by Tara Wallis
- 20/12/2003
There's a scene in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade where Harrison Ford races hell for leather into a magnificent pink temple in search of the Holy Grail.
The temple was the Treasury of Petra, a towering 2,000-year-old colonnaded tomb carved into cliffs by the Nabateans, and Jordan's most visited place.
Impressive on celluloid, the spectacle is heart-stopping in reality.
The ancient Nabateans evidently knew all about building anticipation.
The best of Petra, their capital, is hidden at the end of a 1.5km long, 80m-high sandstone gorge called the Siq. It's a mysterious, zig-zagging walk.
In places, the passage is so narrow that you can touch both sides with outstretched arms. Worn away for millenia by the elements, it looks like titanic mounds of rippled ice-cream.
With tourists almost absent - most scared off by potential unrest in the Middle East - you can walk Jordan's Siq in atmospheric silence - wonderful.
Its sheer scale and layers of gaudy pink, yellow, red and purple rock are mesmerising. It's a shock when you turn one last corner and see the Treasury.
Set back in a dust bowl swirling with sand, surrounded by cliffs, the tomb is so unexpected you have to gape.
The Treasury is Petra's iconic image, but the ancient city has many more vast structures to admire. A ruined Roman theatre, more colonnaded tombs similar to the Treasury and a community hall carved from Petra's pink sandstone also blend majestically into rockfaces.
Bedouin tribesmen sell camel and donkey rides from outside the Treasury.
The city was founded in about the sixth century BC and became a mighty trading post. Merchants from Asia and elsewhere arrived on one or other animal, so riding them is like reliving history.
Today, the camel men call out to tourists: "Ride on my Bedouin Ferrari!" and the donkey owners brag about their "air conditioned taxis".
Gullible tourists have been known to pay ten times the actual rate for donkey and camel rides in Petra.
At the Basin Restaurant in the heart of the site donkey owners hover around offering rides up to Petra's other major draw, the Monastery. Accept a ride - it'll be worth it, providing you pick a healthy animal that doesn't look too worn out.
Balancing on my donkey as it climbed 800 steep, narrow steps along a path edged by a terrifying drop into a gorge below was sheer magic in Petra.
My animal, named Jack, was led by an exotic-looking local Bedouin boy who wore black kohl eye-liner and told me about the history of his tribesmen.
Jack liked to veer towards the cliff edge then find his way again, just as I was convinced I'd be splattered.
Carry small notes with you in Petra to buy beautiful silver jewellery and sand bottles from vendors around the site.
From the Monastery, past a little drinks bar, a ragged sandy path climbs to the hilltop. The Jordan Valley spreading to infinity below is Petra's final surprise.
There's no railing separating the curious from certain death if they go too near the edge, so the only thing to mar the view is a lone vendor selling more trinkets, but even they can't spoil the magic.
All in all, Petra is hauntingly wonderful. Whatever your age, if you appreciate history, the place will steal your heart.
Back near Petra's entrance a craft centre sells tickets to Salome Turkish Bath in Wadi Musa, the village adjacent to the site. A visit there is recommended. Sandy dust coats you after a day in Petra and there's no better way to get so absolutely clean and soothe tired limbs than with a steamy scrub down.
The business is staffed entirely by men. Even the masseur and scrubber are men, and while they keep their eyes to themselves, the flimsy little scrap of sheet they give women to wear clings to the body like a second skin with steam and soap.
Worrying constantly about whether your bits are on display while a strange man scrubs you from neck to toe isn't relaxing. I was never more grateful for my bathing suit.
