A major rewind shall be difficult at this point, but if I didn’t briefly mention my experience in the ancient sandstone city of Petra, I would certainly be opening up a great void in my travelogue universe.
After spending those five intensely “influential” days in Rum, it was difficult to fathom leaving for a similar desert environment that I knew would be swarming with tourists. During that last evening in Rum at Mohammed’s camp, as we sat around digesting, discussing, and drinking good Israeli vino, I expressed my reluctance about dealing with the hassles of yet another major tourist site. Eighth wonder of the world or puddle of mud, it really didn’t seem to matter, mainly because I was quite content where I was. But upon hearing these hesitations, without so much as a moment’s consideration of my dilemma, the Israelis, all of whom had visited Petra at least once, scoffed and said quite clearly that I should and must go. As fellow climbers, I was certain that their advice could not be the result of blasé impressions or contrived, guidebook type agendas. No, these were very discerning dudes who would not so strongly suggest a destination based simply on its reputation.
My biggest qualm with this sort of international travel tourism that I’ve been doing is that we’re all basically told to go the same places because (for obvious reasons) the places have some great historical or cultural distinction. In the end unfortunately, nobody is really making their own decisions. It’s the educated sheep mentality. This of course is the totally natural approach for us sheep-like humans when walking about in a new and mysterious country. Nobody disputes that all the major sites are indeed spectacular, for why else would they be designated as such, but for me the catch is not so much the destination itself but the surrounding the experience. My appreciation does not so much depend on the grandeur of the site but more so on the experience of being there, walking about, contemplating, and taking in. This is by necessity a slow and personalized process. The difficulty is that some places, for example the Pyramids at Giza, seem to have absolutely no room for a surrounding (slow) experience of any sort, at least not for a casual traveler who doesn’t know any better. Now that I think about it, my day at the Pyramids was perhaps one of the most dull experiences of the whole trip, and so when I was first considering going to Petra without really knowing how unique the place was, I was quite concerned it might be a similarly frustrating, and ultimately a waste of time. Hordes of tourists and convoys of coaches, constant haggling over camel rides and Pepsis, hot sun, zero shade, nothing but sand underfoot, and a few enormous crumbling edifices to gawk at; this was not my idea of fun and would be sure to avoid it in the future.
But low and behold! I could not have been any more mistaken in regards to these Egypt-based preconceptions of Petra. For one thing, Petra is by no means a tour bus accessible site. To even begin to enter the ancient city, one is required to walk, or at the very least be carried by donkey or camel, a full 3km through the main entrance canyon. And from there, there is at least another 20kms of promenades to the main edifices and ceremonial sites, to say nothing of the hundreds of minor pathways and trails that lead throughout the smaller ruins of the old city. All of this is to say that Petra is not a quick, off-the-bus-on-the-bus type destination. It is recommended to spend at least two days meandering through the landscape, slowly absorbing the remains of a culture that was developed over three thousand years in complete harmony with its surroundings.
The atmosphere today on the main promenades of the city is an extraordinary mixture of tourists and locals mingling in a totally relaxed yet active mode of being. Bedouin guides and shop keepers, beckoning but not insisting, tourists walking but not hurrying, local children playing more than working; this is the Petra that I experienced, a place where the old facades and archeological ruins blend and blur seamlessly with the modern adaptations for tourism and trade. In its own way, Petra has not died; though it may have been lost and unseen by anyone but a Bedouin for five hundred years, the city today is most certainly alive and evolving.
What is referred to as the ancient Petra is a massive layered conglomeration of three thousand years of Nabatean, Roman, and Crusader construction and cultural development. Carved out of the sandstone by successive waves of enterprising kingships, the amphitheaters, churches, tombs, and other such royal dwellings, though partially eroded in many places, still protrude distinctively from the canyon walls and tickle the imagination. Interspersed throughout the major buildings, are countless smaller homes and shelters, so tightly packed in some areas that it gives the feel of modern apartment complexes existing in a paradoxically urban, manmade, manipulated yet completely natural environment. Alas, it’s the ideal eco-village, complete with complex flood-control systems, water wheels, irrigation, agriculture and energy. Nowadays, generators have replaced the indigenous technologies, but nonetheless, the Bedouin are out there carving out a seemingly decent livelihood from a mix of crop production, goat herding, and tourism.
Over the two days I was lucky enough to spend discovering Petra, I walked about, scrambled and stemmed my way up and down, canyons, valleys, animal trails, and gentle desert ridgelines. The landscape was at points completely overwhelming, especially at sunset, when the fleeting orange hues would linger endlessly on the rolling bulges of white sandstone that lined the eastern canyons. At the end of both days, I chose fortuitously to exit Petra through these surreal white gateways to the setting sun, walking up and into what felt like a magical bath of angelic light, brushing away hunger and sadness with every upward breath. On both days it was exactly the same; just as I reached the pinnacle of these luminous white ridges and the blazing red orb had dipped below the horizon, I was completely swallowed up by an energizing tidal wave of love for the earth and complete awe for its (her?) beauty. This feeling more than anything else is why Petra is pure, and why the human beings there are still to this day able to blend with the nature, and why even with the whir of generators and the intrusion of modern restaurants and port-o-potties, the place has an undeniable resonance of power that must in some way affect every person who visits. Clear and simple, it is a sacred place available to all, no matter what path one chooses to trod. Me personally, I can’t wait to go back!
