SANDStorm

Our travel from Aqaba, Jordan to Nuweiba, Egypt started off well enough. We left the grand Al-Cazar hotel right on time and arrived at the Aqaba ferry terminal at 11 a.m. – the recommended arrival time for purchasing tickets for the 1pm fast ferry boat to Nuweiba.

There is only one fast ferry from Aqaba to Nuweiba every day, and the only other option is the slow ferry. If you mention the slow ferry to an Egyptian who wants to take the fast ferry they swallow and look off in fear. We had heard our own horror stories from other travelers. Eight hour waits for the boat to leave. Twelve hour waits. The ferry not even showing up to port until the next day. From the sounds of it, an overland excursion through Iraq by donkey was the only thing that sounded worse.

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We left Petra this morning by minibus and arrived in the port city of Aqaba before 10 a.m. After three days at a hostel that was high on friendliness but a little low on cleanliness, we decided to splurge on a room at a posh hotel (or at least it seems like it may have been posh forty years ago) with a swimming pool. Although neither of us enjoy swimming and didn’t even bother to bring swimming suits, it’s nice to know it’s there for us if we change our minds. Our large Oriental-style room even has a balcony which would probably overlook the ocean if it was on the fourth floor rather than the second floor.

After settling in, we attempted to walk one kilometer to Downtown Aqaba for food and to view the port but were foiled by the unrelenting sun and 37C heat. After a mere 200 meters we found an internet cafe which has DSL and it looks like we may be able to get shwarma across the street. Maybe when it cools off a little in a few hours we’ll venture out of the internet cafe and across the street…

(BBC Weather reported it is 37C in Cairo today. Ai yai yai).

Here are some pictures of the ancient Nabateaen city of Petra. It was built in the third century BC. And we walked on it, through it, past it. We even laid down on the sacrificial table at ”The High Place of Sacrifice.” The city was a crossroads for the frankincense and myrrh trade from East Africa, as well as whatever else could be carried by camel from Africa to what is now Syria, Israel, Lebanon and further afield, as well as to the Saudi peninsula.

Hiking in for about a kilometer through a most amazing slot canyon. They call it the Siq. It was used as a ceremonial entrance to the city of Petra, by religious processions. Along the walls are small, worn away recesses where candles were placed for ceremonies at night. To the left you can also see a small canal carved into the wall. It was covered in flat stones and carried water along the Siq for surely nefarious purposes.

At the end of the Siq you round a corner and see an incredible 2300 year-old building. It is called the Treasury, but in actuality it has nothing to do with money. Almost all of the remaining buildings in Petra were shrines or tombs or served some ceremonial purpose.

The doorway of the Treasury leads to a single large room, with another doorway in the back. I am assured that it neither leads to the holy grail nor Harrison Ford memorabilia.

Camels. In Petra. They stink. But I wanted to take one home anyway.

Here is the Thrashin Badger himself chillin in a tiger room. I may be the only one who calls it that, but the colors made it look like tiger stripes. I don’t think there are any tigers here though. They would eat the camels. And the innumberable donkeys that are offered up for rides. And the innumerable tourists who would probably eat the camels too if they were told it is a local dish.

The Royal Tombs. Unlike the Treasury, these are actually royal tombs.

After a vigorous hike up a canyon in the shade, we hit on ”The High Place of Sacrifice.” This is also exactly what it was. From the sacrificial alter (on the right at the small steps) you can see down on most of the Petra valley. S is on the left. She forgot her goat, so she had to take a time out and think about being more responsible in the future. The entire year’s crop of baklava may ride on that missed sacrifice. But Thrashin Badger stepped up and sacrificed a bit of Oreo, some Laughing Cow (La Vache Qui Rit!) cheese, and some drops of Tang to the Nabataean gods of yore.

This is the real Indiana Jones. Brown University is excavating the Grand Temple. It is a fascinating ruin, but you have to wait for another entry to see better pictures of the Temple itself.

Amman may not have a lot to offer a tourist, but it does have its charms. Besides, it’s only an hour or so by minibus to Jerash…

Jerash is a town which has ruins of ancient Gerasa, built around 100 A.D. There are remains of temples, theatres, shops, homes, a promenade, churches and an oval plaza.

You can still see the grooves made by the chariot wheels on the promenade.

It was amazingly hot – here I am finding shade wherever I can.

The happy travelers

Getting off the airline, which feels like it was built for a Sultan, in Amman was less of a shock than a relief. After Turkey’s almost sterile exoticism, here was bright, dusty, grease-stained desert city. Peugot taxis drive the streets honking for customers and dirty beige building cover the small valleys and hills of Amman. In most ways Amman is ugly. And there are no tourists.

Perhaps there would be tourists if there were anything to see in Amman. Aside from a Roman amphitheater and some anicient ruins, there is really no reason for someone looking to visit “sights of interest” to spend any time at all in Amman. There is a museum dedicated to the king’s collection of classic cars though…

But Amman is charming. Near the city center shops line the streets at night and sell everything from cheap lighters and houka pipes to t-shirts, bags, muslim barbie dolls, dishes, and knives. How about a Ronaldo jersey with your kilo of almonds? Just as you wish.

And at night lights come on and the apartments and offices that in the daytime were blocks of cement set down in close quarters around the city become beautiful. A little like a giant christmas tree melted over the city.

Walking today into a section of town on a hilltop, sprinkled with a few trees, we found a little Friday-only market. Little tents lining a narrow street sold paintings of Bedouin, face-painting (for the kids we presume), antique knives and money, homemade candles and that sort of thing. Not much different from something you would find in middle America.

At a tent selling little baked goods we samples some sweets and S decided to buy stuffed grape leaves. Just two. I sensed danger. In Thailand we often tried to buy just two pieces of fruit, but often walked away with two kilos. A kilogram is more than you think.

It looked like S might have succeeded this time, but confusion checkmated us again, and we walked away with two plates of stuffed grape leaves. Without S’s intense, unknowing negotiation though, I am afraid the plates would have been piled high instead of just covered. We ate every one of them.

-posted by Thrashin Badger

Ah, Royal Jordanian Airlines – where everyone feels like a king, or at least like they are in business class.

Waiting in the terminal to board Royal Jordanian flight 0166 from Istanbul to Amman yesterday was the first time I felt like we were getting close to the Middle East. Most of the men were businessmen, carrying their briefcases and ready to get to work. A few families were flying as well; the women wore headscarves or black robes and veils covering all but their eyes.

We boarded the plane and walked to row 10, which is economy class, but when I sat down my knees were a good six inches from the back of the seat in front of me and my hips did not hit the edge of the seat, brushing up against the person seated next to me. Each seat had an individual tv screen, much like JetBlue, however because the seats were at least two inches wider, the screen was like a large movie screen, waiting to delight me with on-demand movies and tv programs. While we waited for the plane to launch the screen switched between a map of the region and a diagram of the plane’s orientation in relation to Mecca (at least, I think that’s what it was – it was in Arabic after all).

Thirty minutes into the two hour flight, I am comfortably watching “Failure to Launch” (a movie which is only entertaining if you are at 30,000 feet) when we are served a full dinner, complete with proper silverware. The chicken on a bed of rice was succulent and flavorful and I finished it off with a moist brownie and mango juice. Did I mention that I could cross my legs with the tray down and my knees didn’t bang the tray?

Ah, Royal Jordanian Airlines…

-s