Arabian nights on a magic carpet: From spell-casting gypsies to the Facebook-savvy bedouins— Jordan never fails to enchant you

Seeing is believing. You can truly appreciate this adage when you set foot in the small country that is Jordan. No amount of pictures can do justice to the sights, as each step leads to a fresh delight, juxtaposing the developed-modern with the magical ancient-Arabian. You’d have to see it to believe it.

My five-day visit to this land straight from the pages of the Thousand and One Nights was an enchanted journey of sorts—a tryst with holy lands, nomadic tribes, spell-casting gypsies, Facebook-savvy bedouins, hot springs in the middle of the desert and ancient cities carved out of mountains. Not to mention the sea that leaves you dumfounded as you float like a paper boat on the super-salty surface.

But this is not the way Sheherzade would have narrated it: a proper Arabian Nights tale must begin at the beginning. So the first stop for our tale is the Queen Alia International Airport, where I meet the guide: Ali Abu Dayah. He is a cheerful man, with loads of patience, ever ready to answer the flurry of questions hurled at him. Ali tells me that the farther north one moves in Jordan the greener it gets. The desert lands can be encountered down south.

And right now we are headed towards the north, to the city of Jerash, that boasts of having the largest and most well preserved Roman architecture site outside Italy. It is drizzling as I step in through the Hadrian Arch or the Arch of Triumph, built by the emperor Hadrian in the 2nd century AD. The huge columns loom ahead one after the other, slowly taking me out of modern Jordan and into the Roman settlement centuries ago. To the left is the Hippodrome where the Romans held chariot races. You can enjoy the sight even today, as Chariot races are held once a day for the benefit of tourists. We, however, were not lucky enough to witness these. But somehow, there is a certain enhanced thrill in imagining the unseen…in standing smack in the middle of the huge open space and letting the patter of raindrops translate into the clatter of hoofs and wheels around you…

A football hits me, breaking my reverie. The Hippodrome, while its empty, is the preferred place for a game of football by a handful of school and college kids. Football, by the way, is a national obsession in Jordan. I move out of the line of kick…er…fire, and walk farther into the magnificent city that, even though in ruins now, cannot but leave you awe­struck. Inside the building, we come to a miniature model of the grand Zeus Temple that once stood inside the complex. Back outside, we gaze at what is left of the Zeus Temple… The rain stops and a delightful breeze takes its place. Zeus, it seems, is pleased with us.

Moving ahead, we enter the Oval Plaza, a circular space measuring 90x80 m, half-lined with 56 Ionic columns, used as a venue for social, religious and political ceremonies..The plaza is now the venue for the annual Jerash festival of culture and arts, held in late July. From here, you can see columns upon columns in the distance. That, Ali tells us, is the ‘Cardo’ or the street lined with 500 columns. As we saunter through the Cardo, he points to chariot marks embedded in the stones.Further uphill is the Southern Amphitheatre, adjacent to the Zeus temple. The steep steps leading to the top of the theatre beckon to me. By the time I reach the top, I am panting. But the view makes me forget everything. The entire Roman city, the modern inhabited city in the distance and the hills all around—it is quite understandable why people would hold religious ceremonies here—at such a height you would possibly feel closer to the heavens and easily contemplate God. I stand there and for a minute wonder if this is what the Creator of the universe feels, looking at the beauty of the created land.

But my attention is diverted by the sound of bagpipes and drums. Two men in traditional Jordanian attire have begun to play a catchy tune, with drums and bagpipes, that echoes all round the theatre. The precarious perch, the strong wind and the steep fall below are sufficient deterrents to the irresistible urge to break into a merry jig. But the music combined with the view and the weather makes it an almost ethereal experience. I think again: seeing is believing.

From here we move farther uphill towards the Artemis Temple and the Byzantine Church, which has a mosaic floor. Mosaic floors are common to the churches in the Byzantine period, and Mosaic work is a flourishing handicraft in modern Jordan.Sitting on the edge of the ruins, I spot a boy holding a typical shepherd-stick with a curved upper end as his sheep follow him, grazing randomly in the green-yellow fields. I am reminded of the shepherd-Prophet David in the Old Testament story of David and Goliath. That’s what the place does to you—every step conjures a new story.

The second day includes Madaba, St George’s Church with its famous Mosaics, Mt Nebo and the Memorial of Moses, and olive plantations along the way! Madaba, the city of mosaics, has been mentioned in the Old Testament. St George’s Church here, is famous for its Mosaic floor which is a ‘religious map’ describing the travels of the various Prophets that crossed Jordan. It was also from this Mosaic that the place of Baptism of Jesus—Bethany beyond the Jordan—was discovered.

