Walking through the sands of time...

I stood in the middle of the vast ground as the chariots whizzed past in great speed spewing dust. The gladiators stood tall and strong in their bare chests, and in canvas loincloth and sandals, ready for assault. The swords and the daggers gleamed in the sunlight. As the weapons clashed and brutality ensued, I was glad I lived in this epoch of civilization. The scene was the Roman chariot race at the hippodrome in Jerash. The warriors in traditional garb entertained with mock fights. The chariot race was interesting and seemed straight out of the movie Ben Hur, although nowhere as spectacular. 



Rewind to the beginning of the day. My driver received me at the airport and our first stop   was at the currency exchange. I got 212 Jordanian dinars in return for 100 dollars, and was told it was a good deal. Jordanian Dinars - JD for short. It sounded more like the name of a pipe-smoking heavy gold chain-clad villain from a Tamil movie! The car headed towards Jerash, the ruins of the Greco Roman city of Gerasa. A sleepless night at the airport coupled with the harsh sun did not make it easy. I was in a zombie state, and literally had to drag myself around. Jerash was beautiful no doubt, but it was so Greco-Roman that I had seen in parts of Egypt and Turkey not too long back. So it was bit of an overkill. I still walked the length and breadth of Jerash, and the guide had a story to tell of every pillar and every block of stone. He narrated vivid stories about the Colonnaded street, the hippodrome, oval plaza, macellum, tetrapylon, nymphaeum, Temples of Artemis and Zeus and many other significant landmarks, the names that I had difficulty even registering.

Sapped of energy by the end of the chariot race, I was relieved to sit in the cool interiors of a hotel for a good spread of vegetarian mezze. Soon after, we drove to Ajlun. I spent the afternoon taking a relaxed walk in and around the famed 12^th century Ajlun castle that was built to defend against the crusaders. By the time I was done, the sun was emitting a warm glow. Until sunset, I sat on the parapet sipping on sweet Jordanian tea enjoying the panoramic view of the Jordan valley. Heading back to the hotel, my driver asked my plans for dinner. Having had enough of the mutabels, falafels and hummus for the day, my choice was going to be either curd rice or the newly discovered K challenge! So off I went shopping at a super market where fat glowing aubergines caught my eye instantly. For a moment, I wished I was not a tourist but a resident, so I could cook up a nice meal with fried aubergines. 

The next day I drove to the city of mosaics, Madaba. It was a charming little town, with a couple of cafes and trinket shops dotting the streets. I visited the Greek Orthodox Church to spend some quiet time. The church had a huge floor map made of mosaic of the Holy Land. The local museum too housed interesting pieces of mosaic art. Mababa was covered in less than 3 hours and before bidding goodbye I had bargained for myself an intricate piece of mosaic art.  Mt. Nebo, one of the holy places in Jordan, was next on the route. Moses is believed to have died and buried here. My next destination was the famed Dead Sea. The sky was turning gloomy, that meant no tan! But then it also meant that green waters of the Dead Sea would not be seen. Just like everyone else, I was fascinated by the Dead Sea. I took a step cautiously into the water, it felt heavy and slimy. Aqua phobia made a comeback, despite the knowledge that one cannot drown in the Dead sea, atleast not close to the shore!  My immediate reaction was to get out of the water. But how could I, having come all the way here, deprive myself of the experience of floating in the dead sea? It would be such a shame. I kept telling myself I will do it. And eventually I did. What an amazing feeling it was! I could actually float without going under. After getting pictures taken to prove the fact, I was relieved to get out of the water. It is believed that the Dead Sea minerals have therapeutic properties. So I smeared black slick mud all over my body and face, and sat there while it dried to a cake. But I was not the only one. Tourists were comparing themselves to others, there appeared to be competition over who was blackish as opposed to being grayish or brownish, it depended on where you picked your mud. It was a skillful task really. While all along, I was cracking up with laughter. Everyone looked like a 'rakshasi', particularly the kind I am familiar with from Hindu mythological stories. We were only missing the accessories! One of my pictures in that avatar may well cast away the evil eye! After picking up some pricey mask products of Dead Sea minerals (which were otherwise available for free at the Dead sea!), we drove to Petra on the King’s highway for the night halt at the Movenpick Nabatean castle. 

I started excitedly the next morning to Petra city, one of the new Seven Wonders of the World. It was for a very good reason, as I discovered during the day. The rose red city was carved of stone over 2000 years back and was the capital of the Nabateans. With a lively Bedouin guide for company, the ‘famous’ walk began. The best and picturesque part of the walk was through the long narrow gorge (the Siq) leading up to El Khazneh (the Treasury). The chasm’s high rising steep sides provided the shade from the sun’s rays. Numerous horse-driven chariots rattled away in its cobbled alley; the sound of it was the perfect acoustic combination ever heard. As I got closer to the end of the Siq, it opened up dramatically to the sight of the treasury. I gawked long and hard at the colossal pink facade. standing there for  a good 15 minutes. Yet, this was just the  beginning. 

