Week Sixty-Seven

We only have one mission today, and that's to get out of Amman. With that purpose in mind, we're up fairly early but breakfast, packing and re-packing (it's always trickier after you've been in the same place for a while: stuff seems to expand, given freedom) takes us until mid-morning. We opt not to risk the local bus service in Amman (we haven't tried it, though we've been here for a while) and grab Khalid instead (he's wandering about - obviously no customers today). The relevent bus station turns out to be well to the north of sprawling Amman centre, almost outside the city: Khalid drops us right at the bus, and in we get. The tickets are a pretty steep $5 each, but we take an extra seat for the rucksacks.
The bus gradually fills up as we sait, in one of our sunniest days in Jordan so far - there seem to be another couple of foreign couples on board, but everyone else is Jordanian. The driver eventually starts the engine at 11.55 and the last seat is almost magically filled at 12.00 on the dot and off we go (still therefore unsure whether this is a timetabled or fill-and-go service). I had vague hopes that we might go down the King's Highway to Wadi Musa (the modern town beside Petra), having missed it on Friday, but just before Madaba we take a left onto the wide and modern Desert Highway instead. With very little to see except wide visats of empty desert (a few traditional "beehive" buildings), the almost-three-hour bus strip is one of the dullest yet - the only action of note is when I swap places with our luggage because the guy next to it keep leaning on it and flicking ash on it. Initially he tries to maintain his two-thirds-of-the-double-seat, but a silent and deadly fart from me makes him retreat as far as he can get: good ol' Amman pastries - they've had that effect since we arrived there). Talking of Amman, I suppose I have to finally give it a mark, and that mark is 4/10: the shopping's extensive but neither as varied as (eg.) Aleppo nor as cheap as Irbid. The "Roman" bits are too restored, or else have nothing really of interest, though the museum was quite good.

The normal road to Wadi Musa seems to be closed (possibly still suffering after Friday's weather and travel chaos), but the bus doesn't seem to want to go that way anyway - we take a very minor road, one step up frorm a dirt track, and join the King's Highway just a few kilometres north of Wadi Musa. "Wadi Musa", by the way, is "Moses' Valley" - the spring here is supposedly where he hit the ground with his staff: apparently his brother Aaron is buried nearby. The road deteriorates dramatically just before the town - they seem to be upgrading a couple of kilometres, but haven't provided any alternative surface, so the minibus weaves among the construction equipment and over piles of sand and gravel and so on. It's very exciting and we're soon in the outskirts of town, which seems all new concrete and a gradually increasing density of hotels as we near the centre.
The "centre" of Wadi Musa turns out to be a little four-way rouundabout - a couple of people accost us as soon as we get off the bus, pushing their hotels: they represent two or the three options we'd already identified - Valentine's (formerly the Twaissi Inn - a backpacker favourite); the Petra Gate (advertised extensively in Amman); and the Saba'a Inn (recommended by the Cliff Hotel in Amman). Saba'a Inn is the first one we hit up the hill from the roundabout - they offer us a clean en-suite double with a radiator and free transport to/frfom the Petra site for £3.60/$5.50, so we don't bother looking any further. We do a quick turnaround and set off for the site entrance (a mile or so downhill): we need to check ticket prices, and make sure Petra's open on Christmas day, and do a general scout around while there's still daylight.
The ticket office is in a little "Visitor Centre" which also includes an information desk and an ethnic products shop. The guy at the information desk proves very informative, unusually for the Middle East: Petra's open on Christmas day (regular hours: 06.00 to 17.00); two days should be enough to see pretty much all of it; the tickets are at a reduced price (JD13.50 for two days, per person) like the other site in Jordan at the moment; there's an alternative way into the site which we might like to try if we take two days; there are short and long guided tours available; and we can also take a bewildering array of horses, carriages and camels in and out of different stretches. We move across to the little shop - I've been kinda looking for a little guide book since we got to Amman: unfortunately the options so far are a.) simple maps with no information, b.) glossy books with lots of photos, general information about Petra and Nabatean history, or c.) expensive detailed guides which would cost as much as the entry price. It's pretty much the same selection here. While I'm looking, Milla is tempted by attractively-priced arab and Bedouin knives, and also inspects clothes and jewellery.

By the time we leave the Visitor Centre it's dark, suddenly a lot colder and spitting with rain: we trudge up the hill (it seems a lot steeper on the way up), noticing that the Lonely Planet-identified Pizza Hut has vanished (what did the Jordanians do to make all the fast food places close?). We tour round the rest of Wadi Musa pricing various items (it's a very expensive place), picking up biscuits and water for tomorrow, and noting that there doesn't seem to be anywhere to buy alcohol in town. Hey-ho.
We're in bed just before midnight in our nice, warm, radiator-heated room, with intentions to get up ludicrously early tomorrow to be in time for the hotel's 07.00 free bus. If Petra's as good as people say, then we want to spend a full day there and see how we do . . .

Milla gets up at 05.30 and has made coffee by 05.43: I refuse to get up until 05.45 when my alarm goes off. An hour of breakfast, packing our day-bags and money, and locking our rucksacks (we never trust hotels) sees us down at Reception in time for 07.00. It transpire that there isn't a free bus after all - the hotel calls a taxi and picks up the (presumably bulk-discounted) fare. The driver takes us down the hill (it's light - it started getting brighter a little after 06.00), through deserted Wadi Musa and drops us at the Movenpick Hotel by the entrance: he'll collect us at 16.00 from the same place - feeling that's a little restrictive, we warn him not to wait if we're not there.

We opt for 2-day passes, at the excellent price of $12 each (normally $35, reduced to $20 because of the tourist slump, reduced to $12 because of our student cards - probably our last chance to use them before they expire at the end of the year). There's a clutch of guys at the site entrance (a triple gate - the right-hand pedestrian one is open): they inspect our tickets, rip a bit off and tell us that we're the first ones in today. The first ones, we muse as we walk along the sandy road by the wadi - that's pretty special, and it's dry and getting lighter - looks like we're gonna have a good day! We pass by waiting horses (a couple of people offer us rides for 1JD instead of the publicised 7JD - times must be tough), and within 300 metres hit our first Nabatean monuments: huge, block-like tombs (the "Djinn Blocks") carved out of the rock - I guess a block shape is about the easiest to carve, but they're still pretty impressive. Just past them are a couple of tomb facades (symmetric, with Assyrian-like step designs at the top) and then a really impressive tomb on the left (on the other side of the wadi). This is the "Obelisk Tomb" - a carved front with a line of obelisks along the top (apparently obelisks were a symbol of death for the Nabateans): we pause to admire it, and then press on.

