Better Red Than Dead, Sea?

Sunday 8 October 2017

Aqaba is on the Red Sea. We were so close to it at Wadi Rum that it seemed a shame not to take the opportunity to dip our toes in. This is where Lawrence successfully led the Arabs to overtake the Turks from behind. Victory.

Aqaba is a tourist destination. The cruise ships come in here and the passengers take day trips to Petra (I suspect they don’t go beyond the Treasury) or to Wadi Rum (where probably, like me, they stay glued to the seat in the back of the ute)

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We visit the beach

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Indeed, there is good reason that Australian beaches are so lauded. This is one of the most popular beaches in Jordan. Men sit and smoke hookahs, and women sit with their bodies covered and look after the children.

We don’t dip our toes into the Red Sea on this occasion, but we do lap the water with our hands. Which then smell of diesel. No, we don’t want to swim in this part of the Red Sea after all, but at least we’ve touched it.

We then walk through town, a typical bustling seaside affair, with shops full of beach toys, leisure clothing and nuts and spices.

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A lunch of grilled fish today, a nice change from chicken, rice and dips, and then back in the van headed to the Dead Sea. We’re taking the coastal route, which can’t be driven safely in summer for fear of tyres melting on the hot road! This is more verdant country,

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with water catchment from underground aquafers

 

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And, hang on, that green over is Israel!

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We are so close, but Murad tells us that if we walked the 50m across that field bullets would ring out within seconds. Jordan guards Israel at gunpoint. One Jordanian in our car is not impressed. Raed is more quiet about his feelings. We have passed through a number of checkpoints, where the cars pull up, guards check with the driver as to destination and who he is carrying, occasionally a guard might look in the car, even open the boot, but we are always waved through. We are grateful that we are with our trusty guides but never have we felt even vaguely threatened or unsafe in this country.

It’s a pleasant drive and a relief to see some greenery. We pass a huge potash mine, which helps the economy of Jordan, and a bromide plant.

And then we sight the Dead Sea.

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It’s 90km long, with Jordan on one side and Israel and the West Bank on the other. All within easy sight. Tragically, the sea is in real danger. The level is falling at an alarming rate of 1m per year. Due both to global warming (Tony, oh Tony), and because the Jordan River, which feeds the Dead Sea, is being harvested by both Israel and Syria. No wonder those trees on the border were green! It’s 10m lower than it was 10 years ago and the signs are clear. There is some talk of pumping water from the Red into the Dead Sea but that has been talked about for many years without any progress. Politics are the same the world over, eh?

We arrive at our luxurious accommodation and say a fond farewell to Murad and Raed, both of whom have looked after us so well. We are particularly fond of Raed, who is a quiet man with a lovely sense of humour and a lot of eye work going on, which speaks volumes. Murad is a typical tour guide, with excellent English and an encyclopaedic knowledge of the things he talks about. Its exhausting trying to absorb it all and a little unnerving because we know we will be tested within the next few hours. He doesn’t like it when we don’t listen, or when we are distracted by some remarkable sight and move our eyes from his to the camera. Could it be that I have finally met someone bossier than me? But, we are very grateful for everything they have shown us and the care they have taken of us and we wave them off. They have an hours drive to home in Amman and it’s already 5pm. A long day for us, longer for them.
We manage a swim (I have to go in the kiddies pool because my leg is still Petrafied and I can’t get out of the big peoples pool), and then have a drink on the terrace.

We are directly opposite the West Bank and we see the lights of Jerusalem and Jericho

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Where are those trumpets when you need them?

Monday 9 October
Here we are, our last full day in Jordan and it is a day at leisure at the Dead Sea. Hallelujah! After breakfast we make our way down the steps, many more than there used to be and more each year, to the Dead Sea. The lowest place on earth. 430m below. Next year it will be 440m below and by 2050 it may no longer exist. Without human intervention. It’s a tragedy

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WARNING WARNING

Those of you with a weak stomach, I suggest you log off NOW.

The Boom Booms hit the Dead Sea. I mean how low can you go? Well, 430m below sea level actually. Never before have Cherrie or I have posted a photo of us in swimmers but these seem to be special circumstances.

