For close to a year I have somehow avoided visiting Petra, widely known as "the only thing worth seeing in Jordan." It's not that I wasn't interested in the 4th century B.C.E. Nabataean capital, I just always had other places to go or things to do. I was also postponing the moment when I would be standing at the ticket counter, pointlessly begging the attendant to give me a discount rather than pay the 50JD ($70) entrance fee, a fee that would be only 1JD ($1.50) if my program granted us residency. I could not postpone the inevitable any longer. I was already being shamed by everyone from professors to cab drivers for not visiting Petra within my first month in Jordan.
I took the 6:30am Jett bus from downtown Amman to Petra, about a 4 hour trip. The bus dropped us off right at the site entrance, which is at the bottom of a hill where the modern town of Petra is located.
Like any Middle Eastern tourist attraction, visitors are bombarded with offers to hire a guide, buy a scarf, ride a camel, etc. These offers diminish, but never disappear completely, as you make your way through the ruins and up into the mountains. From the entrance point, it can take 30 to 45 minutes to reach the Treasury, the structure made famous by Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, and the one most commonly pictured to represent the whole of Petra. Along the way, you walk through the narrow siq, a small canyon lined with the ancient water conduit system. The siq acts like a bottleneck for all the tourists (and there are so, so many of them), the majority of whom are either obese or upwards of 65 years old, trudging along the desert path until they break down and hire a carriage to take them the rest of the way.
No one likes tourists. Tourists don't like tourists. But I found that in Petra, more than anywhere else, they were unbearable. I cringed every time I saw a horse-drawn carriage careening down the siq carrying a miserable-looking red-faced Westerner who earlier that day probably saw himself as Indiana Jones conquering the Orient. It was remarkable how every single one of them resembled Duane Hanson's ultra-realistic sculpture, Tourists II. Every few meters there was one on a camel, taking a selfie with a kuffiyah wrapped around their head, or posing with the locals to impress their friends back home, like the man below. After retrieving his camera from the girl's sister, he astutely asked her in over-enunciated English, "Are you a Muslim?"
The ruins at Petra are remarkably well-preserved and it is interesting to see what formations have been eroded (top left) and which ones have maintained their original carvings (top right). In fact, a large part of the damage done to the figure on the left was the result of the Bedouin firing bullets at it, trying to dislodge the treasure that is rumored to be hidden inside.
There were a couple of costumed guards in front of the Treasury, and I asked them if I could go in.
"No. People used to be able to go in, but they don't allow it anymore."
"Have you been inside?"
"Yeah. There's nothing there."
"If there's nothing there then why can't we go in?"
He laughed and shrugged. I told him I heard about the treasure that is hidden inside.
"Yes it's there, but it's higher up," pointing to the carvings above the entrance.
Here is a picture of the Treasury with a guard in front, to get an idea just how huge it is:
I continued towards the many other ruins. It was impressive to see all of the carvings and fully-formed buildings which comprised the city. Everywhere I looked there were camouflaged reliefs and sculptures. The two pictures above each have at least one.
At this point, I thought I had seen everything there was to see in Petra, but I noticed that a lot of people offering to be my guide/let me ride their donkey, kept mentioning the Monastery (Ad-deir). I looked on the map and saw that it was the furthest point from the Treasury. I learned that it was the second most famous thing in the whole city, so I made the trek up there. The Monastery is on the mountain overlooking the rest of the city and due to the considerable hike that it takes to get up there most of the tourists do not make it, meaning that the site is mostly deserted except for the few Bedouin trying to sell you overpriced water and snacks.
A Bedouin family is stationed at the summit, ready to sell tea and souvenirs to visitors. They also own a couple donkeys and an adorable puppy.
I headed back so I could get to the city before dark, only stopping to look more at the tombs and get one last picture of the Treasury.
I stayed at a nice, cheap hotel in the city. I was not looking forward to leaving at 6am to catch the bus to Aqaba, but I managed to get out of bed in the morning, grab my bag, and head downstairs with just enough time to make it to the bus station. I took out my credit card to pay at the front desk, but the man working the night shift told me they don't except cards. I handed him a 50.
"Don't you have any change?"
"Nope, that's it." (The room was 20).
"Well, we don't have any change for this."
