The Other Side

Days 121-122, Wednesday 17th – Thursday 18th December 2008

(Photos added Jan 26th thanks to Zambian technology)

There will be no photos for a while, because the internet connection here in Zanzibar is not quite up to it, but if I don’t write this now I may never catch up.

The morning after our camel trek, we rode a bumpy jeep (an authentic, white, old one this time, with bench seats in the back) out of Wadi Rum, nursing our still very sore joints and bruises.

Another car met us in Rum Village, and drove us back along the Desert Highway (passing a few turn-offs to Iraq), then across to the Dead Sea, where we arrived at the Dead Sea Spa Hotel in time for a buffet lunch. The food was delicious for a buffet, including heaps of dessert, and Al made the observation that it was lucky you couldn’t sink in the Dead Sea, because we were about to break the rules and swim within half an hour of eating. This led to a long explanation of the ‘rule’ for Eid, who hadn’t heard of it, and thought we were complaining about the way he’d arranged things for us.

On the way – officially at Sea Level and still heading down

The swim was more of a float, of course, especially as you would need to jump out of the water and run straight to the showers if you got some of the water in your eyes.

Al is normally more of a sinker than a floater, so he loved the sensation, and I took the opportunity to do a floating Sudoku puzzle.

Just as I got into the water, a group of six Jordanian men arrived; five of them sat on the beach, fully-clothed, watching and taking pictures of the one man who swam. I felt slightly uncomfortable as the only female on the beach, particularly because every time I looked in their direction at least one face and one camera was pointed my way. I felt like the girl in the itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny-yellow-polka-dot-bikini: ’she was afraid to come out of the water’. Eventually I braved the gauntlet. We turned down the Jordanian guys’ invitation to join them in applying some of the mud from the sea shore (so I guess we’re doomed to wrinkles now), but I had a short ride on the slowest waterslide I’ve ever been on (apart from the one we made out of a plank of wood and a hose in the backyard when we were kids), before using the hotel changerooms and getting out of there.

The mineral-rich salty shore, with Jericho on the hill in the distance. Crystals of salt appeared on our skin as soon as we even partially dried in the sun.

I have now been on a waterslide with a view of Israel - it was an interesting clash of frivolity and contemplation. As on the day we stood on top of Mt Nebo, it felt unreal (as in not real, not as in 90s-style exclamation of appreciation or Paul Jennings book title) to look into the distance and see the ‘Holy Land’ on the horizon. There were still military checkpoints dotted along the roads, a legacy of the war Jordan lost to Israel in the 1960s. We also saw what used to be the turn-off to Israel, but that road doesn’t exist anymore. The one we were driving on was smoothly asphalted – funded by the Vatican as part of a visit by Pope John Paul II, because it runs between Mt Nebo and what is thought to be the place where Jesus was baptised in the Jordan River.

We spent the night in Madaba, at a restaurant with a ‘live singer’, who sometimes drifted off into conversation with the waiters and just left his keyboard backing track running. It seemed a much friendlier town this time around. And in the morning, we were very sad to say goodbye to Jordan and its great outdoors. The airport security staff were very serious about their job and ushered me strictly through the separate screening line for women (shielded from male view), but also had some friendly laughs with us, and that seemed to sum up the best of our experiences with people in the country.

Fact: what we call ‘doing doughies’ or ‘donuts’ – spinning a car around in circles – the Jordanians call ‘making fives’, because the Arabic number 5 is shaped like a pointed oval. Cute.

Day 120, Tuesday 16th December 2008 (Cath)

Eid cleverly took the walking option today, using the good excuse that he had to train for a twelve day hike he would be guiding for a group of Germans two days after he finished with us.

We took camels.

Me (left) and Al (right) on our camels. Mine was the oldest and I was told at the start he was also the gentlest. By the end though, after he had bitten Al’s camel on the bum, sparking a sudden gallop and stay-on-your-camel challenge for Al, we discovered he was actually known as ‘the crazy one’.

Al, wisely keeping out of reach

My camel and his buddy, a younger female racing camel who came along just to keep fit in preparation for the next racing season. She was by far the smartest, fittest and nicest of the lot.

I found myself leading the group for much of the day – it seemed none of the other camels wanted to walk in front of mine for some reason. At this stage, Al was taking a walking break to make sure his hip joints still functioned.

Al’s camel had a break too, just hanging out where the two coloured sands meet (eroded and washed down from different mountain stones).

More ancient carvings, this time in a narrow gorge

Camels in motion

That little speck up there is Eid, on top of the Um Frouth rock bridge, which he had reached by a shortcut on foot while we rode. I was inspired to climb it, then was not (‘I think it is too difficult for you, Catherine - it is too critical’, said Eid as he saw me start scrambling), then was resigned to staying down the bottom and taking photos of Al, and then was encouraged again (by Al) to try it and just turn around if I wanted to.

Made it

Al did not only the Jetstar star but also the jump. Unfortunately his photographer couldn’t get any closer to the edge than this, so the shot is less dramatic than it could have been. Still, I’m sure you can imagine what was under him (about fifteen metres of nothing).

After the climb, for some reason, I became quite fascinated by the ground.