After about 1km (during which we pass another Bedouin who advises "you are first") we reach a junction: the wadi continues to the right, bending sharply. Ahead of us is the "siq" (canyon), a steep fissure which cuts through the mountains separating Petra from Wadi Musa. A notice advises that we have another 1.2km to go, so off we head, pausing to look to the right. The wadi enters a tunnel further along: possibly we'll take that route tomorrow, as the guy at the Visitor Centre recommended. The siq, meanwhile, is a tourist attraction in its own right: almost immediately on entering it, past the remains of an ancient gate, the sides tower up vertically in lateral stripes of reds and purples; it's totally, eerily silent except for the echoes of our footsteps and the occasional sounds of birds high above; there are strange plants with little round blue leaves (obviously blue when seen against other, normal green plants) - presumably because of either the strange, indirect, reddish light (our faces and clothes look a different colour), or because of the iron-rich soil. Underfoot is mostly modern concrete, with a few stretches remaining of original paving stones - both have a thin covering of pinky-red sand. Along both sides/walls are the remains of large channels for water (the Nabateans were masters of irrigation and water supply - even better than the Romans), with some remnants of pipes still in situ. Also, as we go further in, there are little carved shrines and statues (best are the feet of an erstwhile camel caravan).

And then suddenly we're out - a couple of bends ahead we can see the famous, sharp lines of the "Treasury" peeping through (you can only see a slice of it from the siq): it's a pale sandstone colour and seems to shine, though that's probably just an illusion after the dark siq. It's very impressive and becomes more so as you emerge into the clearing in front of it, because it's only then that you realise how big it is: the scale is monumental. It's also kinda cool that we're alone except for some Bedouin hanging about a little souvenir tent/stall to the left. A couple of observations:" firstly, the inside's boring - it's just a big space with virtually no decoration (there are wooden barriers up, but they're easily bypassed); also the central "urn" above the door is badly damaged by bullet holes (people who thought it was hollow, trying to break in); thirdly, one of the columns has been restored/resurrected - it presumably snapped off at one point, though I'm not sure if it wouldn't have been more impressive to leave it; and lastly, it doesn't seem quite finished - the hand- and foot-holds up both sides (presumably used during construction) are still there (except at ground level, so you can't climb up nowadays).

Contrary to what we expected, we're not suddenly in the city: the siq continues, though wider, to the right (to the left, incidentally, we can see some ancient, carved, tempting steps leading up the massif). By the time we leave the Treasury we're no longer alone in Petra - one guy emerged from the si as we were exploring inside, and someone else arrived as we left to press on. There are a number of other large but not so impressive tombs on both sides: weird in the same way as in Cappadocia in that patterns in the rock go right through the facades, but much more pronounced than in essentially-monochrome tufa. Also, there are little souvenir and tea/coffee tents every 200m or so, and a slowly increasing amount of local traffic - "traffic", by the way, consists of some camels, a couple of donkeys and a 4WD truck (and a cat, which accompanies us a short way).

The lone guy overtakes us finally as we reach the "Street of Facades", a collection of very dull tombs in rows which makes them look like houses: we guess that this isn't his first day because he's moving at some speed. This is kinda confirmed when he walks straight past the next major attraction, the theatre. "Built" by the Nabateans and expanded by the Romans, the theatre consisted of the free-standing stage-and-superstructure (now mostly collapsed) and the seats (carved out of solid rock, and pretty intact). Unlike most Roman-era theatres there isn't the elaborate network of access tunnels and stairs, mainly because they would have had to have been carved out of solid rock too: what is excellent, again, is that the rock strata (including yellows and whites here, as well as a hundred shades of red) run through and across the seats and steps. Over time, the rock's sheared in places (presumably due to earthquakes), leaving a lot of the seats at very jaunty angles. The sun's beginning to seriously shine and we pause for biscuits and cigarettes, watch occasional people passing by (no-one else seems to want to explore/climb the theatre), and set off again at 08.40. I've already used about 15 photos, which is alarming since I've only brought one spare film.

Now we really have entered Petra proper - I was expecting it to be flattish between the east and west flanking mountains: actually, it's all hilly and we can't see the ruins of the city centre yet. Our options from here are to press north along the Royal Tombs (the most impressive), or go west into the centre, or curve roundn the spur and head south - which last is what we elect to do. We clamber up and over the rocky grgound (it's all little rocks, rather than sand, and there's quite a lot of low vegetation - like at Palmyra), exploring the eroded and wind-moulded tombs on the way. A lot of them have blackened roofs and/or smell of livestock - Bedouin lived here until recently, when the government moved them out to a new prefab village to the north. At one point we find a scramble leading up to a narrow shelf which I explore to see if it goes anywhere (it doesn't seem to), on the basis that there are half-surviving Nabatean steps cut into the ascent: from the top I can see a herd of goats and sheep in the valley below - the Bedu may have been moved out, but they still seem to be using the site.

Eventually we reach Wadi Farasa, another steep gorge leading back east into the mountains: there are some impressive tombs here as well, in particular the "Roman Soldier Tomb" which was linked by a colonnaded courtyard to a carved Triclinium on the opposite side. The triclinium (banqueting hall) is more decorated inside than most of the tombs, but is still pretty Spartan. Actually, rather than Spartan, this area seems suddenly and obviously Roman - apart from the Roman statue style in the niches, there's a geometric exactness about the execution and a preference for simplistic grandeur rather than flair: this is obviously a Roman corner of the site. The complex here is pretty neat, and just up the slope/defile is another tomb/triclinium - the "Garden Tomb": it has a wall to one side, creating a cistern, which fed a couple of pools and a fountain on a flat courtyarded area in front of the tomb. We're joined there by the guy who first caught us up (third person in today): he turns out to be from Slovenia and was the other European staying at the hotel in Irbid - also, as we guessed, this is his second day. He arrived yesterday morning, spent most of the day doing up to the Royal Tombs (he didn't have a full day), and has a busy schedule planned for the rest of today. He presses on up Wadi Farasa while we have another cigarette and become engulfed in a little herd of sheep which have decided to check out the grazing here. Unlike most sheep I've met, there ones exhibit virtually no fear of people: they brush past us as the go, and a few pause to stare at us. In their midst is a black goat with two kids: it stands, bleating, on the steps of the Garden Tomb, peering up and down the wadi - presumably it started with three kids.

