Saturday 21-Mar-2009
When my travel consultant at Wexas, Sindy said "You must go to Petra!", I agreed but I wasn't sure I'd quite share her enthusiam. Well, as has happened before, she was right. I've just spent the most exhilarating (if exhausting) day in the rock city of Petra.
My guide, Mamoon, met me at 9.00 a.m. but, as the entrance to the Petra site is only 50 yards from the Movenpick Hotel, we walked to the ticket office. Mamoon dealt with admission, local guide and horse ride fees. Having made sure I would be able to get myself back to the hotel, Mamoon handed me over to the local guide and said goodbye until next morning.
My new guide explained that there was a short horse ride, if I wished, as an alternative to a few hundred yards walk to the start of the entrance canyon. I took the ride but with the mount being led by the driver on foot it was fairly tame. However, it gave me the taste for more 'saddle-time' later. I met up with the local guide and we set off down As-Siq, the amazing canyon leading to the city. The Nabatean people who founded the city are thought to have come from Yemen but much of their history is still a matter for conjecture and archaeological surveys are still on progress. Around 106 a.d., Petra became a Roman province and the most spectacular buildings are Roman era.
As you near the end of the canyon, you catch a tantalising glimpse of the building often called the Treasury - an amazing Roman-style facade leading to a number of large chambers, all carved from the sandstone cliffs. Suddenly, the canyon opens into an open area and the true scale of the Treasury is revealed. The building gets the best light around 9.30 a.m. and there are hundreds of visitors jostling to take photographs and take a closer look at the Treasury. The ancient city comes alive again, not with traders from two thousand years ago but with visitors from all over the world. It seems strangely appropriate. There is a rather temporary looking cafe and there are souvenir sellers, donkey ride sellers and camel ride sellers. Very young children are involved in this retail business.
My guide explains that, later in the morning, we will climb to an even larger facade, Ad-Deir, called the Monastery. This involves climbing hundreds of steps and the guide recommends a donkey. The young donkey driver and I haggle but the Bedouin people are tough negotiators and I settle on an inflated price for ascending only. The guide and I have a walk of around 1 kilometre looking at carved tombs before the ascent so the guide takes the mobile number of the donkey driver so we can meet later. I find this most incongruous.
Beyond the Treasury, the canyon is much wider but still with rock walls allowing tomb chambers to have been hollowed out and facades provided for the wealthier residents. Near the end of the rock valley, we come to a 7,000 seat amphitheatre, again carved from solid rock. The terrain is now nearly flat and, even in its ruined state, the Colonnaded Street we're now in is pure Roman, from the well-built cambered, straight road to the columns on either side. At the end of the colonnading are the well-preserved remains of Roman buildings. On our right is the Crowne Plaza restaurant. Oddly, this doesn't grate with me too much. Beyond the restaurant, there's a decent museum showing artefacts and carved stonework found on the site.
After a mobile phone call, we meet the donkey driver and donkey near the restaurant. The local guide, who's been quite informative, uses this as a cue to say goodbye. They've provided a mounting block so I am soon in the saddle and we set off, initially with the driver leading the donkey but later he gives me the headrope and walks at the side, encouraging the animal - a three-year old male who seems quite surefooted and willing. There's a large ring at the front of the saddle so you can hand on with both hands and, of course, your feet are in stirrups. I find it surprisingly comfortable and we're soon tackling steps I'd have trouble with on foot. It's advisable for pedestrians to give you a wide berth because, once the animal has chosen a path, they tend to stick to it. One guy moves out of the way but forgets he's wearing a rucksack - my foot catches the rucksack and it's enough for him to topple over. Later, I realise that a hiss is quite effective at stopping a donkey. "Haram" (I think) means "go" and a clucking sound gives gentle encouragement. Occasionally, it's quite tough for the donkey on the steeper bits and the driver keeps asking if I'm alright, but I find I'm enjoying the experience, although it's hard to handle a camera. I negotiate a price for going down by donkey - the driver says it's more fun than walking and I think he may be right. Eventually we stop near one of many souvenir stalls manned by Bedouin where there's a shelter for the donkey.
The driver points to the continuing steps. "Five minutes to walk to Monastery, maybe twenty to look around. You back in half an hour. I wait here". It takes me six minutes and the climb makes me glad the donkey did the first bit. I take plenty of photographs, including a couple with the camera of an American who wanted his whole group of four in the picture. Then he returns the compliment by taking one of me with the Monastery in the background.