As it was yesterday, the scenery was stunning, and moving through it almost silently added another dimension to the experience. We spotted at most five vehicles for the entire day, and only saw other people at the rock carvings and Um Frouth. Otherwise it was just us, some Bedouin tents, the occasional vehicle glinting in the distance, and the desert.

Our guides for the day, who rode the camels while we walked for the last half an hour or so back to camp, trying to keep our muscles alive and joints moving. The one on the right offered my family ten camels (maybe even racing camels, but he couldn’t guarantee that) for me to bring my sister to Jordan to marry him. This joke would wear thin later, in Egypt, but this was the first time we’d heard it and it was well delivered, so we laughed. Interested, Mere?

Another beautiful sunset, but the rocks felt a little less comfortable tonight than yesterday.

Cold showers helped ease the pain more than expected, but I don’t know if these camp beds had ever been appreciated as much as they were by us tonight.

Day 119, Monday 15th December 2008 (Cath)

The landscape around Petra may have looked dry and eroded, but in Jordanian terms it still doesn’t count as a desert. For that, you have to head to the other side of the Desert Highway, which is apparently considered the dividing line between land that gets enough rain for at least some crops to grow, and pure desert. In recent years though, the ‘official’ desert side has actually had some freak rain and even snow – more wonders of climate change.

We headed for the ‘desert of mountains’ made famous by Lawrence of Arabia – Wadi Rum. We’d been sharing one pair of sunglasses between us for the last few days (Al hadn’t replaced his after they broke somewhere back in less sunny times), but as soon as we saw the sand stretching ahead of us we realised it was crunch time, and paid the sort of price you’d expect when there’s only one pair of men’s sunnies at the only shop in the middle of the desert. Huge mark-ups aside, the visitors’ centre was very modern and quite impressive.

Wadi Rum-o-vision (impressive setting, cheesy words)

The rock formation known as the Seven Pillars of Wisdom, behind the new Wadi Rum Visitors Centre

We headed into the desert in what we imagined was going to be a rusty old jeep, but turned out to be a less romantic, but shiny and comfortable, new Suzuki Vitara 4WD. Eid was happy with our request to get out and walk for at least part of the journey, though.

Ancient graffiti

Lunch stop – our driver for the day was a great cook

The reward for scrambling over a few rocks behind our lunch spot

The best kind of charcoal chicken (coated with lime and salt – meat shouldn’t be this delicious when I am trying to be mostly vegetarian)

Rainbow Camp, our home for two nights (to shatter the feeling of remoteness, it had mobile reception, as it was in line of sight of Rum Village!)

We watched the sunset on both nights from these rocks, warmed by the day’s rays and sheltered from the wind, just behind our camp. Then it was time to sit around the fire outside the main goat-hair tent sipping sweet Bedouin tea until the smoke died down, so we could take the fire into the tent. Inside, we reclined on cushions – topped with animal skins for extra warmth – and ate, listening to Eid’s stories while drinking yet more tea.

The two Egyptian men who worked at the camp wouldn’t accept our invitation to eat with us – their boss had told them not to interfere with guests, apparently – but they came and sat around the fire once we’d finished dinner. Eid managed to keep the conversation going with the two of us speaking only English, the two of them speaking only Arabic, and himself as partial translator. Most of the time we think he was just having two parallel conversations, but it still felt cosy and communal – as much as it could when there were three people working to host just us, anyway.

It was fascinating to hear Eid talk about the changing roles of men and women, his early life as a Bedouin, then being the first in his family to go to college and leave the country, his life in Kuwait and Germany, and his return to Jordan. I could have sat staring at the fire and listening for hours, and nearly did. It was the cold that eventually tore us away and into our sleeping bags.

Days 117 – 118, Saturday 13th & Sunday 14th December 2008 (Cath)

Instead of following the path through the Siq, we used two of Petra’s back entrances this weekend. On Saturday, we started by walking up into the hills to the left of the main track into Petra, where Eid pointed out lots of carved houses - they hadn’t been visible from the lower levels, but each of their rock-cut doors faced at least one other dwelling, so that signals could be sent in a chain across the entire city.

Looking back towards the main entrance to the Petra area (township of Wadi Musa on the hill in the distance) – rock-cut stairs lead to a Nabatean shrine on the right

Eid on the roof of a Nabatean house (also used more recently by Bedouin people)

We could tell we were getting closer to the heart of the ancient city when the rocks started to remind us of red central Australia (and yes, we do really need to see more of our own country! We’re listening, Julia Gillard!) 

 The Treasury – trifecta of views now complete (night, day, clifftop)

I loved the hike and the freedom to walk my own way, especially during the scramble down through a shady narrow gorge to reach this point. Once Eid found out about my fear of heights, though - it tends to show itself when I’m standing at the top of a 50m sheer drop- I found myself being guided just a little bit more than I needed to be for the rest of the day. As much as I appreciated his concern, Al and I spent most of the next two days reassuring Eid not only that I was still able to climb over rocks, but that I actually enjoyed it (most of the time).

