Unlikely Adventure to Petra

MASADA SIEGEL

Zar, one of my best friends, stared at me, wondering if I had been hiding under a rock and not heard the news for weeks. He said, “Absolutely not, you are not going, and certainly not solo.” I cheekily responded, as Matt and Kathy stared at me over brunch at Rose Café in Venice, Calif.: “Yes, I know about the Arab Spring, but it is summer. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry, I’ll check to make sure there’s no revolution before my trip.”

Years earlier, my friend Justin had showed me pictures of a place so majestic, so magnificent, I knew I had to see it with my own eyes. It took me a few years to finally get back to the region and, when I finally arrived in Eilat, Israel, the night before my adventure, I became ill. Instead of seeing an ancient city hidden for centuries – Petra, Jordan – I visited the emergency room. This time, I was determined that nothing was going to interfere with my dream, not even a revolution.

When I was in Israel this summer, the travel gods taunted me yet again. I was at my favorite place on the planet, my namesake, Masada, Israel, and I was stuck with the most unpleasant group of tourists. (The two oldest members, who were in their 70s, were the mensches of the group.) Not only were most of them grumpy and unpleasant but a few were downright mean.

Sometimes miserable situations can actually lead to positive ones. At least that is what my mom has told me numerous times. Although, when in the midst of a situation where you would happily consider pushing nasty people off a mountain, it’s hard to imagine.

I kept to myself, took photos and tried to absorb the positive energy of the mountain while avoiding the negativity emanating from some members of the group. The desert light bounced off the blue Dead Sea. The mountain was stark but stunning.

On the overlook, where one could see Herod’s palaces, I noticed two women, who then offered to take my photo. I accepted and chatted briefly with Janet and Jen and snapped a few photos for them, too.

On the cable car platform down the mountain, we met up again. Jen lives in Israel, as her husband works for the U.S. State Department, and Janet was visiting her. Somehow, our conversation veered to another magical, historical place, the place of my dreams: Petra. I mentioned I was going later in the week and Janet said she was interested in joining me on the adventure. We exchanged cards, and promised to be in touch.

Janet and I met on the plane in Sde Dov, a small regional airport in Tel Aviv. She was the last one on the plane. Janet apparently told security, “I am traveling with Masada, who I met at Masada, and we are going to Petra.” Needless to say, they most likely thought she had lost her marbles and proceeded to thoroughly investigate her.

We arrived in Eilat and our tour company, Eco Tours, whisked us straight to the border. Janet grinned. She’s a relaxed traveler and had no idea what I had planned. She had called the tour company and said, “Book me on whatever Masada is doing.”

Israeli’s Eco Tours is known as one of the best. They customize tours in Israel, Jordan, Sinai and Egypt. In Jordan, they work with a counterpart that is as organized and informative.

After leaving passport control on the Israeli side, we started to walk to the Jordanian side. Janet exclaimed, “Do you see all barbed wire fences? There are minefields on both sides of the crossing. This is so odd, I feel like I am in a movie.”

Jordanian soldiers with automatic machine guns checked our passports and a man named Light (when translated into English) met us at the border and helped us with the formalities of entering Jordan.

Mohammad, our driver, was waiting in a black Mercedes. We drove past Aqaba, past a new hospital being built, an army training facility and then through countless kilometres of desolate desert until we arrived in Petra. On the way, our driver pointed out a mountain named Jabal Harun. It’s 1,350 metres high and at the top is a white-domed mosque. Built in the 14th century, it is believed that Moses’ brother, Aaron, is buried there.

Petra was hidden to the Western world until 1812, when Swiss explorer Johann Ludwig Burckhardt rediscovered the ancient city carved into the red rocks. The city was established around the sixth century as the capital of the Nabataeans, a tribe who turned the location into an important link on the historic spice trade route extending from India to Syria to eastern Africa.

It’s easy to see why Petra became a World Heritage Site in 1985. The magic of generations past seems to whisper to visitors as they walk through the entrance to the city, or the Siq. It’s a narrow gorge, more than one kilometre in length and surrounded on both sides by soaring, 80-metre cliffs. There is also a sophisticated water conduits system, which runs through the Siq, and ancient works of art on the tall, narrow passageways.

Walking through the passageways, I felt like an ancient explorer, mesmerized by the phenomenal colors and formations. The view at the end is where one sees the first glimpse of the breathtaking Al-Khazneh, otherwise known as the Treasury.

The Treasury, carved out of the reddish-pink rock, is a massive façade, 30 metres wide and 43 metres high. It was carved in the early first century and was used as the tomb of an important Nabataean king.

Petra is also so astonishing because the city was conquered and reconquered by many different groups, each of which left their mark in different ways. For instance, in 106 AD, the city was incorporated into the Roman Empire. The Roman influence is evident in many aspects, but especially from the broken Roman columns found on one of the boulevards called Colonnaded Street. There is also a mosaic at the Petra Church from the Byzantine era, which is made of stone and glass cubes, featuring Greco-Roman designs.

There was even a Jewish/Israel connection. At the entrance of Petra, there is the Obelisk Tomb, the name of which originates from the four obelisk-shaped steles (upright stones or slabs) crowning the monument. They are believed to represent the souls of the dead. Interestingly, the obelisks are called nefesh, which, in Hebrew, means soul, the breath of life of a person, their essence.

While the history of Petra is mysterious still today, papyri discovered in the caves of the Judean Desert reveal that Petra had a senate and archives, and that it was visited by the Jewish inhabitants of the province.

Janet and I wandered for hours, into caves, atop hills, into rooms, into tombs once brilliant with color. We braved the 800-step climb in the afternoon heat of 40 degrees Celsius to see the Deir, also know as the Monastery, another magnificent sculpture built into the rocks, at the top of a mountain. The views were endless, and the architecture unbelievable. It was easy to imagine the busy merchants and the hustle and bustle of a city teeming with people. While now a place primarily for tourists, its energy makes its history come alive.

As we left the city, amid the sun setting, glistening over the reddish pink buildings, we stopped and watched the colors change. Janet turned to me and said, “Wow, what an adventure. Meeting you was a gift.”

I grinned – OK, I beamed – “And thank you,” I laughed. “This unlikely adventure, with its totally random meeting, made this trip even better than I could have imagined. I loved it. Sometimes dreams really do come true in the most unusual of ways!”

Masada Siegel can be reached at [email protected].

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