I set off downhill to find the donkey driver. Next to the souvenir stall, there's a small fire with a blackened kettle. The donkey driver, the girl running the stall (in jeans and modern dress) and an old woman with a mouthful of gold teeth traditionally dressed in black are sitting drinking tea. They invite me to join them and, of course, offer me tea. The donkey driver is the girl's boy friend and the old woman is her mother. I have a couple of cups of hot, sweet tea and it's a sublime moment. Four people, sitting on the bare earth, faces warmed by the noon sun, looking out across the seemingly eternal mountains in companiable silence. The girl jumps up on the few occasions that somebody approaches and makes her pitch in good English. She appears to be as feisty as a New York shopgirl. Inevitably, I have to make a purchase before mounting the donkey and waving goodbye but it was a marvellous interlude.
Going downhill is a bit harder for the rider, as I expected. You reach behind the saddle and there's a rope secured on the left. Holding that with your left hand and the ring at the front of the saddle with your right hand gives you a chance of staying on as the donkey lurches from step to step. I'm still enjoying it. By the time we get to the museum, we've negotiated a further fee to go on the flat bit through the colonnaded street and on to the treasury. The donkey driver collects another donkey by the museum which he rides whilst leading mine. Then he gives me the headrope and the donkey and I make an independent progress. The donkey's gait is not uncomfortable and I feel I could go on all day. Just short of the Treasury, I dismount, say goodbye and have another look at the Treasury now the area's not crowded. I'd originally intended to go back to the hotel but I don't feel too tired, so a decide to take the route to the High Place of Sacrifice which the local guide had outlined to me, starting near the Amphitheatre.
There are worn steps cut in the rock to follow but it's clearly going to be a demanding climb. Looking back and down, there are splendid views of some of the tombs in the valley and the ant-like people following the main, level track. Before long, I come across a well-cut chamber just off the path. I'm surprised to find a donkey patiently waiting inside where the air is pleasantly cool. A little further and there's another chamber. I'm less surprised to find another donkey waiting in this one. Soon, I come upon a Bedouin woman with her trinket stall. Not much passing trade today, I'm afraid. She points out a beautiful fern-like stain in the rock. I thank her and continue upwards. I pass a lot more souvenir stalls, but none of them is manned at present.
I'm now level with two obelisks carved from the rock on an adjacent plateau. Looking in the other direction, I'm now looking down on the Bedouin Village and a few more feet brings me to the High Sacrificial Place. There are a few tourists here, resting. The top of this mountain has been carved flat and hewn to provide bowls and water channels for the purifying water used in the ancient ceremonies. In each direction, the views are breathtaking. About fifty feet below the summit, there's a ramshackle cafe and I decide that I deserve a drink before descending. The cafe is being run by two Bedouin boys, one about eleven (going on 30), one about fifteen. Their English is excellent and they quiz me with the impertinent directness of the young. In my mellow state, I am happy to play the game for a while. I enquire about the alternative way down which passes other parts of Petra, They are certain that, without the guidance of a Bedouin, I shall never find the route. I'm sure I'll manage but it is going to take a while and I wonder if my stamina will hold out. Apparently by chance, another boy arrives, with a donkey. We all engage in verbal sparring for a while - it's all good-natured but, having enjoyed my donkey ride to the Monastery so much, I start to wonder about hiring the newcomer. This lad is about 21, fairly serious and is sure I've been overcharged in the morning. He's probably right.
We agree a deal, my shoulder bag is placed securely in the one pannier and we set off, with me initially on foot, because the route is via twisting, steep steps cut in the rock. Soon, I'm allowed to ride. It's now a mixture of downward slopes joining short runs of steps. We arrive at a water-filled cistern cut in the rock and I dismount whilst the donkey takes a drink. The water is teeming with tiny insects.
There's another stretch, past the famous (but rather eroded) lion carving where I walk whilst the donkey slowly finds a safe way down the steps. The views are amazing, with improbable wind-carved rock formations and each vertical rock face periodically pierced with chambers. The vivid colours in the rocks look like the work of some modernist artist - it's really hard to believe that it's all the work of nature. All the while, we are descending and we come to one of the larger rock tombs, with a colonnaded portico. There are more souvenir stalls here, but no sellers. I think we've only seen perhaps four or five tourists during our descent from the cafe.
I discover one advantage of the donkey at the larger tombs - they can be riden inside and used to explore, leaving hands free for photography. The donkeys of Petra seem very willing. I feel like one of those Victorian lady travellers who are always depicted as riding some animal or another. I'm still surprised that I'm finding the experience both comfortable and good fun. There are a number of fairly grand tombs then, as we descend further, we get marvellous views of the larger tombs on the plain, brilliantly lit in the afternoon sun. Looking back, there are lots of smaller tombs in the the hillside I've passed through. If I'd the energy, I could climb up and explore them. But, the day is finally taking its toll so, with great reluctance, I say goodbye to my young friend and his faithful donkey in the vicinity of the Amphitheatre and start to walk back towards the entrance.
