I had been looking forward to seeing Petra enormously when I was back home in Australia. Indeed it had been one of the main attractions that lead me to the Middle East. But since arriving in Jordan I had started to think of it as something I had to do, an experience that I had to tick off the list rather than a highlight I was eagerly anticipating.
I don't know why my thinking swung that way....Perhaps it was the way that everyone I met in Jordan asked "Have you been to Petra yet?". Perhaps it was my natural resistance to things you "must" see. Perhaps it was the feeling that the experience was bound to disappoint. Perhaps it was my tight-arse travelling ways and the fact that the three day pass cost 22 JD in 2010 and now cost 60 JD. In any case, I had to really force myself to leave Amman, where I had set up a comfortable base, and board a mini bus for the 3 hour trip to Wadi Musa.
Everything in Wadi Musa costs more than in Amman. It is a small town set up purely to service the thousands of tourists that flock to see Petra each week, and the locals are well aware that tourists can afford to pay a bit more than locals. Given that my finances were already going to be stretched by the 3 day pass to Petra, I decided I had to really make the most of my 3 days then quickly move on.
In an effort to beat the hoards on tour buses, which I'd heard arrived at Petra from 8 am onwards, I started my first day at Petra at 6:30am. It was common knowledge amongst backpackers that you should start early, so I really expected to see quite a few people around even at that early hour. I was amazed at how few of us there were. In the 1km stretch you walk before you reach the Siq I could see only two couples up ahead. By taking my time absorbing the amazing stillness of the gorgeous sandstone hills around me, I was able to amble slowly enough that by the time I reached the Siq I was on my own.
Walking through the Siq, on my own, in the still dawn light was as close as I am ever likely to come to a religious experience. It was simply breathtaking.
The Siq is a deep, narrow gorge of stunning natural beauty that stretches 1.2km. It is hemmed in by sandstone cliffs of pink, cream and brown soaring up to 80m. The Siq is on average only a few metres wide and each turn affords a new awe inspiring view. I walked through the Siq with only the twittering of birds and the sound of the gravel crunching under my feet to accompany me. I craned my neck to glimpse swirls of pink and orange on the cliff tops above, highlighted by the early morning sun. I kept oscillating between wanting to slow down and drink the experience in for as long as I could and wanting to speed up so that I didn't get overtaken by people arriving behind me.
Finally, as I was starting to wonder if this Siq would ever end, I turned a corner and caught a glimpse of the glorious Treasury building through the rocks ahead. When you see the Treasury building you truly begin to understand that the Nabataeans, who built Petra as their capital more than 2000 years ago, really were one of the most gifted people in history.
After that amazing start to my time in Petra I was filled with the old excitement and keen to explore further. Petra is really quite large and it is impossible, even in 3 days, to see everything. Based on other travellers' recommendations and my estimations of my own, rather low, levels of physical fitness I had decided to see one "high place" on each of my 3 days.
So on my first day I checked I had my ventolin inhaler and water with me, then set off up the stone steps to the High Place of Sacrifice. I stopped frequently to take photos of the majestic scenery (oh all right - really just to catch my breath) and again marvelled that I got to experience this climb in the still morning air alone...Well, almost alone. I soon came across a local Bedouin man on donkey who was herding his mountain goats up the steps. He seemed worried that he was holding me up and kept gesturing for me to go ahead - but as I stood, gasping for air, I waved him and his herd past me. I couldn't help thinking that his mountain goats were mocking me with their sure-footed athleticism and watched enviously as they bounded over boulders and stone steps with ease.
Further up the path I came across a Bedouin woman with a stall selling an assortment of jewelry. She told me the prices, as I took the opportunity to again catch my breath, and I think she took my hesitation to mean that I thought the prices were too high (when in actual fact my lack of fitness made speech at that point all but impossibe). By the time I was ready to move on again the prices were so reasonable that I bought myself a turquoise necklace. You know that's what is missing with bush walking in Australia. I think I would be inclined to do more bush walking if I knew the paths were going to be dotted with jewelry and tea stalls along the way.
Anyway I eventually made it to the High Place of Sacrifice and was incredibly lucky to have come on such a sunny, still morning and to have the location all to myself for a good 20 minutes before the next tourists arrived. After enjoying the sunshine, writing in my journal and taking more photos I began my descent down a path on the other side of the mountain. I went past numerous other tombs on the way and though the local authorities had made some efforts to point you in the right direction, there was the occasional arrow painted on a rock, you frequently had to guess to surest path down the mountain or through a gorge. As I lost a path near the bottom and found myself all alone scampering over rocks as I made my way down a wadi (a dry river bed) I did feel a bit like Indianna Jones exploring new territories...that was until I came across numerous plastic water bottles and chocolate bar wrappers which I'm guessing were not left there by the Nabataeans 2000 years earlier!
