Petra by Night

I found the Lonely Planet review of Petra by Night to be pretty uninformative, so I wrote my own.

Petra by Night

Night falls over the Rosy City.  In the dusty evening, a group of people gather by the gate to Petra.  Like so many Nabatean merchants before, they wait in anticipation of the riches that this ancient city will afford them. 

Meet at the entrance to Petra at dusk, and cross the border from the modern city of Wadi Musa, to the hauntingly beautiful mercantile hub of Petra.  Take the stroll down the Siq, lit by candles and luminaries and bordered by natural sandstone walls.  When you and your fellow travelers reach the Treasury, the most famous and certainly most photographed structure in Petra, find a seat on a woven mat and settle in for a show.

A Petra historian addresses the crowd, providing an account of the function of the Rosy CIty, the Treasury and the countless structures, tombs and places of worship that surround the main building.  The voice of the historian, echoing through the ruins, transports the listener to a time when Petra was a bustling center of commerce, a meeting place for traders from around the Fertile Crescent.  As you are immersed in history, small cups of tea are expertly passed to all 200 listeners.

The sound of traditional instruments fills the amphitheater, weaving its way through the Treasury and bouncing off the walls of the Siq.  The vibrations, deftly teased out of an Oab by a man whose family has been playing this instrument for generations, and the high pitched piccolo blown by his young son, give a special view into the lives of the Bedouins who are the protectors of this place.

After the tourist saturated, sun beaten Petra of the day time, Petra by night is a unique, romantic addition to your visit to Wadi Musa, Jordan.  For only 12JD, you can experience a more intimate Petra, without all of the hawkers and gawkers.  Tickets can be purchased at any hotel or outside the entrance to Petra.  You may want to bring a small flashlight, as the terrain vacillates between sand and cobblestone during the walk down the Siq.  Always remember to bring water.  Though the desert nights are cool, the walk is long and dusty.

Jerash the Memories

The sun and clouds that define our mood are too intimate.  Our trip to Jerash was allowed only by the arbitrary lax attitude of the weather, spring dancing a prelude to a summer that promises to scorch.  Basking in the luxury of no special urgency, we went to visit the largest Roman ruins outside of Rome herself.

Leaving our city is like taking a small minibus into a dream.  Our eyes, having been attuned to a spectrum of desert beige are greedy for color.  Driving into the mountain regions the bus hums a song of envy.  The yellows, reds and purples of spring wildflowers hit us like an opiate, and playing in the same vein, become ordinary instances of life as quickly.

The ruins of Jerash are extensive and well preserved.  The column lined road to the hippodrome is paved with stones worn smooth by Roman sandals.  The theater in the round has tiered seating so steep that on approach to the entrance one can only imagine that generations of patrons to the arts have tumbled to their deaths or injurious demise.  Temples and columns have stood strong for the worshipers of their Gods, and then for the worshipers of the worshipers.

Tourists flock to Jerash, though not in the numbers that they arrive in Aqaba or Petra.  Drinking in the history of the Roman empire means sipping on the trappings of modernity in turn.  Hearing English, seeing exposed arms and legs and couples holding hands, the quality of living in an atmosphere of perpetual dread is momentarily assuaged.  Scarves and prying eyes removed from our bodies, the extremes of modern and ancient are laid out like an undeveloped negative.