Our route

Here's our planned route - contacts/advice for all destinations welcome! Or why not come & meet us somewhere ;-)

Feb/March - Ukraine to Istanbul, via Moldova (& Transnitria)/Romania/Serbia/Bulgaria (Lisa); south France to Istanbul, via Slovenia/Italy/Greece (Chris)
April - Istanbul, Jordan & Israel
late April/May - north India to Nepal, overland
June/July - Hong Kong, Thailand/Cambodia/Vietnam (Hanoi)/South Korea/Japan
August - Hawaii & California
September/October - central America - Panama to Guatemala, overland
late October - arrive in Canada (Uxbridge, ON)

Thursday, April 26, 2012

A day in Amman

After a much calmer traverse of the Israeli/Jordanian border we find a taxi and are headed toward Amman, the capital of Jordan. We are booked into 'Boutique Hotel' which the taxi driver has some difficulty finding, almost dropping us elsewhere after claiming that a small sign in Arabic said "Boutique Hotel" ha ha. Finally we find it - or have we?  There is a doorway at street level which leads through to an odd little "back room", where a few local folks are hanging out.  They see the backpacks and point us upstairs.

Boutique Hotel turns out to be a bijou, but a beautifully formed little accommodation on the first floor. It was only opened a few months before and the hosts are very welcoming and helpful.  After checking out a couple of rooms, we decide to plump for the one with the balcony (then we can economise by doing some handwashing and have somewhere for it to dry!).

Lisa & Philadelphia beer
Retro gramophone in hotel


When we step back out to explore, one of the back room crowd (a fairly obvious transvestite) jumps up to chat with us.  S/he is super-friendly and even takes us to her favourite tiny local "restaurant" (not sure the term applies to a place with 2 plastic tables, no menu and in fact only one item being served).  She seems quite lonely and we chat for a while before heading out in search of beer.


Not unexpectedly, this proves pretty hard to find, but we luck out with a chance encounter.  An ex-soldier who runs a tiny liquor shop is just locking up as we stroll by, and he re-opens just for us!  After discussing the merits of Jordanian beers (and some military history), we make our choice and leave him to pursue his plans for the afternoon.


We enjoy our wee balcony, looking out over a busy Amman street. We follow this up with a trip over the road to a shisha cafe and restaurant. There are loads of groups smoking up the place, many with rather fruity, aromatic tobaccos.  Seems like quite a family place although it must be slightly boring for the under-12's, who aren't allowed (?) to smoke.


The following morning, we make the most of the continental breakfast (including an extra cup of tea from the sweet receptionist), and also the wi-fi connection that cost a mere £1 for 24 hours (making some plans for India).  Finally we pry ourselves away and set out for a walk, ostensibly to the city center.  Instead, we find ourselves on a local street that winds up the hill on one side of the city, which turns out to have some great views!  We also meet an elderly local who points us in the direction of a shisha place (the mime for shisha is pretty obvious!) - but it's a bit hot and a bit early in the day for us - and a mother with 2 small children who points at Lisa with great interest; possibly the kids' first view of a white woman?


Eventually we follow the old adage of "what goes up, must come down" and descend a steep staircase to the valley.  We find a large building & open space but we're not entirely sure what it's purpose is - what we do know is that all the shady spots are either occupied, or smell strongly of urine.  Lisa spots a man vacating a shady bench and makes a dash for it, and we enjoy the space for a few minutes while devouring last night's leftovers.



We head back to the hotel via many shops & market stalls that line the streets.  Chris stops in a coffee shop (of the bean variety) and buys a bag of ground coffee for the road.  Half the beans have cardamom added, to give it a bit of kick without being overwhelming.  We also find a tiny shop that sells  stationary, and we pick up some stickers & index cards to use at the school in Nepal.


We flag a taxi outside the hotel, dash upstairs to get our backpacks, and say our goodbyes to the lovely staff.  There is a city check-in desk & shuttle bus for Royal Jordanian airline at "circle 7" on the outskirts of the city, so we can save the extra cost of the taxi to the airport.  We arrive a few minutes too late for the cut-off for our flight, but a staff member kindly helps us to get approval for a late check-in.  We must look quite funny as we hurriedly repack our backpacks and change into travel-friendly clothes as we queue for the check-in desk!   After checking in, we're asked to move to a small security office while they scan our checked baggage.  No problem, in just 5 minutes we're free to head out, but since it's still about 3 hours to our flight we decide to wait for a later shuttle bus (they run every 30 minutes).  We've spotted a funny-looking underground bar (Terminal, ha ha) across the road so we pop in to see if they have shisha (Chris has decided he wants to try it).  They claim to have it, but since it takes almost 20 minutes we suspect they ran out somewhere and borrowed a pipe for him to use!  He gets about 10 minutes to enjoy his cherry shisha before we have to jump on the shuttle bus, and we have a little doze in the 1-hour trip to the airport.

As we're leaving Amman, the security guys retain a fork from Lisa's bag (she tries to argue the point, to no avail - you'd have to be pretty desparate to use it as a weapon though!!).  So long Jordan - we're off to India! (eek)






Saturday, April 21, 2012

Hallo Holy Land!

We had a somewhat protracted welcome to Israel. It began after the trip on the officially sanctioned bus through the de-militarized zone from the Jordanian side. We arrived on the other side (where it is called the 'Allenby Bridge' rather than the King Hussein Bridge, for obvious reasons) and hit a queue. Being British we thought we could deal with a good queue but we hadn't factored in a bus load of Palestinian arriving at the same time. This could be an unfair national stereotype but they reminded Chris of his days at Madame Tussaud's: they used elbows, luggage, claims of illness and 'stealth placement' of their children to move further ahead in the line. It would have been amusing to watch if we weren't in it.

After much pushing of our own, security checks, close encounters with people with big guns and an ultra-suspicious Israeli border official ("So, you're going to Hong Kong?" "Yes, we are." Gives us suspicious look!?) we get through to bus chaos. Actually, it's not that bad. We easily find the taxi-bus to Jerusalem and settle in to watch the desert roll by.

Our first glimpse of Jerusalem's old town was from the north, which we learned was the Muslim quarter. We shouldered our packs and made our way through the Damascus Gate. Most of the hostels we knew were clustered around the Jaffa Gate, almost directly opposite where we had entered so we aimed for the heart of the old town.

The streets are narrow and perpetually lined with shops and kiosks, which often spill out onto the roadway, making it even narrower. Being built on a hill, most of the streets are on some sort of incline and have steps, interspersed with ramps, to allow access to service vehicles (we saw these. They look like a cross between a quad bike and a tractor that is marginally narrower than the street itself). They are also paved with something akin to marble making them sloped, uneven and slippery. Surely a recipe for some slapstick humour! At that hour they were also insanely busy.

