Wadi Masua, Jordan
Day 8
At 5:30am it was time for my last cold
shower in Amman. I couldn’t face it so I just splashed my face and brushed my
teeth. I didn’t care if I stunk out the three hour bus to Wadi Musa.
Wadi Musa is a small village that is
perched next to ruins of Petra.
I’m ashamed to admit it but until reading
my Lonely Planet I had just assumed that Petra was a figment of George Lucas’s
imagination, like Jar-Jar Binks, only majestic and wonderful.
I had seen it many times as a kid watching
Harrison Ford and Sean Connery arrive at Petra to find the Holy Grail at the
end of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.
I had no idea it existed, I had no idea it
was in Jordan and I had no Idea it was called Petra.
Anyway, it exists and it’s amazing.
Carved out of huge sandstone mountains and
valleys, this ancient city was once, as my tour guide described it as, the Hong
Kong or Singapore of it’s day. It was a trading hub for spices coming from
India, but when the route changed, the city was neglected and more or less
abandoned, except for nomadic tribes of Bedouins who lived in the various small
hollowed out caves.
Our tour guide, a local dude who had
studied politics at university, rattled off stats and tales about the city with
a decidedly bored manner. Every now and again I’d see his eyes track something
behind us.
It didn’t take long for me to figure out
what he was looking at. He was checking out every female tourist who walked
passed. I had to marvel at his consistency. This guy didn’t miss a thing.
After our tour I was free to wander the old
city. I’d met an American guy called Matt on the bus, and we climbed to a peak
to watch the sun set over the desert.
Petra is awesome. In the literal sense of
the word.
 |
| The treasury building, as discovered by Indiana Jones. |
 |
| The monastery building, unfortunately featured in one of the Transformers films |
 |
| These poor dudes are all over the place trying to sell you stuff, they are pretty relaxed about it though. |
 |
| The treasury appears after waling through a narrow canyon called a "siq". |
 |
| The monastery at dusk. |
They seem no work of man (or woman's) creative hand
ReplyDeleteWhere Labour wrought as wayward fancy planned
But from the rock as if by magic grown,
Eternal—silent—beautiful—alone
But rosy-red — as if the blush of dawn
Which first beheld them were not yet withdrawn
The hues of youth upon a brow of woe
Which Man (& Woman) called old two thousand years ago
Match me such marvel, save in Eastern clime
A rose-red city — 'half as old as time!'
PETRA by John William Burgon 1845