Mind-blowing Petra

If you are one of those people who has made a list of things you wish to do before you die, add ‘visit Petra’ to that list. I had heard on a few occasions how amazing the rock-cut architecture of the city of Petra was, but I must have subconsciously had scaled down my expectations (just a small self-defense mechanism I carry around with me) because I felt completely overwhelmed by our day in Petra.

We travelled to Jordan via Eilat, a resort town in Israel on very tip of the Red Sea, where there is a border crossing into Aqaba, the equivalent Jordanian resort town. From Aqaba we took a taxi to Wadi Musa, the town servicing Petra, where our hotel was. Our hotel was at first glance quite charming as a complex of one-storey stone buildings with low-slung Bedouin style furniture, tapestries and an incredible view into the valley. Elle quickly made friends with Ahmad, the concierge at the front desk who, despite his insistent sales pitch for Bedouin camping in Wadi Rum, was our new best friend. He quickly organized our appointment at the Turkish bath, made us dinner reservations and set-up a driver for our trip to Petra the next day. (mini Kappy!) Ahmad was also the first, the original Ahmad of the week (1). So after our scrubbing and steaming at the Turkish bath (by Ahmad of the towel and muscles), dinner at the terrible buffet (this was the less charming side to the hotel) we were off to bed to rest up for a full day in Petra.

This rest was a worthwhile investment as we started very early in the morning, having planned only one day to see everything. In retrospect this was a mistake as there was so much to see and we really plowed-through the sites, so as not to miss anything, rather than wander around which would have been much more relaxing. We also misjudged the weather slightly as it was much colder than we thought and found ourselves at the ticket booth freezing in our short pants and light shirts as though it was the middle of July. We ran to the nearest tourist shop and bought two brightly coloured kaffiehs, which the shopkeeper promptly wrapped around our heads. We looked like idiots but we were warm! Then we started walking.

Just a quick bit of background: Petra is known as the capital city of the Nabateans, a group of nomads and traders who settled in Petra perhaps as early as the 6th century BC, flourishing closer to the 2nd century BC and declining during Roman rule. At its cultural peak, the Nabatean kingdom prospered largely due to their strategic location (on trading routes and good defensive position) and their sophisticated control of water developed through a complex system of dams, cisterns and waterways using natural features of the stone.

The entrance is set up beautifully; you start at what is called ‘The Siq’, the shaft, a long winding path through a massive rift in the sandstone rock, gradually narrowing and widening along the way. At the end of the Siq is a glimpse of The Treasury, the impressive introduction to the city, which unfolds beyond. Petra is a real city in that streets, facades and public spaces are organized and designed, but it is not composed of buildings in that the structures themselves have little to do with interior space. Enter them and they are all the same: precisely cut square caves with little light and little spatial complexity. The beauty in these tombs and temples lies in the grandeur of their exteriors but they are essentially false fronts. But beautiful, ornately-carved false fronts. The Treasury, a prime example, emerges in a seemingly confrontational way after your cozy walk between the sandstone. Emerging into this large view, you feel instantly diminished, but almost giddy.

Surprise, discovery, excitement and annoyance with tourists became our major emotions of the day. We climbed up and wandered down mountains, through slim passageways, around hairpin turns and then suddenly discovered yet another elaborately carved tomb, expansive view of the valley or village of caves. After climbing up to a place known as ‘The High Point of Sacrifice” (which included little carved blood gutters) a young Bedouin woman showed us an alternate route down and sold us on a visit up to ‘The Monastery”, the most fantastic carved façade in Petra. It was a bit of a grueling climb by the time we got there, but she was right about the monastery, it was definitely an ‘11’ as we would say, and we hit it right at sunset, the pink stone bathed in magic light.

Yet in our pursuit of this site, this photo, we had neglected to check the time. We hurried down the 800 steps (I think they forgot to add a zero) as the light was fading and we realized we were at the complete opposite end of the site—and it was rapidly getting dark. Where were all those guys who kept pestering us for a donkey ride? We finally found one, but he was tired and preferred to ride the donkey himself. “Good exercise for you I think!” as he trotted off, leaving us to fend for ourselves. We still had to negotiate the Siq, which we were a bit scared to do at this point. Three camels came into view. Our options were dwindling so we decided riding a camel was less scary than walking back through a narrow rock passage without being able to see. After agreeing to pay twice what a camel ride was worth (our bargaining powers having long disappeared), we mounted those camels and set off back through the Siq. Overcoming my initial fear of these large beasts, I began to relax my aching calf muscles and enjoy the ride. The soft padding of the camel feet on the sand, the stars in the sky, there were worse things then a nighttime camel ride out of Petra….

For a more eloquent piece on Petra, see Josh's article at http://www.cbc.ca/arts/artdesign/petra.html

Footnotes

1) pronounced Ach-mad. Ahmad the concierge, Ahmad of the Turkish Bath, then in Egypt: Ahmad the masseuse, Ahmad who sold us the massage, Ahmad the waiter, and finally, Ahmad the doctor.