We are floating on the Dead Sea. Not even we can sink

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It’s a weird sensation. The water is warm, and sort of a little slimy. A bit like floating in baby oil. No matter how hard you try, you simply cannot do anything but float. Makes you laugh. Makes everybody laugh the first time. It is recommended that you float in the Sea for 15-20 minutes and then go ashore and cover yourself in Dead Sea mud, full of minerals (and salt), wait for 20 minutes and then re-enter the sea and wash the mud off.

WARNING WARNING WARNING

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We’re not the only muddy folk around

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but it is mercifully quiet down here. It’s highly likely the sirens have been activated, warning of beached whales down on shore. The ‘Life Guard’, who we are pretty sure can’t swim, is always happy to give a helping hand

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We wait for 20 minutes, an uncomfortable wait since we can’t sit and I’m not good at standing for long (without a bar to lean on) so we wander a little (a Dead Sea stroll). I have faith that this cure-all will do its job and that I will be sprinting back up the steps within the hour.
Back in the water for more bobbing and washing the mud off. It’s quite an experience.
I’m cured enough to use the grown ups pool today (with Cherrie being the human counter weight to get me out) and we have a refreshing swim in the infinity pool overlooking the West Bank

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And we are joined by a harem of hookahs

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I cannot believe the location of where we are. I was shamefully ignorant of the geography of the Middle East, and here I am in Jordan, at the Dead Sea, looking at Israel and the West Bank, in sight of Jerusalem and Jericho. I find it amazing.

Today has been wonderfully relaxing and we are grateful for the day off.

Tuesday 10 October

We are not being collected until 1.30pm today, so we venture back down to the Dead Sea early and do our float, mud, wash. We float for longer this morning, we are enjoying it. There is a bit of an art to it and we are just starting to find it. I think our skin feels pretty good. Silky even. Probably the fat cells floating to the surface. Pity our Dead Sea floats are all over. We do, however, have another swim in the lovely pool and lie on the lounges.

A lovely surprise on check out to discover that it is Raed who has come to transport us to the airport. We are delighted to see him again.

Arrival at Amman airport is an easy affair, pulling right up to the check in gates and our luggage is checked all the way through to Casablanca, despite our 11 hour stopover in Dubai. Once again we have booked a hotel room and have the basics with us in our hand luggage.

However, passing through security is another matter. We are both stopped and pulled aside. They have found drugs in both our bags. Indeed we are carrying prescription drugs, which the Berry Pharmacy kindly put into Webster packs for us. Mine are complicated and copious and they have never seen anything like it. I think the sheer volume of mine distracted them from Cherrie’s meagre offering of mostly vitamins, and it took 3 security guards 20 minutes to clear us. How grateful we were for the pharmacy’s forethought in providing me with a piece of paper (a large one) with a photo of each drug, a description, the chemical make up etc. I was a tad nervous about the vessel of white powder I am carrying, which is actually magnesium powder, with a number of natural anti inflammatories mixed in, but which might easily have been mistaken for something else. Again, it is in its original packaging and a description on the sheet of paper. None of this helped by the fact that I ring like a cathedral when I pass through security. Anyway, we were finally waved through and boarded the plane. Which stalled on take off! We were amongst only a few of the passengers who were not working on their computers, engaging in social media on iPads or talking on their phones during take off. During take off I said. Anyway, who cares about turning off electronic devices? Or a stalling engine? But we got off the ground with the Royal Jordanian Airline and arrived safely in Dubai 3 hours later.

We have loved our time in Jordan. We felt safe the whole time and lived the history. We wish we had more time here. We would have valued another day in Petra, to limp back in to absorb what we saw. We had amazement overload and really need some more time to sit and look. We wish we had a night at Wadi Rum and maybe even an extra night in Amman. The snorkelling in the Red Sea is apparently amazing and we might have liked a night in Aqaba too, to investigate less diesel infused waters. We highly recommend Jordan to you adventure travellers. It is wonderful.

And now we are now officially on the

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In the footsteps of Lawrence

Sunday 8 October 2017

After our big day in Petra yesterday, we have a long drive today. We are headed to Wadi Rum, the extraordinary desert landscape in which Lawrence of Arabia was shot. Cherrie and I watched the film for the first time just over a week ago, the day before we left Quamby. We are pleased that we did because it actually helped us to understand some of the history of Jordan and the other Arabian countries.  It’s a two hour drive from Petra to Wadi Rum and so we had an early start, especially since Murad and Raed have kindly agreed to take us to Aqaba on the Red Sea (and the scene of Lawrence’s greatest victory when he overtook the Turks) before turning back to our ultimate destination for the day, the Dead Sea.