As we manoeuvred ourselves through the crowds testing our urban orienteering to the limits we saw all kinds of items for sale from sacred regalia to Spongebob Squarepants and Angry Birds t-shirts (these last two seem to be consistently popular wherever we travel). We eventually discovered the Jaffa Gate and a friendly fellow who showed us to the Jaffa Gate Hostel. Just as well, as it was hidden down one of the old town's famous alleyways (think trying to find Diagon Alley and you may get an idea).

The rest of that day consisted of exploring and getting slightly lost. We found Mike's Place, a purveyor of every kind of service from booking tickets and long distance calls to laundry, this last being of particular interest to malodorous travellers. Many of the streets in the 'shook' are both narrow and covered, all assisting general disorientation. Also, many of the shops sell either souvenirs or raw ingredients. It seemed overly hard to find anywhere to 'eat out' in the evening. As a consequence we ended up chowing down on some home-made sandwiches in the hostel.

Day 2 was all about religion. Jerusalem is over-ripe with sites religious significance to many faiths and we were on a mission of sectarian voyeurism. Seriously, you can't walk more than a few metres without unwittingly stumbling across a church, synagogue, shrine, tomb, monastery or 'holy route' through the city. We started our odyssey with a trip up the Mount of Olives. This is outside the old city walls and is moderately steep but no match for seasoned travellers. Alright, there was some complaining. After passing through a regular Muslim neighbourhood we found ourselves at the Chapel of the Ascension, where Mary is held to have ascended into heaven. It was fairly plain but with the usual crowd of guides offering their services. I can't see why you would need a guide as the chapel is about ten feet square. While Chris was in here, another fellow came in and began kissing the floor; it was this passionate exhibition that reminded him what a lapsed RC he really was. After that strange experience we both began descending the hill, following a path that lead straight through a Jewish cemetery. This cemetery had been partially destroyed during the Jordanian occupation when the authorities allowed a hotel to be built on it. Soon afterward we came upon the Garden of Gethsemene, where Jesus was meant to have spent his last night with his apostles. They have preserved the olive trees in a small patch of ground, although they are behind a small fence. Next to it is the Church of All Nations, financed by donations from all over the world, each nation has it's national symbols displayed in the ceiling bosses and it commemorates a rock where tradition says Jesus prayed before his arrest. It was dark and tranquil inside, even though there was a small service going on.

On the way back into the old city we found ourselves on the Via Dolorosa, the old pilgrims' way that traces stations where significant events occurred relating to the passion of Christ. Toward the end we began circling the warren around the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. This complex is divided in responsibility amongst Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, Armenian and Ethiopian sects. By chance we found ourselves in the Orthodox area. Lisa checked out a chapel and then discovered the entrance to an underground cistern next door. As we were developing a good eye for cisterns (see Istanbul post) we decided to visit. It was situated under an adjacent Orthdox church and was accessed through the church itself. While smaller than the Roman one we saw in Istanbul, this had a more natural, rugged cast to the walls, its own boat and wicked acoustics, which we utilised with a rendition of 'O' Come All ye Faithful'.

After a little more wandering we almost accidentally discovered the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. This was one of the must see places for a former Catholic school boy. Chris had already visited St. Peter's Basilica earlier this trip and was impressed by its light, beauty and sense of the Renaissance. The Holy Sepulchre was something quite different. It had a more medieval feel to both the building and the extreme fervour displayed in the worship. Granted, it contains the tomb of Jesus (according to tradition) so it's the closest many believers will get to the divine but, as an agnostic, I felt a little alienated. Also, the politics surrounding the ownership of the complex (explained above) seemed to be an example of the kind of strife that New Testament Jesus wanted to quash. My favourite illustration of this is a ladder placed on an external ledge over one hundred years ago. This ledge shortly thereafter became part of the 'communal area' that would need agreement of all sects to make any changes to it. The ladder is still there today.

A disagreeable ladder


Jesus's tomb rests below this
The church itself has suffered from this inability to consistently agree over upkeep and rennovation and may be one of the reasons it seems dark and faintly shabby. There are, however, many wonderful chapels and caverns in this rambling building, some carved out of the foundation rock itself. We were also privileged to witness a procession of monks, chanting in unison as they filed into a private ceremony. Altogether, worship here seemed more atavistic, at least that's how it felt to someone who is turning out to be less a believer, more of an enquirer.

Sleeping on the roof!
After exiting the Church of the Holy Sepulchre through its only door (health and safety take note), we walked past a Coptic monastery which seemed to be flying the Welsh flag. Were there maybe some rugby playing monks? We spent the evening wandering the Jewish Quarter, which is quite compact, searching for dinner. It was here that Lisa found the bagel of her dreams; as big as her head and filled with cream cheese and whatever other fillings you might choose (think Subway with a REALLY good base). That night we retired to our new hostel, the Citadel, to take the cheap and 'romantic' option of sleeping on the roof, under the stars!

Oi, Bagel!
Welsh Coptic Monastery
Dairy only table
Our plan for the next morning was to set out early for Ein Gedi, a nature reserve with a hostel located on the Israeli side of the Dead Sea. As we were planning to spend the night there we took all our gear and headed for the bus station in Jerusalem. One thing we noted is the level of security around transport in Israel. There was a huge bottleneck at the bus station entrance as everyone had to go through a scanner, especially foreigners with large bags. When we finally got through we were struck again that, although there were fewer police checkpoints than in Jordan, there were many more army personnel and people with large guns in evidence, just in transit or wandering around. I'd heard that all armed forces have to keep their weapon with them even when not on duty. Still the feel of a state under siege?

We arrved at Ein Gedi hostel in the early afternoon to find that it looked somewhat like a holiday camp - all divided into blocks, neatly regimented with a large communal dining hall. Also, the rooms were split into male & female. Lisa was roomed with a neurotic Israeli woman and a German television producer, and Chris had an aged American traveller and a group of Finnish bird photographers! After throwing our stuff in our respective rooms, we made a bee line for the 'public beach' area of the Dead Sea. This was a couple of hundred metres down the road, behind a petrol station and parking lot. Despite the unromantic setting it was interesting to finally take a dip in the Dead Sea. Lisa's perpetual lack of buoyancy was for once overcome and Chris felt like Edward Cullen, what with all the sparkling salt crystals that dry all over you while sunning on the rocks.

Salty coast of the Dead Sea

Buoyancy, tick!
Feeling healthy but crusty, we headed back to the hostel, where we made a Ray Mears-style dinner out of objects found in our backpacks. What we hadn't realised is that a large school group had arrived in the meantime, who presumably were to go to the field school the next day. The downside of this was that they were running around screaming all night, climbing into/out of each other's rooms and generally being teenaged. There was no up-side.

