final ruins in aljoun and jerash

Day 19 - Ajloun and Jerash

It's our last full day in Jordan. As per our Jordanian custom, we're paying a taxi driver money so that we can look at piles of rocks in varying states rock-dom. After a short 1.5 hour drive from Amman, we're winding our way up a steep hill to get to a castle built by the Ummayans to protect themselves from the Crusaders, Ajloun Castle. The site is surrounded by terraces of olive trees. The landscape in the far horizon is covered in a haze. We're looking straight at Syria which is only an hour away by car. Peering from the top of the ruined castle, you can see for miles. Perfect to keep an eye on marauding Crusaders intent on storming your pretty sweet castle. There's some catapult rocks lying around inside and like an idiot I try to lift one. Mission aborted. 

A quick trip back down the road and we're in Jerash, visiting the ruins of the Roman City of Gerasa. Hadrian kicked it for a couple of years here. The arch that you can see from the road was built to welcome him. We make signs for people coming in at the airport, the Romans deployed their slaves and built massive arches. Same same but different. 

At the site, it is hot as Hades/Pluto. Instead of exiting through the gift shop, you enter through the gift shops. Like Philistines, the first order of the day is to buy an ice cream shaped like a watermelon slice and a Snickers. Once we reach the arch, we find the nearest patch of shade and sit. Our site visit goes largely like that - walk a couple of metres, sit in shade, drink water, repeat. As well as ruin hunters, we're becoming expert shade hunters too.

At the Temple of Zeus, I find steep stairs cut into the bricks and it leads you up and up until you emerge, almost eye-level with the top of the columns. I oohh and aahh at the view, get mild vertigo and beat it out of there. One guy goes up after me and takes it one step further, jumping a couple of rocks and emerging at the very top of the temple structure itself. Showoff.

The ruins of Gerasa are pretty well-preserved. You don't have to use too much of your imagination to imagine the city. The main roads and the marketplace are still there, with their original flagstones, lined with columns. The varying degrees of ruin just give it a dash of mystery and romance. 

Once back in Amman, the day ends with sandwiches, tabbouleh, a lot of water, and - what else - kanafeh. I eat so much kanafeh, I fall instantly asleep at 8 pm and don't wake up till the next day.

hiding in the shade at the citadel

Day 18 - the Citadel, Amman

The ruin hunters are getting tired of ruins. This is a problem. After all, ruins are Jordan’s speciality. A few days ago on top of the High Place of Sacrifice, we passed a French guy who caught our eye and said drolly, “Rocks, rocks and more rocks. Nothing special here.” We have ruin fatigue.

roman theatre echoes in amman

Day 17 - from Petra to Amman

We are not in sync with the bus timetable. We end up paying $70 JOD for a taxi from our hotel to Amman. The driver is a man of few words. I offer him Pringles then later on find out that he's on a fast which will end shortly with Eid Al-Ahda. The drive is uneventful. The landscape is a lot of sand and desert and rocks for about two and a half hours. I eat my Snickers and Pringles in the backseat and listen to FKA Twigs (otherwise known as Ana's Desert soundtrack).

Twenty minutes from downtown Amman, we're parked up by an Ikea. Our driver has a grand plan. His "brother" is also a taxi driver and he's currently driving a person who wants to go to Petra. We're going to swap cars and drivers because his "brother" is licensed in Amman and he is licensed in Petra. To drive around in a city you aren't licensed in risks being found by police and being fined. This is how they get around that. We swap with a startled looking Japanese man. Our second driver is chatty. He talks about what his family is going to do during Eid Al-Ahda. I think they're basically gonna hang at home, slaughter a goat and eat it. "A big goat!" he chuckles.

We crawl through downtown Amman. It's a tangled spaghetti of traffic. The hotel is across from the Roman Theatre and the Citadel looms over it. Travellers have scrawled pictures, quotes and messages all over the white walls along the stairwell. Two pet turtles hang out on the rooftop. It's ramshackle and charming. We're asked if we want a quiet room or a room with a view. We go with the view. You can always have quiet after you die.

best kanafeh so far in wadi musa

Day 16 - Petra

We miss the free shuttle to Petra. It's a late start. So, we dawdle down the hill through Wadi Musa town. There's the goats on the flat bed trucks again and shops selling live chicken. Guys casually wander out of the shop, holding wriggling chickens upside down by their feet. I suppose you can't get your meat any fresher than that. I find a place called "Made in Jordan". It's been recommended by various travel guides. I buy a camel toy, a pillowcase and mosaic fridge magnets. 