Wadi Farasa abruptly becomes very steep, but ancient carved steps lead up one side - twisting and turning, they take us up past a "Lion Fountain" (it's a relief lion, the head of which was once a fountain) and an Italian family group heading downhill (with a cat in tow) and eventually (it's a twenty-minute climb) to a "High Place" on top of the spu which separates the siq from Wadi Farasa. Suddenly and surprisingly, there are tourists here - groups of two, four, five and arriving in waves up the shorter series of steps which lead from near the theatre. It's a bit of a culture shock since the Slovenian (he's still here, perched dramatically on the end of a rock) and the four Italians were the only people we've seen in the last hour and a half, except for some distant Bedou shepherds. Talking of Bedouin, they're a lot more active now than when we arrived: there's a tea/coffee tent where the two routes here converge, and anumber of stalls/tables on the way up to the summit. It's mostly women doing the selling, and items on offer are typically jewellery in stone, camelbone and/or "Bedou Silver" (a tin amalgam of some sort); neat carved stone hollow animals with little animals inside; coins (which seem to be exclusively fake -there may be a few originals, but you'd have to be switched on to tell the difference); and most bizarrely small rocks showing strips of different colours - an old guy gave Milla one near the entrance, but frankly we found better ones just lying around.

At the actual "High Place", apart from good views down to the Royal Tombs, there's an artifical (now dry) shallow pool and a couple of altars with steps. After our early start, rapid pace and recent steep climb, Milla takes a rest/snooze on the best of the altars for fifteen minutes, while I change my film (11.30 and I've taken 33 photos!) and look around. We admire the views, exchange greetings with the Slovenian guy again, and set off down the other side (passing a couple of large free-standing obelisks on the way): the descent is through a much narrower and more densely-stepped gorge, but the colours and patterns in the rocks are amazing - pretty much every colour you can think of, including a wide range of blues and greens. There are little wind-carved hollows and chimneys with swirling patterns inside which look painted. We pass even more people coming up, including an Italian couple we met in Amman (this is getting ridiculous - we have to stop meeting people).

We join the main path again a little before the theatre (pausing to say hello to a donkey, watched over by a dog, half-way down) and continue north to the Royal Tombs. first up is the "Urn Tomb", named after a rather nondescript urn on top - more obvious are the two layers of arches which support the terrace, Roman-fashion (the Romans were already neighbours by the time this tomb was built). It's probably the largest tomb we've seen, with the terrace flanked by two rows of columns and a large chamber inside (again with blackened ceiling): facing east, the tomb was later used as a church. A path, stairs and wooden bridge lead south to a little complex of very wind-eroded minor tombs, where the wind-shapes combine to accentuate the striking layers of coloured rock - very strange.
Next up is the "Silk Tomb", named after the soft, folded patterns of colour on the facade - frankly the smaller one next door is just as attrative, and the ones we just saw round the side of the Urn Tomb are better. Then comes the Corinthian Tomb, which is probably my personal favourite: a more ornate version of the Treasury design, it has carved Corinthian capitals, an excellent and massive urn on top, and scenic vegetation sprouting from the upper levels. Last up in this line is the "Palace Tomb", which seems to have been modelled on Roman palace design: it's all rows of pseudo-columns and pseudo-windows, and is fenced off at the sides of its steep terrace: presumably people have been falling off, or maybe bits of it are collapsing.

There's apparently one last "Royal Tomb" - that of the Roman governor Sextius Florentinus - but we fail to spot it: we try up a wide flight of stairs to our right, but come back down since that only seems to lead round the back. Moments after we emerge, a large flock of sheep gallops down the steps - presumably there's good grazing up there somewhere. We're planning to use the tunnel route tomorrow morning, which should come out further north - perhaps we'll see Sextius' tomb as we approach the main site from that direction . . .

For now, we finally strike west over the rocky, rolling hills towards the old city centre and emerge at the nymphaeum (now a low and fairly pathetic curved wall) without breaking our necks. There's a colonnaded street here, of course (a "decumanus" - we haven't figured it out entirely, but it's beginning to look as if a "decumanus" runs east-west and a "cardo" runs north-south), with a handful of re-erected columns. The only significant building on the south side of the street is the "Great Temple", up steps and in layers: there were a lot of columns lining the courtyard here, built in Nabatean style from thin-cut slices of rock and with four-pointed capitals - also, the bases were made of a different material and clipped on. The overall impression from these is that someone described Greco-Roman columns to them and they built from that description, rather than from a first-hand model. A notable consequence of this style is that when they fall the columns end up as rows of round rock slices on the ground - like giant after-dinner mints, or Backgammon Pieces Of The Gods (von Daniken probably has a theory).
Really interesting, apart from surviving traces of painted plaster, is the design: the end of the temple is curved and has rows of seats! Just like the synagogue we saw in Sardis, most of the early churches we've seen, and (of course) the fore-runner of modern Orthodox churches. It seems likely that this was a local (Israelite and Nabatean, at least) temple design, on which early Christian churches were therefore modelled (as the religion spread out of this area). Milla doesn't believe a word of this theory.

We clamber out the back of the temple and down the hill to another temple (the "Castle of the Pharoah's Daughter" - "bint", incidentally, is Arabic for girl or daughter - which is quite amusing for those familiar with English colloquialisms): we decide to go for a coffee before investigating further. There's a nice but expensive indoor restaurant (it's getting quite cold and windy) where we stop for half an hour and where two coffees (Nescafé cost an outrageous £3.40/$5.25!! We watch other visitors inside - mainly Italians (Jordan is full of Italians) and a British tour group: it's a nice thought that they've probably spent as much to come here for two weeks as we have to see the entire Middle East up to this point.

