Every now and then a girl deserves a lazy day to herself. Today is definitely one of those days. J Considering the adventures of yesterday, I can only say that I deserve a day of lounging in the air-conditioned lobby of Farah, writing in my journal, catching up on email, and planning the next adventure – all to the background of Else and her boyfriend chatting in Dutch, smoking cigarettes, and playing cards. It’s a good life.
SO! Yesterday I woke up at 0515 for a drive down the King’s Highway to Petra! As I rolled over on my small cot, I groaned at Deanna (my newest roommate) that it was time to get up. Fortunately, a spectacular waning Ramadan moon, shining through our window, rewarded our efforts. We caught the JETT bus and rode for 3 hours to Petra. Hopping off the bus at around 10am, it was already incredibly hot as Deanna and I bought our entrance tickets (for a shocking $33JDs…approx. $50USD each). Admittedly, the fees are used for park maintenance, and given that Petra is one of the seven ancient “wonders of the world,” I suppose that it’s definitely a worthy cause to support…
Immediately, as we descended into the Siq, we were met by colorful mineral patterns, carved façades smoothly eroded by time, and cool shadows that escaped the desert sun’s pervasive rays. Thousands of years ago, the Siq was the grand “highway” in which visitors entered the city of Petra. The place has an aura of mystery to it, and I let my mind wander, imagining the fanfare of a Nabatean King, marching through the natural stony passage, and returning to his people. But as much as Deanna and I admired the passage itself, it was emerging out of the Siq into the sunlight with the famous Treasury in front of us that was truly impressive. As our eyes adjusted to the brightness, we admired the full splendor of a structure that, protected from the elements, is a grand Hellenistic style tomb meant for King Aretas III in 100 BC. However, the monument gains its nickname as the “Treasury” when an Egyptian pharaoh, in pursuit of Israelites, stopped to stash his riches in a secretive and secure location along the way. I am just so enthralled to be surrounded by so much history! It’s mind boggling to think of the magnitude of the time spectrum, and all that Petra has witnessed in stony silence – from the peak of a great civilization, to its inevitable deterioration. Deanna and I, after snapping some shots, peeled our eyes away and continued onward.
As we were exploring the numerous other structures throughout Petra, we were inundated by polite but persistent children selling postcards, and even more offers of donkey and camel rides to take up to the Monastery (“I give you good price!”). However, while hiking up the Royal Tombs, we were approached by Yasser and Ghani, two Bedouins who decided the best way to convince us was to match our pace, make conversation, and finally to appeal to our thirst. “Ah, you come for tea! Come, come!” Having heard of the deliciousness of Bedouin tea, Deanna and I readily accepted and followed them up into the cliffs. Deanna and Ghani, and Yasser and I paired up haphazardly, and sat down on a small carpet chatting, sipping the sweet, somewhat spicy tea, and exchanging stories. Our friendship bloomed quickly. Deanna and I even got nicknames. ;) I was nicknamed “warda” meaning flower, and Deanna was nicknamed “ganar” meaning moon. Yasser said he named me “warda” because I apparently am “blooming” with life. Along with the arm brushes and verbal flattery, Yasser was incredibly flirty, but I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy playing along. He was a very nice boy, probably around 16 or 17, and kept playing with his headscarf. He was slender with a delicate bone structure, and beautifully tan from a life lived completely outdoors. His dark eyes were outlined with a thin trace of charcoal to help protect them from the menacing sand that swirled up with the warm afternoon breeze.