The next morning we availed ourselves of the extensive buffet breakfast provided by the hostel, including an Israeli dish (shakshuka) consisting of spicy tomatoes and peppers under a blanket of fried eggs. Tasty but surprising! Afterwards we set out to follow a walking trail that started behind the hostel and followed one of the ravines towards David's Falls. This was a fairly undemanding path that passed several small pools and waterfalls, as well as one large school group (they seem to get everywhere). We both took a grateful paddle in a rock pool halfway up and were happy to reach the shade of the falls at the end of the cut. It was bijou but acquired a certain added beauty when put in the context of the surrounding rock and desert.
Rock Hyrax guarding a pool of water

Weary travellers at David's Falls
















Rather than simply retrace our steps we then extended our outing by joining part of a longer trail that would bring us down past a ruined ancient synagogue. On the way down we passed a picturesque rock pool inhabited by a a cute, squirrel-like creature called a Rock Hyrax. We also found ourselves walking in step with an American-Jewish family who were on holiday and told us a bit about Judaism and read some of the inscriptions on a monument we passed. By the time we reached the synagogue it was ice-cream o'clock. After this short break we inspected the ruins. Only the foundations and floors were in evidence but there were some rather nice mosaics and a group that was either being given a talk or attending a religious service.

The sun during a sandstorm


Just as we were preparing to leave this site a mighty wind began to blow (this is not a metaphor). The sun quickly became a vague pale spot in the sky as what seemed like all of the sand in the desert escarpment to our west decided to move our way. We proceeded to walk back to the hostel through a sandstorm, bundled and masked like Bedouin. In addition, our plan to camp on the beach for free was scuppered as we really didn't relish erecting a tent in this weather. So it was time to do some swift research on Jerusalem hostels and rush down to wait for the bus back to town.  We joined the usual gang of Orthodox Jewish families who seemed to travel in groups of about 20 people, solely by hitch-hiking.  The sandstorm worked in their favour today and everyone managed to find a lift before our bus arrived.

Nutrition at Abraham Hostel
We arrived back in Jerusalem late and headed straight for the Abraham Hostel. This wasn't far from the bus station as we were planning to head north early the next day. This hostel was quite different from others we'd stayed at in the old city. Where they were cramped and quirky, this one was large and almost frighteningly efficient. The common room had room for a pool table, games area, bar, TV/movie room, lots of tables for meals and of course, the kitchen. There were several fridges, organised by room number.  We also found out that people could volunteer to help clean and tidy, or any other job, and get free accommodation - great for long term travellers.  We enjoyed a dinner of enhanced mac 'n' cheese (recalling our student days) and while Lisa was doing the dishes she lucked into some free, freshly baked chocolate cake.

The next morning it was back on the tram to the bus station, through the heavy security at the entrance again and a mission to find the right bus going towards Kibbutz Na'an.  We had been told to take bus 439 but, despite it being marked on one of the bus bays, we were told by the ticket office that it didn't exist!  They advised us to take two buses to our destination.  So, we jumped on the next bus to Ramla and then waited for our transfer...  But, as we sat there, bus times for our next bus were dropping off the screen with no sign of the bus. We were also quite worried when we saw the speed at which the buses pulled up, threw off passengers and then sped off; "Excuse me," just didn't cut it. We eventually rushed out in time to shout "Rehovot?" (the closest town to Na'an) at a driver and, with an affirmative noise, we piled in and set off.  From there everything went well, including lots of young women in army uniform getting on the bus as we passed a military school.
Lisa and our host, Hila
Sculpture at Na'an
We had been in touch with Hila, who lives on the Na'an Kibbutz with her husband Juval and her daughter Carmel, through couchsurfing.com and she had agreed to let us sleep on her spare bed for a night.  It was our first actual "couchsurf" (although Chris had attended some meet-ups in Italy) so we were a bit nervous, but we were also their first guests so I'm sure it was more nerve-wracking for them!


We took the driver's advice about where to get off the bus for the kibbutz.  At the usual Israeli high speed, we grabbed our bags from the luggage compartment and, as the bus pulled away Chris realised that his day pack was still on the bus! Annoying but not life threatening. Surely we can just call the bus company and go and retrieve it. Not quite. We called Hila, who kindly picked us up in her car & she assured us that, this being Israel, any mysterious bag is "bombed"as a matter of course. Crap. Luckily we had a local on side so she very kindly phoned around and, after a quick trip to the depot in Rehovot we were told that Chris's bag had been found and we could collect it the next day. Phew! Back to normal programming.

As we drove Hila told us about life on a kibbutz. The history or tradition of the kibbutz stems from immigrants who moved to Palestine before Israel was founded and believed that hard, practical work was needed to prepare the land and the people. They were also somewhat influenced by Mr Marx in However, the bus she had told us to take did not seem to exist (these things happen when travelling abroad) so we improvised and hopped on one that we were assured was going in the right direction.  their commune-like set-up. At this time many kibbutzim have been privatised or no longer follow their original commune organisation. However, Na'an is one of the larger ones that has remained true to the spirit of the kibbutz. Many meals are taken by all members together in the main hall of the kibbutz, schooling up to 16 years is handled on-site, the houses are owned by the kibbutz and, although the owners had many rights, the house would revert to the commune in many circumstances, for example if they moved away, or died without leaving any heirs that were kibbutz members. On the flip side, as their family grew and their tenure lengthened, they could purchase a large new house on the kibbutz for an incredibly low price, and even decide on the layout & finish of the house!  In Na'an, the income from all the kibbutz "businesses" (farming, production of goods etc) is taxed and this money is used to operate and upkeep the kibbutz.  Any profits are shared back to all the members at the end of each year.

After we arrived, we were introduced to Hila's husband Juval and her daughter Carmel. Juval worked as a manager for a dairy farm, while Hila was finishing her doctoral thesis and working with an NGO involved with international relations and education. Carmel was only 2 years old and was constantly asking 'lama' (why?) to everything. The family - with their black cat following closely behind us in a suspiciously dog-like manner - walked us around the kibbutz to give us a general orientation. It seems that everyone takes care of one another here, especialy when it comes to children. Hila was serious when she says that her toddler daughter knew people in the kibbutz that she herself did not. The kids are cared for by the whole community in a really relaxed way. 


