We promised to be at the Bedouin Village by nine and we are a bit late. After a quick breakfast we leave with the other guests, one of whom passes the village. This village was created to move the bedouins out of the caves of Petra.
It's a poor place where many goats and children run through the streets
. People are openly curious and all greet us. We park and look around for a familiar face. Suddenly a group moves towards us. Khaled (17 years old, never been to school) and Atanlo, his old friend (in his sixties, I would guess) are waiting with three donkeys.
With arabic advice from seemingly the whole vilage we mount the donkeys and take off. Khaled and his friend take turns riding the third donkey. They tell us that later they will both ride on one donkey, but to get out of the village is too steep for two on one donkey.
Sometimes they have to pull the donkeys to convince them to take a steep step down and they instruct us to lean back in the saddle.
Around us on the mostly barren slopes - just some weeds and an occasional heath-like shrub - are circular walls made of concrete blocks. The walls are a little over a meter high - goat pens. Few fences, but a lot of rubbish, ranging from plastig bags to piles of rubble
.
Soon we reach an asphalt road and follow it for a while and there the haggle over prices starts. We arranged a price, but now it seems that it includes less than I imagined. I tell them that I did bring only the amount we arranged and Khaled helpfully suggests we can use visa at the visitor center to get more cash. I tell him truthfully that I don't have Visa (he apparently has not heard of Mastercard). That is the end of the dicussion, but it means we will not go to "the monastery" which we were actually looking forward to.
But the route we follow is already quite enjoyable. We leave the road and enter fields which are flat, but interrupted by bare stone mountains of strange shapes. It is a little bit like the deserts in the southern US, but the rock formations look very different. More like giant dribblings of mud. And many display signs of carving at a cultural level far exceeding that of the local bedouins.
The rock is mostly sandstone and is again weathering into sand
. So between the steep rock formation we ride through sand.
For me it is desert, but not for the bedouin. In the strangest places we find gypsy-like people boiling tea in a black kettle over some pieces of dead wood. Khaled knows them all and with loud voices greetings and conversations in guttural arabic are flying back and forth, while our sturdy donkeys move on.
After a paleolithic site (with some low stone walls) we follow a trail with markers every few hundred meters and on each marker an event from paleolithic times until the present. By the time we arrive in Little Petra, we have passed the crusades and the steam engine.
It is obvious that the bedouins in Little Petra are different from our guides. Khaled and Atanlo meekly move to the side and announce that they will wait in the shadow of a rock, while we take our time exploring Little Petra.
Like it's namesake, this is a narrow canyon with rock carved buildings in the side
. It is not as impressive as the "Treasury" but very quiet. Just a few groups of tourist move through, and we have all the time to climb into the excavated tombs. One unique item of interest: In one of the larger tombs, there is a arched, vaulted ceiling, which is painted. It shows a kind of "heavenly garden' with lots of green vines and cupid-like female musicians. It looks very nice. White background with green vines and the little cherubs.
We continue until the gorge is closed, except for a cardbord sign: Most beautiful view in the world. Never one to miss up on a challenge, we climb over the rocks that obstruct the narrow gorge and end up on a smal terrace where a bedouin is running his souvenir business.
He invites us for tea and I make the mistake of telling him that our guides are waiting for us with tea. "They have no right to be here! They are not allowed!"
My feeling about the two groups of bedouin is correct.
Upon our return to Khaled and Atanlo we are offered sweet tea and they confirm that they have no contact with these bedouins.
When we are back on the trail the phone vibrates and it is a message of a succesful businesss transaction. We decide to celebrate by changing our plans and going to the monastery. Everybody is happy and soon we turn our donkeys toward the wilderness.
After a while the trail starts ascending and soon we enter a splendid mountain chain. The rocks are carved and weathered and full of holes.
Our donkeys are amazing. Khaleb tells me they can carry 200 kilo (400 pounds) for an entire day, so I don't need to worry about my weight.
The landscape is amazing, especially when we reach higher elevations. The path is very narrow at points and the cliffs are steep. At a narrow ledge Khaled and his friend show us where a number of years ago a donkey touched the rock with its saddle bags. It fell off the cliff while the bedouin held onto the rope. The donkey ended up hanging on the rope under the cliff, but they could not pull it up. In despair they decided to let it fall and it died.
The story has a soberring effect and when the ledge becomes so narrow that they advise us to dismount, we do follow the advice.
The road is long and leads along the western edge of the mountain chain. Breathtaking views show the desert and Israel in the distance. We take a rest at some of the natural platforms with such a vista. The mood is good and to my surprise I see Atanlo (the old man) doing strange things with his donkey. He is sitting on the saddle and pulling up his legs. Subsequently he stands up slowly until he is standing on the back of his donkey. His hands above his head with his fingers like a V-shape. "Just like the Japanese!"
Of course we take pictures of this feat, and soon Khaleb joins him. That is bedouin fun on the moutain top, with the Negev as a fantastic backdrop.
When we reach the "Monastery" it is a large carved out temple front, also of a tomb. Bigger than the Treasury, I estimate, but more in the open - not in a canyon. There are a few people there and we relax. It is sunny and all around us it is dry, but very slowly water drips through the rock wall to the left of the temple. It is not enough to reach the ground, but the rock is wet and some algae grow in the continuous moisture.
The descend to Petra is steep over stairs and the "leaning back' on the donkey who jumps almost verticallly becomes a reflex. There are more people here, because it is a hiking trail from Petra to the Monastery. However, before we reach Petra we turn away to reach the bedouin village. We feel very happy and very satisfied. A shower, followed by dinner in town with Jolanda tops off the day.
When we return to the house a wedding is in full swing not ar from the house. Whipping arab music sounds loud over the vilage square and men are starting to dance in a row - arms over each other's shoulder. The women are celebrating somewhere inside.
An abundance of stars shines overhead...
Matabaean land of Petra
Thursday, April 28, 2016
Petra, Jordan
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2A desert town
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5Matabaean land of Petra
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8Crossing to Israel
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2025-02-09