Nabatean written language

The next peak we reached – the High Place of Sacrifice, overlooking Petra

A shady tea stop (sage and sugar = yum)

‘Sea onions’

Tomb in Wadi Farasa, on the way down from the High Place

Goats in Wadi Farasa

Back in central Petra – columns made of ‘wheels’ of sandstone, outside a building which was either a huge temple or a town hall (digs still going on around it might help the archaeologists reach a consensus)

Look what the hotel staff did

On Sunday, we headed in the other direction, with the help of a car this time. This is the view back towards Petra (on the right is the village, Um Sayhoun, where the Bedouins displaced from Petra live).

Our first stop was at a huge water cistern, still holding water about two thousand years after it was carved into the cliff. Local people still stop their animals at the water trough out the front – the goats don’t have to know about the colourful bits of rubbish floating inside.

In ancient times, caravans would have stopped in this area. Nearby are the Nabatean ruins of Baida, also known as ‘Little Petra’ - apparently a cheaper place to stay back then than Petra itself was. Like Petra, it has a narrow entrance (Siq Barid), is surrounded by sandstone hills, and was full of water channels, water basins and water cisterns. We could really learn a thing or two from the Nabateans’ obsession, as repetitive as it made our tour of their architecture.

Tomb in Baida

Nabatean fresco on the ceiling of one of the largest buildings

Real archeaologists doing real field work!

Just in case we were starting to get blase about visiting 2000 year-old ruins, Eid took us around the corner to see this Neolithic village. Dated between 7000 and 6500BC, this is apparently the oldest known place where soil was cultivated and man ’settled down’ from his hunter-gatherer ways. In the foreground is a house – the vertical gaps between stones are where wooden posts would have held up the roof.

Now we just had to walk across this desert (target: other side of hill on right).

Oh, and then walk across this ledge above a sheer cliff. We couldn’t even tell how high it was, as it dropped away into the darkness (I would have freaked out even more had I known Al was pausing up there to take photos)!

I was still buzzing from the clifftop moment when we came across our prize – the ‘Monastery’ of Petra (also originally a tomb, but named after its later use by Christians). It is the best-preserved completely Nabatean-style facade in Petra (the Treasury has Greek and Roman influences).

Big enough

The path down into the centre of Petra

Our feet, legs and eyes especially enjoyed a surprisingly peaceful stop at the Treasury (we weren’t even offered a horse and carriage ride to the entrance, although we would have been tempted), before we left the site for the fourth and last time.

Day 116, Friday 12th December 2008 (Cath)

It was exceptionally quiet in Petra. This is supposed to be the high tourist season in Jordan – not too hot, not too cold. But there seemed to be more people working or selling souvenirs in the archaeological site than there were tourists. It’s possible that less tours were operating now, as we had arrived in the middle of the Eid al-Adha festival (the next Islamic holiday after Ramadan). Most Jordanians were spending time with their families after performing the obligatory slaughter of a sheep or goat in the first days of the holiday (we saw a few suspicious-looking circles of men surrounding animals on the side of the road on our first two days here); others were in, or on the way back from, Mecca.

One advantage of the holiday calm was that we had the chance to walk down the Siq in relative peace (ignoring the odd horse and cart that would come tearing round the corner and force us against the wall).

The walk through the Siq

First daylight glimpse of The Treasury (Al Khazneh)

 The Treasury facade – actually originally a tomb. Carved by the Nabateans between 100BC and 200AD, it shows Greek and Roman influences. And of course it was where the Holy Grail was found in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

‘Should I kill you now?’ asked the man sitting across from me, via Eid the interpreter. I was playing an ancient board game (we saw the same game board carved into rocks over the next few days), with sticks as dice, but still have absolutely NO idea what the rules are, or whether my opponent was playing by them. I lost.

Until the site was World Heritage listed by UNESCO in 1985, it was home to local Bedouin people. In compensation for the disturbance of their traditional lifestyle, the Jordanian government built a village for them to be relocated to, further along one of the valleys leading into the ancient city. Many of the people still spend their days in the Petra site, mainly selling souvenirs; unfortunately most of the souvenirs are unrelated to the site (like plastic necklaces), and look mass-produced and as though they come from a central supplier. There must be more effective ways for them to profit from tourism.

View up the valley to the government-sponsored village

View from behind the old museum, on the way up to the Crusader castle – just another spectacular rock valley

The man who lives in this rock house has been allowed to stay, in an effort to maintain some trace of the way of life of the modern people of Petra

Rock colours

Eid and I playing amateur archaeologists, finding shards of Nabatean pottery in sand cleared during a recent tomb excavation

According to Eid, this is the real deal – wafer-thin, red and painted.

Colours on the ceiling of the Royal Tomb

The Roman Theatre

The day’s walking proved how much exercise we had not been doing in Europe. We had a feeling we might embarrass ourselves in the next two days, since they were supposed to be filled with more walking. Since all we felt like doing at night was sitting or lying down, it was the perfect chance to work on this blog – but we visited three internet cafes and discovered the whole town had been somehow cut off. Nobody was sure when the internet connection would be working again (and we guessed it wouldn’t be until the end of Eid al-Adha), but they seemed happy to keep sitting at work in empty rooms of computers, intermittently turning away people like us with a smile.