IT’S dawn, blustery and cold.
An engine revving nearby breaks the silence of the otherwise eerie streets. The bus station is all but empty.
Slightly shivering due to the low temperature, I relish solitude with a steaming cup of coffee. Waiting.
Just before the bus leaves Amman, Jordan, my travel companion, Pinky, arrives.
“Just in the nick of time.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she puffs excitedly.
Through the desert, 185 kilometers south, we share the most telling highlights of our separate trips. The scenery glides by. After the four-hour journey, we reach a biblical site called Wadi Musa (Valley of Moses), where Moses’ spring flows (the water source long ago) after having struck a rock with his staff. Now, the town has a slew of hotels and restaurants.
Take the air
To be at our best form, we amp up our endurance by wearing comfortable shoes and packing a rucksack with light snacks to fuel our energy.
I can hardly believe what I just heard. “Yes, 50 Jordanian dinars,” (P3558.57) the ticket officer reiterates. I discern in a heartbeat that it’s more expensive than Walt Disney World (with all the thrill rides and elaborate pageantry).
Looming ahead the onerous walk is the astounding wilderness of limestone obscuring the Nabataean empire dubbed as the “Lost City” of Petra. Abandoned and neglected in the 4th century AD, it was rediscovered in 1812 when Swiss traveller Johann Ludwig Burckhardt explored the prodigious desert of Jordan.
Shielded by undulating cliffs towering as high as 80 meters, Petra boasts of a number of unparalleled wonders carved in steep rocks that have resisted the ravages of time. A gold mine of great archaeological wealth, it draws international attention as one of the new Seven Wonders of the World.
As we approach the site, we reflect on and learn about the Nabataeans (travel brochures provided), the ingenious Arab tribe who altered their environment for their expanding colony, which dates back much further, to 1st century AD.
Beat the crowd
We were just as surprised as the others when the bewildering perspective appeared before us. Craggy walls, orange to red, dominated the gorgeous pathway of Al Siq, a natural gorge that becomes narrower as one enters. The sinuous ravine, ablaze with a distinctive hue that shifts in the daylight, is otherworldly in sight. It felt like we were on a different planet. No wonder it’s called the “Red Rose City.”
The mass of tourists were charmed by the jaw-dropping centrepiece of ancient civilization. Sculpted from the vertical face of the mountain 45 meters high and 30 meters wide, the iconic Treasury is an ornate temple that blends into the dramatic landscape. It gets really crowded, so Instagrammers, find a good spot to frame it.
The fascinating façade is a visual delight by day turned spectacular by dreamy candlelight at night. Its meticulous moulding is exquisite and is as majestic today as it was then.
Around the corner is one of the most unique sceneries sure to steal your heart. The magnificent Street of Facades offers a glimpse into the past with irregular rock features at every turn. Nestled amidst the rose gold sandstone desert, it comes alive with the clatter of hooves.
Not far away, the massive amphitheatre, which can sit over 6,000 spectators, lies in a foothill and evokes awe.
Worthy of admiration are the peculiar tombs and caverns of living spaces. Hollowed out of the sloping side of the mountain, they are like tunnels and windows of secret lairs. Their aesthetic value is beyond compare.
As the relentless midday sun burns us to a crisp, it’s hard to keep a tranquil face. Thankfully, cafés and toilets along the rugged paths are pit stops for some relief.
We carry on until we hit the Colonnaded Street littered with free-standing columns of the Roman period. Although in ruins, it keeps its appeal as “the heart of the city.”
Short walking spurts turn into a lazy gait as we inch our way to Qasr Al-Bint Temple, dedicated to Nabataean deities. Mostly ignored and falling into disrepair (under restoration), this archaic Castle of Pharaoh’s Daughter is sacred to the Nabataeans and their descendants known as Bedouins.
See it all
The tricky hike to the mountain retreat may be backbreaking, if not dicey. The trail ascends slowly, dispersed with over 800 steps along the way, bringing one to an elevation of 220 meters.
“Take a donkey ride,” local boys, determined to make a buck, tout tourists. Though our tired legs needed some help, we choose to trudge gingerly at our own pace.
We were not giving up. Having a specific goal motivated us to get to the Monastery. Twenty meters wider than the Treasury, the mountainside temple is conspicuous, but complements the beauty of nature.
For some “me” time, a hedonic urge kicks in. I move forward to the “sacrifice view”, named strangely for its gnarly track flanked by precipitous drops. On top of the hill, the picture-perfect panorama of the sprawling canyon is a brilliant setting for selfies. Gazing out the edge of the abyss, with rocks under my feet, I feel it’s worthwhile to live in the moment.
They say nothing lasts forever. I wouldn’t know. Perhaps Petra stands in perpetuity.
I can hear my own thoughts.