Carmel picked some fruit for us which was mouth-pinchingly sour, and we were impressed to see that she really liked it!  We don't think kids at home would eat anything so tart.  Then, we paid a visit to Juval's family home (he grew up on this kibbutz, whereas Hila is from a kibbutz in northern Israel).  We met his sister (a talented artist), mom, nephew and super-smiley baby niece and took all the kids to the playground.  Later that evening Carmel instructed us in her favourite card game while Hila & Juval cooked us a wonderful lasagna meal.  Throughout dinner Carmel kept saying "you are welcome" in Hebrew  =)  We were the family's first "couchsurfers" so it's good to see that Carmel likes having guests in her home!!  After Carmel's bathtime, Juval took us to the kibbutz's local boozer (luckily, it was one of the two days per week that it opened!), where we sampled two types of beer brewed on the kibbutz itself (tasty but dangerous, at around 8%) and played some pool. The following day we wandered around the kibbutz and Lisa tried to get her hair cut, but there was no space since it was Thursday (end of the Jewish week). We would have liked to have stayed longer but we were conscious of our upcoming flight so we hopped back in Hila's car and made for the bus station. Chris's bag back in hand, we bade goodbye to Hila at Rehovot bus station and settled in to wait for our bus.  It didn't take long, but we did get a chance to admire the handiwork of the fellow who cleaned the bus station windows and ledges...he was amazingly meticulous and very well-qualified for the job.

The bus trip from Rehovot to Tel Aviv allowed us to see how urbanised this region is. It was hard to tell where one town finished and another city began. After Jordan and Jerusalem's old city, this felt very European. We arrived in Tel Aviv bus station to find that it was just as insane as we'd heard. Seven floors of buses and shops and minimal direction; you could wander for days. We eventually found our way out and decided to yomp it to our hotel, the Gordon Inn on, well, Gordon Street. Tantalisingly we can see the beach down some of the side roads but we kept true to our course and checked in to our four-bed dorm. The hotel was quite nice, with a small roof terrace, obligatory pool table and inclusive breakfast with our old friend 'shakshuka'.

Lisa with Danny & family
By the time we wandered out it was early afternoon. A quick orientation before going to dinner. We found the beach and got sand between our toes while observing the prevailing sport of beach tennis - seriously everyone was playing and the sound of balls on wood was nearly deafening. The sea was not as warm as expected but better than Brighton and, as far as I know Brighton does not have a wiry, tanned man doing yoga in the middle of its beach. We then had to get back and freshen up as Lisa's Tel Aviv-based colleague, Danny, had invited us both to his family's Shabbat dinner. In attendance were Danny and his wife, his two daughters and his daughter's fiance, Jay, (they were to get married in a few weeks time), while their son was off doing his national service. As an aside,we were allowed to see some of his work and their son is a quite talented sculptor and artist. The meal itself was reminiscent of a Sunday lunch (Chris) or a small Thanksgiving (Lisa) in it's quantity and is pretty much compulsory for every family in Israel - it's bonding over food. We had a great time and, including our stay with Hila, it was nice to be in a family environment after so long on the road, eating in a hostel kitchen or eating out. After several courses of scrumptious food and offers of second helpings, we finally accepted a massive "doggy bag" and were dropped home by Jay, where we collapsed into a sated slumber.

Day two in Tel Aviv sees us changing rooms at the Gordon Inn. Our current room is booked by someone else so we take a look in the 8-bed dorm, however, the stench and pile of luggage in the middle of the room cause us to club together with the other occupant of our previous room and we opt for a triple room. Our room mate is a Dutch guy who works in recruitment for the oil industry and it sounds like he can live off several deals a year while travelling the world. Thumbs up for mobile working!

On Danny's recommendation we decide to walk south along the beach to Old Jaffa, the original town from which Tel Aviv sprung. The weather was lovely and sunny and once we get past the hordes of beach tennis players we began to enter a more bohemian area. As we approached Old Jaffa, the beach front began to be occupied by more grungy looking bars and a flea market too. This is indicative of Jaffa's nascent art scene. The centre of Jaffa is perched in a hill and has a lovely old church and restored square and fountain representing the signs of the zodiac in a cute, cartoon-like way. It's only further south, as we entered the old port area, that we began to see the amazing graffiti, some of which took up the entire sides of old warehouses. This has all been redeveloped in the last several years and is a very fashionable area. We tromped around, visiting an art exhibition for up and coming Israeli artists and began to circle back to our hotel. Feeling like tourists we drop into Mike's Irish Bar for drinks and watch the sun set over the eastern Mediterranean. Of course we have plenty of leftovers for dinner!  Then to bed, for tomorrow our way again lies south.

Intricate embossed door
Reminds me of Gorillaz imagery

Bond, Lisa Bond
Graffiti of famous Jews



Jaffa, it gives you wings









In the morning we boot up, shoulder our burdens and look for a hairdresser. Lisa has decided that something must be done but finds the local salons to be either closed (Saturday is the day off for Jews) or really expensive.  A kindly and camp hairdresser takes pity and tells her about a hairdressing school on the other side of the city. So we walk, and walk and eventually find these snippers. Lisa enters, Chris reads several chapters and Lisa emerges with a splendid new coiffure, stylish yet traveller-short, courtesy of the Siduki Zikri School. We encounter an auspscious omen in the form of a cafe across the road called 'The Streets' . We duly ask for a discount and, when that failed, for some of their headed menus. They are bemused yet compliant for the wild eyed tourists. It's then time to speed for the bus to Jerusalem. We get to the Holy City and decide to stay in our favourite hostel, the Citadel, so that we can sleep on the roof one more time!


Our cafe in Tel Aviv
New hair and student stylist
We arrived in Jerusalem in the late afternoon, found our roof space and headed out to a great-sounding wine bar near Jaffa Gate that we've read about in our guidebook, but it seems to be a construction zone now.  In a wine shop, we enlisted the help of an American filmmaker who lives locally and ended up in the Armenian pub/bar. We convinced them to serve us some local wine, even though they were preparing for a big party and did not seem to be officially open. We had a Palestinian versus Israeli wine-off and I think the Palestinian red won the day!  This also gives us a brief opportunity to explore the Armenian Quarter. This one is relatively small and used to be closed at night.  The shops are predominantly selling beautifully painted ceramics.

