Actually it was half a day in Petra and the rest of the day journeying to Amman, or thereabouts. In the morning we had breakfast in the hotel as usual and then headed back to Petra to use the second day on the tickets we had bought. We got into a horse drawn buggy at 10am almost immediately after getting a price (30JD) from the guy sitting in the terminus. This price would cover both the inward and outward journeys and we established a time at the outset when we would be back at the Treasury to get in the buggy for the return leg.
We jolted down the trail as the driver urged other tourists to get out of the way with cries of “Open way!” With clicks made with his tongue he urged the horse, which was a male (I feared asking for its name, but it was very well-behaved considering the circumstances), to move ahead. The horse slowed down at the right times and sped up at other times. It evidently knew the route well. We arrived at the end of the ride at 10.15am.
We took photos at the Treasury then headed further into the complex and snapped away happily for the next 90 minutes. In the end we just made it back right on time. The driver when we got to the buggy was away at the kiosk and a colleague of his was manning the contraption in his stead. We had been hailed by our friend Raida while we were walking along the path but we told her that we didn’t have time to talk with her even though she wanted to introduce us to her sister. The ride back up the hill took about the same amount of time as the ride in and at the end the driver asked for a tip (“I work for tips”) and I gave him 5JD; I was so happy to get back to the hotel in time to get the taxi I had booked to come at 1pm. Then the terminus manager asked for a tip as well and I gave him the same amount. In all the ride cost more than half what it cost us to get from Petra back to Amman, which lies 250km away.
I had paid the hotel bill using a credit card earlier and the taxi was already at the kerb when we got back to the building. My travelling companion went up to her room to pack her stuff and I waited in the lobby. Our bags were in the taxi by 12.50pm and then we were off. Our driver was named Maruan and he is Palestinian. His car is a 3-year-old Hyundai Sonata hybrid. Maruan has two sons and three daughters and was born in Jordan.
As we were driving along I remarked on the dust columns the wind would pick up from time to time. They are called “hausefe” in Arabic, Maruan told me. He also told me about a road accident that had happened the day before on the same road we had used to get to Aqaba, in which a camel had been hit by a car. The camel had ended up inside the car and had been killed. The driver had been taken to hospital. Maruan added, for colour, that camels are worth 2500JD. He then asked me about “football” and I had to clarify as we play four different types of game with that name in Australia. He meant, of course, soccer, and he told me about the win Jordan had just enjoyed (2-0) over Australia at a game held in Saudi Arabia. By 1.35pm we were on the highway heading north among the trucks bringing shipping containers from Aqaba. Maruan pointed out several that had Egyptian number plates.
By 2.40pm Amman was still 75km away and at 3.05pm we passed a truck that had come off the road and was lying on its side on the rough shoulder, its underside facing the highway. There were several cars assembled around the wreck, including a regular black-and-white police car. Maruan took us off the highway at 3.15pm and 15 minutes later we passed Amman’s Royal Tank Museum.
Before heading to the hotel in the “wastel belet” (city centre), Maruan stopped by his sister’s house to pick up some cash (100JD) that his sister’s son had promised him on account of Ramadan. This nephew is rich, Maruan told us, and it is customary with Muslims at this time of year for members of the family who have money to give away cash to family members who are not as well off as they are. The same man, Maruan went on, killed four or five sheep each year at the same time of year and distributed the meat among family. Maruan's sister also gave him on this day a bag of the savoury yoghurt sauce that Jordanians put on their cooked lamb to make mansaf. He told us that all his children had gone to university and that the youngest was just finishing.
Maruan told us a bit of the history of Jordan and Palestine which further research showed was a bit dodgy. But it struck me how many Palestinians there are living and working in Amman. Our driver to Petra had been a Palestinian. The guy at the front desk of our hotel on Hashemi Street, who wears glasses and has short hair, also turned out to be Palestinian.
After eating a meal (combined lunch and dinner) of mansaf lamb, kufteh with tomato sauce, and a Greek salad (33.6JD), which included two beers for me, we went for a last stroll along the main drag and stopped in at some shops, including a sweet shop that sells dried fruit (7JD for a kilo), nougat, and other confections.
