We spent the entire morning at Petra, a wonder of the world, an UNESCO World Heritage Site and a well-maintained national park. Looking at the map, our guide explained the approximate round-trip distances to the different points of interest.
At least, I wanted to see the facade featured in the last scene of Indiana Jones. Neva sought - and found - a walking partner to the "Monastery" in the young teacher and runner, Anastasia, from Florida. I felt confident that I could walk seven miles1 but not the twelve miles needed for the "Monastery." I had turned my ankle very badly two weeks earlier on the first day of our family trip to New York and Toronto. I underestimated how serious the sprain was but, at the time, I couldn't keep off it or care for the injury. And we walked a great deal, especially in Toronto: one day we walked seven miles!
To protect my ankles in Petra, I wrapped them in these wonderful bandages that Kenny's athletic trainer had given him when he turned his ankle at sport's practice in December. I had also bought last minute some fantastic walking shoes with ankle support. Advice to travelers includes shoes that are broken-in but, being laid up with my ankle injury for several days at home, I couldn't. These shoes needed no breaking-in.
The itinerary's exposition of this day offered "riding on horseback (no riding experience required) ..." As it turned out, our guide strongly discouraged us from the horseback option, although some insisted on it because of the itinerary.2 I suspected our guide's concern was based on the reputation of the handlers for animal cruelty. Signs were prominent listing ways to report observed or suspected violations.
Our guide suggested that, despite the "you can't get lost, it's one-way in and one-way out" nature of the place, we stick with him for his explanations. Timmy, feeling independent, walked ahead and very soon disappeared from sight. The guy from Arizona said it reminded him of the American Southwest.3 The sun was not high enough to reach into the narrow Siq and gusts of wind blew outwards. The warning sound of a single horse trotting echoed periodically from behind or coming ahead before passing.
Young boys plague you to buy their postcards, jewelry. Old men sweep up droppings of horse, donkey. Bedouins offer camel rides. Generally, it's a carnival in front of the "Treasury."
This was as far as the guide was going. Tim met up with me again at this point, wanting to show me things ahead. Our morning was only half spent, so I went ahead with him. He showed me the tombs he had explored. He ably bounded up stone stairs like a mountain goat. I climbed the stairs as well but slower. Out of the bedouin shops along the way would come the soft-spoken, encouraging voice of an unseen proprietor, "Almost there, Mum." Again, how they knew I spoke English ... "Necklaces, scarfs ..." uttered in the next breath.
Notice the wooden paneled restrooms (right)
Bedouin shop
We turned around here though there was more to see. Being in the open sun had a stimulating effect but I resisted the impulse to continue forward for caution's sake. The few miles walk back was slightly uphill and Bedouins followed me the entire way on their horses offering a ride. I stubbornly refused because I had been training for this day's walk and I wanted to do it on my own.
While waiting for the others to return, Tim and I bought headscarves. Tim selected the traditional red color and the salesman put it on him as you see in this video. I bought a handmade green one.
Leaving the park, our guide took a head count by having us pass in front of him as he counted. He stopped Tim, who by now was no longer wearing his tour group name tag, and asked, "Are you with me?" It was a bit funny and somewhat typical of Tim's general life experience. Before beginning our three hour drive to Amman, we ate lunch in a restaurant. I had hummus and soup, and Tim took the buffet for the spaghetti.
I never thought to get Jordanian dinars so it was good that they accepted US dollars. Jordan felt expensive4 compared with Israel and it felt wealthy. I had budgeted 80-100 NIS a day for our lunches but here I was in Jordan not using shekels to buy lunch. So I ended up with extra shekels that I had to spend at the olive wood shop later in Jerusalem. Live and learn.
Poor Neva who walked to the "Monastery" and back was unable to get off the bus for lunch. We could see her from our seats in the restaurant sitting on the bus. Maybe someone brought her back something but I noticed early on that she was a picky eater. Overall this trip did not seem to be agreeing with her despite her enthusiasm.
Amman is very much a Western city. Gabriel, our guide, told us it's the Prince's goal to commercialize the capital and make it attractive to international companies. There was a billboard for the World Cup. The hotel had the most convenient electric outlets for charging devices we'd seen.
Our guide took us to the chapel in his parish for mass. Two laywomen had switched off doing the mass readings, one of whom was Neva. Apparently she wasn't up to it after walking too much, so Father George asked for a volunteer. My hand shot up before I even knew it, a surprise to me. He looked surprised as well. He laid his phone with a Breviary app open to the readings on the ambo. I didn't look it over beforehand. When I went up, I saw that both readings were in fact quite familiar to me, Jacob wrestling with the angel (Genesis 32:23-33) and Psalm 17. I felt I read them well and people did comment afterwards that I did. All those years of reading aloud bedtime stories to my children turned me into a personable, measured public reader.
Catholic chapel in Amman
Martyrs of Jordan church
After mass, Gabriel offered us small cups of hot tea. Then he took us into the main church and we met the pastor, etc. At the lovely, opulent hotel, Tim had me dust the red dirt of Petra from his only pair of shoes. My ankle bandages were too dusty to wear again without washing.
Tim was too tired for dinner so I went down alone. I sat with three other women and ate quickly because one of the women was concerned for her health around me. When I excused myself from their company after eating, her parting words were, "You're sick, you know, you have a bad cold. And my health is poor, I have a heart condition, so it would be best if you kept away. Please don't be offended." I'd agree she has a heart condition and I did my best to avoid her the rest of the trip.
1 It ended up being around 5 miles, according to my watch.
2 "But we've paid for it!" "It's included!" That sort of thing.
3 I've since seen friends' pictures on Facebook of Zion National Park and, except for the complete lack of water, it looks very similar.
