Notes From Everywhere

Long before I ever traveled to Jordan, I already knew Petra. At least I thought I did. Like millions of people, I had seen photographs of the Treasury and watched Indiana Jones ride towards its towering façade. For years it was simply one of those places I hoped to see someday. 

What I didn’t know was that Petra doesn’t reveal itself all at once. It makes you earn the first glimpse. 

The entrance to Petra was only a short walk from our hotel in Wadi Musa. After passing through the gate, we followed a wide path covered with hard-packed sand. 

Before long, we came across an impressive building carved directly into the rock wall. Decorated with pillars on either side of the doorway and pyramid-shaped ornaments at the top, it looked almost like the entrance to a forgotten castle standing guard over the canyon ahead. 

As we continued, the canyon gradually narrowed. Sand covered the bottom, and the towering rock walls rose higher with every turn. Their colors slowly changed from pale yellow to deep shades of orange and red, while small green bushes somehow found a way to grow from cracks in the stone.

At one point, we passed a weathered sculpture carved into the cliff. It appeared to show a man standing beside a camel, but its upper part was missing, leaving me wondering whether it had been worn away by time or whether the sculpture had never been completed in the first place. 

The walk through the canyon was just as fascinating as the famous monument waiting at the end. 

Ancient stairways carved into the rock climbed toward ledges high above the main path. Naturally, Pavel couldn’t resist scrambling up every climbable rock he could find, while I took my time along the path, taking in the canyon around me, watching people pass by, and stopping every now and then for another photograph. 

Then we heard music. The sound echoed between the canyon walls ahead of us, and we followed it deeper into the Siq. Around the next bend sat a man dressed in a dark green tunic beneath a brown jacket, with a red-and-white scarf wrapped around his head. 

He sat on the ground and played one of the most unusual string instruments I had ever seen. It had a long wooden neck, a small square body covered in pale gray leather, and a single string running along its length. 

Even though I couldn’t wait to reach the Treasury, we stopped.

For several minutes, neither of us said a word. We simply stood there listening. When he finished playing, he smiled kindly and allowed me to take a picture with him. I thanked him by leaving a few dinars on the blanket spread in front of him.

Moments later, the sound of hooves echoed through the canyon. A horse pulling a small carriage appeared around the corner, carrying three smiling passengers bundled together on a bench covered with a bright red blanket. Another carriage followed shortly behind. The narrow canyon suddenly felt full of movement and energy before falling quiet once again. 

By now the walls had become even taller, their colors richer and redder than before. It felt as though the canyon itself was hinting that we were almost there. 

Then, around one final bend, I saw it.

Not the whole building. Just a narrow sliver of pale stone framed perfectly by the towering canyon walls.

I started walking faster.

Almost running.

With every step, a little more of the Treasury came into view until suddenly I was standing in front of it.

For several moments, I didn’t move. I simply stood there with my mouth open, taking it all in.

It was magnificent.

For years, Petra had existed only in photographs. Now the famous façade stood only a few steps away, carved directly into the sandstone with a precision that seemed almost impossible. The columns, statues, doorways, and intricate carvings looked even more beautiful than I had imagined.

As the first rush of excitement settled, I suddenly became aware of everything around me. Camels decorated with colorful blankets rested quietly in the sand while visitors gathered in front of the Treasury, each trying to capture the same unforgettable moment. 

We took more photographs than I could possibly count, lingering for a while, not ready to leave just yet. After waiting so many years to stand there, I wanted to enjoy this moment for as long as I could. 

Eventually, we continued deeper into Petra.

The narrow canyon gradually opened into a wide valley surrounded by cliffs dotted with countless tombs and dwellings carved into the rock. Some sat high above the valley floor, connected by stairways cut directly into the sandstone. It wasn’t difficult to imagine people climbing those same steps during Petra’s golden age more than two thousand years ago, when merchants, travelers, and caravans arrived from distant lands. 

We couldn’t resist climbing one of the ancient stairways ourselves. A few moments later, we found ourselves standing inside one of the Royal Tombs. The cool, quiet chamber felt like a welcome escape from the desert sun.

Soon we reached what had once been the city’s main streets. 

The remains of Roman columns stretched into the distance, while wide stone steps led up to an elevated terrace overlooking the ruins below. We climbed to the top, weaving our way between the weathered pillars.

From the stone steps, we watched the valley come alive around us. Camels carried visitors along the sandy paths while a man slowly guided a small herd of donkeys through the ruins. On the rocky hillside nearby, little sheep skipped effortlessly from one rock to another.

That’s when I noticed a cat sitting on top of one of the columns, as if it had chosen the best seat in all of Petra. I stared at it, wondering how it had managed to get there. I pointed it out to Pavel, who immediately aimed his camera in its direction. Without warning, the cat launched itself through the air onto the next column several feet away, landing as gracefully as if it had done it a hundred times before. We couldn’t help but laugh, shaking our heads at the fearless little acrobat. 

Soon, we slowly made our way back the way we had come, stopping one more time at the Treasury. Someone handed us a flyer advertising the light show, Petra by Night.

That evening, we would return to the Treasury one last time.

We would sit quietly in the sand among hundreds of glowing candles and watch colorful lights dance across its ancient façade while music echoed through the canyon.