Petra by night

Petra was like that special chocolate, outfit, or gift card. You instinctively save it for some undefined special occasion, always wanting to use it but needing/waiting for an event which often never happens. Thankfully, Leon provided the occasion by having an embassy post for a few years in Amman, Jordan. Before he left America I promised I would visit him/Petra, but since I do well with deadlines it took his looming return to make it happen. Things have a way of working out, and in that time I discovered Kara, who’d joined me on the Memorial Day weekend trip to Kirtland last year, also wanted to visit Petra. As we started to research and talk to friends who’d lived in the region, two things quickly became apparent:

1) there were more things to do than we could possibly fit into a single trip (though I’d try my best), and

2) that as long as we were “in the neighborhood”, visiting Israel was not only possible but practically required

Any doubts about visiting Israel were removed when we persuaded Danny to be our driver/guide there. And thus, an occasion was created.

With the uncertainty and instability that often haunts the region, I repressed getting my hopes up about the trip really happening for months. The anticipation of an adventure is so important to me, but as a result it didn’t feel real until right before our departure. In some ways, not until we were on the plane. As we crossed over the Mediterranean coastline on a clear afternoon, I eagerly and quickly took in the modern coastal city right next to an older area of low buildings and short, winding roads in a hilly inland. I was pleased to learn I’d correctly guessed Tel Aviv as the city, and tried to understand what I was seeing below. The feature that made the least sense to me was the border with the West Bank, which clearly stood out in its flat, pale barrenness but wound around the hillsides with greater complexity than any meandering stream I’ve seen in nature. The crossing from Israel to Jordan was easy to see, as it abruptly transitioned from green farms to desert. As we began our descent into Amman it was mostly tan and fairly flat as far as the eye could see from my side of the plane, only interrupted by a flock of sheep and a handful of distant buildings. The airport felt small but very nice and modern, having completed a major renovation just in time for our visit, and it was only a few minutes before Leon met us. Leaving the airport, I caught a glimpse of the familiar in the jacaranda and olive trees used in their landscaping, just like home. That was about the only thing just like home, and those sheep on closer inspection had oppressively thick coats of wool for such hot weather.

The first leg of our trip was to be a whirlwind of Jordan’s highlights, and we hit the ground running by heading directly to Petra.

Driving south on the Desert Highway, I tried to read the landscape to get my bearings. The area was sparsely populated, with occasional clusters of buildings along the road. To make sure the drivers slowed down, metal speed bumps crossed the road when you’d approach these settlements. The small freight trucks were brightly colored and reminded me a little of those I saw in India. And I was delighted when we saw our first camels by the side of the road. Soon we were on winding hills, and wound our way to the village of Wadi Musa just outside the park. We checked into our hotel on a hill above the town and went downtown for a quick meal of shawarma (grilled meats) and french fries sprinkled with spices. I was also introduced to Jordanian mint lemonade, a refreshing concoction of pureed mint that wasn’t too sweet. Sitting on the terrace and sipping my drink as the sun set behind the nearby cliffs, the call to prayer rang out from the nearby mosque. It would’ve been easy to linger and people watch, but the best was waiting for us just down the road.

A few years ago, a friend travelled to Jordan and visited Petra by night. The photos were captivating, and by luck we arrived on one of the few nights they open for this. We waited at the park entrance, which had also recently been renovated, until they allowed us in. Not wanting to be in the throngs, we hung back and took pictures until most of them had gone ahead. The path from the entrance stretched gradually downward, lined by candles set in paper bags just like my family does on Christmas Eve. The rock formations just off the path were full of mysterious shadows, and I wondered how different they would look the next morning. Soon we entered a slot canyon called the Siq, and my excitement grew as the sheer rock walls towered over us with only a few stars in view. At last, we caught a glimpse of the Treasury. They used some bright floodlights to light up the full building, but had also set so many lanterns in front that it gave the effect of coming just from that. 

By the time we arrived, they were at the musical part of the program where men in traditional dress appeared out of the shadows, playing traditional instruments among the lanterns. Yes, there was a noisy generator and fellow tourists taking pictures, but it was easy to ignore that and enjoy the moment with that incredible building, looking even more exotic and mysterious in the darkness than I’d anticipated. Besides, once it ended I was right there with them needing pictures in an attempt to capture the moment before they shooed us out of the park. It was easier leaving with the knowledge that I’d be back in a few hours, and with exhaustion from our travel setting in.