Petra

I make it through the Israeli security to Eliat, and I cross the border on foot into the city of Aqaba in Jordan. The difference in culture is immediately apparent: The border guard on the Jordanian side leaves his post for a minute to help me find a taxi.

The taxi driver there asks for 100 JD (about $130) to take me to Petra, or double that to take me to Petra and then onto Amman. I would like to negotiate, but there is no other taxi visible, so my negotiating leverage is limited. We agree to $200 US (down from $260) for the full ride to Petra and onto Amman, which will be about 9 hours including waiting time in Petra.

Beautiful red mountains on the ride from Aqaba to Petra.


I get to Petra around 3pm, the time when most tourists are leaving. I could describe Petra in detail, but that would be pointless: Petra is experiential knowledge, it can not be summed up by words. Go there yourself one day, it is worth it.

I walk through the canyon narrows, to where it opens up onto the Treasury.

I walk past the area that used to be the Petra town square some 2000 years ago. It was destroyed by earthquakes, but the Jordanians are working to piece together the fallen rocks to rebuild it.

I hike up the 1000 or so steps that lead from the town square to the Monastery. Few tourists are left, the people that live there are cleaning up and putting things away for the day. A few hundred meters past the Monastery it opens up to a view of the canyon. It reminds me of the Grand Canyon in Arizona, at about 1/4 the scale.

I start hiking back rapidly but right near the top, at the second cafe stand that I pass, some people that work there are relaxing and smoking a hookah. The tourists are gone and they are enjoying the late afternoon colors on the canyon. At first I think I need to get back quickly, but then I feel a stronger need to pause and enjoy the scene. Soon I am sitting at a small cafe at the top of a gorge, drinking fresh squeezed lemonade with mint. An old man plays arabic tunes on old sitar while the Jordanian guy next to me smokes his hookah.

His wife (or girlfriend? I'm not sure) comes back over to enjoy the hookah and we start talking. Manal (May-NAL) speaks near perfect English, better than my ex-wife. Basal (Bay-SAL) does not speak English, but Manal translates for us when needed.

There's something different about their relationship and about them compared to many people in the Middle East: Manal is not subservient to Basal, they have a roughly peer-to-peer way of dealing with each other. Even though I can't understand what they're saying to each other I can tell that Manal and Basal joke around in a playful way, teasing each other. While we're talking Manal and I start joking around too as if we're old friends. Manal is smoking the hookah too, which is unusual for Middle Eastern women. They ask if I'd like to share some of their shisha, and the three of us spend some time smoking the water pipe.

Manal the philosopher says "Why go to Amman? It's a big city. Big cities are the same everywhere. Life is better here. We work when we want to, we relax when we want to." Looking out over one of the most beautiful sites in the world, it's hard to disagree.