Land of the Nabateans

The road to Wadi Musa is hilly, rolling up and down as it winds through town after town. After a brief stop in Shobak, home to a crusader castle where the insane and cruel Raynald of Châtillon would force his captives to jump a 450 m cliff to their death, Chris and I found ourselves still 30 km away when the sun disappeared.

We decided to hitch with a passing truck, but found it incredibly difficult because the drivers all wanted to charge more money than even a private taxi. What happened to the kindness of strangers? Clearly the atmosphere of Petra's tourism and walking-cash-machine foreigner mentality has seeped into their hearts. Not only would Wadi Musa prove to be difficult, the sheer bombardment of people wanting to sell something, find us a hotel, guide us to a restaurant, etc., left a bad taste in my mouth. We tried to ignore all of the overpriced foreign catches (except the hefty entrance fee of 60 dinar/ $90 that we couldn't sidestep!) but still were forced to buy food at heavily inflated prices. People aren't even shy about saying locals pay one price and foreigners are charged well up to 10 times more. One shwarma restaurant cashier explained to Chris he must triple charge him because it's a government law!

Break time in Wadi Musa

We stayed outside of town in Amarin village, with a couchsurfer host and his Bedouin family, as well as their long term Czech guest and two Australian girls. Our host, Khaled, comes from a family that has lived for centuries in the nearby Nabatean caves of Wadi Baird (Cold Canyon); however, some years ago the government built a small village nearby and relocated the people into homes on the promise of free housing, electricity, and running water.

Tea with Khaled and his cousin in Khaled's house

Chris and I hitched back to Wadi Musa (the once daily morning bus is for school kids only) and spent too much time wandering the steep street shops in search of picnic provisions. There are few if any produce supplies, with disgustingly rotten options, though a wealth of packaged junk foods from all over the world. Even Burger King fries and onions rings! Eventually we made a friend at a restaurant who sold us fresh hummus to go with our pide bread and green pomello.

Bedouins atop the Palace Tombs of Petra

Once inside the archaeological park we followed a stampede of tourists down a long rock path, past an army of bedouins renting out donkey and carriage rides. Almost immediately we came upon several large djinn blocks (spirit houses), enormous cubed rocks where the Nabateans believed they could sequester the spirits wandering about the desert.

One of the larger Djinn Blocks entering Petra

Most of the cubes have temple facades carved into one side; later "god blocks" are small niches carved into the canyon walls.

My favorite djinn block, inside the siq

Nabateans were the bedouin tribes that came to Petra from western Arabia over 2500 years ago. As a society they carved temples and tombs, tricliniums (feasting halls) and cisterns into the valley's sandstone canyon. Almost all of the facades are Hellenistic (and later Assyrian) in influence, with ornately decorated Corinthian pillars, but usually bare inside. They were able to pay off the Romans for a few centuries, though finally in the 1st century AD they finally lost their autonomy and Petra was reconstructed under Roman rule.

Camels have been walking here for 2600 years!

Colorful sandstone walls ornate the Nabatean tombs

The first and more exciting path into the canyon is the siq, a winding ribbon passing between crust that has shifted apart, sometimes only 2 m wide, with a slit of sky 40 m above.

Petra's siq

Narrow siq opens up to the Treasury

Camel caravan engravings in the siq (leaders feet remain)

There are no moments of solitude in Petra. Hundreds of thousands of visitors each year cram into the park, along with hundreds of bedouins and their pack animals, carting tourists around for a few dinar. A nearly constant stream of carriages bellows down the siq, transporting people to the treasury; from there are camel rides through the Street of Facades and Grand Palace; then donkey rides up to the monastery. All the while bedouin men are hawking their animals as Lamborghinis or Ferrari rides, kids try to sell postcards "cheap as chips they ahhr!", and women sit with displays of real and fake jewelry stalls "only looking cheap gift!". If the ticket price didn't burn a whole in one's pocket the entertainment inside will...

