Jordanian adventures continued

And so we woke up at the crack of dawn, arranged a tour to Petra and were on our way. The drive was absolutely incredible- the sandstone mountains were so beautiful and so many shop signs for me to take pictures of (I love to do so) in the little villages we drove through. So for those of you who don't know, Petra is one of the new seven wonders of the world and is an old city believed to have been constructed in 100BCE and better still they shot Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom there.


Other than for the throngs of tourists and gypsy type men who harass you to buy things in their stores with Indiana Jones signs out front (not sure if Warner Brothers gave sign-off again), you wouldn't know it was there. In fact it was a secret to the western world until the 1800's. It's like any old ancient town- it has a mall, a few donkeys and a Count Dracula opthamologist.

We didn't quite know what to expect. We knew the famous building 'The Treasury' (above) was there, but didn't realise how enormous the actual place was and to even get there it would take a fair walk on rocky, uneven dusty soil. So we set off with our sensible walking shoes- haviana thongs, and walked downhill for about an hour or so stopping off to look at what history had to offer. Amazing obelisks, tombs, an amphitheatre and of course a tourist shop on every ancient corner. After walking for about 2 and a half hours, we realised we had to head back to meet our driver and then it dawned upon us- we had to walk back UP that hill. There was silence, we were focused and went full speed ahead to punch through the pain barrier. It was hot, I was parched because I refused to drink the bottle of water I had just bought because I saw a little gypsy girl rummaging through the bins collecting empty bottles. In the meantime, my insides were still processing the excess salt intake from the day before and I beginning to worry if the Dead Sea water was used in the ancient times for the embalming process. Parched to say the least. Men on horses came close saying "lady lady, you want horse?". Eventually we just ignored them and so one man sang us a little rhyming ditty "Why, why? Why you no answer? Why? Maybe you die?"- Geez! thanks for that- it kind of felt like that in a way - although I must admit I was tempted to take a ride on his horse which was teaming with the Arabian Nights theme. It had a head piece and everything. When we finally got to the home stretch we were puffing and panting, covered in dust and just generally exhausted. As those that saw us enter the world of Petra 3 hours before on their exit, we looked upon the other bright-eyed tourists and chuckled to ourselves thinking 'you've got a good walk ahead of you- hope you've got some good walking shoes on'. Some didn't, but I guess sometimes fashion comes first. Hysteria set in.

As it was a pretty expensive ordeal to even get to Petra we decided not to get a tour guide. Instead, we did the walk ourselves slowing down every so often when we saw an English speaking tour group. The night before, at sun downers, we met a Canadian couple who initiated some general chit-chat and then from nowhere started on the proud grandparent spiel. I never found the segue. But anyway, lucky we did because just as we were noticing the matching beige outfits we heard a bellowing American sounding "Hiiii. Y'all wan come on the tour with us?". We happily accepted until we realised they were happy to partake in every tourist ploy, so we dropped behind. This is them being king and queen in a mock tribal ceremony. Kind of reminded me of something my mum would rope my dad into doing. They were enjoying themselves in an OAP sort of way, but good on them.

As this area was filled with old tombs and caves, Bedouin tribes used to live here and were only kicked out by the authorities in 1985. They built them a community on a hill overlooking the city of Petra, and they now run the tourist business in the city streets. I was fascinated to meet a kiwi lady that came to Petra in the 70's on a backpacking trip and ended up marrying a Bedouin and lived in one of these caves. She has now written a book which I am now reading - I knew it would make 'big mamma' happy.

You couldn't even turn your head without someone trying to sell you something or lead you somewhere. As you know I love a good shop sign, so here are just a few of my favorites in the ancient city. Isn't that Count Dracula again? Perhaps a case of moonlighting?

On our way back to the Dead Sea, we stopped off at a souvenir shop which was aptly named 'The Holy Gifts Land'. The Jordanian man showed us all the 'Dead Sea' beauty products we could buy- and I never knew you could do so much with mud and a bit of salt. It kind of reminded me of the merchandising in the movie Spaceballs. "Spaceballs the Breakfast Cereal, Spaceballs the colouring book, Spaceballs the Flame thrower...". After the man had finished his sales pitch, he asked if we had any questions, indeed I had one. Who was the tall man in the photo behind all the products? It was the tallest man in the Guinness Book of Records next to their shortest staff member. The staff followed us around the store, and everything I picked up, including the Christmas decorations with a Made in China sticker on it, was "made in Jordan". The delicate hand-made glasses were also "dishwasher-safe"- someone wanted to make a sale. I'm my mother's daughter, so I made a sale, a small one, but a sale. Like a thank you gift, they brought out the shortest staff member who wanted a photo with me, perhaps to put next to the picture with the world's tallest man. Bless him. He was about a centimetre taller than me, and I think it was his proudest day.

The next day we made our way to the airport where we were greeted again by the synthetic suit, perhaps hoping for the tip he never got from us in exchange for all the flattery. On the plane I sat next to a cute little Jordanian boy who was on his way to Texas to do a semester for his medicine degree. If I didn't know any better, I'd be pretty sure that he went by the name of "Borat Sagadiev". He had tight Borat curls and a light brown suit jacket. He looked out the window and nudged me saying 'very nice', asked for pictures of himself in his plane seat and tried to show me a video on his mobile of the open heart surgery he had sat in on with his professor. I wouldn't have a bar of it as I had just peeled back the foil on my lamb kofta meatballs. To quickly change the subject of conversation, my friend and I reflected upon our trip over our aeroplane food and a vodka. Oblivious to those around us, in more of an excitable teenager sort of way than being totally obnoxious, we just got to the part about the "ball sack" chin when the air steward tuned in and took a double take just to check if his ears had deceived him. I thought it was more like selective hearing than tuning in at the wrong time. As an Aussie, he enjoyed it all the same and we asked him if he also tuned into the part of our conversation when we were wondering if there was an more chocolate on the plane. With the MSG plane food, the vodka, a bit of embarrassment and the image of the ball sack chin, hysteria set in again.

We had an awesome trip. Everyone should put Jordan on their 'things to do' list.