Petra

We’re very confused by the messages we are getting at our hotel. On one hand, we are told we can have whatever we want, wherever we want, but on the other hand, we can’t.

S and I had been looking forward to something other than an Arabic breakfast, thinking we could order the American breakfast on the menu. (“You can have whatever you like, you just have to ask”) Seems we couldn’t. That’ll be an Arabic breakfast again then but this time with some nice stale pastries. Yum.

And so to Petra. It’s a 15 minute drive from here which is perfect as we are away from the masses and it’s relatively easy to park close by.

We had all previously bought the Jordan pass which provides free access to Petra for three days. All good until we are asked to show our passports – why? Luckily we were able to show ID but a timely reminder that we are supposed to carry our passports at all times in Jordan.

The crowds at the entrance were much smaller than expected with the largest queue for the ladies toilet. As usual.

And we’re in! It’s a mile walk through a jaw-dropping canyon to the most imposing feature of Petra – the Treasury. Those Nabataeans certainly had a sense of drama. The pink-tinged sandstone gives Petra’s buildings a different look and feel depending on the time of day.

We arrived at the Treasury at around 11.45am and if you can cope with the heat, I’d recommend that as a good time to go. We were pleasantly surprised at how few people were there and we were able to take photos without having to fight through crowds.

We loosely followed a walking route recommended by Lonely Planet (yes, we still use their guide books despite my love/hate relationship with them) and explored the Street of Facades and some of the High Place of Sacrifice before walking up the 800 steps to the Monastery. It was very hot and lots of water was required but there were plenty of shady stops on route, mainly stalls run by local Bedouins, so it was fairly easy. The biggest challenge came from avoiding the donkeys and horses going up and down with our less fit tourist brethren on their backs.

In order to get a better view of the monastery, Steve, Nik and I climbed to a viewing point where there was some hilarious banter from the local stall holder at the top who complained that the Italians and Spanish never bought anything from him. I felt sorry for the Italian man in the shop who felt sufficiently shamed to buy a small bottle of water. Brits (for once) were viewed positively in the shop purchase stakes.

Starting to get cultured out and knowing we had another day to enjoy Petra’s attractions, we meandered back and returned to our hotel where we enjoyed a gloriously refreshing swim in the pool.

And then, later that evening, Pizzagate. I just can’t be bothered to go into the minutiae of it but refering back to the beginning of the post, (anything, anywhere) pizza was requested in advance. (it had also been on the menu) After a substantial wait, we were told we could only have three pizzas and that they were very large and we should share. Natch hungry S went ballistic, manager emerged from his hideout, dinner was free. Meanwhile the drinks waitress brought tiny wine glasses for beer, two knives instead of a knife and fork, couldn’t open the wine bottle, took away our water and brought it back again. All would be taken in our stride but charging £200 a night – come on.

More is less.