Have you ever had a moment where you knew, while it was happening, that you were having one of the best moments of your life? The last time I had one I was at a jazz club in Havana. But I think I had another one of those moments in Petra. Even if the rest of my trip to Jordan had been a let down (it wasn’t) that moment would have redeemed it.
I left my lodging at the Infinity Guest House early, maybe 5:30am. The sun was just starting to lighten the sky over the mountains that were the gateway to Petra
I entered the site and began the walk from the gate through unusual rocky formations punctuated with the odd temple or carving.
It was great and I took a lot of pictures, but that was just the preview.
Finally, I reached the beginning of the Siq, the 1.2 km long narrow passageway formed naturally by a fissure in the high rock walls, made smooth by the wind. It just sort of curves along and you walk between these high walls under a sliver of blue sky. Occasionally there are carvings; the remains of figures or designs, but mostly, it is just the path. And the incredible thing is, you don’t know when you will reach the end. Everyone who goes knows that when you reach the end you see you first glimpse of the Treasury, but you don’t know exactly when it will happen.
It was amazing. But what made it so amazing for me was that the whole way, from the entrance to the Siq and through it to the Treasury, I did not see anyone. It was just me. Normally there would be thousands of tourists, making noise, taking pictures, and locals there to offer things for sale. But it was all mine. All I could hear were my own footsteps. It felt magical. This was that moment that I knew I would look back on as one of the best.
Finally the Treasury did appear and it was even better than I imagined. It’s actually incredible how it was all created. You couldn’t ask for a better, more theatrical reveal to the entrance to the city of Petra. Those Nabataeans really had a flair for the theatrical.
When I did reach the Treasury, guys, most of whom seemed to be styled as Jack Sparrow, there were setting up their souvenir and coffee stands. I got a coffee and had a cigarillo, watching as the light on the Treasury grew brighter. Just then the next tourists walked in. Two of them.
I’m probably not supposed to look for anything good that came out of Covid, but this moment would not have happened without the pandemic.
Petra, the site, was inhabited by at least 7000 BC, with the city dating back to 5000 or 4000 BC. The Nabataeans were nomadic Arabs who settled there due to trade routes, or so I am told. They carved incredible temples and monuments, and city infrastructure, including means of capturing and moving rain water, which is non-existent for much of the year. In the 1st century Ad, the Romans took over and added their own flourishes, like stone streets and a large theatre. A couple hundred years later the Byzantines added churches and detailed mosaics. But the original Nabataean structures are the stand outs.
One of the neat things about the site is that, if you want to, you can just stroll down the wide main thoroughfare and take in amazing sites.
But if you want to explore, you can embark on punishing hikes that reveal yet more architectural wonders, caves, and views over the sites below.
I didn’t do all the hikes (I ran out of steam before the Monastery), but I climbed to the place of High Sacrifice and on a trail that took me up past the Royal Tombs and eventually (millions of carved stone stairs and one lost way later), led me to a tiny Bedouin tea house on the edge of a cliff over looking the Treasury. Terrific.
I spent close to an hour in that tea house, catching my breath and escaping the sun, which was harsh at this point. I talked with the other people foolish or awesome enough to make the ascent: a couple of guys from Netherlands, a man from London, a woman from Saudi Arabia.
I wandered around the rest of the site, until late afternoon, getting more fatigued as I went. The rests I took though were welcome chances to talk to locals and bedouins who told me about life in the area and, of course, there were camels.
Finally, when I had had my fill of amazing sites, I made my way out. There were more tourists at this point but not even a fraction of what there would have been under non-pandemic times. The one mistake I made in my visit to Petra was walking out. On the way out I could have taken a horse, donkey, or camel, but I stubbornly chose to walk. I love to walk. But at this point, about ten hours since I left my hotel and in the heat, I was exhausted, the walk out seemed so much longer as I shuffled along in the dust. I should have sitting majestically on top of a camel.
When I emerged from the site, I made my way to the Cave Bar (actually, first I laid down on the ground and then I walked to the Cave Bar), allegedly the oldest bar in the world, sat down on a shady, pillow covered sofa, and downed a virgin piña colada and a fresh mint/lemon juice while nibbling on hummus and labneh and smoking a Bolivar Royal Corona (cigar).
Post Petra, everyone seemed to be in a social, happy mood, and I chatted with other sweaty and satisfied travellers, recounting our similar but special days.
The one thing that may have been unique to my Petra experience is that my boots completely fell apart. Like, it was almost comical. One of the heels disintegrated and the sole of another wore through. And these were trusty boots that had seen me through hikes in places as far flung as Nepal and Ethiopia. I found a taxi and asked him to take me to the nearest shoe store. He not only dropped me off, but came in and helped me pick out sneakers. He was so good natured, I asked him to drive me to Wadi Rum the next morning, which he did.
I finished my day with a second cigar at my accommodations with dinner and the night air. It had been a perfect day. (And I still had Wadi Rum to look forward to.)