Charging chariots inside the siq

Camels near the Street of Facades

The coolest and most ingenious aspect of the Nabatean city is actually the water channel system. Horizontally along the siq is a cut channel system that caught rainwater (diverting it from flooding the siq street) and carried it down to the large cisterns carved into the rocks. From there the water was filtered into gardens that covered huge terraces around the temples. Most of the sandstone carved facades -which are all now barren and lifeless -were for a long time green and covered with gardens. The entire city flourished from this engineered water system, sustaining life, growing local foods, and holding down the dust that swirls about in sudden tornadoes.

Rock cut water channels through the siq

Water channel for garden storage in Little Petra

Of course the most famous scene is when the siq opens up to the megalith carved treasury façade, named thus because of a Bedouin tale that an Egyptian king once hid his treasure here. Made famous by Indiana Jones, this spot is a popular place for photos on a camel, etc.

In front of The Treasury

Then road then leads to an open area, deemed the Street of Facades, Assyrian in design with stepped triangles, because of the many carved temple doorways that lead nowhere. There are also hundreds of caves surrounding where later bedouin tribes squatted for centuries.

Caves near the Street of Facades

Next is the Roman street: a chariot worthy road lined by houses, an agora (markets), and the Grand Palace, almost all of which is completely in ruins today.

Bedouin merchant along the Roman street

Palace Tombs from the Grand Temple

The second day Chris and I arrived very early, hoping to glimpse the Treasury in full light. Unfortunately the winter sun never reaches above the canyon walls so as we waited for a bit of orange to move across the upper statues it just as quickly disappeared. So we decided to go hiking on some of the alternative routes described in our book.

Musician near Petra's siq

Most of the entrances have been blocked off so we walked all the way out of the siq to a longer trail, though as we stepped away the tourist police stopped us, forbidding us to walk the trail unless we pay 20 JD ($28) for a guide to escort us. Annoyed but not surprised, we declined and instead hightailed it through the park toward the monastery.

Bedouin Lamburginis

Up up up we climbed the footworn stone stairs, high above the wadi's ruins onto the windy mountaintop. The stairs finally open to a flat basin. Unlike the Treasury, the Monastery facade does not reveal itself from the street, but rather surprises one who turns around.

The Monastery facade hidden in the cliffs


At the Monastery

Opposite the facade is a cafe where tourists sit to sip lemon mint soda and tea while admiring the view. Chris and I climbed up to a strangely eroded boulder and ate our picnic lunch, resting from the hike, before hiking further to a lookout peak at The End Of The World View. From this cliff it is possible to see endless elephantitis-like blooms of sandstone rolling out in all directions; to the west a sudden flat basin of the Holy Land.


View from The End of The World

We also spent a day exploring Wadi Baird (Cold Canyon), which is also called little Petra. The siq here is much shorter, leading to a few largely ignored temple facades and baetyls (spirit blocks), then up to a wider wadi surrounded by climbable boulder cliffs. Our host Khaled, hangs out here most days, drinking tea with his cousin and playing his flute, which echoes through the canyon.

Sandstone staircases in Wadi Baird

Nabatean tombs in Little Petra (Wadi Baird)

Khaled's wadi and tea stop

Hiking Wadi Baird makes me sleepy

Late in the afternoon Chris and I joined Khaled and Muhammad for lunch: vegetables and lamb roasted over a campfire, with tea and a little hookah, before hiking down through the wadi. The river bed continues on for miles but we stopped after an hour and turned back, with just enough sun left to sit with some tourists before heading
back home.


Walking Wadi Baird (Cold Canyon)

Khaled cooks lunch over the fire

Bedouin lunch in Wadi Baird (Little Petra)

For Christmas we enjoyed a slightly strange ambiance inside Khaled's house. The building isn't really finished, more like a concrete cell that he squats in, and outrageously drafty. All night torrential wind blasts against his windows; I dreamt that I was scrambling around a kitchen with my brother, trying to locate one of thousands of cupboards that was continuously slamming open and closed, very Alice in Wonderland style. I woke and realized that in fact the window panes were being beaten by a severely howling wind, which would have been terrifying had I not been so tired.

