We could have gone the easy way. We could have gone in the regular entrance, with the normal people, and made it to the monsastary at Petra in about 90 minutes, without getting lost or causing any military involvement.
For those of you who are unaware (which included myself until about 4 months ago, thanks Leslie), Petra is an ancient city in Jordan that was carved out of sandstone mountains. Right up there with the pyramids and Macchu Picchu, it has been voted one of the new seven wonders of the world. The most famous site at Petra is the Treasury (above).
On the subject of being unaware, most visitors to Petra stroll in through the main gate and walk along well defined paths, blissfully unaware that there are other ways into the park. I myself was content to head in with the masses. My feet had already taken enough punishment hiking three days in Capadocia and already one day at Petra. So I would preferred to head in with the ignorant, but comfortable, masses, who only had to tolerate locals trying to sell them rides on horses. This would have been easily accomplished, seeing as our hostel provided us with a free ride to the main entrance, where we could have simply walked right in with everyone else.
Unfortunately, the ‘decision making committee’ of our group (of which I was not a part) decided that it would be more adventurous to enter through a secret tunnel that led to a narrow winding canyon with climbs over big boulders (what could go wrong with THAT route?). I’ll admit it sounds pretty exciting. If you can find it. Unfortunately, all we had to go by was someone’s memory of the map in someone else’s Lonely Planet guide.
So there we were at the main entrance, not knowing exactly where to start. Apparently, while I was in the bathroom, there were negotions to have a taxi take us to the exact starting point. However, the decision making committe decided that paying 1 Dinar (about $1.50–total price, not ‘per person’) was too much, so we headed up the hill, away from the entrance, along the highway leading out of the main town, to our starting point, which was near some village about 3 miles away.
Now, I’m all for adventure and fun, but walking along a highway for three miles just to get to the starting point doesn’t qualify as either of those. To me, at least. If I were there during the taxi discussions, I would have immediately formed a ‘rebellion committee’. And if it turned out to be a committee of 1, would have gladly forked over my buck fifty and ditched them all. But nature had called, and I was out of the loop (I wonder how many important decisions are made when the opposition is indisposed in this way).
There were five of us–myself, an Aussie couple of about 33, a Taiwanese guy of about 26, and a Japanese guy of 83 (you read that right). What he lacked in speed (and teeth), he made up for in perseverance. He would plod along steadily, and we would occasionally have to stop and let him catch up, and we didn’t mind.
So we walked uphill with the trucks zooming by us. I found a horshoe, which is supposedly lucky, but it stood to reason if the horse couldn’t make it along this trek without losing a shoe, other bad things could happen. My suspicions were confirmed by the dead camel we later passed. I mean, really, if a camel couldn’t make it, what chance did we have?
After about an hour of walking, the little village didn’t appear to be any closer. But we could see, in the far distance, the main area of the park to our left. You know, the parts where the normal people go. So, rather than press on to the mysterious town that kept moving away from us, we figured we could cut across the desert. All along the road, there were signs warning that people must use only the official park entrances, and illegal entry was prohibited. One member of the group noted that our two-day tickets were still valid from the day before, so we weren’t entering illegally. As senior legal counsel for the group, I could not disagree, so we headed across the desert.
After about twenty minutes, we came across a Bedouin village. Our greeting was heralded by the arrival of a pickup truck, and soon after that, a few guys on camels. Kids came running out from all directions, and other kids who were too far away shouted at us. The village included a herd of goats, a few dogs milling about, and 5 or so ‘houses’ made out of cinder blocks. Only the people don’t live in the houses, the camels do, so they are only 5′ high and have no roofs. The people lived in tents, or tent-like shacks with corrogated metal roofs.
Our delegates met with their welcoming committee, who was quite friendly, and provided us with decent directions as well as some conversation.
After another twenty minutes of walking, we met our next guide, who rode with us for about a half an hour, until we at the beginning of the trail to the monastary, which had such conveniences as signs and a paved path. The Japanese guy went on his own, claiming that he had seen the monastary the day before. Or so he said. Perhaps those were curses that he was muttering at us in Japanese as he walked away.
Well, the remaining 4 of us made it to the monastary, which was beautiful,
and we sat in the shade and admired it for about an hour, until a ranger, a tourist policeman and a uniformed (and armed) military guy asked to see our tickets. This didn’t happen at all the day before, but no matter, we showed them our tickets and they were on our way. And so were we, to another spectacular view, which we admired until another army guy asked to see our tickets.
On our way back from the view, this kid of about 7 came up to us (there are a lot of local kids there, selling postcards and trinkets). He told us that the police were looking for a group of five people who snuck into the park across the desert through a bedouin village (the bedouins reported it to the the police). Five people, and one of them had a bright yellow bag. Well, the Taiwanese guy DID have a bright yellow bag. But at that moment, it was just me, the two Aussies and the Taiwanese guy, making only FOUR of us. So in our minds, it must have been some other group they were looking for.
At this point you have probably figured out what was going on. But we weren’t so quick (I’d like to think we were tired from walking in the hot sun all day). We kept laughing about how coincidental it was that another group, also with a glowing yellow bag (but with one less member), took the same route as us. Yeah, some coincidence. Well, after seeing about a dozen other people get asked about their tickets, it finally occurred to us the Japanese guy who abandoned us was the fifth member, and everyone was looking for us.
Now, we could have done two things–tell the officials it was us, or not tell them. Since we had valid tickets, we had a right to be there, and it would not have been fair to let the authorities chase their tails all day. But you never know how a band of people in heavy uniforms who have spent their day walking around in a hot, sunny, dusty place, are going to react when they learn it was all for nothing.
So, as senior legal counsel, I would have strongly advised in favor of keeping our mouths shut. However, to use a legal term, there was a “goodie goodie” in the group, who (without prior authorization) told the ranger what was going on. As she was explaining, I began inconspicuously inching away, hoping to escape conviction for some lesser offense. I’m glad to say that the ranger responded favorably, appreciating our candor, apologizing for all of the ticket checks, and even inviting us to sit down for some tea (which is the official way guests are greeted). Once I realized we weren’t going to get into trouble, I took normal-sized steps back to the group.
At this point, it was almost time to go home. Instead of learning any lessons whatsoever from the events of the day, we decided to exit through that same canyon that we were looking for in the morning. This time, I expressed my opposition, but I was outvoted, and begrudgingly went along.
Another ordeal ensued, which I will merely summarize. We at least found the entrance to the canyon and the cool boulders to scramble over.
We even met someone who had made the hike several times before. He had a detaliled map of the area to be used for canyoneering. Despite these facts, we still got lost, so we never did find the cool tunnel or the proper way out. We searched until dark, when we had no choice but to climb out of the canyon, and walk across the desert to the main entrance, where we picked up taxis. They cost $6 to take us home, but everyone gladly paid.
wheresmike 