by labor wrought as wavering fancy planned;
But from the rock as by magic grown,
eternal, silent, beautiful, alone!
Not virgin-white like that old Doric shrine,
where erst Athena held her rites divine;
Not saintly-grey, like many a minster fane,
that crowns the hill and consecrates the plain;
But rose-red as if the blush of dawn,
that first beheld them were not yet withdrawn;
The hues of youth upon a brow of woe,
which Man deemed old two thousand years ago,
match me such marvel save in Eastern clime,
a rose-red city half as old as time.
-John William Burgon, Petra
Monday morning, we made our way to the entrance to Petra. I’d heard of it, and even seen pictures, but nothing could prepare me for what lay ahead. Accompanied by our guide Saleh, we were among the relatively sparse numbers on the path to Petra. Another path ran alongside the walking path, this other one filled with men riding horses or donkeys up and down the path.
Those animals are used to offer rides to and from the entrance to the siq (the narrow gorge that leads into Petra). From the entrance, those who want to can get a carriage to take them the mile or so through the siq into Petra. However, no one in our little group needed the lift going in, so off we trudged.
Just the siq alone was amazing. High walls of multi-shaded sandstone rose on either side of us, with each twist and turn showing a different set of shadows and lights. The sides had much to reveal as well. From time to time there was an icon carved into the walls—these were for the ancient camel caravan drivers to give sacrifices to get blessings for their journeys. Many of the rocks formed shapes that hardly seemed accidental. One appeared from one side to be a fish but from the front to be an elephant. Had the ancients in this arid land ever seen an elephant though? It seems unlikely.
Along the sides were aquaducts and dams, built to keep the gorge from flash flooding during the rains of the winter season. To us it seemed incredible that this place ever sees rain, but apparently it does.
But the siq was just the beginning. When we reached the start of one particular curve, Saleh had us line up against the right wall, then together step to the left while looking forward and up. The collective gasp was the payoff (and his declaration at that moment that “I love my job” was understandable—as a native Jordanian he is justly proud of this awe-inspiring sight). Just entering our line of vision was the Treasury, a massive building carved (that’s right, not built, but carved) into the sandstone. As we’d later see, its pale pink color would shift throughout the day as the sun hit it in a variety of ways.
The Treasury, completed in the 1st century BC as a tomb for a Nabatean king, supposedly gets its name from when pirates hid their treasure there. Up the front stairs and inside its impressive outer door is another inner door leading into darkness. It is here that “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade” was filmed.
It took us a while to tear ourselves away, but eventually we did and proceeded on through the ancient city. This UNESCO World Heritage site is believed to have been founded in the 5th century BC by the Nabateans. It was rediscovered in 1812 by Johann Ludwig Burchardt, after many years of rumors of its existence. Burchardt was a Swiss explorer who embraced Islam and lived under the name of Sheikh Ibrahim Ibn Abdallah. He traveled all over the Middle East, including making the pilgrimage to Mecca, but died at age 33. A short life, but one that gave much to the world.
But I diverge. Buildings and tombs abound throughout the city, most of them carved by hand from the canyon’s sandstone. We strolled down the Street of Facades, a series of tombs along the outer gorge, stopping to look into caves and holes along the way. The inevitable Roman theater turned up, though this one was built by the Nabateans albeit during the Roman period.
Petra means “stone” in Greek. Clearly a fitting name.
During our time in Petra, just as in our time in Egypt, we were approached by hawkers trying to sell all manner of souvenirs or rides on camels. There was a particular poignancy about these men and boys (yes, they were all male). Many of them or their families had once lived in the caves of Petra, but had been removed by the government to a housing project on a nearby hill, ostensibly to offer their children a chance at education and a better life. But they come back to their old homes every day, to make a living and to hold onto a piece of their past. Are they descendents of the ancient Nabateans? It’s unlikely. But it was nevertheless their home that we were gaping at.
On a cheerier note, and back to the travel narrative, after a full morning in Petra, we made our way back out the siq (gee, it didn’t seem that long or steep coming in) to a quick lunch, copious amounts of water, and a trip to our next stop: Wadi Rum. See the next installment for that.
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