Next morning is our last in Israel, so Lisa spends some time blogging while Chris makes some time to see the Dome of the Rock. This edifice is visible from most of the old city (when you're not in the covered shook) as it is raised atop the old temple mount. The approach to it is not immediaately aapparent as it's down a winding side street. However, you know when you've got there due to, you've guessed it, the security. After passage through another scanner Chris found himself at the west wall, otherwise known as the wailing wall. It was incredibly busy with whole families praying and/or celebrating just in front of the ancient stone wall, in a special fenced off area. There is a covered ramp leading up to the top of temple mount, above and to one side of the wall itself and as Chris was about to ascend a cavalcade of 4x4s pulled up and the crowd was kept back as a group of important people went up. Eventually, the way became free and Chris walked up the ramp, past a stack of riot shields and onto temple mount. Despite it being the site of Solomon's temple in antiqity, as far as I understand it, no Jews are currently allowed up there, as it is part of 'East Jerusalem', an agreed Muslim area.
Between the wall and Temple Mount

The western wall

Dome of the Rock
After the bustle of the narrow streets, this wide open plaza was tranquil, apart from the ever-present guides. There were small groups of people talking or listening to a teacher on the verandah of the few mosques or under the shade of the many trees. The Dome of the Rock itself is not a mosque but a shrine. It commemorates Mohammed's 'night journey' and the point at which he landed in Jerusalem. The building itself is compact but decorated in the beautiful mosaics like those we had seen in Turkey aand Jordan, although like Christian architecture in Jerusalem, it had a feel of greater age. Being on the top of the mount allows you a great view of the Mount of Olives across the valley too. After bathing in the sun it was time to dive back into the warren of alleys of East Jerusalem, back through the scanners and to the hostel for packing. By mid-morning we were on the road heading back to the Allenby Bridge/King Hussein Bridge border crossing, with hopes of a less fraught experience compared to our entry into Israel.

Monday, April 16, 2012

Rum, Aqaba and T.E. Lawrence

The next morning, we woke up early so that we could drive to Little Petra before the heat of the day. Many of the people staying in the camp the previous night had told us of Little Petra and how it was so much less crowded than its larger cousin. This gathering of carved tombs a little distance from Petra was apparently a suburb or trade outpost for the main city. It had similar tombs, although less of them, but seemingly just as many mysterious tracks leading up to the heights.

Nabbatean ceiling painting
Going slightly off-road

Lisa took the lead and we climbed up the ravine, with Chris only receiving minor injuries. At the end we found a great view of the surrounding peaks and a black-clad, pale skinned Bedouin who had a story. We had a chat with her and she told us that she was originally from Denmark and, while visiting Jordan, had fallen in love with a Bedouin man. She now lives in a cave, with her parents' blessing, and sells handicrafts at Little Petra. I guess it shows that you can never tell where the future will lead.


Huge Roman temple
Then we decided to make use of the two-day duration of our ticket to Petra. We'd done the most strenuous trails the day before so this morning was for filling some of the bits we'd skipped over. We spent more time taking in the 'Royal Palace' tombs, which were bigger than the Treasury but more weathered. We then took the high road to something that looked like an archaeological dig, with a big tarpaulin shelter. It turned out to be a recently excavated Byzantine church with an intricate mosaic floor depicting the flora and fauna of the area. When we peeked inside we found a small congregation singing mass in French - not what we'd expected in that desolation!
Mosaic in Byzantine church

We finished up by taking a closer look at the forum and some of the huge Roman structures that have only recently been unearthed/renovated. After a brief lunch we set of for Wadi Rum and high adventure!

We continued on the winding King's Highway for a while until it joined up to the Desert Highway, which was a shock. This highway had more than one lane and people actually drove quickly.  We had to increase our reaction time very quickly to deal with the huge trucks all around us.  And did we mention that any lane & also the shoulder can be used by anyone who has the guts (including driving on the wrong side of the road)?  So we were dodging oncoming traffic in our lane as well....

After some mysterious detours and a lot of navigational guesswork, we safely arrived in Wadi Rum.  This area is a UNESCO site and part of it is a protected Nature Reserve.  It's famous for its Bedouin camps and the wild emptiness of its desert. We hoped to get onto a jeep tour that included an overnight stay in a camp. As we arrived in the area late in the day we needed to look for some accommodation for our first night. We cruised by several camps, were invited to take tea but, in the end decided that they were asking too much. We had begun to consider sleeping in the car when we reached the last camp on our list. In a show of tremendous Bedouin hospitality, after telling him we had no money, the owner of the camp (the lovely Raed), to our astonishment, said we could stay for free that night!

After we were sure he was serious and had no ulterior motive (such suspicious Londoners!), we settled in. At that point we met Emily, a French woman who had just finished a week-long horse trek in the desert, with just a guide and a cook for company. She told us that she worked in marketing for Christian Laboutin (apparently the ladies will know who that is) and had just been head-hunted by Fendi, so she was preparing to move from Paris to Rome!  But during her holidays she loved nothing more than to take long horse-riding trips in remote locations - apparently her colleagues found that a bit hard to understand...

There was also a tour group scheduled to arrive that night so we were treated to a slap up dinner, the usual gorgeous sage tea and a lesson in Bedouin dancing. Several of the couples in the tour group were also dressed up in Bedouin attire and were made to sit through some kind of marriage ceremony. The dancing became particularly raunchy as Chris and the owner had a hip gyrating stand-off, followed by the latter reaching down his top and simulating a beating heart. Or was he just caressing his nipple?
  
The next morning, after giving copious thanks to Raed and learning a bit more about his previous company (jeep tours from Turkey to Jordan via Syria!), we set off for the Wadi Rum visitor centre to see if we could strike a deal with a tour company. Lisa even went so far as to prepare a colourful sign to attract other visitors, the logic being the more people went on a tour, the cheaper it would be for each individual.  As it turned out, the first guide we saw was scouting for the last couple of people to fill his jeep so we were in! We drove onward to Rum Village, from where the jeeps leave, and proceeded to re-pack and re-water for our overnight stay in the desert.

We met up with our companions on the trip, which included the 'two Kates'; one was an Canadian/British architect who was working on her doctorate in Sudan, and the other was a physicist from CERN (they of the Large Hadron Collider!) who had just finished a tour of Palestine promoting opportunities for women to study sciences in higher education. Quite a diverse group then.

The landscape in Wadi Rum was dramatic. We've both been to Arizona but travelling off-road really made Wadi Rum seem more desolate; it brought the emptiness home. The area is protected, so the most you'll see are other tours and the odd Bedouin camp, usually hidden by a bluff or in the lee of a hill. We were treated to a view of 'Lawrence's Spring', which was supposedly used by Lawrence of Arabia during the first Arab uprising. We were able to climb the highest sand dune I've ever seen, and run/tumble down screaming afterward! We took some photos of some ancient rock-wall paintings and had our own pictures taken after clambering up to the top of a rock arch.

After a wind-blown day in the jeep we reached our camp. We both took a pre-dinner walk out into desert, found a rock to climb and watched the sun slowly go down behind the rocky hills, lending a beautiful red glow to the surrounding rocks & sand. The camp was smaller than our previous night but the food was delicious and, as usual, cooked in the ground. There was no dancing but we did end up chatting with an Australian fellow, Rod, who had published a book about the economy and politics of East Timor & was now visiting his son who is living in Jordan. Randomness and diversity strike again.

