against the backdrop of a blue, blue sky is breathtaking. I don’t know how tall the canyon walls are, but my guess is at least 200 ft tall. It is easy to see how the ancient city was undiscovered for centuries. Walking through the canyon was unlike anything I’ve experienced.
And then we reached that final curve and we saw an edge of The Treasury façade, bathed in sunlight, rosy in color and beautifully carved into the cliff. Each step revealed more and more of the famous building until we reached the end of the canyon and were in a kind of central open area filled with people, camels, horses, a few market stalls, some Jordanian police, and carriages.
The Petra ruins cover almost 46 square miles and we had only 4 hours to walk down, walk around, have a bit of lunch, and walk back up (in the afternoon heat and it was lots of UP), then walk up to the bus. About a 3-mile roundtrip, which is a long way going uphill in the heat. Not much time. I stayed in the central area, content to gaze at The Treasury, watch the camels (yes, they were available for riding around the site), and watch the carriages, while my sister wandered farther down the trail. I seem to be more bothered by heat lately than usual so I figured that seeing something was better than nothing and I really didn’t want to push myself too hard knowing that I still had to face the walk back.
We tried to engage a carriage ride back up but they seemed to be controlled by one man and it was very difficult to get his attention. Then, just when we thought we might have made a deal, he and 2 other men got into a very heated argument (much yelling, much arm waving and hand gestures, much facial expression and bulging veins in the neck). The argument was so heated that the 2 Jordanian tourist police on duty came over to try to calm things down but that had no effect whatsoever. We’re not sure what the problem was but we lost out on the carriage and after talking to a few other drivers it seemed that we should have made arrangements to be picked up before we started down the canyon. Who knew? So, we started our walk back up. As I slowly trudged I was reminded of the adage “be careful of what you wish for.” Seeing Petra has been on my personal wish list for years and years and I figured that I was just never going to get that wish fulfilled. It is a romantic notion in a way. And now that the opportunity suddenly presented itself, I realized that as with most romantic notions, it is often much more difficult than I originally thought.
Luckily, we had plenty of water with us and we soaked bandanas with water and wrapped them around our necks and that helped. But that alone couldn’t get us any closer to the bus. So we plodded and rested and plodded and rested. About halfway back up a carriage driver came along yelling that he was available so we quickly made a deal for a ride to the top for the outrageous sum of $40 (total for both of us), but I didn’t care, I was willing to pay any price. And let’s be realistic here, we can afford the $40. The ride was something else -- bouncing over those paving stones was a kidney jarring, bone rattling experience, but we got to the top and that is what counted. At one point, our driver was racing another driver and As we reached the top the carriage in front stopped suddenly -- our driver swerved to avoid it but the carriage wheels locked together for a second. My sister was prepared to jump out if the carriage turned over but the situation was resolved quickly to no bad effect.
Of course I slept most of the ride back to the ship -- this weary traveler had a big day. Tomorrow is another huge day -- we’re going to Luxor and the Valley of the Kings and the Temple of Karnak (does anyone else always think of Johnny Carson when that name comes up?)
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