We climb over the mountain (well, the comfortable van does) opposite Petra and we realise we are growing used to this sandy, rocky landscape.  There are fields ploughed, waiting for rain so that the barley can be planted.  Looks barely likely to me.

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We are driving on the desert highway and we pass lots of Bedouin camps.  Where you see an animal, there will be a camp nearby. These people live so simply but it’s their choice.  Fewer are nomads these days but many still live in their tents and farm their goats, sheep or camels.  The animals obviously enjoy a menu of stones and sand.  I went to a restaurant once that served that food but I won’t be returning.

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When we arrive at Wadi Rum it is a strangely familiar site.  Very reminiscent of my beloved Central Australian landscape, but more vast.

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We see these wonderous sites from the back of a ute, an enterprise of yet another entrepreneurial Bedouin community. Oh what a feeling

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4 WD safaris are not the domain of Africa alone. Here we meet lots and its still early morning

Lawrence’s preferred mode of transport is still very evident here and still used widely

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And here’s their fuel

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We were able to get out of the vehicle for some trekking but my leg was still complaining so I stayed put

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I felt more like joining gramps in a smoke. What you can’t see clearly here is that he was also clearing his emails

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Glamping is not exclusive to African safaris either. This moonscape is a very classy permanent camp site. We rather wish we had time for a night here. It’s so peaceful and such an inspirational landscape.

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Even desert camps need water delivery. Just like at Quamby

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And so after two hours of desert safari, very gently driven in deference to the physically impaired passenger, we reboard our van and, in the words of Lawrence, we’re off “To Aqaba”

Petra….trying

Saturday 7 October 2017

There are no words to describe Petra.  Built sometime during the 1st century BC it was part of the trading route connecting Mesopotamia and Egypt and grew rich through frankincense, myrrh and spices.  It was largely destroyed by an earthquake in 363AD and abandoned by all but the local Bedouin.  Until 1812 when a Swiss explorer rediscovered it for the western world.  A feast for archeologists,

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Petra is a visual feast of extraordinary buildings, all carved out of the pink sandstone.

A trip to Petra is not for the faint hearted, as the main trail in and out is 4km each way, over uneven ground which is a little hilly.

The Bedouin are still in residence and are very canny with their business.  There are various forms of transport on offer for those not willing to use shanks pony, and Murad, our trusty guide, was indeed to be trusted in relation to these modes. A horse can be ridden from the entry gate, but only for the first 500m!  Then, a horse and cart (looking quite precarious I must say, with horses slipping on the stone ground and Bedouin hoons speeding them along)  will take you the remaining 3 1/2 kms into the Treasury

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But walking allows us to see, which is something those in the carts certainly can’t do because they are holding their breath, with eyes tightly closed.

We see the aqueducts built to channel the water

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And we see carvings and burial monuments and all sorts of amazing things.

And then, after a 2km walk, we reach the siq, the narrow gorge which offers us our first glimpse of the iconic Treasury building

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Honestly, it took our breath away.  It’s 40 metres high and is incredibly intricate.  It reminded me of Michaelangelo’s philosophy about sculpting “just chip away the excess marble and there is the art work”.  Amazing stuff.

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There are now other forms of transport for the remainder of the 2km walk through the city of Petra.

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We chose to walk, probably a good idea since the donkey man is distracted by his traditional Bedouin mobile phone!   We are impressed by the politeness of the Bedouin, who once told firmly NO, acknowledge our wishes and leave us alone.

There are lots of Bedouin hawkers, flogging donkey and camel rides, souvenirs and water.  We succumb to only the latter.  They start ‘em young in Petra

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When Petra became a world heritage site in 1985 the local Bedouins were rehoused on a hill above the site

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If you look carefully you will see the village on the right of this photo.  All the monuments are in the gorge below.  But the Bedouins are still active in the old village too

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We make our way down (note down, means up on the way back) past temples

 

This is truly incredible stuff.  Cherrie tries to escape up the stairway to nowhere

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And finally I find centre stage

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The wonders of this wonder of the world just go on and on.  Wonder overload I think its called.

And, then there are the 1000 steps up to the Monastry, the largest monument in Petra, and the highest.  This is not a climb for the fainthearted but I’m afraid that I meet that sad criteria.  We tried, and tried, but whilst I was willing, my walking stick went on strike after about half way.