By the time we leave, it's raining and we detour sharply into the adjacent museum - there are apparently two, but only this one seems open. Inside the three-room display we learn a little more about the Nabateans - Semitic/Arabic nomads they took over Edom (modern Jordan is essentially the Edomite, Moabite and Ammonite kingdoms - there's an Edom Hotel in Wadi Musa, of course) and at their greatest extent were well up into Syria. By the time the Romans finally moved in (after being bought off once), the Nabateans were already on the wane and had come off worse in conficts with the Israelites (under Herod the Great). We also learn more about their water systems, the three major (7.0+) earthquakes of 113, 363 and 551 (Petra's at the centre of the area's worst earthquake zone) and see bits and pieces from the major excavation sits here. Finally we learn that the "Temple of the Winged Lions" was actually dedicated to Hayyan, a local goddess variously associated with Aphrodite and Isis. The best, or strangest, piece is probably a flat-faced white idol (to Al-Uzza) - or possibly a large marble storage jar with lion-shaped handles.

It's dry again by the time we leave the museum, so we return to the Dushara/"Pharoah's Daughter" Temple - it's just a large squarish shell (decorated in squares/circles, like many Nabatean buildings) with three chambers against the back wall. There's almost nothing to see inside except some bits of marble flooring and a narrow passage up inside the walls to the left, but it is about the only free-standing building in Petra. Since it's beginning to get late (it's after 16.00 - so much for the taxi), we decide to head back now and walk along the decumanus passing through the Temenos Gate (no arches left any more) and looking in on the Nabatean Baths (no anything left any more except some dull walls) and finally climbing up some worn steps to the old market/agora (just a flat space, which may once have had some columns).

We may have been first in but we definitely weren't last out - there was a small trail of stragglers visible behind us, all heading for the siq. Still, we were definitely among the last out and spent almost 10 hours in the site (double what we spent at Palmyra)- an excellent day, we decide, as we head for the gate (turning down the offer of a horse-ride for the last 200 metres - only 1JD each). And best of all, it was mostly sunny and even warm for much of the day - a major improvement on Amman. We decide to finish off our Christmas Eve with pizza, at the only pizza place in town. It, and the other adjacent restaurants, seem totally deserted: we press on up to about the only bar we've seen in town and spend a very pricy indulgence of £6.50 on a Guinness and a local beer (440ml and 500ml respectively). Not to worry - it was well worth it, as indeed were the excellent pan pizzas and chips from the pizza place when we returned there an hour later.
The walk up the hill into Wadi Musa proper, pausing en route to buy biscuits and water for tomorrow, was (in the cold and slight rain) the worst part of the day. We get back to the hotel at about 20.00 and, despite any intentions to the contrary, were in bed by 20.45 and asleep minutes later. A fairly tiring day, then.

Christmas day, obviously, and my earliest Christmas day for a long time: something of a recent record, then, being up at 05.45 and ready for out by 07.00 again. Today's taxi driver suggests we employ his services tomorrow to visit "Little Petra" (a smaller Nabatean site nearby) but doesn't mention a pick-up/collect time for today: possibly the word got out after yesterday. He drops us past the Movenpick Hotel and we walk confidently to the entry gate: 'First today?' we ask, as the guy rips another section off our ticket. 'No,' he tells us - apparently a group of 20 or so is already inside: damn - it would've been neat to be first twice, especially on Christmas Day. After a couple of bends we spot the little group (actually 11) ahead - they have a tour guide and are looking at the Djinn Blocks: we breeze past them at the Obelisk Tomb and would have presumably been first into the siq and first into Petra, except that we stop at the tunnel function. Today we will take the alternative route in, despite a sign at the start which warns that it's inadvisable from October to April, due to the risk of flash floods. Well, the sky is overcast, with no hint of clear blue anywhere, but there's no sign of imminent rain.

Not seeing an easy path down into the wadi, we start off following a dead end along to a Djinn-style block tomb overlooking the dry stream bed. We have to double back, scramble down the sandy banks, and set off again - there are the ancient arches of a tunnel ahead and, as we near it, we realise that we haven't brought our torches again today! The tunnel isn't very long, only 100 metres or so, but there are a couple of huge chunks of rock partially blocking the way (and the light) - they have clearly sheered off and crashed down from the ceiling at some point in the last 1700 years, and as a result we're both quite relieved to emerge at the far side. After that the route seems pretty straightforward, though at times there are more large rocks which have tumbled down from the sides and require some clambering. There are a range of footprints in the sand, so we're pretty confident that other people have come this way since the last major rains (Friday). The rocky walls around us are not as steep as in the siq, and are a more uniform dull brown - all in all, the route so far is a bit of a disappointment - and it's quickly obvious that it's taking significantly longer.

Just as we're getting confident and bored, of course, things start to get much worse: there's a sharp left turn and the previously fairly wide canyon becomes suddenly narrower than the siq. There's also a steep drop into this section: three or four feet (a metre) which we negotiate carefully - it's the trickiest part of Petra so far. The weather seems to be holding at "overcast", which is good since this is the first real area that flash floods could be a problem: the dramatically dark red walls are far too high and sheer to climb. Hopefully it won't go on too far this narrow, since at the moment we're still confident we can get back to the wide bit. A little further on there's a much more serious drop of five or six feet, just nder where a boulder has become lodged between the sides: we pause for a little while - this is about the first place where it'll be difficult to go back if we press on. Cursing the guy at the Visitor Centre, we lower ourselves down, sliping and jumping, and only 50 metres further on hit a really serious obstacle. There's a long pool of water ahead of us, with almost sheer sides (there's a little rocky outcrop on the right): it's about 5 metres long, so far too far to try jumping (and the far side's all slippery rocks and mud anyway), and apart from the last few feet it's too deep to gauge. We toss a few large rocks in, but they disappear without a trace and we certainly don't have enough to fill it in: as Milla points out, if it's as deep as the last drop then it's easily enough to drown in, with no purchase on the sheer and slippery sides.