One evening we spent with Khaled and his family in their house, watching the popular Turkish soap opera we always catch during home visits. Other nights we hung out with Khaled, Muhammad, and Carlos in the concrete prison, drinking strongly sugared tea and learning about Khaled's tribe. He even served us mansef, the ultimate standard of Jordanian fare: a large tray of rice cooked with chunks of bread, topped with a chopped, roasted goat, and drenched in yogurt.

Eating mansef with Khaled

Goodbye Sea, Hello Mountains

Al-Mazrah to At-Tafila

Distance: 51 km
Time: 2:46:00
Ave speed: 18.6 km/hr
Max speed: 29 km/hr
Temp: 24 C
Weather: Hot below sea level then coooold up in the mountains

We bid farewell to William in the late morning, then cycled the Dead Sea road further south through the salt flats. Along the way are a few large factories, including the Bromine factory (run by an American company) and Jordan's Potash City. Despite the absolute dry climate people still manage to farm so there are large monocrop fields (mostly tomatoes is seems) on both sides of the road. We passed several bedouin camps, empty and desolate, their inhabitants surviving off the animals products their ancestors have been eating for centuries. (Have I mentioned the traditional bedouin yogurt, leben, which is actually dehydrated and sold in dense, powdery blocks?) The surrounding farms are sprayed in abundance with pesticides, something we witnessed many times en route.


Fields around the Dead Sea salt flats are heavily sprayed with chemicals

Eventually, after passing some small towns and the turnoff to Lot's Cave, we arrived in Fifa, where we turned inland. The road leads straight up into the mountains so we called it a day and hitched a lift with 3 men in a truck.


Chris' new FB profile

They dropped us at the south entrance to At-Tafila, where we would visit Marty, the PCV we met in Amman. He lives at the north entrance so we had to skirt our way around the entire city before climbing a steep hill to his house. The main road through town is the sole commerce street, full of produce stalls, carpentry shops, and a few restaurants near the bus terminal.


Chris and Marty in Tafila's cold streets (note the sketchbook)

We stayed two nights at Marty's place, though he only stayed one. He had planned already to visit his host family and then stay up north for Christmas celebrations, but generously offered to let us stay alone. His landlord, Abu Muhammad, came over to drink tea and visit awhile, explaining to us the herbs and plants in his garden, and showed us his precious seed stash. A nice man, he wears a woolen cap and grey beard; appearing more like a salty deep sea captain than an Arab.


Learning about local plants with , Marty's landlord Abu Muhammad

Chris and I took a trip up just out of town to catch a wireless signal at the university, which was full of young men who literally hooted and hollered as we walked through campus. I cannot imagine this kind of scene anywhere in America, where large crowds of guys display such harassment toward strangers (although I didn't hang around frats much).


Walking in another's shoes. Literally.

On our way home we stopped in a few shops for dinner supplies, then caught a ride back toward town with a passing car; the next day it occurred to us Chris left his sketchbook in the mystery car! All of his pre-trip drawings, notes, and contacts are lost, though we are not giving up hope that- inshallah- word of mouth will connect the driver with Marty...

Dead Sea Activist

Al Mazrah is a small village on the southern tip of the Dead Sea, sprawling out from both sides of the highway. Surrounded by farms and palms trees, the scenery is close to what I expect in Egypt.

Chris and I enjoyed spending two days in Al-Mazra'ah with William, our CS host. He impressed us from the get-go with his passion for environmental causes, sharing with us his dreams of creating an educational center at his house to teach his community about topics such as water pollution and conservation (this is a key neglected issue around here), sustainable agriculture, and eco tourism.