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And its still feeling the effects.  Poor Cherrie stayed with me, foregoing the opportunity to partake in another 500 uneven, steep and treacherous steps.  What a woman.

One can only wonder at the view from the top.  Half way is pretty spectacular.

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Unbelievably, tourists are led on donkeys on this track, at great personal risk I would think.  The Bedouin public liaibility cover must be nearly the size of Petra itself.

On the way down we meet the modern donkey

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And a camel without one

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When we finally got back down again

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we had some lunch (more of the same) and enjoyed the shade. It’s a hot day. Into the 30s and we’ve walked 6km and another 4km to get out. I tried the escape route, but to no avail.

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Cherrie, as usual, was very patient with my by now very slow progress and it was a long walk to freedom (apologies to Nelson Mandela).  Big Bedouin watching all the way

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After 8 hours inside Petra we finally make it back to our hotel, exhausted but incredibly inspired.  We are staying at the Movenpick Hotel.  You may know them as the Swiss ice cream makers  but let me assure you that as hoteliers they make excellent ice cream.

 

 

 

In the footsteps of Moses

 

Friday 6 October

This morning we depart Amman and head south.  We pass lots of street stalls selling brightly coloured pomegranates, eggplants and tomatoes.  We have no photos of these because it seems like an intrusion, but the colours and displays are wonderful.  Enhanced by the many olive and date trees bearing fruit.

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We travel down the 5000 year old Kings Highway, which is covered in what appears to be 5000 years of litter.   Our guide blames the wind.  We keep uncharacteristicaly quiet but it is evident to us that this litter is no breeze.

96F2CCB5-2315-47B9-B2B3-112871C75F9CAmongst this barren landscape we are delighted to see the odd farm

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We visit the Greek Orthodox St George’s Church which houses the oldest map of Palestine in existence – all in mosaic and done in 560AD.  I also learned that St George was a Greek – who knew?

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The Dead Sea is depicted top right with a turtle in it (actually, Cherrie tells me it is people in a boat) and Jerusalem lower right in what appears to be a walled city.

From there we proceed to Mt Nebo.  Now, the Bible has never been a page turner for me and I only remember what was drummed into me in scripture lessons at school, but so much of what we are about to see almost moves me because it is so familiar.  Mt Nebo is where it is said Moses saw the Promised Land.  Where is it?

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Oh, cripes there it is

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I am grateful that this land was not promised to me.   If you look carefully you can see the River Jordan, in which it is said Christ was baptised.  From here, as the Christian crow flies, Jericho is 27kms, Jerusalem 46kms and Bethlehem 50kms.  We’re right amongst it folks.  Having seen the promised land, it is said Moses died. Frankly I’m not surprised. It is said he was 120 years old!  No one knows where he is buried but there is a wonderful Church on Mt Nebo which was built in 350AD in honour of Moses.  Over the years most of the church was destroyed but the wonderful mosaics have been preserved and it is now a modern chapel and a Franciscan community.  Pope John Paul II visited in 2000 so it got a good makeover for that.  It has been beautifully done.

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We see what it called a rolling stone (with apologies to Mick) which is used to seal up tombs.  And, it is said, was moved from Christ’s tomb

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We have an hour for lunch each day, which is hardly enough time to finish the feast before us.  Always with a delicious lemon mint drink, always with what are referred to as salads which consist of hommus, baba ganouche (unlike the one we enjoy in Australia – this with tomato, cucumber, cardamom etc as well as the eggplant), other dips, fatouche (lettuce, tomato, cucumber, toasted pita bread croutons), falafel and lots more.  Then there’s the main course, which may be lamb, rice and yoghurt or chicken and rice etc.  Far too much food goes to waste.  And waist.

We were to visit a crusader castle after lunch today but our guide informed us yesterday that there is simply not enough hours in the day to fit it in.  Having led a few crusades in our time, we are not concerned. We do however drive past Shobak Castle en route to Petra

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We are now headed to Petra, which is probably our primary reason for being in Jordan.  We pass through countryside which is much the same everywhere

 

And the greening of Jordan program did not impress Cherrie

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We arrive in Petra at 5pm and we commence a cooking class at Petra Kitchen an hour later.  We join five others (Harvey and Laurie from California, Yuan and Beau from Beijing and Corinne from Amsterdam) and learn to cook lentil soup, baba ganuj (Jordan way), a spicy tomato dish called galayat Bandaranaike, tahini salad, cucumber and tomato salad, rice with chicken and my personal favourite Bedouin pizza.  Something to do with all that beef mince left over from Tony.  It is a fun experience but I am so exhuausted from this holiday lark that I barely stay awake.  It’s a late night for us, nearly 10pm when we get to bed!!

