Petra - the Rose City of mystery
I thought I would include some of the blogs I have written on other sites. I am preparing blogs specific to this site and to my Facebook page, but in the interest of gaining your interest, I thought to include these.
In thinking about my own past, it comes to mind it would be good to sit a spell, and write what I remember about it. I do not want to write in one long stream, but in vignettes, and not necessarily in order, and perhaps I will ramble a while. I shall return to the subject at hand. Perhaps, I will write about lessons I learned, and the wisdom gained. Experience teaches me. It forces me to grow.
It was a beautiful trip. I had never seen anything like it. It was called The Rose City. The sand was the color of sunset, streaked with the warmth of the setting sun. It was 1994 when we arrived in Petra to explore it before it was opened to Israel. We stayed in a hotel with a restaurant built into the side of a cliff. It was on the outskirts of Petra ruins.
The morning after we arrived we headed into the ruins of Petra. We walked down along a dirt road that meandered through a canyon with about 250 foot high cliff walls. There were very few people that day. We were in Petra, the miracle city hidden, for centuries, in the depths of Jordan and known to only a few. It was painted by David Roberts. He hid his drawing pad under his voluminous robes, as the Bedouins were strongly against having Petra known by anyone. As he traveled with the Bedouins by camel, he drew under his robes, so he would not be seen. When we arrived at the end of the road we faced a very large building known as the Treasury. It was around 100 feet high with columns in the front. All were carved out of the sandstone comprising the complete area. The Nabataens were an advanced civilization that lived here until the Romans absorbed them.
We were astounded by the incredible structures of Petra. The interiors of the carved buildings were massively high, all carved by hand. We walked, and walked, and then we climbed, and climbed. We climbed 900 + steps to the Monastery. These steps were broad in nature, taking two or three steps to cross them before climbing to the next step. The Monastery at the top is considered the most magnificent building. Once there we whiled away the afternoon, oblivious to the setting sun. We investigated this most amazing area with canyons rivaling the Grand Canyon in the United States. We walked through so many places investigating, taking pictures, and drinking tea. We sat enjoying the air, the height, and the rocky outcrops. We became completely oblivious to the passage of time.
We suddenly we realized we better leave as the sun was beginning to go set and we had a long way to go. I followed as my friend guided us down the cliff. I never questioned my friend. I thought as he was a seasoned traveler he knew his way. Soon we found ourselves on a ledge just wide enough that if we turned out backs to the cliff we could inch our way along. Below was a significant drop. Given I have an irrational fear of heights, this phase of our adventure was difficult for me. Finally realizing this bore no resemblance to the path we had climbed, he admitted we needed to turn back. By the time we returned to the path of the stairs, and continued down the much safer descent it was getting dark. It was becoming difficult to see the steps. I descended by feeling my way down the steps. I had trouble seeing where the edges of the stairs were located.
Dark comes very suddenly in Petra. Once the sun sets behind the cliffs there is no dusk – just night. We could see fires in the caves as at that time there were still Bedouins living in the caves. The peddlers were gone. It was just us, the dark, and the glowing fires in the caves. The night was intense. The moon was full, and the light from it reflected off the cliffs, and the path of sand. Sand is made of quartz. Quartz being highly reflecting reflected back the moonlight. It was both eerie, and awe inspiring at the same time.
When we reached the bottom of the stairs, we realized we didn’t know where we were. At night, it is difficult to tell directions. We had no clue, took a guess, and began to walk. We were quite exhausted. A young boy was there. He had horses, and he wanted to know if we wanted a ride. Fortunately he did not ask for my first-born child. Being so tired, I might have given the child to him, if I had one to give.
Gratefully we climbed aboard the animals. We rode through moonlight, and the reflecting quartz into the night. Since the boy was afraid of the shadows, he began to speak of djinn and afreet. He wanted to make noise with his boombox to scare them away. Begging him to stop, I began to sing Arabic church hymns to keep away the ghosts and devils. As I looked into the cliffs, and the moonlight changing the shapes of the cliffs, I could see of what he spoke. The music brought comfort. The hills are ancient, the buildings ancient. It was not much of stretch to feel invisible inhabitants were watching us.
We rode into another world; we rode into the moonlight, and through the moonlight reflecting on the sand and the cliffs, the horses, and the young boy singing, and all too soon the trip was over.
The prospect of getting lost in Petra will no longer happen for now it is a governed park, and they make sure everyone is out at sunset, and the Bedouins are no longer allowed to live there. I was blessed to get there, before this happened, and to have a time, when I felt the veils lift, and to know the feeling of being a part of the vastness of which we all belong.