Chris and William, an eco activist

We discussed ideas for hours, helping to outline and create a working plan to reach his goals. Although William has many neighbors, cousins, and friends (who regularly visited, randomly knocking on his door during our stay), he seems unfortunately estranged from them because of this emerging environmental passion. Maybe because he speaks (and avidly reads) English information on the Internet, or perhaps the new breed of movies (such as Home, which he says enlightened him to the water crisis around the Dead Sea), he needs to get in touch with like-minded people in Jordan who want to also create change. Luckily, we just met quite a few.


William's family outside their traditional mud brick home

The funniest thing about couchsurfing is the accidental false impression one can make on one's host, depending on travel circumstances. For example, Chris and I spent 3 days cycling and camping around hot springs and the Dead Sea, usually covered with flies and dirt, rinsing only in salt or algeified water, so we looked pretty bad upon arrival. Additionally, William's house does not have running water, so we were unable to shower and clean off for another few days. One night while talking, he asked if we are into emo, this "strange group of emotional people". Apparently his cousin had taken one look at us and told William we are part of this culture he read about online, probably into death and sad music. Odd and embarrassing, I can only blame Chris' wild, dirty hair and our scruffy clothes, but we avidly assured William that no, we are far more normal than that, and now slightly paranoid of the ways we might be stereotyped by future hosts.


Chris and William eating goliah; 3 days of sea camping= emo hair

One day Chris and I also took a trip back up the DS highway to hike Wadi Ibn Hammad. Following William's hand-drawn map, we cycled up a steep village road into the mountains, past several Bedouin camps and even an ostridge farm (??), finally arriving at the fields, where a man invited us to stop for tea. Turns out he is William's neighbor, and after calling William to assure him of our safety, he insisted we stay for ftr (lit: breaking fast). A few men and women from the fields returned for their mid day break, and together (me, breaking all social rules and eating with the men while the women secluded themselves inside) we dipped khoubs (bread) into goliah (tomatoes stewed), accompanied of course by sugar water with a smidge of tea.


Bedouin tents and lush farm fields near Wadi Ibn Hammad

The hike through Ibn Hammad lasted several hours, not quite the lush tropical oasis we read about online. We started downriver, and, unfortunately after 2 hours or so found ourselves caught at a large boulder with water cascading over that we couldn't pass. Somewhere up ahead should have been the hot waterfalls and pools, probably surrounded by moss and ferns.


Hiking up Wadi Ibn Hammad

With the sun getting low we decided to enjoy our dead end for a bit; Chris took a pair of scissors and literally chopped off chunks of my slightly ratty hair (this seemed like a good idea at the time, something I have come to regret). As a large flock of goats appeared, suddenly filling the gorge with baaahs and bells (and poop) we set off out of the canyon toward our bikes, cycling downhill onto the highway as the sun dipped behind Israel's mountains.


Sunset behind Palestine and the Dead Sea

Salty Dogs

Wadi Mujib to Al Mazra'ah

Distance: 31.39 km
Time: 1:44:00
Ave Speed: 18.1 km/hr
Max Speed: 50.3 km/hr
Temp: 26 C
Weather: Hot, melty, salty air full of flies

Thanks to the high eastern cliffs blocking out an early sunrise we slept in late, lounging in the tent listening to DN! and eating scandalously delicious Optimum cereal (thank you Eric!). We had the entire day to get 25 km south, where a CS host expected us, so we moved very slowly.


Camping over the Dead Sea cliffs

Wadi Mujib is technically a nature reserve, the only canyon along the Dead Sea that requires payment. Ironically, enormous pipes have been installed here to channel the aqafir's water back to Amman, draining the only wadi not already sucked dry by irrigation pipes. Much of the arid land along the sea is used for expansive monoculture crops (mostly tomatoes), which, coupled with the large Potash and Bromine factories, cause water pollution and are very quickly draining the Dead Sea. We were told there is an enormous piping project that will bring water from the Red Sea here, only to have it flow back down to the RS.


Wadi Mujib "nature reserve", no longer flowing with water

Chris and I pulled over many times to admire the salt-crystalled coast and turqoise water. We found a spot to lock the bikes and jumped the railing, carefull climbing down the steep rocks and out to the beach. The previous water level is clearly visible, a ring of razor sharp salt sleets about 20 feet up. Near the lapping waves are flat sheets and bulbous mushrooms of snow white salt balls, shining in the midday sun.