Hold your breath when you get to Bethany. It is truly sacred land, crossed by messiahs, such as the prophet Elijah who ascended to the heavens from here on a chariot of fire. I stand across from the place where John the Baptist baptised Christ. Behind it is the river Jordan—just a ribbon of a river now—which holds the holy water. I walk slowly back, my feet treading gro­und that has been treaded on by Messiahs.

The desert experience begins with the drive down to Dead Sea. A roadside signboard says ‘Bahr Al-Mayyat’, (mayyat is commonly used for dead body among Muslims) which is a thousand times more chilling than the English name! It is the lowest point on the earth and four times saltier than other seas. The salt makes the Dead Sea ‘dead’—one, it makes it impossible for marine life to survive, and two—it makes you float…like a lifeless body. That is where the magic begins. I step into the sea—and it wraps itself around me. I lie down limply in the water, raise my eyes to the sky, scan the hills in the distance and wonder if Sheherzade could spin this one.

The same day we visit the Ma’in hot springs—streams of water spurting out of nowhere in an entirely barren land of rock mountains. The place is now part of the Evason Ma’in six senses spa that has been built around it.

A pool has been constructed here at the foot of the hot-fall: the springs contain minerals that would make you relax and forget your worries.

Night brings us to Petra—the rose-red rock city carved out of mountains, built by the Nabateans more than 2000 years ago.But Petra by Night is entirely different from Petra in the daytime. Held every Monday and Thursday, Petra by Night is a sensory experience. Night is the mother of mystery and magic, and while the day would answer all your questions, night unleashes your imagination.

We are asked to keep silent during the walk. As we set off down a winding passage flanked by imposing rocks, all I can hear is the hushed whispers and the soft crunch of gravel. There is no moon—but the rocks gleam white in the starlight. Tiny lamps light up our path, and nothing else. Camera flashes are like flashes of lightning reflected on the rocks, I can make out carvings and entrances all around. Suddenly the path narrows down and we are hemmed in by huge rocks—it is the ‘Siq’ or the gorge, which marks the way to the main city. I stretch my hand and let it trail across the mountains—perhaps it would touch the handprints of an ancient Nabatean who went this way. My companions are wondering how the gorge was made…I try to imagine the royal magician cleft the rocks asunder with a spell…Just as the walk seems to go on to nowhere, the mountains abruptly open up to reveal a majestically imposing structure—the Treasury at Petra—with a carpet of a hundred lamps lit in front.

We squat before the lamps and hear a Bedouin play the rababa… I lie down on my back and watch the stars… maybe the theme was played ages ago by a youth in memory of his beloved. Then follows a flute performance and everyone is spellbound. Maybe that was the magician leading everyone into the city…

Petra in the daytime is a rose-coloured city, its rocks adorned with natural multi-colour patterns. The place might even remind you of grand canyon. The Treasury, which is actually the Nabatean King’s tomb, was so called because the Bedouins thought it contained money. A carved urn at the top of the entrance even holds bullet holes—efforts to get the coins out of the urn!Royal tombs, natural caves, cities, palaces all spill out of the rock. Every step leads you to something greater and more marvellous—the amphitheatre, the Great temple, The Qasr Al-Bint or Palace of the King’s Daughter—and not to forget the parade of the ‘Roman soldiers’ that takes place everyday for visitors!

I try to photograph a Bedouin selling knick-knacks and he mutters something curse-like, followed by a yell—“I’ll follow you around! Don’t take pictures, I’ll follow you!” The subsequent event is something like running for dear life!

But not all Bedouins mutter curses. Captain’s Desert Camp in Wadi Rum gave me a slice of Bedouin life. The brightly embroidered insides of the tent followed by some cola-coloured desert ‘chai’ set the mood for our jeep tour. An open jeep, with sand blowing in your face and the sun beating down on you, lets you take in the gloriously stark magnificence of this protected site, which was also where Lawrence of Arabia was filmed.

Open-mouthed is the right expression when experiencing Wadi Rum. We stop at a place with drawings on the rocks. These, Ali tells me, are inscriptions dating to the 4th century BC—drawings of camels, ostriches and hunters. Now we know why the valley is protected. Walking in Wadi Rum is no piece of cake—the sand seems to pull you down and the rocks look down contemptuously upon your insignificance.

But the sight of the sun setting behind the rocks will remind you why an Arabian on a horse is a creature of romance.

Dinner at the Captain’s Camp is typical Bedouin affair, to the accompaniment of two Bedouins playing desert songs. I am recording the performance, when one of them asks me to transfer it to him by bluetooth. For a moment, I just stare at him. “No bluetooth? Well, then, please add me on Facebook,” he ends, smiling.That’s what you get in Jordan--An arabian genie in an iPhone!