We jolted down the trail as the driver urged other tourists to get out of the way with cries of “Open way!” With clicks made with his tongue he urged the horse, which was a male (I feared asking for its name, but it was very well-behaved considering the circumstances), to move ahead. The horse slowed down at the right times and sped up at other times. It evidently knew the route well. We arrived at the end of the ride at 10.15am.
We took photos at the Treasury then headed further into the complex and snapped away happily for the next 90 minutes. In the end we just made it back right on time. The driver when we got to the buggy was away at the kiosk and a colleague of his was manning the contraption in his stead. We had been hailed by our friend Raida while we were walking along the path but we told her that we didn’t have time to talk with her even though she wanted to introduce us to her sister. The ride back up the hill took about the same amount of time as the ride in and at the end the driver asked for a tip (“I work for tips”) and I gave him 5JD; I was so happy to get back to the hotel in time to get the taxi I had booked to come at 1pm. Then the terminus manager asked for a tip as well and I gave him the same amount. In all the ride cost more than half what it cost us to get from Petra back to Amman, which lies 250km away.
I had paid the hotel bill using a credit card earlier and the taxi was already at the kerb when we got back to the building. My travelling companion went up to her room to pack her stuff and I waited in the lobby. Our bags were in the taxi by 12.50pm and then we were off. Our driver was named Maruan and he is Palestinian. His car is a 3-year-old Hyundai Sonata hybrid. Maruan has two sons and three daughters and was born in Jordan.
As we were driving along I remarked on the dust columns the wind would pick up from time to time. They are called “hausefe” in Arabic, Maruan told me. He also told me about a road accident that had happened the day before on the same road we had used to get to Aqaba, in which a camel had been hit by a car. The camel had ended up inside the car and had been killed. The driver had been taken to hospital. Maruan added, for colour, that camels are worth 2500JD. He then asked me about “football” and I had to clarify as we play four different types of game with that name in Australia. He meant, of course, soccer, and he told me about the win Jordan had just enjoyed (2-0) over Australia at a game held in Saudi Arabia. By 1.35pm we were on the highway heading north among the trucks bringing shipping containers from Aqaba. Maruan pointed out several that had Egyptian number plates.
By 2.40pm Amman was still 75km away and at 3.05pm we passed a truck that had come off the road and was lying on its side on the rough shoulder, its underside facing the highway. There were several cars assembled around the wreck, including a regular black-and-white police car. Maruan took us off the highway at 3.15pm and 15 minutes later we passed Amman’s Royal Tank Museum.
Before heading to the hotel in the “wastel belet” (city centre), Maruan stopped by his sister’s house to pick up some cash (100JD) that his sister’s son had promised him on account of Ramadan. This nephew is rich, Maruan told us, and it is customary with Muslims at this time of year for members of the family who have money to give away cash to family members who are not as well off as they are. The same man, Maruan went on, killed four or five sheep each year at the same time of year and distributed the meat among family. Maruan's sister also gave him on this day a bag of the savoury yoghurt sauce that Jordanians put on their cooked lamb to make mansaf. He told us that all his children had gone to university and that the youngest was just finishing.
Maruan told us a bit of the history of Jordan and Palestine which further research showed was a bit dodgy. But it struck me how many Palestinians there are living and working in Amman. Our driver to Petra had been a Palestinian. The guy at the front desk of our hotel on Hashemi Street, who wears glasses and has short hair, also turned out to be Palestinian.
After eating a meal (combined lunch and dinner) of mansaf lamb, kufteh with tomato sauce, and a Greek salad (33.6JD), which included two beers for me, we went for a last stroll along the main drag and stopped in at some shops, including a sweet shop that sells dried fruit (7JD for a kilo), nougat, and other confections.
Above: The crowds of tourists at the "Treasury" at Petra.
Above: One of the Captain Jack Sparrow lookalikes with a number of money making machines near the "Treasury".
Above: The amphitheatre has stage entrances for actors and singers to use to come on-stage.
Above: The amphitheatre's wall is made of rubble (interior) held together by concrete. The dressed stone is just for facing.
Above: The main temple at Petra has beautifully-made hexagonal flagstones, which attest to the level of craftsmanship used at the site.
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