The early morning saw us back in the jeep and heading for our drop-off in Rum Village. As we were heading in the same direction we offered to give the two Kates a lift to Aqaba. They were planning to catch an overnight ferry to Egypt however, this turned out to be more tricky than they'd imagined. Firstly, we drove them to the ferry terminal only to find that one 'obviously' cannot buy tickets there; you must do this in town, several kilometres away, at a location which could not be described by the security guard (making us wonder what on earth the "information point" in the ferry terminal was for - but we never found out, as you can't enter the terminal without a ticket....). Luckily a kind man said we could follow him in our car as he was going past the office. On the way back to the car Lisa bumped into a pair of Japanese tourists. They had tickets for the 11pm ferry, although no-one could confirm if it would actually run or not. At this point it was about 12pm, so they were planning to hang out for the whole day in the salubrious ferry terminal. Nice. In town it also seemed that no-one would give our Kates a straight answer as to when/if the ferry would run. Honestly! Tourists and their strict schedules.

Lunch on the table, toes in the Red Sea
They eventually got their tickets (a ferry ticket office DOES exist, albeit in a rather side-streety location) so we bade goodbye to the Kates and settled in for lunch on the beach with our feet in the Red Sea. Being a Friday, it was busy with families and with children swimming on the sea, It was a little strange to our eyes seeing people swimming pretty much fully clothed, except for some of the young boys. It was a reminder, after being with the Bedouin, that we were still in a Muslim country, where modesty is part of everyday behaviour.

After lunch we followed directions to a group of divers resorts just south of town. Here we were allowed to pitch our tent, for a minimal cost. We managed to do this despite the insistent wind and then went for a walk along the beach. Again, being Friday (Muslim holy day), it was crowded with families,  many of whom had set up large tents on the beach.  We returned to the resort next to ours to have dinner. They had many guard cats and some Arabic beer (mmmalty and unfortunately non-alcoholic).

Our 'catsistant'
The next day, we recruited one of the local felines to 'assist' us in packing up our tent. We almost took him with us! We then set out to find the Dead Sea Highway, the route to which turned out to be pretty much through the airport. Weird. We also had to make sure that we turned the right way out of our resort's entrance as a wrong turn would have had us at the Saudi Arabian border in a few minutes! 

We were headed for Wadi Musa, a protected area where you can hike up a river canyon and abseil down a waterfall, if you're so inclined. To get there we had opted for the Dead Sea Highway, which lived up to our scenic expectations; deserted and salty! On the way we picked up a couple of French hitch-hikers who were also headed to Wadi Musa. Poor guys hitching in the desert.

We arrived at Wadi Musa in the mid-afternoon which meant it probably wasn't as busy as it would have been earlier in the day but the narrowness of the canyon also meant that it was still nice and shady. We donned our life vests and started our ascent.

The canyon has a river flowing down it so we were walking/wading up-river. At various points there are small waterfalls that we had to climb to continue onward. There were ropes to help but getting up some of them was very tricky due to spray and slippery rocks. Luckily we always met some helpful guides on their way down when we reached the tricky bits - always handy to have an expert boost!  The "trail" culminated in a tall waterfall that we could walk behind. This is the same waterfall that, if you take a different trail, you end up abseiling down.  By this time of day, there were only two other people (professional photographers by the look of their equipment - they must have some excellent waterproof bags!) at the waterfall so we could really admire this spectacular setting in near-privacy.  Then it was an easy float back down to the visitor's center!

That was enough excitement for one day so we began to think about sleeping. One of the recurring themes for us in Jordan was how expensive accommodation had been. We had constantly joked to ourselves that, if it came to it we could sleep in the car so, this was the night we would make the car pay for itself! We cruised past a public beach but it was so busy (still a weekend) that it didn't look appetising as a place to rest. We ended up installing ourselves in a little pull-off next to the highway but screened a little by a hill. We attempted to have dinner on a cliff overlooking the Dead Sea, but a very mean-sounding dog seemed to be approaching rapidly just as we sat down, so we hightailed it back to the car.  We had finished "dinner in the car" and settled down to play a game of cards when a fellow came up and knocked on our window. Through the medium of sign language it appeared that he was a local farmer and that we weren't allowed to park here. He motioned that we should follow him and he took us to a place a few metres up the road, next to a small water plant, where we understood it was ok to stay for the night. This area seemed to come with an array of guard dogs who barked almost continuously at the intrusion of our car - fingers crossed that we wouldn't need to pee, as there was no way we were going to step out of the car!

We must have been there an hour or two, managing to catch a few winks, when someone tapped on the window! It was our friend again. Now he seemed to indicate that 'police' come to close the gate to the water plant at midnight and we should go.  His exact words were "one one four nine police"....this, about about 11:48pm.  At this point, we were happy to move on from Mr. Helpful's land, if only so we can actually get some sleep. A few kilometres up the road we found a large public layby and finally settled in for the night. We only had one further disturbance when the police knocked on the window but, upon seeing we were happily sleeping and weird foreign tourists, wished us a good night!

After a slightly unfulfilling but very economical sleep, we woke up to the splendid view of the Dead Sea at dawn, looking across into Israel. Today was our last day with our beloved car so we made good time up the highway, passing through Madaba, where we had begun the Jordan leg of our trip. We made it to the King Hussein Bridge in time to drop off Raki, pack up our belongings which were liberally scattered around the car, donate the last of our Nutella to a cute but insistent young beggar (who did actually thank us!), and trudge toward the compound from where we would take the bus across the bridge and into Israel.

Sunday, April 15, 2012

You are welcome!

We had an amazing flight with Royal Jordanian- it's hard to believe that an airline can fit a hot meal service into a 1.5 hour nighttime flight!  Probably would've rather been asleep for the whole flight, but don't read that as a complaint.

There were just a few other tourists on our flight so most people breezed through immigration.  We had to find some Jordanian currency to pay for our visas, as did an American girl who arrived with us.  Unfortunately the ATM which is conveniently located just before immigration doesn't actually work, and the immigration officer didn't feel like taking card payments (we have heard that these are OK during the day, but I guess a lot of things don't work normally at 4:30am).  Eventually we changed some USD at the currency exchange office - also located conveniently just before immigration, and I'm sure offering the very best exchange rates! - USD 100 = JOD 60, just enough for 3 Jordanian visas so we were able to help the American traveller too.  She paid us back when we got through customs to an ATM that actually worked.

