Jordan: Petra.

There is more to Petra than a Treasury

Forget Emmet from the Lego Movie, the Nabataeans are the master builders. Petra was built – perhaps the more appropriate term is carved – about two thousand years ago and fell to the Romans in the first century. Never mind that though, it’s also the setting for the climax of probably the greatest movie trilogy of all time.

I found myself in Petra by a bit of an unexpected change of plans. Initially set on teasing myself by intending to leave it until last, the proprietor at Bdewei informed me late one night that the following day he’d be driving to Petra on business and that for a share of the gas money, he’d take me and sort out some complimentary accommodation. Then, he’d bring me back to Amman where I could resume doing all the things I was going to be doing instead of immediately going to Petra. This was a pretty great deal.

That said, my interactions with Farajat to that point had largely been less than favourable. He’s terribly chauvinistic, lying comes to him as readily as breathing and he craves the centre of attention. His idea of conversation is recounting all the different girls he’d slept with and just generally objectifying women in a manner that would reduce the UWA Arts Union to rank amateurs by way of comparison. Plus his staff hate him. So why agree to spending six hours in a car with him?

Just curious, I guess.

On arriving at the town of Petra, we go to a hotel, he lets himself in, goes behind the counter and grabs some keys to a room saying it will be fine. I leave my stuff there and we depart, for Petra. Nothing suss.

It’s worth mentioning that the ticketing at Petra is interestingly perverse. For one day you pay $100. A two day ticket is $110. Three days and beyond is $120. I jump on the two day ticket and negotiate the bazaar by ignoring everyone and head for the entry gates. Once through, the first thing anyone says to me – maybe five steps in – is, “hey! Mister Indiana Jones!”

This is definitely worthy of indulgence.

Mohammed is a Beduoin and leases out his horse, Angela, for rides to the Siq (gorge leading to the treasury). She’s not the fittest looking filly but stood next to the competition, seems to be doing alright for herself. We talk a little about my plans; I explained my intent to pick low hanging fruit all day and then consider jellied legs, septic blisters and other hiking treats on the second day. I make to leave him, telling him to look out for me the following day where I’d give some serious consideration to his guidance on trails and riding but before I get too far away he undercuts everyone else by miles at 1 dinar for a ride to the mouth of the Siq.

It seems a good bit of business and a fair reward for the cultural reference.

The Siq is how most tourists come to make their way into Petra. It winds sinuously – and in places very narrowly – to the Treasury, a landmark made iconic by Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. The Siq alone is pretty spectacular, the gorge was formed by the rifting of the sandstone range. Anywhere else in the world and this little stretch of the legs would be a noteworthy tourist attraction in and of itself. The walk isn’t terribly long – maybe three kilometres – but it’s just long and pretty enough that you begin to forget that this is the driveway, not the reason.

That reason sneaks up on you. Vaguely aware that around one of the many bends you are afforded a fleeting glimpse of the columns and entrance to the Treasury, each turn leading to this view feels like unwrapping a birthday present only to find another layer of wrapping… except it’s much less frustrating, possibly owing to the quality of the geology. When this glimpse arrives – after one of the narrowest sections – whatever thoughts and preconceptions you may have had about the Treasury are completely recast; it’s very big, ornate and in immaculate condition. As you file into the clearing in front of the Treasury it’s hard not to appreciate the sheer audacity of chiseling something like this out of a wall of rock…

… twice.

I think everyone takes this photo. I'm not too bothered by that.

Less well known is a second carving, larger and in all honesty probably more impressive, at the other end of the wadi atop cliffs. Known as the Monastery, it’s nearly identical only much, much larger but ridiculously remote. Up hundreds and hundreds of stairs carved out of the sides of mountains and cliffs, this is not low hanging fruit. Listening to fat people bleat and bluster about the difficulty of the climb quickly became an early forerunner for the best unexpected bonus of the day.

The Monastery; inconveniently located atop cliffs.

Between these two carvings are several kilometres of smaller but still remarkable tombs and carvings throughout the wadi. Stretching a considerable portion of this length is a colonnaded road that serves as a reminder of its once Roman occupation. Before seeing any of this it was genuinely hard to imagine tens of thousands of people living in a canyon with glorified caves for homes… but now it just seems pretty super.

Royal Tombs across the valley.

 

For what it’s worth, the winner of unexpected bonus of the first day is shared by two vile, fat, middle aged American women who engaged in a shrieking match and then some good old fashioned argie-bargie (they stopped short of AFL styled jumper punches, shame). All this over who was next in line for a horse drawn carriage out through the Siq. It’s worth noting that those horse drawn carriages are reserved for the old or infirm and that the Siq is an easy walk through a well sheltered and cool gorge.

I do love those Americans.

With no low hanging fruit left to pick (indeed, even some of the harder stuff disappeared with my trip to the Monastery), the second day became devoted to exploring the trails over the top of the gorges. For this, a guide is required. Mohammed was quick to locate me as I came through the gate whereupon I honoured his seeking me out by engaging his services as a guide. This is where travelling solo absolutely falls down. I alone pay for his time, instead of it being split between a small group. Owing to this, I bargain fiercely, down to a point where I’d refuse me safe in the knowledge that I could run Angela back and forth over three hours and make more. Irrespective of that, the final price still tickles the wallet more than I would really like. Oh well. It’s inescapable.

The trail begins before the Siq, is hard work, practically invisible to me and frequently treacherous. One scramble takes you up thirty or so metres over small loose rocks that makes a mockery of any angle of repose I’d ever seen before and thus is clearly a devilish trap. A slip or misstep here would give you a rapid descent down whatever you’d already scaled before slipping over the edge and plummeting past the face of the Treasury, down some seventy metres before presumably flattening a small tour group. This on tired, groggy legs after having already climbed to the top of the other side of the gorge had me running Admiral Ackbar’s one meaningful line in Return of the Jedi over and over in my head to my scarce amusement.

That said, the view looking down to the Treasury is incredible.

As good a spot as any to have a cup of tea.

After negotiating the loose rocks and ascending to the top, Mohammed leaves me after three and a bit hours of “guidance”, probably realising that this was not his best money making venture. I tipped him an extra 5 dinar (~$10), he asks for more, “for Angela.” It’s probably a fair request but I say no, saying that if she were here I’d gladly give it directly to her. He sees the funny side and leaves, giving me directions to A High Place of Sacrifice.

You have to hand it to Jordanians – or the Nabataeans if it was their name initially – A High Place of Sacrifice says everything it needs to. It is very high and there is an altar atop it that even has plumbing for blood from sacrifices to funnel away and pool elsewhere. What the name omits is that the views here are spectacular. Affording uninterrupted views of Wadi Musa, the scale of Petra unfolds and wows you all over again. From the Monastery perched atop the next mountain range, down that to the ruins of a Roman cathedral, the colonnaded path across the Wadi to the royal tombs overlooking the auditorium and dwellings before the canyon narrows and winds to the Treasury. It’s hard to oversell just how incredible – and audacious – the whole area is, nevermind just the Treasury.

The Treasury.

It’s an absolute crime that so many tour groups walk the Siq, look at the Treasury and then walk back. Heaven forbid anyone do anything adventurous while on holiday.

Do this. Just do this.

Not Angela, not impressed either.