WE COME IN PEACE, TAKE US TO YOUR INSTAGRAM
I’ve been to this place before, back in 1999. Looking at the temple carved inside that enormous red rock, it seems as if nothing has changed. That is until you lower your eyes and look at the picture you’ve just taken with your iPhone. Once you prayed to the lord-all-mighty. Now you pray for the 4G network not to fail as you upload your photo to your Instagram account for the whole world to marvel. It was 20 years, give or take, since I last visited Petra. It might as well have been in a different millennium. Actually, it was.
Mahmud says he likes winters in Petra
“It’s less hot and much less crowded”, he exclaims, as he guides us inside the narrow deep-reddish gorge. The place is still packed. Not as crowded as – say, 42nd street subway station at rush-hour, but not even as remotely serene as that scene from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Bummer. I wish I was a Hollywood producer and could have this magical place all for my own. Luckily the camels don’t have a clue and pose for me as they would have for Steven Spielberg.
As for Mahmud, dressed in a full leather jacket and a dark Blue Scarf you wouldn’t recognize him as a tourist guide if it wasn’t for the big chained license tag he wears on his neck. You would have expected a tourist guide to be dressed in an “authentic” Galabia to make your photos more “true to life”, but I forgive Mahmud for not playing the Native card. He speaks surprisingly passable Hebrew and that’s more than fine me!
Time Tunnel
I’ve been here before. Back in the late 90s, it was less crowded, less developed, but way dirtier, unkept, and disorganized. I know it’s politically incorrect to admit, but I prefer it the way it is now. What didn’t change is the strange feeling I have every time I cross into Jordan.
Although Jordan and Israel had been in peace for the last 25 years, and in good (albeit secret) relationships ever since the early 70s, crossing the border into the Hashemite Kingdom still feels exciting and a bit intimidating. I remember my first time going over for a daily tour. Peace was new then and visiting Jordan felt like taking a bite from the forbidden fruit. Strangely, it still feels the same now. Does the average Jordanian know we’re not at war anymore? Based on the people we met on the way, and on Mahmud’s friendly demeanor, we really had no reason to be worried.
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Taking your ride with you
There are other differences too. Unlike 1999, this time we’re not coming in on a tour bus. We’re driving in on our own 4x4s. In my case, that would be riding as a passenger in a friend’s Land Rover Discovery 4. I don’t have an SUV, I guess nobody’s perfect. We’re on a mission to tour the grand Wadi Rum – a magical place whose grand vistas were popularized by the Star Wars series. I wrote about parts of it in Finding Tatooine. I’ll be writing more about Wadi Rum in the future. The place deserves multiple posts. Anyway, we will be roaming the desert for the next couple of day and Petra would mark the end of our boys-out-on-nature tour. As we drive at dusk towards the fringes of the Arabian Desert, my mind wonders over the many stories and tales about that secret, ancient, and enchanting Nabataean city.
It’s cold in December
… and it is especially cold at the night we arrive at Wadi Musa, the sprawling town above Petra. It is drizzling, on the very verge of sleet. Yes, high desert can be cold, and Wadi Musa certainly qualifies – being well over 1Km above sea level. Having gone through a mediocre dinner we do the only reasonable thing we could and drove our 4×4 downtown and into one of the local Hammams. One hour and a few Dinars and we were all good as new. Time to hit the bed (not literally!), it will be a long day tomorrow.
There are many things I can say about the touristy visit we had the following morning. Corny? Sure, but also inspiring. What can I say, the place is beautiful and much bigger than one can initially imagine. You cannot escape the feeling you’re not exactly a brave explorer risking his life to bring new discoveries to the world. Many have threaded the beaten path before. Many more will after you’re gone. Being just a small cog in the large well-oiled machine of commercial tourism is a fact one has to accept and live (comfortably) with. In the global economy of the 21st century, a place of such grandeur will never again wait in solemn to be discovered by the lucky few. Those romantic days of discovery are 100-year dead now.
The ready-made hot black cardamom coffee at the nearby Bedouin tent is more than a fine compensation.