The scene that met me once I returned to the street of facades was vastly different to the lovely morning stillness I had wandered through just a few hours earlier. Now Petra was filled with tour groups and many young Bedouin men persistantly offered me donkey rides with more and more insulting comments like "Are you still alive?" "It is too far for you to walk", "Let my donkey take you to the Monastery - he can carry your weight!". On the walk back out of Petra I frequently had to jump aside as snorting camels and colourful horse and carriages, ferrying older weary tourists back to the entrance, clattered past me. I then determined that I would start early for my second day at Petra as well.
My second day at Petra again began at 6:30am, but the wind made the walk through the Siq slightly less peaceful the second time around. My mission on day two was to climb up to another "high place" and hopefully find the secret path where you can look down on the Treasury from a cliff top above.
My legs were slightly less willing than my spirit given their exertions over 7 hours on the previous day - but still I set off determinedly up another set of stone steps to the top of the plateau above the Royal Tombs. I could see a french couple bounding athletically up ahead of me and after less than half an hour of climbing, or more accurately trudging, I reached the plateau. The wind regularly blowing sand into my face made it difficult to enjoy the stunning views of the Theatre and most of Petra below me for more than a few minutes and I was soon looking around for a local Bedouin to point me in the right direction to find the aerial view of the Treasury. There were mountain goats aplenty, but alas no locals and I soon found the french couple muttering in frustration as they too tried to ascertain which was the correct way.
It was at this point that my frequent experiences getting lost the day before came in handy. As the young Bedouin men take less able tourists on donkeys to all the major sites in Petra, it is usually a pretty safe bet when you've lost the path to look out for donkey droppings to show you the right way. I filled the french couple in on my master plan and we soon set off scampering across and down boulders all the while keeping our eyes peeled for the brown, smelly "signposts" along the way. After about 20 minutes we found the "secret path" and as the wind again picked up I shuffled quite nervously past the large sign that read, "STOP! CLIFFS!" to climb over more boulders until at last we could see the gorgeous Treasury glowing in the morning sun below us.
The view was astounding and the french couple insisted on taking some photos of me on my camera infront of this view of the Treasury. I was less keen - as to get in shot I had to perch on a ledge more than 100m above the tourists below, certain that the next strong gust of wind was going to cause me to plummet to my death. In the resulting photos you can just make out my look of sheer terror through the bird's nest of my hair which is being blown in front of my face. Tres attractive!
On day three at Petra I started around midday as I wanted to visit the Monastery and stay in Petra for the sunset. The walk up more than 800 stone steps to the Monastery was tiring but not nearly as bad as the donkey ride salesman down below in the Siq had made out. The Monastery was enormous and well worth the climb. I met a lovely American couple there who took a photo for me. Gerard and Toni were from San Francisco and quite excited when I told them my travel plans as they too are huge Harry Potter fans (could that be why I liked them so much?).
It was interesting that on a day when I had set out to see one of the most impressive locations in Petra, it was the people that I met and chatted with that became the real highlight. I met a local guide selling donkey rides who stopped attending school at the age of 10 and now speaks 7 languages. I chatted with a New Zealand nurse who in the late 1970's married a Bedouin and lived in a cave at Petra for more than 7 years. I bought and read her book which though fascinating bears the rather literal title, "Married to a Bedouin".
Most exciting for me though was a conversation with a group of Jordanian high school students. The girls approached me at the Monastery, keen to practise their English I think, and we ended up walking down the mountain together. The group was from Jerash (north Jordan) and I met their teacher who was also the mother of one of the girls I spoke to. It turns out that an excursion to Petra is very common for Jordanian school students and one that they thoroughly enjoy despite having to start the day before 6am. It makes the almost mandatory excursion for NSW students to Canberra seem a tad dull!
I shared a cup of mint tea with some local Bedouin as we watched the sun set on Petra. By the time I, and the few remaining tourists, walked out of the Siq the cliffs had turned to deep pink. We all kept stealing glances over our shoulders, trying to take one last mental picture to keep the sunset magic of Petra fresh in our minds.
