Rocky Road & Camel Capers
I woke in the wee hours this morning bathed in sweat, realising the air conditioning was no longer on. We had inadvertently gone to sleep with the balcony door open and the aircon shuts off automatically with the door open. The room was like a sauna.
Our friendly wake up call had been scheduled at the eye-watering time of 5:30am today so there were a few sporting epic bed heads at the buffet brekky (or maybe that was just me). If anyone happened to sleep through their alarm though, Deb kindly offered a second wake up call of sorts, when her big metal drink bottle slipped out of her bag onto the concrete with an almighty clang that could be heard all the way to Egypt. To be doubly sure, it happened again in the breakfast room, scaring the pants of us all and threatening to wake the Dead Sea. Just a community service she was happy to provide.
All-you-can-eat breakfasts are fun at the best of times but the choices on offer at our hotel are next level. Every breakfast food on the planet gets a look in and it’s so hard to choose what to have. Given the big day that lay ahead, I opted for an “only on holidays” breakfast (waffles and pancakes ladled with melted chocolate) that would’ve made even Coco the Monkey shudder. Mandatory fruit salad for me for the rest of the week now.
The team barely awake, we dutifully slip, slop, slapped and shuffled along to board the bus. We were bound for one of our most anticipated destinations: Petra.
On the road, Rami dazzled us once again with new information, arming us with facts about Jordan and the ancient wonders of Petra. My favourite fact of the day was that in Jordan, a man can legally have up to 4 wives at a time. If he meets and falls in love with a fifth woman, he has to divorce one of the others to make room in his harem. Rami knew of one notorious wife accumulator who had 48 kids (!) and the best part, they all lived “happily” together in one big house. He told us tales of camel caravans bringing exotic spices and silks from the orient and also espoused the merits of his favourite drink - camel milk.
We had a brief toilet stop at a roadside diner that doubled as a souvenir shop and the toilets were very memorable for all the wrong reasons. A sign on the back of the cubicle door urged us to please throw the toilet paper “on the basket”, with a helpful hand-drawn illustration. The said basket was brimming with pungent, visibly used toilet paper but unfortunately, the toilet roll was empty. There was a hose in the corner (which the previous occupier had obviously employed liberally) but I couldn’t bring myself to hose off and had to contend with the 2 small tissues I had left in my handbag. The sinks were crowded with women lined up at the mirror, removing their hijabs for some sweet relief from the heat, so I excused myself and squirted some soap. Hands fully lathered up, I reached between the lineup to rinse off, only to find there was no water in the taps; not a drop. Ah, foreign toilets. Just like a box of chocolates, as Forest would say.
Dean brought us a little talk from the book of Obadiah, all about the Edomites - the original occupants of the area we were actually driving through. Just amazing.
There was great anticipation as we arrived at Petra and after a quick lunch (of wraps, chips and some pickled veggies displaying colours not generally found in nature) was delivered to us onboard the bus, we ventured - along with multiple other bus loads of camera-toting tourists - out into the fray.
Humming the Indiana Jones theme song to ourselves, we were wide-eyed and open-mouthed as we walked into the spectacular gorge. It was breathtaking! “Petra” means “rock” and it’s abundantly clear why this place was given that name! Surrounded by incredibly beautiful, sky-high rock walls on either side, the winding, narrow passageway feels cave-like. The sun was shining on the tops of the rocks, while we walked in the shade, bringing out a myriad of golden tones, with the blue sky peeping in, way overhead. Various rocks had been carved into tombs, with windows, doors, stairs and columns. Rami walked with us, pointing out fish fossils, coral, carvings of camels and inscriptions of kings. Golf carts and hard-working horses shared the narrow route with us and the air was thick with the calls of sellers in their rows of market stalls, loudly spruiking their trinkets.
Photo opportunities abounded and the beauty of each individual rock was worth a snap. The sheer magnitude of the place is hard to put into words. It is truly magnificent.
With each footstep we took, on the ancient paving stones, shiny from thousands of years of steps, we got closer to the pièce de résistance; the reveal we’d all been waiting for: the Treasury. The anticipation was great and then finally Rami got us to stop. There it was, its carved columns peaking through a slit in the rocks. We rounded the corner to see it in all its glory. Wow! They don’t call it a wonder of the world for nothing! We let out a communal gasp as we eyed this intricately hand-carved façade and took in it’s pink, rocky beauty. It’s hard to believe it was carved out by hand in the first century AD. Just incredible.
Debbie came here back in 2018 and has regretted ever since, the fact she didn’t ride a camel at the Treasury so today was the day to rectify that. We paid our US$10 to our friendly camel driver, Hussein, and attempted to mount our humped beasts, Hummus and Falafel. Debbie sat atop hers with elegant ease while I wibbled and wobbled and felt like I was going to fall off. Who knew camels were so tall?! A picture tells a thousand words so I’ll let you determine how I felt about being on a camel when you look at the pictures. Let’s just say I won’t be in a hurry to get back in the saddle. Hussein was very keen to get hold of our phones saying: “I take you picture, I take you picture!” I assured him we had the photos department covered as I’d given my camera to Rafael in our group and entrusted him with the task. When our friends Michelle and Vivienne had their stint on the ships of the desert, they employed the efforts of Hussein as their chief photographer and the man was a wizard with the iPhone! He took videos and photos that were genuinely frameable (he could give tutorials) and we had instant regrets. Deb even suggested going for another ride just for the impressive footage.
Now out of the narrowest part of the gorge, we continued walking the path for over an hour, viewing more and more gargantuan rocks with grand scale temples carved into them. When it was time to turn around and head back, Denise suggested we ride horses to save time. Our second saddle for the day! Rami had told us a horse ride was actually included in our entry fee but that we would have to pay a tip to the horse handler that should be negotiated BEFORE the ride. He had suggested between $7 and $10 per horse would be a fair tip. We fronted up to the sandy desert coral and were introduced to Mohammed, his brother Mohammed and his other brother Mohammed. They weren’t the friendliest chaps and when I suggested $7 they laughed out loud, bearing their toothless grins. This wasn’t their first rodeo. We haggled back and forth and eventually agreed on $10. It was a blessing to not have to walk all that way back but we did feel sorry for our little hard-working ponies, pounding the pavement in the hot sun all day.
Once back onboard our bus, smiles spread across the faces of our group as we compared rock photos and marvelled aloud at what we had experienced that day. Debbie sincerely thanked our bus driver with a big smile and then proceeded to whack him square in the face with her neck pillow as she disembarked, leaving us all in fits of laughter. A lovely way to end this momentous and unforgettable day.
Deb on bus