We seriously pause. I climb along the rocky ridge a few times and examine the few finger- and foot-holds from all the angles. We smoke a cigarette and discuss our options. On hearing donkeys and kids comparatively nearby (carried on the wind), Milla even tries calling for help but to no avail - I'm fairly determined to press on, encouraged by the fact that there are footprints in the mud on the far side. Naturally we discuss whether these prints merely mean we're going to find a pile of dead backpackers, unable to go forward or backward, somewhere further on. Eventually, after twenty minutes there, I manage (on the second attempt) to use the two slippery/wet footholds, and some cracks for my hands, to get across - the last two metres are stupidly easy after that, and suddenly I'm on the far side. Milla grits her teeth and follows: she's stuck on the rock for five or six minutes, mainly because her legs aren't as long as mine (to use the same route), but with assistance from me waiting, we're soon both over. Fantastic. If we don't need to turn back later.

Of course, just along from there is another channel of water with no outcropping rocks - here, though, the water is fairly clear and we can see rocks inside, so we know it's not that deep. Milla, suddenly more determined than me, takes her shoes and socks off and wades through - I follow: the water is icy-cold - after all, it's December and God knows if this siq ever gets any direct sun. There's a T-junction here and we turn left (hopefully towards Petra - Milla's beginning to have doubts that we're on the right route; I've noticed that there's now only one set of footprints ahead of us, but I don't mention that). The next few hundred metres see more stretches of shallow water, some avoidable and others wadeable, with one surprising 3-inch deep section which Milla avoids (she's also removed her jeans by now) after seeing me suddenly end up in water above my knees. At about this point we start seeing Nabatean carvings on the sides of the canyon, and we can hear goats from somewhere ahead, and after a couple more easy drops and pools we're suddenly in civilisation again. Or, at least, we can see some Bedou kids and livestock.
Feeling great admiration for the guy who made it before, we emerge and chat with a couple of Bedou kids - we're well off the beaten tourist track here, and it seems the government never chucked these ones out (or else they moved back). The older boy (after usefully informing us that we're in Petra) gives me a stripey rock and invites us for tea (shai): he points up at one of the tombs and explains "Mother inside. Warm." We guess that the "warm" refeers to either the cave or the tea, rather than his mother. Despite the temptation, we opt to press on in our wet feet/socks/trousers - the little trip through the tunnel route has taken almost two hours: not only are we well behind schedule, but Petra will presumably be filling up with tourists by now.

We planned to emerge at the northern, tomb-covered hill of Moghar al-Nassara, but actually walk south alongside it before realising where we are. Prior to doubling back, we visit the tomb of Sextius Floreninus, which is easily visible from where we are - it turns out to have been down the hill a bit from where we were looking yesterday. Reasonably decorous, with a little terrace, it apparently had inscriptions above the door - we couldn't spot any. It's okay, but not up to the standard set by the best of the other "Royal Tombs". We head north again afterwards, passing a Bedou woman carring firewood - she asks for a "smoke", with the new line that she "wants to start a business" (presumably as a tobacconist).

Moghar al-Nassara is another area where the Bedouin are still living and using the tombs - indeed on the way up the hill we pass a group of Bedou men building a nice little terrace for one tomb, using conveniently pre-cut ancient blocks of stone. The hillside is covered with groups of Bedouin sitting around - they give us directions, and say hello, and invite us for tea/coffee, as we clamber around looking inside tombs: inside tombs, we mostly finds camels, donkeys or goats - the few empty ones smell of livestock, as does the whole area. The actual tombs here are larger than most, but not hugely impressive seen up close. Far more impressive was a young Bedou guy who casually walked at an angle down a near-vertical slope (which we were contemplating, trying to figure out if it was possible) as if it was a flat pavement.

Next up we head all the way down to the old city centre, aiming for the Byzantine Church and the other buildings on the north side of the decumanus: navigating this leg is pretty straightforward for Petra, largely because there's a big white tent-like structure over the church, which is visible from all around. When we get there, there's a large section outside which is fenced off and the bit under the tent roof has a high wall around it - we're not sure if it's a visitable attraction at all until we see a little open gate. Inside is a little courtyard (there are no other visitors - where are they all?) with a bapistry to the west and the main church building to the east. Considering it was only discovered in the last ten years (before that they hadn't found a purpose-built church in Petra) it's remarkably well-preserved: the cruciform baptistry basin is virtually intact, and there are superbly-intact and bright mosaics on either side of the main hall. Apart from the state of preservation and their age, the mosaics are fairly crude Byzantine types: mostly animals and decoration, but also a number of non-Christian figures (Wisdom, the Seasons, etc. - "Summer" has an exposed breast, which would have been quite risqué for a church if it had been better executed).

Slightly further up the hill we investigate another couple of excavated sites not shown on either of our maps (we are drawn by four re-erected Nabatean-style columns in the first): both have curved apse-like eastern ends, central halls and western courtyards - our guess, lacking any concrete information, is that they were also churches. West of these possible churches is another new excavation - a square courtyard with surrounding layers of seats (only two or three surviving): this (possibly odean/buleuterion?) is only half dug out, so we spend alittle time inspecting the usefully exposed cross-section of soil looking for coins or jewellery. We fail to find any and press on to a large collection of walls (palace? houses?) behind the once-impressive Temple of the Winged Lion. There's a lot of scaffolding up around the temple, and it's mostly fenced in, but still accessible to the intrepid. There's an interesting three-shelf cavity behind he altar, but otherwise its most notable feature is more backgammon-piece stacks of fallen column slices. Nearby is a pile of excavated fragments - shards of marble flooring, some sections of columns, a few capitals and lots of sections of the clip-on column bases.

We visit the site's other museum (in a tomb half-way up a hill overlooking the main street - it's only open from 09.00 to 15.00, which explains why it was closed yesterday): it's unmanned, includes very few good pieces (though has more statuary that the other) and only takes ten minutes to look round the three rooms (accompanied by a curious cat). Around this area, in the very centre, there are definitely more people - but it seems fairly deserted after the crowds of yesterday. We finally break for a coffee, choosing an equally-indoors but less-overpriced place than yesterday. As we drink, we watch a convoy arrive - three black limos, a couple of police cars and two small buses: they don't park nearby, so we miss whoever the VIP visitor is, and they leave again before we even finish our coffee so we can't go and look.

