Petra to the Dead Sea

We left Petra the next morning, and drove along the ancient mountain road, dropping down long passes to cross wadis every 10km or so. Some of the wadis had wonderful geology exposed on the flanks of the valleys, and you could see with dramatic clarity where ancient volcanoes had poked their way through the earth's crust. The bottom of each crossing was usually green and lush, then the road climbed back up, and was soon a desert moonscape again.

At lunch we reached the town of Kerak, dominated by a crusader castle. We found our way up through narrow streets, then crossed a deep moat to get into the castle.

The stone-clad glacis was a formidable defense. The idea of climbing this while being bathed in hot oil was not attractive. Within the castle, there were buildings that had suffered the ravages of time and battle - this church still stood, some 800 years since it was last used:
which was amazing when one thought of the earthquakes to which this region is prone. When you went deeper into the castle, you found even more remarkable structures. Under the church, for instance, was a mosque, built by the muslim conquerors:

Deeper still, there were wide, dark passageways leading to rooms lit by narrow slit windows that looked down, down down into the valley far below:
There was even a kitchen, with ovens and millstones and washing places, dusty but proably still functional if cleaned up. They used to feed over 2000 when under siege, as the Crusaders occasionally were. Leaving the castle, we threaded our way through a maze of one-way streets in the town, and finally dropped into the valley leading to the shores of the Dead Sea. A wonderful road led along the eastern margin, carved into the cliffs in places. At one point, Mrs Lot, all of 30m tall, towered above us:On the brim of the Dead Sea, a rime of white salt several meters high showed how the level was dropping:
Jordan, Palestine and Israel are tapping the fresh-water streams that feed into the Sea, and it is slowly becoming saltier and saltier.


Further up the coast we came to Sulimeyeh, a resort on the edge of the Dead Sea. We stayed in a fantasy hotel, with an "Arab village" theme of walkways and small courtyards, many with cooling fountains tinkling in their midst:Down at the edge of the sea was a picture-postcard pool, with a view over the Sea to the Israeli shores on the West Bank:
We felt we deserved a night of luxury after the donkeys of Petra!

PETRA REVISITED

We started early, to undertake the slog down the Siq before it got too hot. We paused to wonder again at the Treasury, then carried on down the valley. Wherever one looked, there were monuments. Every available space seemed to have been shaped by unseen hands.
Some of it was on a very human scale, small memorials to lesser men, now wearing a little thin and showing signs of age.

But then some were on a grand scale, like the Tomb of the Urn:

The Urn tomb, high on the cliffs, was also showing signs of the ravages of time, but the beautiful colours in the rocks made up for the loss of detail.
There is a thesis that the damage to the lower part of the monument is caused by rising water levels. I think this is nonsense, and that the Nabateans cut into the natural water level and thereby sealed the fate of the lower sections. There is a huge chamber inside the Urn tomb. It was quite clear why - and how - it had become a Byzantine church, in the 5th century AD.

From the platform in front of the Urn tomb, the mountains across the south of the site loom large. The Monastery, which we visited next, is behind the left-hand hill. In the shade, it was pleasantly cool. Out there, in the desert, it was HOT!

There followed a long slog down the old Roman road, through Roman ruins being restored, accompanied by a marvellously persistent couple of local children leading a pair of donkeys. Why were we walking? - We could ride! It was very hot, and at the bottom of the valley there was a cool cafe and a chance to have something to drink and admire the museum. Then to brave the climb up 600 steps to the Monastery.

When we came out of the museum into the afternoon heat, our courage failed us. The two children were summoned, and, to the amusement of the professional muleteers, who advised us that the children were not to be trusted, off we set up the mountain. The path was narrow, and the drops on either side soon became impressive, but nothing was as impressive as the sure-footedness of our tiny mounts. Finally our guides said we should walk the last few hundred metres, so, shakily, we made our way along the path, through a narrow gap, and down onto an open plain. Ahead was another cafe, and we were halfway there when I caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye, and there, behind us, was a truly spectacular piece of work.

The scale beggars description. Suffice it to say that the step up to the door is 2m high, and the white blob at the bottom left of the doorway is in fact a reclining figure, exhausted from the scramble up! One had to wonder what had moved people to carve such a monument on such a scale so high on a remote mountain.

After a cooling drink, it was time to brave the ride down. The Traveller was terrified! "Lean back!" I would call, as she threatened yet again to take a dive over the donkey's head. The youngster insisted on holding her arm - "Don't worry, madam." I was laughing so much I forgot to take a picture.

Finally we were down. More ruins to explore, and then the long slog back to the Siq. It seemed to be even hotter. At that moment, a man hove in view leading three camels. Protracted negotiations, then we were off!

The camel's expression says it all!

We were dropped at the Treasury, and made our way one last time up the Siq.