After savoring a good three cups of tea, we got up and walked back down to where Yasser and Ghani left their donkeys. At that point, noticing the time (or lack thereof), it took little persuasion to get me on a donkey. Besides, being a horse girl, I wanted to know what these fuzzy stubborn creatures would feel like to ride. At Yasser’s request, I hopped on his donkey (that he named “Michael Jackson” because of his speckled black and white coat, haha!), and began the long trek up to the Monastery. Half-way up, after driving M.J up the trail, Yasser proceeded to hop on in front of me, and we rode double the rest of the way. At first I was surprised, and somewhat embarrassed. I didn’t know what to hold onto when we were taking the really steep parts of the trail! As much as I would have been okay with it, I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to wrap my arms around his middle or hang onto his shoulders. I resolved instead to take the safe ground and just squeeze tight with my thighs and calves and keep myself deep in the stirrups, which is what a good horsewoman would do anyways. ;) I was definitely worried about how our close body contact would draw attention though. But of course, Yasser was totally fine with it, if not completely satisfied with himself for being able to practically spoon upright next to a blonde American girl. I could just tell by the way he gloated as we walked by his other donkey-guiding Bedouin buddies! To be honest, it was kind of cute.
As we crested the final hill to the summit, and I took in the incredible view, my excited proclamations made Yasser laugh and poke fun at me, especially making fun of my accent. He then proceeded to move M.J forward until we were within inches of the edge of the cliff, and I was trying really hard not to freak out while my head was spinning. “Do you trust me?” he asked, playfully. “Do you?” It was SO far down! But then, looking up to the horizon, we could see the Promised Land through the haze. Absolutely beautiful. “Of course I do,” I said somewhat nervously. “Well then close your eyes, and open your heart,” he said softly and he put out his arms out like wings, gesturing me to follow, and let out a loud “ayyyyyha!” As we listened to the echoes reverberate across the canyons, my heart was pounding, but I couldn’t stop grinning.
After a short break on the cliff top in which we shared some pita (Bedouins rarely practice Ramadan…the hard living conditions with the heat and hard labor make it nigh impossible), we remounted and the four of us started back down the trail. We stopped off at the Monastery on the way down, and I met an amazing little girl named Taman. I picked her out sitting at the opening of the Monastery by her red sweatshirt, sitting there, bored and swinging her legs off the side of the elevated entrance. Once she saw Yasser and I approaching however, she immediately perked up and went into high profile business mode. The transformation was incredible. Climbing up next to her, she peppered me with all kinds of questions about myself. When it was my turn to ask questions, her dark eyes flashed and readily told me that she was 12 years old, and would I like a beautiful turquoise necklace to match my eyes? Taman emanated intelligence, and she had a spark that I hadn’t seen from any other somber Jordanian children that had been forced to grow up too quickly. I immediately loved this fiery little girl, and decided to take a look at the necklaces she was selling. Seeing one that I actually liked, I bought it for $6 dinar and asked to take a picture with her. She happily obliged, proceeding to masterfully snatch my camera from my hand, set it on an automatic timer (which MOM doesn’t even know how to do...love you anyways Mom, haha!), and run back to us with a smile on her face. While the picture itself turned out blurry, Taman’s spunk will be hard to forget. Before we left, Taman reached for me and draped another necklace around my neck as a gift. Refusing to take it, I tried to give it back but Taman would have none of it. Thus, trying to amend my conscious, I made her a deal. “Tell you what,” I said. “I take this necklace and bring you back a watch like the one of mine that you were admiring. Shake on it?” I asked, extending my hand. And smiling, Taman replied, “Deal!” I now must request Mom to send me a $10 sports watch from Target. I couldn’t be more pleased. :)
The descent down the mountain was fast, and I got many compliments from various passing Bedouin about my horsemanship and my ability to keep my seat despite Yasser pushing M.J rapidly down the steep steps with harsh, fairly brutal smacks of his switch. I was invited for more tea, but had to decline due to the dwindling time. I was even lured to a stop with an offer to hold a puppy. You know what they say; baby animals are the perfect chick magnets, ha! When we reached the bottom, Yasser invited us back to his house in the village. Exchanging glances, Deanna and I accepted, but had to decline his next offer to put us up for the night. Apparently there was going to be a wedding celebration that night, but as cool as it would have been to observe the festivities, Deanna had to be back in Amman to catch her flight home.
So now, time to grab a Coke and think about uploading pictures to Facebook…or maybe even Skype home, ha! ;)
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