Petra

Last week I joined three other Fulbright scholars for a quick trip over the border to see the famed Petra in the kingdom of Jordan. We had such an amazing time, but I must say I think it was only partially the trip, and the greatest asset was the company. From the moment we met up in Jerusalem until we parted ways at Eilat and Tel Aviv, I don’t think we stopped chatting except to eat, sleep, and giggle. We have met briefly a handful of times, but for the most part only have had time at Fulbright functions, limiting time and topics of conversation. Spending two days and nights together was pure joy.

One of the other fellows living in Haifa and I took a bus to Jerusalem on Sunday and we had a slumber party with another living there, so that we could get an earlier start the next day down to Eilat. We met our fourth traveler Monday morning at the central bus station. Having planned to meet at 9 or 9:15, our 9:50ish arrival was a bit stressful on our very-organized-always-early friend, but as she was there on time and we live in the age of cell phones, she was able to purchase our tickets while we sat in traffic on the bus and eyeballed how far we were and discussed if we should get off and walk, or wait it out…she was gracious and happy when we finally got there, and we passed through security and found our gate, even having a few minutes to spare. ;-)

The bus stations have security, yes. But so do the grocery stores, malls, and a few coffee shops here and there. I was surprised when at orientation our security speaker told us that they will definitely profile, and make no apologies. I have noticed I get stopped much less often than men or brunettes before and after me in line, and that their glance through my bag is quite quick. But at bigger locations, and if I have a weird bag or anything, of course it takes longer. As I had a whole backpack and sleeping bag and we were entering the central bus station in Jerusalem (not quite as big as Union Station in DC, but same idea with stores, restaurants, etc.), it could have conceivably pushed our time back to missing the bus. Phew!

Our tickets had seat numbers on them, but everyone sat wherever they wanted, so the four of us sat together near the back. Of course it had to be the final two passengers to board who cared where they sat. Thankfully it didn’t affect us, and after a few minutes of shuffling around, they accepted two seats that, while perhaps not their ticketed seats, were together and apparently acceptable.

Settled in, our conversation picked up and we began discussing how each of us planned to present our projects at the upcoming meeting the following week. But when we left Jerusalem and crossed over the green line into the West Bank, our conversation naturally turned to topics of that nature. It is a common topic of discussion here – human rights, racism, safety, perspectives…and we four Americans discussed how different our paradigm is from the people here with whom we’ve talked about, well, everything in this part of the world.

The rather deep discussion was periodically interrupted when one of us would see a camel, or a place where our research project had taken place, or a particularly beautiful view, and we would all turn to admire, consider, and talk about the new conversation topic – such as where one can buy a baby camel, and where one might keep such a pet in the states.

The Dead Sea (Oops, I just made a typo: “Deaf Sea”…well, that certainly brought to mind a whole different picture, lol) is stunning, and we did fall silent a few times as we passed it. The bright blue surrounded by myriad earth tones can be breath taking. And the Negev Desert beyond it has a charm all its own, as well.

Parts of it remind me of Utah, California, and Arizona, while others are completely unique, but all proved impossible to capture through a camera lens…

The five hour ride flew by and we arrived in Eilat giddy but focused. After a quick trip to the atm, we debated about how much to exchange into Jordan Dinars and which of the dozen exchange places in sight that we should use. We compared exchange rates at half a dozen and made our selection, got our Dinars, and hopped in a cab for the five minute ride to the border.

Jordan, here we come!

Oh, but first we need to pay our exit fee.

Oh, and go through passport control.

Oh yes, and customs.

Okay, here we come, Jordan!

Oh, first through the Jordanian security…and their own passport control.

And have our picture taken? Hmmm

And…

into Jordan! Beautiful.

A driver from our hostel met us with a van to take us the couple hours to Wadi Mousa, just outside Petra. We could not get over the amazing rock formations (I know, I know, I’ve turned into a rock-lover. Oh dear.), and then the sun began to set.

I think we did fall silent again at this point. Of course I know that cameras cannot capture this kind of thing, but I could not resist. And then I put the camera down and just had to stare. How is it that sunrises, sunsets, and the like never get old? Every. single. day. I. live. and yet I am still in awe at every one. But this one did certainly stand out from the rest, though of course through a camera lens you cannot capture the depth of the hills and valleys stretching as far as the eye can see, fading gradually to the horizon. And you cannot see the oranges blending first into the light blue of the evening sky and then into the deep velvet blue of the coming night, sprinkled with stars.

Our hostel’s owner (well, one of them, as it is a family run business) was extremely welcoming, professional, and helpful. We settled in briefly and then walked down the way for dinner. I tried valiantly, and unsuccessfully, to employ my little Arabic, and kept politely saying “Toda” to our restaurant staff. Ah well, they did not seem phased by it, and I know many people from Israel that have visited Petra. I am sure they do not mind, though for all the socio-linguistic implications that language choice carries, I was determined to make the switch in my mind and mouth.

After dinner we bundled up and joined a night tour into Petra. Candles in paper bags lined the path down from the city, through the rock valleys created by earthquakes throughout the ages, and to the Treasury (featured in Indiana Jones, The Last Crusade). I broke away from my friends at one point to walk with a lady who seemed a little unsure of her footing in the dark over the sometimes-uneven path, and she and I had a nice little chat while we made our way down the magical trail.

The Treasury was lit by hundreds of candles and we sat in the crisp night air, enjoying sweet mint-rosemary tea, and listening to Bedouin chants and eerie, beautiful musical instruments. The first was a string instrument, which we were told was the forefather of all stringed instruments. This was followed by a song on a wind instrument of sorts, and as it played a gusty breeze blew in, giving the impression that the instrument summoned it. The breeze moved the paper bags over the flames and one by one, caught fire and harmlessly burnt out. It was peacefully spectacular.