A long, dark taxi ride over some anonymous roads as dawn broke.  We asked the driver to take us the center of Madaba (closest major town to the airport, and apparently nicer than Amman) but he wanted something more specific, so we went to the ? Hotel which we'd read about online.  Surprisingly it was fully booked but luckily there was a hotel next door (Mariam Hotel) which had a double room available.  By now it was 6am and we were beat, so we were pleased to find out that the room was empty and we could head straight there for a nap!

We cheekily enjoyed the free buffet breakfast (with 2nd helpings of the delicious hummus) and gazed out from the top-floor restaurant over the town. By the end of breakfast time, there was just one other person in the restaurant, so we wandered over to her table for a chat. She was from Spain and was meeting her boyfriend, a tour guide who was in Jordan with a group. We discussed the possibility of getting a lift with them in their rental car the following day, and made some vague plans to meet for breakfast...which never actually transpired ;-)

We set out to explore what Madaba had to offer, and hoped that our own plans would start to come together as we walked. The town centre is compact but confusing, with lots of twists & turns. In the end someone had to guide us to Tourist Information (although in fairness, he did actually seem to work there). He showed us a film about the history of Madaba, which is famous for it's mosaics and even has a Mosaic Institute where students can learn the proper techniques. There is also an interesting mix of religions living there harmoniously – Muslim, Greek Orthodox and another Christian sect.

Helpful Tourist Info guy then discovered that we might be interested in hiring a car (since the general consensus was that the bus service in Jordan is sketchy at best, and the bus stations are usually located a few miles from the town & city centres – how odd!). He proceeded to lead us around again, but when we got to the car rental “office” (a tiny place with no sign), it was closed. He stopped a couple of women who were passing by and they had a long discussion; the women gave him a phone number for the car rental guy and he rang from his own mobile on our behalf! This all nearly resulted in the car rental guy travelling to Madaba from wherever he was, just to open the office for us, until we insisted that we were happy to wait until tomorrow. He did find another staff member who spoke English, who had a long discussion with Chris about prices, pick-up and drop-off arrangements etc. It all sounded OK but we were a bit worried about using this local “no-name” company, so we wanted a 2nd opinion from our hotel. In the end we did use the hotel's recommendation – they just seemed a bit more “real”, and (probably the deciding factor) they were able to take a credit card number for the deposit – Madaba guy needed the deposit in cash because his company was too small to have card facilities.

We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the shops and chatting with lots of lovely people. One of the nicest fellows had a mosaic shop, and showed us the different techniques & results when making mosaics by hand vs. by machine. He had spent quite a lot of time in London (unfortunately both of his children have some kind of genetic disorder and had long stretches in hospital there) and was really happy to meet some Londoners to chat to. He recommended his favourite restaurant (across the street) and when we popped in to look at the menu, he appeared and negotiated a 10% discount!

Holy Land mosaic (just one part - it's big!)
We rounded off our day by visiting St George's Church to see it's famous mosaic floor. It is a huge map of the Holy Land from the Byzantine period, which was only rediscovered in the late 19th century when they rebuilt the church on an old site. The detail is really impressive, as is the sense of scale (since map-making techniques hadn't been invented yet!). Next to the church is an information center about the history of Madaba, the discovery of this mosaic & others in the area, and what makes it so interesting & unique.


When we returned to the hotel we spent some time sitting by the pool drinking local wine, and then headed upstairs for their nicely-priced buffet dinner. It was a bit strange since dishes weren't replaced like-for-like when they were finished, so you had to make sure you grabbed whatever looked interesting while it was still there! But it was all quite tasty and there was a good selection of salads too.

The next morning, our rental car arrived at 9am (despite the fact that we'd asked for it at 11am). We had another yummy buffet breakfast, and then headed to the front desk to check out. We had a nasty surprise to find that we'd been charged for 2 nights =( Lisa had a long argument with the manager, but he insisted on charging the full price for both nights despite our 6am arrival – that's his policy for advance bookings, but we thought he could've been a bit more flexible since there was just one small sign to notify us of this fact (and the night clerk didn't really speak English or want to answer our questions). Lesson learned – read all the signs as soon as you arrive, and ask questions whether the staff like it or not!

Finally we were on the road to Petra. Well, as soon as we figured out which road it was – road signs seem to be pretty much non-existent in Jordan. Lucky for us that people are so nice & helpful, and got us pointed in the right direction! We took the King's Highway, a scenic route that winds up & down the hills in the center of Jordan. It was a long, hot drive but very pretty! And our short sojourn on the Desert Highway (the fastest, easternmost highway which runs parallel) was not very pleasant so we were glad to take our time. There is quite a flexible use of “lanes” on Jordanian highways: if you are driving slower than the car behind you, you should drive half on the shoulder so that they have more space to pass you (which they will do, even if a car is passing in the opposite direction – there is just enough space to squeeze between!); in the places where there is a center lane between the 2 lanes of regular traffic, it may be used by whomever gets there first or just the one who has the most guts (like an ongoing game of chicken).

Our first Bedouin tent experience
After a couple of construction-related detours and directions from some friendly young motorists we descended into the modern town of Petra. We continued on through the town, towards Little Petra, and our Bedouin camp, named Seven Wonders. We are greeted with the news that, yes, they do have space (phew) and that they have a brew on. This turns out to be the most delicious tea made from sage, mint and other mysterious ingredients. As we opted for the 'budget option' that did not include dinner, we chow down on some slightly old bread. The chef eventually takes pity on us and gives us a couple of bowls of 'poor man's' soup. Bedouin generosity is beginning to kick-in (more on this later). At least we saw the culmination of a traditional Bedouin meal, cooked in an oven under the ground. Most impressive! We had originally intended the 'budget option' to include pitching our own tent but, as we should have surmised, Petra is a somewhat rocky neighbourhood so our pegs made little impression. As a result we rented one of their tents made of woven goat hair and including real beds!!

The next morning we emerged from our tent early-ish. We munch on more of our elderly bread for breakfast but this time with added Nutella :-) and some donated coffee (Bedouin hospitality again). We met up with some jolly chaps from Munich who constantly seemed to be waiting for the female member of their party to get ready – no stereotypes intended. We then climbed into our trusty conveyance, named Raki after a pleasant Turkish spirit, and headed to the main entrance for the ruins. We followed the detour signs around a construction site (new visitor's center) and past lots of tourist tat stalls to a tiny ticket kiosk. Next door is a helpful guide kiosk, which gave us a free map.

The Siq
We bought a two-day ticket, in case we didn't manage to see it all on the first go. Immediately past the entrance we are asked by many kind gentlemen if we wanted to ride their horse to the ruins, about 2km away. Apparently, “No, we like to walk,” is an incomprehensible response. There are lots of signs about animal welfare, including things such as “carriages are only for use by disabled persons” which are being summarily ignored by horsemen and visitors alike.

