World Wonders and Dead Cameras

My second recent trip was to the ancient city of Petra, the desert of Wadi Rum, and the city of Aqaba in the south of Jordan.

First on the docket was Petra.  I have always heard – and seen, due to a little thing I like to call Indiana Jones – how beautiful Petra is, so I was, needless to say, excited to see this world wonder myself.  Normally the cost of seeing it is 45JD (roughly $65) for foreigners.  Because of my program’s partnership with the Ministry of Education though, we all got in for 1JD – the price for Jordanian citizens.  Why, you ask, is there such a dramatic rift in that price range?  Well, my good friends, it’s all thanks to the advice of the United States of America who told the Jordanian government that they should charge more for foreigners to bring in more revenue.  Gotta love the states – all about the money. 

Petra is in the middle of the desert so it’s naturally hotter than the surface of the sun.  Everything here is in Celsius, to which I refuse to acclimate, so I am oblivious to any real dimension of numerical temperature.  Entering the city, it’s easy to see how this place has become so famous.  The cliffs and rock faces are incredible, not to mention the architecture that has literally been carved into the rock.  At one point, you notice something so bright in the distance, and as you enter the clearing, it’s the famous treasury featured in Indiana Jones.  I’ve never seen anything like it.  To me, the most fun was climbing through various parts of the city and seeing the caves that were quite likely people’s homes even if they have become more like your average city dump today. 

After Petra, we headed directly to Wadi Rum for a Bedouin party.  My friends and I did some exploring in the desert, which included sand dune jumping.  This is the decision that I regret most while I have been here.  Not because I got all sandy – which is true – but in one clumsy hand motion, I dropped my camera in the sand, and since that time, it has refused to work.  I can’t talk about it, I’m too upset.  I’ll deal with it later.  Tears.

Later was the party.  Very few people danced, and I didn’t want to show these people up in their natural territory, so I refrained myself.  In reality, it was because I wasn’t sure of the rules for co-ed dancing.  Imagine, I accidently bump a nearby chica, and the crowd goes wild, desperate for my blood.  Haraam.  The food was decent but definitely not something to write home about.

After the party, we headed to Aqaba to a hotel that was worse than that in Lebanon.  I know, it’s hard to believe that it could get worse than salt water, but I promise that it can.  Aqaba is, in essence, the equivalent of Panama City Beach except trashier and with less to do.  Definitely not a fan.  We only spent about one hour at the beach,.  Why even go?

 Next came the long, long, long bus trip home.  Interesting cultural tidbit about Arabs: they start to come alive at around ten pm.  After an exhausting weekend of walking, all of us were pooped and trying to sleep on the uncomfortably small bus.  The Arabs?  No, they wanted to stay up and talk scream as loudly as possible, including the use of the bus’s microphone system.

The trip was pretty rough, and I've never been so upset about something as I am about my camera.  Perhaps it will magically fix itself if I just don’t touch it for a few days.  At least, that’s what I’m counting on.