There were clear ruts in the cobbled stones, made by Roman carts two millenia ago. At the top left you can see one of the water channels carved by the Nabateans to bring water down the Siq. The gathering of water from every single crevice, and its storage in wonderfully made stone dams that dotted the entire site, showed a high degree of engineering skills.

On the road to Petra

The hotels in Amman have security all round. The one where we were staying had been the scene of a bombing. So I was called to certify that the rental car being delivered was really mine. The local Europcar had done us proud. It was a slightly battered Peugeot with some 150 000km on the clock - but no, it was a very good car (we were assured!) The differential growled, and the brakes probably needed new pads, but it worked.

We were soon on the Desert Highway, heading south towards Wadi Rum. The main surprise was the size of the phosphate mines around Al Abiad. For about 20km we passed through large mine dumps and saw clouds of dust in the desert which clearly marked open-cast mining operations. Finally we turned off towards Petra. But first, we had to pass through the little community of Shobak, and a brown sign said "Shobak Castle." Our Lonely Planet guide said it had a wild, remote feel to it. The description was perfect!Strictly speaking, it was the Crusader castle of Mons Realis or "Montreal." Much of the top was in a state of ruination, with the great spherical boulders catapulted there during a siege to show why it was in such a bad shape. Best preserved was the North-West watchtower, reconstructed by the Arabs in the 13th Cent after they had destroyed the original while capturing the castle.

From Mons Realis, it was a short drive to the town of Wadi Musa (Valley of Moses), the base for exploring Petra. The town is a sprawling mess, right at the end of which we finally found our hotel. At about 4 in the afternoon it became cool enough to venture forth, and we sauntered down the valley leading to the entrance to Petra. Quite a long walk led to a cleft in the mountains, the Siq, up which climbed exhausted-looking tourists and horse-drawn carts bearing more of same.
We went down against the flow, deeper and deeper into the Siq. Sometimes it widened, and there were little tombs by the side of the path.
Finally (the Siq is 1.3km long) there was a glimpse of a really big structure at the end.
You emerge into the open, facing the "Treasury." It seems impossible that the intricate carvings should have been created from solid rock, but the evidence literally stares you in the face.



The chamber inside the Treasury was devoid of objects or decoration - but the natural decoration on the roof and walls fully made up for the lack! It was getting late. The camels were being gathered before being taken home. We would head up the narrow crack opposite, the entrance to the Siq, and head back to our hotel to return the next day.

JERASH = JARASH

One of the problems of trying to learn Arabic is getting used to the fact that vowels are rarely written. So transliteration into Latin characters can give a host of spelling variants. The old Roman town of Jarash/Jerash is just one example of the confusion that can arise in non-Arabic minds!

The town is about 50km north of Amman. We travelled there by local bus, which cost a total of 1JD (about $2) per head. The only disadvantage is that you have to wait till the bus is full. It was quite full when we climbed aboard. An hour later it was fuller still, but there was no sign of movement. Another thirty minutes, and the conductor and driver agreed they couldn't pack another soul aboard and off we went.

Then there was a drama over a young woman clad in a black burqa. She had a seat to herself, when a young man dressed in western clothes sat down beside her. This was definitely NOT ALLOWED, and the conductor came to the rescue of the damsel in distress. The young man was booted to the back of the bus, and another lady was found to act as chaperone.

After about an hour we crossed a significant river, the Zarqa, and climbed up through fertile fields over some hills, on the slopes of which nestled Jarash, ancient and modern. Through a turnstile, and we faced Hadrian's gate, erected in AD 125 to welcome the Emperor.

Then into the Hippodrome, where even today there are chariot races. This is a view from the race track back towards the starting gates:

Onwards, and one reaches the great South Gate, the original entrance to the city.

Through the gate, up a slight slope, and you find yourself in a huge, almost circular forum lined with pillars.

The hill on the left leads up past a great temple to a theatre from which came the unlikely sound of bagpipes. It was a local, uncannily clad in a kilt, welcoming visitors to his stage!The black splodge in the centre is the Traveller, hiding her fevered brow under a black umbrella. It was extremely hot.Looking down from the top row of the theatre, below was the circular forum and the great main street stretching out for several kilometers, lined by pillars, with modern Jarash in the background.

On either side of the main street were side streets, also pillared, which had been great shopping precincts around the time of Christ.

And, of course, there were marvellous temples where the faithful could go to worship Artemis, because Christianity had not yet reached the town.

It was therefore a surprise to find, in the museum on our way out of the site, a gravestone in the form of a cross. The date, which translated to 26BC, reminded us that Christian symbolism had a pre-Christian ancestory.

We never found the bus-stop for the trip back. Instead we were hailed by a passing truck - "Did we want a lift to Amman?" We did, and 8JD later we were merrily bowling back along the highway. It was noisy and bumpy, but we didn't have to wait until the truck filled up!