4 e.g., Admission to Petra was $70USD pp
At least, I wanted to see the facade featured in the last scene of Indiana Jones. Neva sought - and found - a walking partner to the "Monastery" in the young teacher and runner, Anastasia, from Florida. I felt confident that I could walk seven miles1 but not the twelve miles needed for the "Monastery." I had turned my ankle very badly two weeks earlier on the first day of our family trip to New York and Toronto. I underestimated how serious the sprain was but, at the time, I couldn't keep off it or care for the injury. And we walked a great deal, especially in Toronto: one day we walked seven miles!
To protect my ankles in Petra, I wrapped them in these wonderful bandages that Kenny's athletic trainer had given him when he turned his ankle at sport's practice in December. I had also bought last minute some fantastic walking shoes with ankle support. Advice to travelers includes shoes that are broken-in but, being laid up with my ankle injury for several days at home, I couldn't. These shoes needed no breaking-in.
The itinerary's exposition of this day offered "riding on horseback (no riding experience required) ..." As it turned out, our guide strongly discouraged us from the horseback option, although some insisted on it because of the itinerary.2 I suspected our guide's concern was based on the reputation of the handlers for animal cruelty. Signs were prominent listing ways to report observed or suspected violations.
Our guide suggested that, despite the "you can't get lost, it's one-way in and one-way out" nature of the place, we stick with him for his explanations. Timmy, feeling independent, walked ahead and very soon disappeared from sight. The guy from Arizona said it reminded him of the American Southwest.3 The sun was not high enough to reach into the narrow Siq and gusts of wind blew outwards. The warning sound of a single horse trotting echoed periodically from behind or coming ahead before passing.
Young boys plague you to buy their postcards, jewelry. Old men sweep up droppings of horse, donkey. Bedouins offer camel rides. Generally, it's a carnival in front of the "Treasury."
This was as far as the guide was going. Tim met up with me again at this point, wanting to show me things ahead. Our morning was only half spent, so I went ahead with him. He showed me the tombs he had explored. He ably bounded up stone stairs like a mountain goat. I climbed the stairs as well but slower. Out of the bedouin shops along the way would come the soft-spoken, encouraging voice of an unseen proprietor, "Almost there, Mum." Again, how they knew I spoke English ... "Necklaces, scarfs ..." uttered in the next breath.
We turned around here though there was more to see. Being in the open sun had a stimulating effect but I resisted the impulse to continue forward for caution's sake. The few miles walk back was slightly uphill and Bedouins followed me the entire way on their horses offering a ride. I stubbornly refused because I had been training for this day's walk and I wanted to do it on my own.
While waiting for the others to return, Tim and I bought headscarves. Tim selected the traditional red color and the salesman put it on him as you see in this video. I bought a handmade green one.
Leaving the park, our guide took a head count by having us pass in front of him as he counted. He stopped Tim, who by now was no longer wearing his tour group name tag, and asked, "Are you with me?" It was a bit funny and somewhat typical of Tim's general life experience. Before beginning our three hour drive to Amman, we ate lunch in a restaurant. I had hummus and soup, and Tim took the buffet for the spaghetti.
I never thought to get Jordanian dinars so it was good that they accepted US dollars. Jordan felt expensive4 compared with Israel and it felt wealthy. I had budgeted 80-100 NIS a day for our lunches but here I was in Jordan not using shekels to buy lunch. So I ended up with extra shekels that I had to spend at the olive wood shop later in Jerusalem. Live and learn.
Poor Neva who walked to the "Monastery" and back was unable to get off the bus for lunch. We could see her from our seats in the restaurant sitting on the bus. Maybe someone brought her back something but I noticed early on that she was a picky eater. Overall this trip did not seem to be agreeing with her despite her enthusiasm.
Amman is very much a Western city. Gabriel, our guide, told us it's the Prince's goal to commercialize the capital and make it attractive to international companies. There was a billboard for the World Cup. The hotel had the most convenient electric outlets for charging devices we'd seen.
Our guide took us to the chapel in his parish for mass. Two laywomen had switched off doing the mass readings, one of whom was Neva. Apparently she wasn't up to it after walking too much, so Father George asked for a volunteer. My hand shot up before I even knew it, a surprise to me. He looked surprised as well. He laid his phone with a Breviary app open to the readings on the ambo. I didn't look it over beforehand. When I went up, I saw that both readings were in fact quite familiar to me, Jacob wrestling with the angel (Genesis 32:23-33) and Psalm 17. I felt I read them well and people did comment afterwards that I did. All those years of reading aloud bedtime stories to my children turned me into a personable, measured public reader.
After mass, Gabriel offered us small cups of hot tea. Then he took us into the main church and we met the pastor, etc. At the lovely, opulent hotel, Tim had me dust the red dirt of Petra from his only pair of shoes. My ankle bandages were too dusty to wear again without washing.
Tim was too tired for dinner so I went down alone. I sat with three other women and ate quickly because one of the women was concerned for her health around me. When I excused myself from their company after eating, her parting words were, "You're sick, you know, you have a bad cold. And my health is poor, I have a heart condition, so it would be best if you kept away. Please don't be offended." I'd agree she has a heart condition and I did my best to avoid her the rest of the trip.
1 It ended up being around 5 miles, according to my watch.
2 "But we've paid for it!" "It's included!" That sort of thing.
3 I've since seen friends' pictures on Facebook of Zion National Park and, except for the complete lack of water, it looks very similar.
4 e.g., Admission to Petra was $70USD pp
1 comment:
Hey there from the past, just checking in. Terrific travel article! My wife is coincidentally rewriting her Art History textbook to include Petra. We retired to Cuenca Ecuador in 2017 which is also a Heritage site. Once my Spanish is up to snuff I hope to be catechizing again.
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