We were invited afterwards to stay for a bit, take pictures, dance among the candles, etc. Which we happily did, and eventually head back up the trail to Wadi Mousa.

Somehow we split into two pairs walking back, and my walking partner and I somehow fell into speaking in a wonderfully entertaining mixture of Hebrew and Spanish. I wish we had it taped so I could analyze when we code switched! Her Spanish is quite strong, and her Hebrew is stronger than mine. But somehow as I listened, I found most of the time I did not even have to think, but simply understood her words. And I could not even pick out which were Spanish and which were Hebrew! Then, I responded. And I found that as I was not fighting it, Hebrew and Spanish flowed together seemingly seamlessly, even conjugating Spanish verbs using Hebrew affixes at times. I formulated a sentence to her asking if she was consciously choosing which language to use when, or if the same thing was happening in her head as I was experiencing. She answered in the affirmative and I marveled at the human mind.

We caught a cab for 2 dinar back up to the hostel and snuggled in for the night, ready to head out Tuesday to see Petra in the daylight before coming back to Israel. We had originally planned to come on Sunday night, and thankfully discovered that the night tour is only three times a week, and Sunday is not one of the nights. I am so glad we got to experience it. Back at the hostel we met another of the owning family members and had a lovely chat while we drank our “welcome tea”. Somehow the conversation turned to jokes, and he shared one with us that left us all searching in vain for an appropriate response. While it was meant as a joke, having an American blunder as the punch-line, we could not laugh. It was not offensive. But it was so telling of how people, at least the creator and current teller of this joke view the actions of the government (and the individuals?) of our country in a depressing light that we could not quite respond for a few seconds. And then someone found their voice, and somehow the subject was changed to less heavy topics – probably our plans for the morning. Later a pair of travelers from Australia joined us and we all talked about our various travels before we head to our room for a good (at least on my part) night’s sleep.

One of our friends had brought toothpaste from her recent trip to France, and as it was lavender flavored, we all used it out of curiosity, and now I find myself a little disappointed with my own prosaic mint paste, but it’ll do. We did our best to cut off our chatting at a decent hour and were up and down to breakfast not too long after our alarms insisted.

Petra opens at 6am. We entered about an hour later; I recommend it to any visiting! Petra in the early morning. Lovely. It is an expensive entry fee, equivalent to about $75, which is nearing the price for a day ticket to Disneyland, but it is, afterall, completely unique.

I was astonished at how big Petra is. I knew really nothing about it, and the only picture I had in my mind regarding it came from the movie, and that is just one building of an entire ancient city. It is a large, diverse collection of caves, temples, and an amphitheater, that took us a couple hours to peruse. The colors alone held my eyes and mind captivated.

Sprinkled throughout the ruins, vendors with an assortment of souvenirs added a nice, though ironic feeling, variation on the caves and rocks, and a touch of the contemporary local. Each man we spoke to, upon hearing our nationality, claimed a brother in Chicago. What a coincidence!

We heard of a hike you can make that creates a circle, rather than an out-and-back trek, but as it climbs to the top of the ridge and back over with a view of all of Petra, making it definitely a hike, rather than a gentle walk. To any who have the time, I’d greatly recommend it. It sounded like a wonderful trail from the other tourists we talked with, but in interest of time we opted for the same path back.

On our walk into Petra we’d seen a number of other visitors, and I hadn’t thought much of numbers. It was a delightful morning outing. On our way back, we were suddenly washed over by hundreds of tourists on tour groups and we breathed a sigh of relief that we were leaving as they were coming! It would have been a very different experience with all those bodies clogging the ways. Yay for early birds (though, being vegetarian, the worms are safe save from a click or two of my camera, perhaps). We left Petra for lunch, as food options there also go the way of Disneyland, and we classify ourselves Poor College Students.

Every food we encountered in our brief stay in Jordan was delicious. Being only slightly different from foods we eat in Israel, it was not much of an adventure, except that some had unfamiliar names, but it was still fun to peruse the menus, and nice to be far from going hungry.

After a brief stop by a souvenir shop to use up any dinars we hadn’t used in the Petra shops, it was back to collect our bags, say a farewell to the Cleopetra Hostel that even in the 18 hours or so we’d stayed, had felt homey (I highly recommend it to any heading to Petra!), and hop in the car to make the journey back to the border at Aqaba.

Back through the obstacle course that is the border – exit fees, customs, duty-free shop, passport control…and we were back to HaEretz and greeted every guard with a cheerful, “Shalom! Shalom, toda!”

A slightly overpriced taxi ride back to Eilat, we bought our bus tickets, bought some dinner for the road, and said our see-you-next-weeks to our friend heading back to Jerusalem. Then the other three of us loaded onto our bus to Tel Aviv. This time people were sitting according to their tickets and somehow my seat was apart from the other two, but I assured them I would be sleeping most of the time, anyway, which I sincerely anticipated. But then I turned my iPod on, to Laurie R. King’s “O, Jerusalem” a Mary Russell mystery novel, and while I’ve listened to it twice before, it and perhaps the excitement of the previous two days, kept me wide awake and looking out at the desert-by-night until only a few kilometers before we reached our destination.

The other Hafia-ian and I found a Sherut (a shuttle/taxi thing) to Haifa and her friend picked us up at the stop, depositing me at my apartment, tired but happy, and thoroughly content with our little adventure.