Tropical looking Dead Sea coast

We stripped down and slowly emersed into the cold water. Chris has been here before (in '99) while this was my first time feeling like a buoy, bobbing at the mercy of the waves. My feet popped up to the surface as if I were reclining in an invisible chair. We tried to be decadent and eat pomello strips in the water, however completely unable to escape the swarm of obnoxious flies. Giving up, we quickly packed and scurried up the sandy hillside, eager to wash off our sticky, sweaty, salty skin. We had strategically parked near a roadside water pump, dumping a few bottles of well water overhead before climbing back on the bikes to continue south.


Crystal salt puffs at the Dead Sea

It wasn't long before we arrived in Al-Mazra'ah, welcomed home with William, our CS host.

Descending Below Sea Level

Hammamat Ma'in to Wadi Mujib

Distance: 30.4 km
Time elapsed: 1:47:00
Average speed: 17 km/ hr
Max speed: 59.9 km/ hr
Temp: 23 C
Weather: Hot and buggy! (only flies though)

Such a beautiful morning! We woke as the sun peeled it's golden self up over the desert valley, packing our tent and returning to our bikes. Sometime overnight a wild dog evidently discovered our bag of food, ripping out the zipper and eating all our stores. We found pieces of cloth and shredded bags cascading down the hillside, my heart pining for the delicious loaf of dark German bread Anselm bestowed on us. Shoot.


Campspot over the Hammamat Ma'in springs

On the upside, the road shooting us down toward the Dead Sea was splendid, zigzaging around bedouin camps and cross wadi bridges.


Dead Sea Panorama


Such a view!

Closer to the water we began spotting solar paneled houses, so we stopped by and discovered they are barren military posts. The guys seemed pretty bored, happy to chat and drink tea with us.


Military friends

Chris and I continued south on the Dead Sea road; like the Turkish coast the road rolls up and down hills just at the water's edge. To our left the canyon walls remain almost a shear cliff face, with occasional wet or dry wadis reaching out to the sea. On the right was a steep drop down to the saltwater, it's waves splashing in tropicesque turquoise and white rivlets.


Happy to descend


Dead Sea coast

We parked the bikes at Wadi Attun, hiding them behind a cement block and covering them with our army sheet. As soon as they were parked an army of flies swarmed, covering every inch of the bikes in a creepy, crawling monster blanket, as well as us if we didn't constantly swat them away.


Fly-monster blanket osrt of hiding our bikes

The hike in to Wadi Attun is beautiful, in a desert climate sort of way. We followed a small river upstream, surrounded by a green thicket of ferns and palms. Climbing over boulders and crossing the warm spring water several times we arrived in less than an hour at the steamy hot spring. The water near the small boiling falls was much too hot for me to get near, but luckily a stream of cold water came pouring out of the canyon on the other side, making the middle mixed area perfect. Privacy is great (I didn't have to cover with long pants and tshirt here), but regardless the flies are too obnoxious to let any patch of skin remain visible...


Stopping only long enough to smile before the flies attack


Chris in the Attun hot spring pool

Once back out of the canyon we were happy to find out bikes still under the green tarp, though also fly encrusted. We biked onward, watching the sun sink down below a faraway Israeli ridge of mountains across the water. Just before the next large canyon, Wadi Mujib, we found a perfect hill overlooking the sea, set far away from the road traffic. Under a full and bright moon we devoured the last of our foodstuffs; a can of beans, half a pide, and 2 tomatoes.  


Palm trees and other green spruce up the wadi


Cool canyon water in Hamamat Attun

Bitterly cursing the dog thief, we popped the tent and retired inside the cocoon of safety, away from the flies, noise, and wind. Chris was still starving so I broke out my secret Galaxy bar; we nibbled on chocolate crisp until drifting off for another early night.