Fortified, we commence the climb to the "Monastery": the last major site in Petra, it's apparently a one-hour, 800-step climb. We only get 50 steps (I'm counting) when we're distracted by a sign to the "Lion Triclinium": it's along a narrow siq and involves a pretty steep climb up to the entrance and then a hair-rising sideways scramble to visit two or three other nearby tombs - pretty chickenshit stuff compared with this morning's adventure. It's actually fairly uninteresting, to be honest, but has reliefs of lions on the front and seems to have had a nice terrace: we're joined there by two Italians who we keep running into (yesterday they were part of a group of four), and leave them to it - they're moving much slower than we are.

The climb (some of it is down and then up again) affords some excellent views and some pretty dramatic geology, as well as half a dozen cheap jewellery/souvenir stalls. We pass one guy coming down on a donkey and, judging from the look on his face, we're really glad that we declined the offer of a ride up to the top - also, since it's accompanied down the steps by a Bedou guy on foot, it obviously isn't any quicker. After 500 or so steps we find ourselves walking on a narrow sheld along the top of an impossibly deep ravine (my vertigo keeps threatening to kick in, especially since there's nothing in terms of fences or safety barriers), and then we climb a little further, descend a few steps onto a little plateau, look to our right and there it is. After only 711 steps and 40 minutes we've reached the "Monastery", and it's very impressive: like a larger-scale (yes, larger) replica of the Treasury, it instantly tops the list of best buildings in Petra (at least as far as facades go, and that's most of Petra).

We inspect the outside and, being us, climb up and in over the five-foot step: inside is pretty dull - a couple of bench-like platforms down the sides (it was really a triclinium), and an empty dais at the end. Possibly the dais niche was for a high table? It serves us well for a packet of biscuits and a cigarette out of the cold and wind (quite fierce up here), and watching the other tourists outside. Presumably encouraged by our obvious success, a number of others join us inside (we watched a few people try and fail before we tried), so we leave them - the experience is already getting a bit common.

Up behind the coffee/tea stall, along a stone-marked path and across a second windswept plateau, there's a high rock jutting out above the western mountains which flank Petra - a ten minute walk, it turns out. There are great views of . . . well, actually not of very much: the long and fairly desolate Wadi Araba (which links the Dead Sea to Aqaba) - it seems we're not high enough (or the weather's just not good enough, though the sun is out now) to see the Med, or the Red, or the Dead Sea. Ah well. There's a little old Bedouin sitting at the top, offering cups of tea (which we decline): trying to use the binoculars in the wind serves only to make me feel even more unstable, so I retreat to a safe rocky wall - Milla follows a few minutes later.

Back at the Monastery, there's a Nabatean set of steps and scramble leading up one side: clearly it used to be possible to get up to the top of it. When we investigate, we find a little sign of multi-lingual warnings and a new wall preventing us from starting the ascent. There seem to be possible alternatives up, but nothing which seems like a plausible route down again. Milla's keen to try anyway, but instead we wander north to see if we can find a good view up to the Dead Sea: we can't, but we do find a number of okay tombs, one of which has half a dozen donkeys inside, behind a recent wall. We feed them with a packet of biscuits and then start the long descent: en route Milla looks for other ways up to the top of the Monastery, and I offer words of encouragement to those still climbing. We're overtaken by half a dozen young Bedouin racing horses/ponies down the sheer, cliff-like and twisting steps: it seems an essentially suicidal thing to do, but miraculously we don't pass any of their corpses on the way down. We do pass the various stalls again and pause to look at their jewellery: Milla doesn't buy anything (I offered, since it's Christmas, if she saw anything she liked) - at one point, finding a reason not to buy a camelbone necklace, I hear her asking "First you kill the camel, yes?"

We reach the ground again just before 16.00 and head south - we haven't nearby enough time to reach the mountain-top nipple-shaped tomb of Aaron ("Haroun" in Arabic) some 6km away, but we should be able to reach the "Snake Monument" (whatever that is) about 2km away. We climb up past the Dushara Temple/Pharoah's Daughter's Castle to the Pharoah's Column - it's an unremarkable Nabatean-style column, except inasmuch as it seems to have been standing in situ for the past 2,000 years. It can be seen from a considerable distance around, and serves as a major path nexus. We take a right-hand path which twist across a wadi and then follows the west side of the valley southwards: there's a sign at the start of this path advising tourists to take a guide, or at least to travel in groups - presumably they've lost some over the years. There are hundreds of tombs cut into the mountains along here as well, though nothing outstanding, and the further south we go the more obvious it is that the Bedouin are still living here. First there's signs of livestock use, and later walls and windows, and finally cars parked outside and lines of washing strung up on the terraces. Also there's an increasing number of Bedouin sitting and watching us pass, or inviting us in for tea.
We pass an English couple coming the other way, having climbed to Aaron's Tomb - they didn't stop for the "Snake Monument", but know it's close: a little further on we catch up with a couple of French guys - they were about to head back, but fall in with us instead. Of course, none of the four of us knows what we're looking for. The French have picked up a Bedu girl, Fatima, and her little brother Hamed: they definitely know where and what it is, get us very close, and then start pointing in contradictory directions and asking "Want a guide?". After ten minutes' searching, I spot a hopeful-looking nearby white sign and investigate: all it says is "Tea, Coffee, Cold Drinks". While there, though, I look back and suddenly see a Glykon-like coiled rock sculpture on top of a tomb, directly above where we've all been searching. Down below, Fatima gives us a slow hand-clap as I point it out to the others: we scramble around looking for a good vantage point, or some way to get up close to it - it's too late to spend much time there, though, and we feel obliged to start off for the exit, declining the offer of a "lift" back in a truck.