Though I truly loved Petra, the sunny shores of Aqaba, where I arrived an hour ago, are be a bit of a relief with more ocean than red sand. Bring on the snorkeling!
I don't know why my thinking swung that way....Perhaps it was the way that everyone I met in Jordan asked "Have you been to Petra yet?". Perhaps it was my natural resistance to things you "must" see. Perhaps it was the feeling that the experience was bound to disappoint. Perhaps it was my tight-arse travelling ways and the fact that the three day pass cost 22 JD in 2010 and now cost 60 JD. In any case, I had to really force myself to leave Amman, where I had set up a comfortable base, and board a mini bus for the 3 hour trip to Wadi Musa.
Everything in Wadi Musa costs more than in Amman. It is a small town set up purely to service the thousands of tourists that flock to see Petra each week, and the locals are well aware that tourists can afford to pay a bit more than locals. Given that my finances were already going to be stretched by the 3 day pass to Petra, I decided I had to really make the most of my 3 days then quickly move on.
In an effort to beat the hoards on tour buses, which I'd heard arrived at Petra from 8 am onwards, I started my first day at Petra at 6:30am. It was common knowledge amongst backpackers that you should start early, so I really expected to see quite a few people around even at that early hour. I was amazed at how few of us there were. In the 1km stretch you walk before you reach the Siq I could see only two couples up ahead. By taking my time absorbing the amazing stillness of the gorgeous sandstone hills around me, I was able to amble slowly enough that by the time I reached the Siq I was on my own.
Walking through the Siq, on my own, in the still dawn light was as close as I am ever likely to come to a religious experience. It was simply breathtaking.
The Siq is a deep, narrow gorge of stunning natural beauty that stretches 1.2km. It is hemmed in by sandstone cliffs of pink, cream and brown soaring up to 80m. The Siq is on average only a few metres wide and each turn affords a new awe inspiring view. I walked through the Siq with only the twittering of birds and the sound of the gravel crunching under my feet to accompany me. I craned my neck to glimpse swirls of pink and orange on the cliff tops above, highlighted by the early morning sun. I kept oscillating between wanting to slow down and drink the experience in for as long as I could and wanting to speed up so that I didn't get overtaken by people arriving behind me.
Finally, as I was starting to wonder if this Siq would ever end, I turned a corner and caught a glimpse of the glorious Treasury building through the rocks ahead. When you see the Treasury building you truly begin to understand that the Nabataeans, who built Petra as their capital more than 2000 years ago, really were one of the most gifted people in history.
After that amazing start to my time in Petra I was filled with the old excitement and keen to explore further. Petra is really quite large and it is impossible, even in 3 days, to see everything. Based on other travellers' recommendations and my estimations of my own, rather low, levels of physical fitness I had decided to see one "high place" on each of my 3 days.
So on my first day I checked I had my ventolin inhaler and water with me, then set off up the stone steps to the High Place of Sacrifice. I stopped frequently to take photos of the majestic scenery (oh all right - really just to catch my breath) and again marvelled that I got to experience this climb in the still morning air alone...Well, almost alone. I soon came across a local Bedouin man on donkey who was herding his mountain goats up the steps. He seemed worried that he was holding me up and kept gesturing for me to go ahead - but as I stood, gasping for air, I waved him and his herd past me. I couldn't help thinking that his mountain goats were mocking me with their sure-footed athleticism and watched enviously as they bounded over boulders and stone steps with ease.
Further up the path I came across a Bedouin woman with a stall selling an assortment of jewelry. She told me the prices, as I took the opportunity to again catch my breath, and I think she took my hesitation to mean that I thought the prices were too high (when in actual fact my lack of fitness made speech at that point all but impossibe). By the time I was ready to move on again the prices were so reasonable that I bought myself a turquoise necklace. You know that's what is missing with bush walking in Australia. I think I would be inclined to do more bush walking if I knew the paths were going to be dotted with jewelry and tea stalls along the way.
Anyway I eventually made it to the High Place of Sacrifice and was incredibly lucky to have come on such a sunny, still morning and to have the location all to myself for a good 20 minutes before the next tourists arrived. After enjoying the sunshine, writing in my journal and taking more photos I began my descent down a path on the other side of the mountain. I went past numerous other tombs on the way and though the local authorities had made some efforts to point you in the right direction, there was the occasional arrow painted on a rock, you frequently had to guess to surest path down the mountain or through a gorge. As I lost a path near the bottom and found myself all alone scampering over rocks as I made my way down a wadi (a dry river bed) I did feel a bit like Indianna Jones exploring new territories...that was until I came across numerous plastic water bottles and chocolate bar wrappers which I'm guessing were not left there by the Nabataeans 2000 years earlier!