Continuing the journey with the sun beating down mercilessly, I passed from one landmark to another, climbing over rocks and getting my clothes muddy. I got to a pony stand, and was told there was still a lot of walking and climbing to be done to get to the monastery. The tour had begun at 8 am and it was already 1 pm, so I decided to hire a mule. However, that meant tough business and there was no way to get a mule without negotiating a reasonable bakshish upfront, apart from the charges. With the deal concluded, the mule was mine for an hour. But the creature was a bit bizarre, not walking in a straight line and bumping into tourists all the time. As it climbed the steps, it was hell bent on walking along the edges threatening to throw me off. It was either adventurous or plain suicidal, or perhaps had a vision problem. I was relieved to get off halfway to cover the remaining distance by foot. The guide said it was a few minutes’ walk, but those few minutes never seemed to end. After what seemed longer than 15 minutes, the monastery was finally in sight. After refreshing at a pretty little café that also doubled up as a souvenir store, I walked further to the end of the world - that's what the signboard indicated. With good pictures and 850 steps back, the tour was over. It was quite a feat walking 7 hours at a stretch in the sweltering heat with little breaks and no food. 

Just as I thought the day was over, numerous sign boards advertised ‘Petra by night’. It sounded mystical and the insatiable tourist in me hurriedly got tickets. My feet were screaming for a massage after the grueling walk and as time neared for the show, my conviction got weaker. A hot water massage did the trick, and there I was again in the same place but in a different environment altogether. Three hundred plus tourists had gathered for the show. As we entered the site, the chill wind permeated the skin. A few minutes later, my cheeks and nose went numb. Undeterred, I walked from the entrance, through the siq to the treasury. It was a clear night and a billion stars shined brightly in the sky. The entire path was lit up on both sides with warm yellow light. At some places, the light bounced off the smooth cobbled stones. For such a large group, it was surprisingly quiet except for the sound of gravel crunching beneath the shoes. We walked leisurely, enjoying the beauty of the place and the stillness of the night. At the signature location of Petra, we sat down on neatly laid out mats. Amusingly, it reminded me of the ‘pandhi sapadu’ in traditional South Indian weddings. Hot sweet tea was served. It was much needed to warm up. There were lights all over giving a wonderful glow to the place. And then the show began. A Bedouin began stringing on the Trababa, accompanied with his singing. It was the turn of the flautist next to mesmerize the crowd. After a short skit, they left us to take pictures and have conversations with the Nabatean spirits! I proceeded back to the entrance clicking away to glory cursing myself for not carrying a tripod along! It was close to 11 pm when I got to the hotel and I was still feeling cold. I treated myself to a hot chocolate at the Al Hakimah bar before retiring for the night. 

The next day, breakfast was leisurely and long drawn. I roamed the corridors of the hotel enjoying its interiors before driving to Wadi Rum. At Wadi Rum, the ruggedness of a jeep replaced the comfort of an Altima for a 3-hour tour of the spectacular desert landscape. The sandstone mountains, the desert sand in shades of red, the dunes, and the canyons had me craving for more. It was adventurous to traverse a few canyons, and walk over rock bridges. However,  nothing beat the experience of sitting patiently on a high rock overlooking the desert while watching the sun go down for the day. I wished I could have sat there longer through the night.  I had not planned to camp overnight so grudgingly had to leave. As we drove, darkness gradually enveloped the Martian landscape. The faint lines of a railway track disappeared into the darkness somewhere in the distance. We hit the road and changed vehicles one more time, and began the drive back to Amman. This time we took the Desert Highway. I closed my eyes recollecting scenes from earlier in the day, while I listened to the music track from 'What's your Raashee?'. I dozed off half way through the journey. Obviously my battery died sooner than the laptop's battery. The 3-hour drive passed quickly. I cannot remember much of reaching Amman except crawling out of the car and crawling into bed for a good night’s sleep.

I woke up to a bright day, feeling fresh and energetic. There was still the city tour to be done. I checked out of the hotel and first visited the citadel and the Umayyad palace. It was a hot day and I was already in no mood for any further sightseeing. I was half-baked in Jordan, and was headed to hotter Chennai.  Nevertheless, after spending an hour, we drove around aimlessly to get a flavor of the city. My driver’s patience was a blessing, and in the city he turned a guide. We started in downtown (ironically called the poor city), going towards 1st, 2nd, 3rd and all the way up to the 7th circle. We passed the Abdoun bridge, the Abdoun circle and hung around a bit in Abdoun area. The opulence of the area was striking. The houses - I would call them mansions - were exclusive and extravagant. With that, I was done. With no time to stop for lunch, I picked up a quick snack and proceeded to Queen Alia airport. As I queued up at the check in counter, my skin could still sense the heat from the scorching sun and the chillness from the desert. I could hear horses and chariots in my mind, and taste the dust on my tongue. In less than a week, I journeyed 2000 years back into the land of the Nabateans. And what a wonderful journey it was.