It's pretty dark by the time we reach the Pharoah's Column again, but from there the path down to the theatre is pretty straightforward: we pass by and are passed by groups of Bedu with donkeys and camels, racing them in the dark (clouds are covering the moon and stars), or returning home. There are no other tourists visible anywhere, so it looks like we'll be last out. The French guys were apparently even later last night, after one of them hurt his ankle on the way down from the Monastery (this is their third day in Petra, and sixth out of twenty-one in Jordan/Israel/Egypt - despite this they think the local currency is dirhams, rather than dinars). They also have a flashlight, so maybe they're really doing better than us. We all pause at the Treasury for one last lingering look and then set off back along the siq. It's a funny journey in the darkness - you can hardly see your feet and the geology is on such a large scale (comparatively) that at times it seems you're walking without moving (like a Jamiroqai track): and then quiet is even more eerie. We manage to avoid the racing donkeys (!) and pause for a rest half-way along (the French are not moving so well at speed), and then suddenly we're at the junction with the tunnel again (we point it out to them). They guy at the stall there offers us tea (no-one else seems at all interested), and ten minutes later we're at the still-open gate. The French (we've had a running joke - they keep calling me English; I keep calling them Belgian) almost immediately sit down for another rest - they'll get a taxi up the hill. We have other things to do.

We find a cheap (compared with the rest of Wadi Musa) place to phone Romania rom, but Milla's mother isn't answering. We return to the pizza place for a Christmas meal - unfortunately they have no pan pizza left, but we compromise on a mix of pasta and thin crust pizza. And then it's back to make the phonecall (10 minutes, actually an excellently timed 9 minutes and 58 seconds), before struggling back up the hill (it starts to rain - it always seems to drizzle in the early evening here).
Back at the hotel we catch the end of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (I believe they show it most evenings, like Sound of Music in Salzburg): we miss the first Treasury shots, but catch the end and then buy a 100% overpriced beer before retiring upstairs to bed. After our 20+ hours walking the site, Milla's exhausted and I'm not far behind her - hard to believe, but we leave the beer half-finished. Petra meanwhile gets 7/10 - the city centre is unexceptional, but the tombs are jaw-dropping (a dozen of them, at least) and the setting is unparalleled.

Finally, after 51 days, another £1000 is gone (number eight): the big four were £251 on food, £250 on accommodation, £129 on transportation and £123 on entry fees (mainly Syrian visas). Other costs were a painful £55 on cigarettes, £40 on films/processing, £44 on phone, postage and packing, £19 on internet and £16 on medical supplies (mainly vitamins).

No Petra to see today, so we don't get up until 10.00 (11.00 for Milla): the wild desert of Wadi Rum is beckoning, and the hotel seems to have organised little tours available at £20/30 each. We have our doubts about their tour, though, since it involves overnight camping in Wadi Rum with Bedouin. Firstly it's gonna be amazingly cold and dark from about 17.30; and secondly we've already done the getting-native Bedou bit as much as we want (memories of bread with sand in it). We just wanna see the scenery. So we set off into town looking for one-day options. Both of us have aching muscles and are feeling fragile (Milla explains "I'm a little bubble") so we go pretty slowly: strangely, we also spend most of our time in souvenir shops. I'm looking at books (there are lots of collections of Edinburgh-born David Roberts' travel lithographs), Milla's mostly looking at the same type of jewellery she decided not to buy yesterday, and Dead Sea muds/salts.
By 16.00 we're back at the hotel, with no options for Wadi Rum (but a big bottle of Fanta - they still have the old-style bright orange plastic-flavoured stuff here): everyone we talked to was into overnighting there, even waxing lyrical about starlit nights (but admitting it was overcast at this time of year, when pressed), etc. A one-dayer would come in at over £100/$160, which is too much just to see rocks and desert: we do get information about doing it independently but not with much flexibility. There's only one bus a day from Wadi Musa (at 06.30), and one bus back (at 09.00) - which would only give us an hour and a half there. Going on to Aqaba has equally inflexible times from Wadi Rum. I mean, I know it's in the middle of the desert and demand is very low at this time of year, but this is ridiculous.
In the back of our minds we're already planning a Spring/Autumn return trip to Israel/Jordan for (amongst other things) floating on the Dead Sea and seeing Jerusalem - we decide to put Wadi Rum on the same list (and buying some of their neat stone-carved "glasses"/goblets). Obviously, with Wadi Rum off the list, Aqaba and the crossing to Egypt are next on our list. That, of course, is until a.) we discover that there's only one bus to Aqaba (at 06.15) and b.) Milla decides to wash clothes. She starts at 21.00 and finishes after 04.00. Tomorrow will be another day in Wadi Musa, then, and the day after will be Aqaba.

An even less exciting day than yesterday: we manage to get up before 12.00, and discover that the radiator hasn't been on so all the clothes are still wet. Milla hands them out on the terrace, and then nips out to buy bread, biscuits, water and other essentials. I write and start working out what we're going to do in Egypt. She comes back, we eat, she goes to bed for another few hours while I write more. At about 23.00-24.00 we both shower, start packing for an early start tomorrow, and eventually go to bed about 01.30.

Time to move on and out, so we're up before 06.00 (though only just) and by 06.30, I've nipped out to buy water and check the bus time (07.00 - the guy at reception claims there's another at 08.00; the bus driver claims there isn't: we decide not to risk it). I'm packed and checking out at reception by 06.50, Milla joins me a few minutes later, and the guy waves to the minibus (waiting at the roundabout just down the hill) to come and collect us. At 07.00 the bus does indeed set off, but only round the block a few times - the driver peers up to various hotels in case anyone's waiting. At 07.15 we stop at the roundabout one last time and the driver moves our rucksacks (carefully wedged into one of the seats) onto the roof and ties them down, and then we're finally off (locals in the know only board at this point). Tourist-town Wadi Musa gets 1/10: apart from Petra there's nothing to see and nothing to do.
The journey takes us up above Wadi Musa (good views over the mountains that ring Petra and we finally see Aaron's Tomb, in white on top of a pretty serious mountain): the whole landscape here is fantastically other-worldly: "other-worldly", like Martian. We head along the last winding and mountainous stretch of the King's Higway, and then out onto the Desert Highway - it's a wide multi-lane highway for a short stretch, but they haven't finished upgrading the last section before Aqaba, so for most of our journey it's not much of an improvement on the King's Highway except that it's flat. People get on from time to time, most bizarrely an old Bedou guy and his totally black-covered (presumed) wife: they flag down the bus in the middle of the desert - there are no towns around, and no sign of how they got there (you can see for miles around) - they're just standing by the side of the highway waiting for the bus to pass. At one point, where the desert becomes particularly mountainous, we pass the turn-off for Wadi Musa: there are lots of people waiting here beside the road but the (full, by now) bus just drives past their frantically waving arms.
After about an hour and a half, we wind down out of the mountains into Aqaba (via a bit of a diversion - they seem to be upgrading the last piece of road here) and suddenly there's the sea - the Red Sea, this time (actually the Gulf of Aqaba). We drive along past rows of cranes and port facilities, and then we're suddenly at the bus station. Ignoring a little guy from the bus, we make our own way along two blocks to a street with three "cheap" hotels on it - they're all more expensive than Amman or Wadi Musa, and we settle for a bare (but fairly clean) room for 6JD/£5.40/$8.50. More importantly, outside the weather is warm.