We passed the first few 'djin blocks' and stone facades cut into the cliff faces before we reached the entrance to the Siq. This is a narrow fissure about a kilometre long that winds its way toward the main body of the ruins. It's so tall that it's nearly always in partial shadow and at it's widest is only about 20 metres. It also had a couple of cute kittens as guardians, who very much appreciated the tourist attention!
The Treasury


Your first sight of the Treasury as the Siq ends does indeed make you feel like Indiana Jones (it featured in 'Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade'). Most of the structures in Petra are tombs created by the Nabbateans, who lived in the area around the time of the Roman Empire. There are many cliff faces here and, in Petra, they have been elaborately carved in a combination of classical Greek and Roman architecture, with a few Nabbatean additions. However, the pillars and pediments are only facades, not free-standing buildings, and the room spaces in the cliffs behind the facades are often very small when compared to the size of the exterior facade.

After the breathtaking Treasury, we continued down the 'Street of Facades', which has carved frontages from ground level all the way up the sides of the cliffs. Being up for a challenge, we decided to tackle the harder climbs first. We also thought that there would be fewer tour groups on these. So, began heading up towards the 'Place of High Sacrifice'. We were right. Fewer tourists but rather steep! Apparently, only the priests would have been allowed up to this lofty point so only they could enjoy the view. What greeted us at the top, after a conveniently placed tea shop, was a wide, flat space with a deep basin and a raised 'altar', This altar had small depression, possibly for holding water, and a channel running down to the basin, possibly for the blood of the sacrifice.


Pretty rocks  =)
After getting up to the 'Place of High Sacrifice' there was some debate about how to get down and continue onwards. After a quick burst of sign language with a nearby souvenir stall-holder we headed back a little way to the tea shop and continued on down the other side of the hill. This was a very quiet path, with some colourful rock formations – reds, yellows, blacks all swirled together as if by a sea. Down this side of the hill, amongst other carvings, we found the 'Garden Tomb'. It was called this due to the remains of a small garden that led up to the doorway. It too was guarded by a cat who had a prime spot under the shade of the portico. This tomb had an intriguing window or doorway halfway up the wall that made me think it could have been connected to something else on the opposite cliff face. Next door is the 'Tomb of the Roman Soldier'. This was not only a facade but had the remains of a pillared area that extended out from the cliff, giving it a much larger area than most. It also had the weathered remnants of a bust of the soldier himself above the doorway.
Garden Tomb

As we continued down the hill we saw many caves on the opposite cliffs that seemed to be inhabited by Bedouin. This is a common practice here and, when the government made Petra a protected area, they allowed them to remain living here, as they had for hundreds of years. At the bottom of the hill is the main 'Roman forum' of the town, with lots of free-standing buildings. We bypassed these for the moment and investigated the cafe area. Luckily this wasn't too busy so we were able to sneak out our own food and have a crafty lunch on their tables, accompanied by small children looking over the wall at us and shouting, “Yum, mmm!”

Monastery
After our rest stop, we decided to tackle the other 'hard' path up to the 'Monastery'. This is considered the steepest tourist path and many people take donkeys up it. In fact, we heard from one of the people at our camp later that night that her donkey had fallen over on this path! We struggled up, taking several stops for water and a breather, and knew we were nearing the top when we encountered the obligatory tea shop, although this one also sold Bedouin silver as well. The 'Monastery' had been used as a church in Byzantine times and is impressively sited although, as always in Petra, the interior was very plain compared to the pillared and corniced exterior. It was topped by an orb, all in stone, that can just be glimpsed over the ridge from the other side of the hill. This also used to have a pillared courtyard outside the entrance so it must have been very grand in its day although what it was originally used for is uncertain.

Seven Wonders Camp, from the sunset scramble spot
By this time it was late afternoon and we stumbled back down the path to the forum. Here we passed a huge temple, only recently rediscovered, and what we overheard a guide telling his clients was the oldest tree in Jordan. We resisted the offers of horse-drawn carriages to take us back up the Siq and eventually returned wearily to the Seven Wonders camp.  We followed one of the staff up the rocks overlooking the camp for the best view of the sunset, despite it being a rather scary scramble and a few leaps over chasms - hey, if he can do it in cowboy boots then we would not be shown up!  We finally cracked open the well-travelled bottle of Cognac while we enjoyed the last of that day's sunshine.

That night we 'made' our own dinner of endless bread and tinned stuffed vine leaves. Tonight the owner of the camp had brought some guests from his hotel in town so our numbers were swelled and he made us sing (Lisa did 'The Gambler, I did 'Danny Boy'), tell jokes and stories about ourselves. We met two American girls who were studying in Israel, a British family from Dulwich and a couple where the fellow was the 2nd-youngest member of the German parliament (Green Party)! After a while a robed and dust-masked Bedouin woman arrived to serve us tea. She stuck very close to the owner and it took the German fellow ages to work our that it was his own girlfriend who had disappeared some time before!


Nabbatean ceiling painting


Going slightly off-road
The next morning, we woke up early so that we could drive to Little Petra before the heat of the day. Many of the people staying in the camp the previous night had told us of Little Petra and how it was so much less crowded than its larger cousin. This gathering of carved tombs a little distance from Petra was apparently a suburb or trade outpost for the main city. It had similar tombs, although less of them, but seemingly just as many mysterious tracks leading up to the heights. Lisa took the lead and we climbed up the ravine, with Chris only receiving minor injuries. At the end we found a great view of the surrounding peaks and a black-clad, pale skinned Bedouin who had a story. We had a chat with her and she told us that she was originally from Denmark and, while visiting Jordan, had fallen in love with a Bedouin man. She now lives in a cave, with her parents' blessing, and sells handicrafts at Little Petra. I guess it shows that you can never tell where the future will lead.


Huge Roman temple
Then we decided to make use of the two-day duration of our ticket to Petra. We'd done the most strenuous trails the day before so this morning was for filling some of the bits we'd skipped over. We spent more time taking in the 'Royal Palace' tombs, which were bigger than the Treasury but more weathered. We then took the high road to something that looked like an archaeological dig, with a big tarpaulin shelter. It turned out to be a recently excavated Byzantine church with an intricate mosaic floor depicting the flora and fauna of the area. When we peeked inside we found a small congregation singing mass in French - not what we'd expected in that desolation!
Mosaic in Byzantine church

We finished up by taking a closer look at the forum and some of the huge Roman structures that have only recently been unearthed/renovated. After a brief lunch we set of for Wadi Rum and high adventure!