"How can you run a hotel that refuses cards but also can't change a 50?"
"Don't get mad about it," he said, "we'll just go find someone to change it."
At 6am on a Friday morning (the Islamic equivalent of Sunday, when absolutely nothing is open) that was very unlikely. We got in his car and drove around the seven or so blocks that make up the whole of the city of Petra. It was completely dead. I told him I was worried about missing the only bus to Aqaba that day and I needed to go to the station.
"Don't worry. The buses are always running late."
Eventually we went to the station and the bus was there. We asked the driver and the few passengers to change our fifty, but no one could. After a long discussion the driver agreed to hold on to the fifty. Once more passengers came he would use the bills that they paid with to break the fifty, subtracting from it the price of the bus ticket and the price of the hotel and then giving me the change that was owed to me (25JD). The hotel attendant could not wait around at the bus station for this to happen, since he was never supposed to leave the hotel in the first place. He gave the bus driver the hotel's phone number, telling him to call the next time he's in town, so that he can get the 20JD from him. So I am completely relying on a random bus driver to pay for my hotel room at some point in the future. If he does not, I am worried the credit card I used to book the room online will be charged as if I skipped out on the bill, thus I would be paying twice. This is just one example of the crises that ensue when you do not have exact change in Jordan. Any time I try to pay for anything with a 10, 20, or 50, the cashier will look at me pleadingly and ask, "Don't you have any change?!" It really makes me think that the Jordan Currency Board should just mint fives and ones. This is also an example of bizarre situations that do not seem to exist in the U.S. In any case, I got my change from the driver and I made it to the Red Sea coast at Aqaba.
I took the 6:30am Jett bus from downtown Amman to Petra, about a 4 hour trip. The bus dropped us off right at the site entrance, which is at the bottom of a hill where the modern town of Petra is located.
No one likes tourists. Tourists don't like tourists. But I found that in Petra, more than anywhere else, they were unbearable. I cringed every time I saw a horse-drawn carriage careening down the siq carrying a miserable-looking red-faced Westerner who earlier that day probably saw himself as Indiana Jones conquering the Orient. It was remarkable how every single one of them resembled Duane Hanson's ultra-realistic sculpture, Tourists II. Every few meters there was one on a camel, taking a selfie with a kuffiyah wrapped around their head, or posing with the locals to impress their friends back home, like the man below. After retrieving his camera from the girl's sister, he astutely asked her in over-enunciated English, "Are you a Muslim?"
The girls approached me after the man left, asking me to buy some postcards from them. I spoke to them a little in Arabic, but there was really no need because their English was outstanding, American accent and everything. The older girl, maybe 10, asked me what my binoculars were for.
"Watching birds."
"There aren't any birds here!" She then asked to see the binoculars, so I reluctantly handed them to her and she looked through them.
"They're nice. You should give them to me." She said matter-of-factly.
"Uh, no." I took them back from her.
"Well, you think about it and come back later." (That is, think about giving her my binoculars for free).
"I like you," she said, "take this as a gift from me." She shoved a pack of postcards into my hand. She then said I should buy a second pack from her. I handed her a couple dinars, and told her I didn't want any postcards, but it was too late, I was already in the midst of her trying to get everything out of me that she could. She pulled out a change purse full of dollars, euros, and Israeli shekels. She wanted me to change them for her, claiming that she cannot leave the area to go change them for herself. I apologized and left after paying for my gift. All the young girls that I met that day were truly impressive, not just because of their fluency in English (and probably a number of other languages as well), but because of their assertiveness and charisma. They use, what I consider to be, pretty sophisticated marketing tactics in getting what they want from people. All of this made me think there should be some scholarship for these girls when they get older, since they are already so much more driven and self-confident than many business majors.
Anyone who has read my very first post on this blog will be familiar with the Bedouin scammers who prey on naïve tourists, manipulating them to get money and sex. It is actually a pretty interesting phenomenon, but anyone who is so inclined can research it themselves. The trademark of these scammers is that they resemble Johnny Depp's character Captain Jack Sparrow (apparently an irresistible sex symbol), so I asked to photograph the first one that approached me.