We're planning to catch the ferry to Egypt tomorrow, so today we need to see whatever there is to see in Aqaba and get the ferry tickets and visas sorted out. First stop, then, is the Egyptian Consulate - it's about a kilometre from the centre and we find it without difficulty: we also find that the visa section is closed on Saturdays. Damn. A guy there tells us it'll be open again at 08.00 tomorrow - okay. We set off along the shore instead - actually it's not a shore as such, since government (military) buildings, private hotels and the yacht club seem to line the actual waterfront. It's mostly sandy ground here (where it's not built on) with lots of palm trees - they also have a number of Byzantine ruins (Aqaba was Byzantine Ayla), though these are pretty disappointing: low featureless sandstone walls, semi-fused over the centuries - nothing recognisable, really.

Eventually, opposite the centre of town, we reach the public beach and go down for a look: Milla kicks off her sandals, and we skim a few stones, and then hide under a big canopy (it's bloody hot and bright outside, after what we've got used to). We watch the locals, which turns out to be quite surreal. For a start, there's almost no-one in the pleasantly warm water - those few kids (no adults) who are, aren't in anything resembling swimwear (a couple of the guys are in specially long shorts, the others are just splashing about with their clothes on): it's also pretty obvious that almost no-one knows how to swim. Even those on the beach in the baking hot sun are fully-dressed: most bizarre are the woman (10%-20% of them) in full black garb with only their eyes showing. The main activity (if you discount sitting on the beach as an activity) seems to be putt-putting out into the Gulf in glass-bottomed boats.

A couple of military helicopters pass overhead, a couple of beach horses go past, a fat kid pulls himself along in 20cm-deep water, and eventually we get bored and drift further down the shore. We eventually come to the fort (sorry, "Aqaba Castle") which is almost the only tourist attraction in the town except for the diving further down the coast. Tourist Information at the same location is closed, which gives Milla an excuse to wander into the one-room museum to ask about it - she emerges with the useful information that the museum doesn't look worth the 1JD entry charge. We wander up to the unmanned 15-something fort for a clamber: four little corner towers, a gatehouse, sunbleached walls and a lot of damage caused by British shelling in WWI - that's about it except for the nice little courtyard with trees, which looks like a pleasant place to sit for a while.

After a couple of shwarmas, we head up to the ferry company's offices to find out times and prices and what currency we pay in. Naturally they're closed as well, but we kill some time in a supermarket next door and when we emerge there's a man at the door - the boat's at 12.00 tomorrow (the fast and slow boat seem to leave at the same time), and the slow boat costs "22". As we walk away we realise that we didn't ask what currency that's in - ah well, we did find out that he's there from 17.30 this evening as well, so we'll come back later.
A beer in the hotel (it was cheap from the supermarket), and a 3-hour snooze later, I wake feeling unwell with a headache: must be the heat, or the sunlight. We set out again into shop-laden and reasonably cheap Aqaba (except sweet pastries/baclava, at up to $12 a kilo!) to pick up last supplies, find out about the boat (it's 22 US dollars, and the guy recommends getting Milla's visa from the consulate rather than risk while aboard), and incidentally find a reasonably-priced (£11) bottle of Highland Park - that'll do for New Year, if we can make it last. Back at the hotel again, we have a small drink (just to check it's genuine), Milla develops a headache, we eat our last food supplies from Wadi Musa, and we go to sleep early. The only alternative seems to be watching a programme on our TV, a man singing an impassioned song about Palestine (backed by an orchestra).

We're up a little later than planned (07.15), pack our stuff, and get to the Egyptian Consulate for 08.25: despite our advice from yesterday, it turns out not to be open until 09.00. We wait over the street until it actually opens at 09.05, and then discover that they only take Jordanian Dinars (a bit sad, since we've only brought dollars - you can normally buy most visas using dollars): we walk back into town, change some money (we get new 5JD and 10JD notes - they're finally using a series with Kind Abdullah instead of the immensely picture-genic Hussein: they've done okay with Abdullah, but mainly because it doesn't really look like him), come back (by which time the little visa section is open), fill out a couple of forms, and take a seat at 09.50. Judging by the 5-10 minutes it's taking to process the various Arab nationals, we have plenty of time to get our visas and catch the boat. Of course the minutes drag by, and then the hours, and eventually we get our passports back at 12.15 (ie. fifteen minutes after the boat left). Bugger.
We go and eat shwarma and ice-cream, and sit in the sun (pretty certain it's in the low 30s today) and feel depressed for a bit, and then return to the hotel where we watch a bit of Jordanian TV before I nip out and buy a cheap (£1.50) plastic kettle: we've been having element problems again, so it's time to try an alternative. After watching Batman Returns (subtitled rather than dubbed, thank God) and drinking a little more whisky (just a little - we're determined to make it last until 2003) we go out for a little shopping to use up the last of our local currency. Enquiries about the ferry (the actual office is closed, so we don't trust the information as 100% reliable) reveal that tomorrow it sails at 11.00: also, examination of Lonely Planet reveals that there may have been a second sailing today at 18.30 - unfortunate, if true, because we could have caught that one!
We spend the warm (18 degrees, opposed to 21 degrees yesterday) evening playing cards, listening to the local muezzin (he's good, this one), chatting and killing the occasional mosquito - yes, we're in active insect country again. We crash out at 01.30 or so.