The scene that met me once I returned to the street of facades was vastly different to the lovely morning stillness I had wandered through just a few hours earlier. Now Petra was filled with tour groups and many young Bedouin men persistantly offered me donkey rides with more and more insulting comments like "Are you still alive?" "It is too far for you to walk", "Let my donkey take you to the Monastery - he can carry your weight!". On the walk back out of Petra I frequently had to jump aside as snorting camels and colourful horse and carriages, ferrying older weary tourists back to the entrance, clattered past me. I then determined that I would start early for my second day at Petra as well.
My second day at Petra again began at 6:30am, but the wind made the walk through the Siq slightly less peaceful the second time around. My mission on day two was to climb up to another "high place" and hopefully find the secret path where you can look down on the Treasury from a cliff top above.
My legs were slightly less willing than my spirit given their exertions over 7 hours on the previous day - but still I set off determinedly up another set of stone steps to the top of the plateau above the Royal Tombs. I could see a french couple bounding athletically up ahead of me and after less than half an hour of climbing, or more accurately trudging, I reached the plateau. The wind regularly blowing sand into my face made it difficult to enjoy the stunning views of the Theatre and most of Petra below me for more than a few minutes and I was soon looking around for a local Bedouin to point me in the right direction to find the aerial view of the Treasury. There were mountain goats aplenty, but alas no locals and I soon found the french couple muttering in frustration as they too tried to ascertain which was the correct way.
It was at this point that my frequent experiences getting lost the day before came in handy. As the young Bedouin men take less able tourists on donkeys to all the major sites in Petra, it is usually a pretty safe bet when you've lost the path to look out for donkey droppings to show you the right way. I filled the french couple in on my master plan and we soon set off scampering across and down boulders all the while keeping our eyes peeled for the brown, smelly "signposts" along the way. After about 20 minutes we found the "secret path" and as the wind again picked up I shuffled quite nervously past the large sign that read, "STOP! CLIFFS!" to climb over more boulders until at last we could see the gorgeous Treasury glowing in the morning sun below us.
The view was astounding and the french couple insisted on taking some photos of me on my camera infront of this view of the Treasury. I was less keen - as to get in shot I had to perch on a ledge more than 100m above the tourists below, certain that the next strong gust of wind was going to cause me to plummet to my death. In the resulting photos you can just make out my look of sheer terror through the bird's nest of my hair which is being blown in front of my face. Tres attractive!
On day three at Petra I started around midday as I wanted to visit the Monastery and stay in Petra for the sunset. The walk up more than 800 stone steps to the Monastery was tiring but not nearly as bad as the donkey ride salesman down below in the Siq had made out. The Monastery was enormous and well worth the climb. I met a lovely American couple there who took a photo for me. Gerard and Toni were from San Francisco and quite excited when I told them my travel plans as they too are huge Harry Potter fans (could that be why I liked them so much?).
It was interesting that on a day when I had set out to see one of the most impressive locations in Petra, it was the people that I met and chatted with that became the real highlight. I met a local guide selling donkey rides who stopped attending school at the age of 10 and now speaks 7 languages. I chatted with a New Zealand nurse who in the late 1970's married a Bedouin and lived in a cave at Petra for more than 7 years. I bought and read her book which though fascinating bears the rather literal title, "Married to a Bedouin".
Most exciting for me though was a conversation with a group of Jordanian high school students. The girls approached me at the Monastery, keen to practise their English I think, and we ended up walking down the mountain together. The group was from Jerash (north Jordan) and I met their teacher who was also the mother of one of the girls I spoke to. It turns out that an excursion to Petra is very common for Jordanian school students and one that they thoroughly enjoy despite having to start the day before 6am. It makes the almost mandatory excursion for NSW students to Canberra seem a tad dull!
I shared a cup of mint tea with some local Bedouin as we watched the sun set on Petra. By the time I, and the few remaining tourists, walked out of the Siq the cliffs had turned to deep pink. We all kept stealing glances over our shoulders, trying to take one last mental picture to keep the sunset magic of Petra fresh in our minds.
Though I truly loved Petra, the sunny shores of Aqaba, where I arrived an hour ago, are be a bit of a relief with more ocean than red sand. Bring on the snorkeling!
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