I continued down the siq, anticipating the Treasury (Al-Khazneh) at every turn. Finally, I got my first glimpse.Anyone who has read my very first post on this blog will be familiar with the Bedouin scammers who prey on naïve tourists, manipulating them to get money and sex. It is actually a pretty interesting phenomenon, but anyone who is so inclined can research it themselves. The trademark of these scammers is that they resemble Johnny Depp's character Captain Jack Sparrow (apparently an irresistible sex symbol), so I asked to photograph the first one that approached me.
The sites at Petra were unknown to the West until 1812, when the Swiss orientalist Johann Ludwig Burckhardt rediscovered them after nearly a millennium. I cannot imagine what it would have felt like to come across this ancient kingdom after wandering for miles through the desert.
The ruins at Petra are remarkably well-preserved and it is interesting to see what formations have been eroded (top left) and which ones have maintained their original carvings (top right). In fact, a large part of the damage done to the figure on the left was the result of the Bedouin firing bullets at it, trying to dislodge the treasure that is rumored to be hidden inside. "No. People used to be able to go in, but they don't allow it anymore."
"Have you been inside?"
"Yeah. There's nothing there."
"If there's nothing there then why can't we go in?"
He laughed and shrugged. I told him I heard about the treasure that is hidden inside.
"Yes it's there, but it's higher up," pointing to the carvings above the entrance.
Here is a picture of the Treasury with a guard in front, to get an idea just how huge it is:
There were so many outcroppings and caves to explore. I retreated into one to eat my lunch and I was joined by a Scarab beetle. I was also approached by a lot of Jordanian teenagers asking to take a selfie with me, something that never happens in Amman.
Past the Treasury is the amphitheater, which some goat herders now use to bring their goats to the hills to graze. Beyond that are the tombs, the large one on top of a hill lined with stalls and vendors.
At this point, I thought I had seen everything there was to see in Petra, but I noticed that a lot of people offering to be my guide/let me ride their donkey, kept mentioning the Monastery (Ad-deir). I looked on the map and saw that it was the furthest point from the Treasury. I learned that it was the second most famous thing in the whole city, so I made the trek up there. The Monastery is on the mountain overlooking the rest of the city and due to the considerable hike that it takes to get up there most of the tourists do not make it, meaning that the site is mostly deserted except for the few Bedouin trying to sell you overpriced water and snacks.
The Monastery looks similar to the Treasury, but it is actually bigger (see the tourist in front for comparison). There were amazing views from around the site and I continued up the path to the peak of the mountain, where you can see into Israel.
I headed back so I could get to the city before dark, only stopping to look more at the tombs and get one last picture of the Treasury.
"Don't you have any change?"
"Nope, that's it." (The room was 20).
"Well, we don't have any change for this."
"How can you run a hotel that refuses cards but also can't change a 50?"
"Don't get mad about it," he said, "we'll just go find someone to change it."
At 6am on a Friday morning (the Islamic equivalent of Sunday, when absolutely nothing is open) that was very unlikely. We got in his car and drove around the seven or so blocks that make up the whole of the city of Petra. It was completely dead. I told him I was worried about missing the only bus to Aqaba that day and I needed to go to the station.
"Don't worry. The buses are always running late."
Eventually we went to the station and the bus was there. We asked the driver and the few passengers to change our fifty, but no one could. After a long discussion the driver agreed to hold on to the fifty. Once more passengers came he would use the bills that they paid with to break the fifty, subtracting from it the price of the bus ticket and the price of the hotel and then giving me the change that was owed to me (25JD). The hotel attendant could not wait around at the bus station for this to happen, since he was never supposed to leave the hotel in the first place. He gave the bus driver the hotel's phone number, telling him to call the next time he's in town, so that he can get the 20JD from him. So I am completely relying on a random bus driver to pay for my hotel room at some point in the future. If he does not, I am worried the credit card I used to book the room online will be charged as if I skipped out on the bill, thus I would be paying twice. This is just one example of the crises that ensue when you do not have exact change in Jordan. Any time I try to pay for anything with a 10, 20, or 50, the cashier will look at me pleadingly and ask, "Don't you have any change?!" It really makes me think that the Jordan Currency Board should just mint fives and ones. This is also an example of bizarre situations that do not seem to exist in the U.S. In any case, I got my change from the driver and I made it to the Red Sea coast at Aqaba.
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