Tomorrow, the lost city of Petra

Amman (and two women)

Wednesday 4 October
After a 3 hour flight from Dubai to Amman with Emirates we are singing the praises of Qantas.  Honestly, the service on both is chalk and cheese.  And we prefer cheese.

We were met at Amman airport and transferred to our luxurious hotel.  We are staying at the Four Seasons and it’s probably a good idea to stay in luxury in a city such as this.  The airport is quite a long way out of town, 30kms, and the drive made me feel like a foreign correspondent.  Except for the journalistic skills.  We are clearly in a different culture and very different landscape.  There is nothing western about that drive at all.  It looks like the television images we see of the Gaza Strip.  Desolate, sandy, barren hills, some with olive groves, some with camels (farmed for their milk) but most with nothing.  Then there are the ones with houses, all the same.  Square, just off white, with square windows cut in.  The scene reminded me of a design presentation at day one of rehearsal, with a white cardboard set model.  Little boxes on the hillside.

As we neared the city the density of the buildings obviously increased and from our hotel window we see just buildings.

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Entry to the hotel included a full security check.  Mirrors under the car, open the boot to check for unsavoury things or people and then a friendly wave through.  All luggage and people scanned and xrayed on entry to the foyer.  But then we were met by a surfeit of friendly, welcoming and ever so slightly intrusive (but very well intentioned) staff wishing us a happy stay and ensuring us of their undying attention.  We may test that yet…..

We are exhausted but its only 6pm and so we go down to the 151 bar on the ground floor for a drink and snack (at eye watering prices!).  Lots of the patrons were smoking hookahs, the vessels with hose pipes, lots of smoke and flavoured tobacco.

Cherrie complained of passive hooking and so we retired to the room.

Thursday 5 October
This morning we meet our tour guide (Murad) and driver (Raed) for the next five days.  It takes us all of today to learn the pronunciation of their names.  How handy it would be for the travel agency to advise us the day prior as to the phonetic pronunciation of those we will spend much time with.  It would save embarrassment  for both parties.

We set off for a full day tour of Jordan’s capital, Amman.  It is a modern, bustling city full of cars with apparently non functioning indicators.  Or drivers who have not yet discovered what that little stick to the side of the steering wheel is for.  We visit the Citadel which sits on the highest of the 7 hills in Amman (actually it used to be 7 hills but the city has expanded to such an extent that there are now more than 20!).  The Citadel is a historic site dating back to the Bronze Age.  There we see the Temple of Hercules (built by the Romans)

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The palace, built in 720AD stands against the modern skyline

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The Archeological Museum is a simple affair but its here that we saw the oldest figure made by man in 8000BC

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And even Tony Abbott is represented (no doubt because of his ancient views on most things)

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From there we moved to the Amphitheatre, built by the Romans in the 2nd Century and which has perfect acoustics.  A small house though, resembling many of those of Christine Dunstan Productions in the past82370BC9-00A0-49F9-AC1D-3B0E9B680EAD

We also visit a private art gallery of Khalid Shoman, whose family founded the Arab Bank.  It’s set in a wonderful house and is an eclectic and interesting collection

After lunch, during which our tour guide indulges in a hookah

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we head north, within 20 kms of the Syrian border (yikes) to the ancient city of Jarash.  We take the road to Damascus, but you will no doubt be disappointed to learn that I remain the same troublesome woman I always was.  No conversion for me.

Jarash is a walled Greco-Roman settlement, again dating back to the Bronze Age.  It’s a large site with lots of archeological works still happening.  It has, like so many sites in Jordan, been severely affected by earthquakes over past centuries and so lots of columns etc are no longer standing.  However Hadrian’s Arch is there still, dating back to 200AD and the huge colonnade around the oval shaped forum.

Back to the hotel at the end of a long day, we eat early and simply and retire to prepare for tomorrow when we head to Petra.