After spending those five intensely “influential” days in Rum, it was difficult to fathom leaving for a similar desert environment that I knew would be swarming with tourists. During that last evening in Rum at Mohammed’s camp, as we sat around digesting, discussing, and drinking good Israeli vino, I expressed my reluctance about dealing with the hassles of yet another major tourist site. Eighth wonder of the world or puddle of mud, it really didn’t seem to matter, mainly because I was quite content where I was. But upon hearing these hesitations, without so much as a moment’s consideration of my dilemma, the Israelis, all of whom had visited Petra at least once, scoffed and said quite clearly that I should and must go. As fellow climbers, I was certain that their advice could not be the result of blasé impressions or contrived, guidebook type agendas. No, these were very discerning dudes who would not so strongly suggest a destination based simply on its reputation.
My biggest qualm with this sort of international travel tourism that I’ve been doing is that we’re all basically told to go the same places because (for obvious reasons) the places have some great historical or cultural distinction. In the end unfortunately, nobody is really making their own decisions. It’s the educated sheep mentality. This of course is the totally natural approach for us sheep-like humans when walking about in a new and mysterious country. Nobody disputes that all the major sites are indeed spectacular, for why else would they be designated as such, but for me the catch is not so much the destination itself but the surrounding the experience. My appreciation does not so much depend on the grandeur of the site but more so on the experience of being there, walking about, contemplating, and taking in. This is by necessity a slow and personalized process. The difficulty is that some places, for example the Pyramids at Giza, seem to have absolutely no room for a surrounding (slow) experience of any sort, at least not for a casual traveler who doesn’t know any better. Now that I think about it, my day at the Pyramids was perhaps one of the most dull experiences of the whole trip, and so when I was first considering going to Petra without really knowing how unique the place was, I was quite concerned it might be a similarly frustrating, and ultimately a waste of time. Hordes of tourists and convoys of coaches, constant haggling over camel rides and Pepsis, hot sun, zero shade, nothing but sand underfoot, and a few enormous crumbling edifices to gawk at; this was not my idea of fun and would be sure to avoid it in the future.
But low and behold! I could not have been any more mistaken in regards to these Egypt-based preconceptions of Petra. For one thing, Petra is by no means a tour bus accessible site. To even begin to enter the ancient city, one is required to walk, or at the very least be carried by donkey or camel, a full 3km through the main entrance canyon. And from there, there is at least another 20kms of promenades to the main edifices and ceremonial sites, to say nothing of the hundreds of minor pathways and trails that lead throughout the smaller ruins of the old city. All of this is to say that Petra is not a quick, off-the-bus-on-the-bus type destination. It is recommended to spend at least two days meandering through the landscape, slowly absorbing the remains of a culture that was developed over three thousand years in complete harmony with its surroundings.
The atmosphere today on the main promenades of the city is an extraordinary mixture of tourists and locals mingling in a totally relaxed yet active mode of being. Bedouin guides and shop keepers, beckoning but not insisting, tourists walking but not hurrying, local children playing more than working; this is the Petra that I experienced, a place where the old facades and archeological ruins blend and blur seamlessly with the modern adaptations for tourism and trade. In its own way, Petra has not died; though it may have been lost and unseen by anyone but a Bedouin for five hundred years, the city today is most certainly alive and evolving.
What is referred to as the ancient Petra is a massive layered conglomeration of three thousand years of Nabatean, Roman, and Crusader construction and cultural development. Carved out of the sandstone by successive waves of enterprising kingships, the amphitheaters, churches, tombs, and other such royal dwellings, though partially eroded in many places, still protrude distinctively from the canyon walls and tickle the imagination. Interspersed throughout the major buildings, are countless smaller homes and shelters, so tightly packed in some areas that it gives the feel of modern apartment complexes existing in a paradoxically urban, manmade, manipulated yet completely natural environment. Alas, it’s the ideal eco-village, complete with complex flood-control systems, water wheels, irrigation, agriculture and energy. Nowadays, generators have replaced the indigenous technologies, but nonetheless, the Bedouin are out there carving out a seemingly decent livelihood from a mix of crop production, goat herding, and tourism.
Over the two days I was lucky enough to spend discovering Petra, I walked about, scrambled and stemmed my way up and down, canyons, valleys, animal trails, and gentle desert ridgelines. The landscape was at points completely overwhelming, especially at sunset, when the fleeting orange hues would linger endlessly on the rolling bulges of white sandstone that lined the eastern canyons. At the end of both days, I chose fortuitously to exit Petra through these surreal white gateways to the setting sun, walking up and into what felt like a magical bath of angelic light, brushing away hunger and sadness with every upward breath. On both days it was exactly the same; just as I reached the pinnacle of these luminous white ridges and the blazing red orb had dipped below the horizon, I was completely swallowed up by an energizing tidal wave of love for the earth and complete awe for its (her?) beauty. This feeling more than anything else is why Petra is pure, and why the human beings there are still to this day able to blend with the nature, and why even with the whir of generators and the intrusion of modern restaurants and port-o-potties, the place has an undeniable resonance of power that must in some way affect every person who visits. Clear and simple, it is a sacred place available to all, no matter what path one chooses to trod. Me personally, I can’t wait to go back!
2 comments:
Reading your descriptions of each place that you enjoyed visiting makes me want to pack my bags and head there. This is especially true of Petra. And the converse is true too, ie, the places you "panned" can be crossed off my list. I guess both these responses will eventually need some re-evaluation.
Thanks for writing this.
Post a Comment