We're hunting for shawarma. Of course. The restaurants on the approach to Petra are suspiciously empty. Where is everyone? The place we see with shawarma looks suspect. There's a fly buzzing around in the window. We beat it to the Visitor Centre of Petra and eat chicken maqloobah and falafel sandwiches.

I'm eating my falafel sandwich. I look up and a sign above a store advertises the "Indiana Jones Supermarket & Sweet Shop Coffee -Cold Drink Nuts - Tampons - Chocolate - Biscuits Sigarettes" I hear angels singing in the background. Tampons and pads are the Holy Grail in small Middle Eastern cities. They are legitimate selling points for the supermarket you might want to set up in Petra or Wadi Musa. 

Rob is the hero of the day. He offers to secure the emergency package for me while I inconspicuously lurk across the square. He comes back, mission accomplished. He was hassled good-naturedly for buying them. The guy called his friend over and they all laughed and tickled his belly for some reason.

watching our dinars in Petra

Day 14 & 15  - Crossing the border from Israel into Jordan and onto Petra

To cross the border into Jordan, we drive through the desert to the Yitzhak Rabin Border Crossing, near Eilat. The sun rises in the sky and its rays slice through the clouds for a particularly dramatic effect. It's like the halos around the heads of saints in medieval paintings. It's a fitting goodbye to Jerusalem. 

At the border, we're charged a couple hundreds shekels for the privilege of leaving Israel. There's no one crossing here at lunchtime on a Tuesday. In the no-mans land between the two gates, Rob tries to take a photo of the Israel side and out of nowhere, a man with a gun wearing, I kid you not, a mustard turtleneck pops out and yells across the swathe of concrete, "NO PICTURES!" Now that is a fitting goodbye to Israel.

 We're pounced on by a smarmy guy offering taxi rides to Petra before we've barely cleared the gate into the Jordan. He's offering 70 dinars for the one and a half hour taxi ride. That's NZD$126. A sign inside the terminal recommends tourists pay 57 dinars for a one-way taxi ride to Petra. Rob tells him so. He minces around with an excuse until someone overrides him, points to a guy with a bandage on his left wrist and says, "HE will take you to Petra for 60 dinars." The internet tells me that you can get this ride for as low as 35 dinars. The internet can go stuff itself. We're tired. We can't see any other taxi drivers. We just want to get to our hotel. So 60 dinars it is. 

The guy drives like clappers, weaving up from the desert and into the mountains. I'm glad I can't see the speedometer. He tries to upsell his services - call me if you want to go to Little Petra, call me if you want to go to Amman, etc etc - but no way. The guy is shady. He makes us stop at a store and disappears inside for about ten minutes. There are stray dogs outside, dog poo everywhere, and the stock in the store is gathering dust. We buy water and Pringles. Rob hurries him up and we Formula-One our way up to our hotel in upper Wadi Musa. It is a relief to be rid of the guy. 

A couple of metres down from the hotel is a mosque. We're right near the loudspeakers. There's a call to prayer three times in the evening, and twice between 5 am - 6 am. The guy on the loudspeaker is warbling and tuneless. He's a hack compared to the ones you hear in Jerusalem. 

In downtown Wadi Musa, I excite the many men standing aimlessly around their storefronts by wandering around in a knee-length skirt. My temper is very short for this kind of thing now but here, you have to keep your cool. I've  never been good at that sort of thing. There are goats parked on the side of the road. No friendly shawarma shops in sight. Jordan isn't making the best first impression on us. We hide in the hotel for the rest of the night.  The Rough Guides description of Wadi Musa is apt.   

The next day, we're up early to get to Petra. I've always wanted to see it. It was discovered in the 1800s by a guy from Switzerland who unwittingly discovered it when it was still inhabited by Bedouins and untouched by the rest of the world. He played the long game, going back home, learning Arabic, reading the Qu'ran and disguising himself a local to get in, sketch the sights and uncover it to the rest of the world. The guy is a boss.  

We spring for a guide. He's worth it. Knowledgeable, relaxed, friendly. Many, many people hawk the same things over and over - donkey rides, horse rides, carriage rides, camel rides, stalls filled with the same stock of silver bracelets, fridge magnets, and scarves. We cannot walk a step without someone asking if we want a donkey/horse/camel ride or if we want to buy something, look at the shop, or "1 dinar for this or that." It is very very exhausting. At the beginning, I was more patient. By 5 pm that night, I just ignored them.