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| St. George's Greek Orthodox Church, and Fakhrey |
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| Mosaic map of Jerusalem, 6th c. |
The desert road is boring but fast - only three hours instead of five. We stop halfway at the MidWay Castle, mostly as a break for Fakhrey and a rest stop for both of us. Inside is a souk of gigantic proportions - I’m presuming they never take inventory - plus a restaurant. The toilet stalls come equipped with showerheads which must be a blessing on hot, dusty summer days There are no towels but a man outside the doors offers me three kleenex so I can wipe my hands... and give him a tip. This place provides employment for dozens. Unfortunately for those dozens, we were almost the only visitors there, either because of the hour or more probably because of the regional unrest among Jordan’s neighbors. As the woman at the Jordan Tourist Board in Paris put it: “Some of our neighbors are rather raucous.” ISIL (or Daesh as it’s called here) has created problems for the entire region.*On the road again we pass Bedouins with tents, Bedouins with sheep, Bedouins with camels. I see several UNHCR-emblazoned tents along the way, perhaps provided to Syrian or Iraqi refugees who opted to distance themselves from the border (see above). And of course there are many, many semis on their way to the port of Aqaba, either to pick up or deliver goods for import/export. Plus numerous police cars parked, just waiting for speeders on this long, straight stretch of asphalt.
Finally we pull off the desert highway and onto a road that winds back and forth, up and down. The landscape grows greener and the air cooler. We’re in the hills now and suddenly we enter a town named... Showbak! Fakrey is amused when I tell him that’s my name (at least phonetically and with his accent. “These are my people!” I tell him, spreading my arms in an all- embracing gesture... and we both laugh. Showbak turns out to be a lot tidier than Madaba.
A few minutes down the road, Fakhrey points... and there’s Petra. He drops me at the Petra Moon Hotel and says good-bye for 44 hours. He’ll be back for the return trip. He’s adopted me. Maybe because of Showbak.
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| Petra in the distance |
I drop my things in the room and don’t even bother to eat. Petra, the archeological wonder I’ve read about ever since I was a child, Petra, a place I’ve dreamed about visiting for decades, Petra is right there - across the street. I take the cookie and water Fakhrey brought for me for the road trip... and I’m off.
Once I’ve bought my ticket, a man walks me over to the guides. “What language you want?” he asks. “English or French,” I answer. And what an excellent answer that was. For an English-speaking guide, I’d have to wait a bit, but this man’s brother Abdullah lived in France. (Turns out later Abdullah admits he only spent two weeks there and picked up his excellent French right here at home.) Abdullah it is then. His Bedouin family is from Petra, lived in the cave houses until 1980. He tells me stories his grandfather told him about the days of Ottoman rule, how they had to pay tribute in money or in goods or services, the hardship that was. He also tells me about the history and architecture of all the buildings, and it’s exactly what’s in the books; nothing made up, just to please. Abdullah really knows his stuff.
*Note: This was written in mid-November, well before the Jordanian pilot was shot down and executed, and before the Jordanian Air Force flew reprisal raids. Things can only have gotten worse since then.
(Take a look at this dizzy-inducing video to get a feeling for the MidWay Palace, although there was no music playing when we were there, almost no lights on, practically no one except us... and I didn’t see the bobble-head camel, which I regret! I do remember being told, “Buy two, get one free”, but I didn’t.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o--BOiTzak0)
Love it!
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