Additional Photos

Here's couple of nice shots Wayne took that are a little out of order from their posts.

Picture 1: is our "host" on the bus from Damascus to Palmyra.
He kept the bus plied with water by going up the aisle every hour and serving in cups from this can. He seemed to get a hard time from the passengers in a fun way; a bit of a character. It was a good atmosphere.

Picture 2: Are a group very friendly children who really wanted to say hello and were thrilled to have their photo taken. This happened in a few places, though Apamea, where this photograpgh was taken, had a really lovely family type atmosphere.

Day Seven Syria Aleppo

Picture 1: The Baron Hotel Photo Wayne (Not loading at the moment)


Picture 2: Boy Number 2 on the patio waiting for customers


Picture 3: The courtyard of the Umayyad Mosque Photo Wayne


Picture 4: Butcher in the souks Camel meat (head and neck) Photo Wayne


Picture 5: G strings ready for sale in the souks

Picture 6: View of Aleppo from the Citadel


Months before the trip, Wayne and I read about a hotel in Aleppo called the Baron Hotel. It was once a grand hotel in the twenties and thirties, where guests stayed for weeks at a time after arriving on the Orient Express, Aleppo being the final stop.
Agatha Christie began writing Murder On The Orient Express in one of the suites and T E Lawrence as in ..of Arabia, popped in a few times and they keep one of his bills just to prove it.
The Baron Hotel hasn't really kept up with the times and looks a bit shabby though it’s possible to imagine its grand past.
We had booked in for one night. The hotel staff were desperate to sell currency or provide postcards, though seemed to be trying undercut each other behind each other’s back. It was like being in a movie.
When we arrived we asked if we could cash a travellers cheque. The man on duty offers us all sorts of currency, dollars, Turkish Lira, pounds..he has it all
A great moment was when we asked the lady (about 60) on duty about where we could cash some travellers’ cheques, she whispered and winked when talking about everything, as if we were being told highly confidential matter. “Go straight up the street (wink) about three blocks (wink) Syrian Bank branch number 3 is there, they will cash the cheques. When you see boy number 2.. tell him you are going to bank..Go straight up the street (wink and shake of my arm)
Boy number 2 was about 60 years old too. Maybe they were children working here back in the heyday of the hotel when the guests used to shoot grouse from the balcony.
We get to the bank, where there’s a motorbike parked inside. They would change my twenty pound note as there was a 2 mm rip in it.
Wayne needed some particular ID and ran back to hotel (being careful not to talk to boy number 2)
Wayne returns to find that they won’t cash cheques at branch number 3 on Saturday after 11.30 (???), though if we go branch number 2 we should be able to get it done.
“Oh…Where is branch number 2?”
“Go down this street second left at the clock tower. You’ll see it..it’s next to branch number 1”
We eventually stumbled accidentally on a branh which helped us out. It also had a motorcycle in the reception area.
While waiting in the first branch, a boy of about 14 handed over thpousand and thousands of American dollars as if he did it every day
And Wayne saw a guy walk out with a garbage bag size sack full of Syrian pounds.
Some weird goings on.
Being on the border with Turkey, I guess has its goings ons as we were to find out the next day.
Rest of time in Aleppo was filled with intrigue. Had some time in Souks or market, visited the mosque and spent a bit of time in the Citadel with a great view over the city. Met some great people who worked in shops and cafes and Wayne had an interesting Hamam experience. Also met some very funny shop keepers in a scarf souk. When checking out the fabric, the owner said, "David Jones prices at Target prices". The owner had clocked we were Australian and had himself had lived in Australia for some time. He and his nephew were very funny and welcoming and invited us to meet up later. I was still quite ill and declined, though Wayne met up for a short time.
The Great Mosque (Umayyad Mosque) had a great family atmosphere in the courtyard with children running around and junping on a pile of carpets; not staid or stuffy at all.

Day Six Syria Palmyra to Aleppo

Picture 1: Map Syria (Lonely Planet)

Picture 2: Palmyra (main colonnade)

Picture 3: Me at Palmyra (sick and cold)

Picture 4: Crac des Chevaliers (photo from internet)

Picture 5: Water Wheel at Hama

Picture 6: Teachers (old friends) meet up at Apamea

Picture 7: Father and son at Apamea (one of my favourite photographs of the trip)

After a ridiculously early rise, Wayne and braved the wind and headed out to the Roman ruins an saw all that we could possibly see. It was actually a bit of a privilege to have this world renowned Archaeological site to ourselves to discover. It was around 6 am and it was fresh.
"In the middle of the Syrian Desert is without doubt the most beautiful and magnificent of the Syrian historic sites, Palmyra. This Arab commercial metropolis, which has now turned pink with age, used to be on the old Silk Road. Called Tadmor by the Arabs, Palmyra appeared for the first time in the 2nd millennium BC in the archives of Mari and in an Assyrian text. It was also mentioned in the Bible as a part of Solomon's territory. " from http://www.syriagate.com/Syria/about/cities/Homs/palmyra.htm
An amazing site and extremely well preserved in parts.
We went back to the hotelo for breakfast and then back to the site for another look at The Temple of Bel and the Graves that are scattered in the valley. We looked at the Citadel, a castle on a very high mountain overlooking the city on our way to Crac des Chevaliers. From the citadel we asked our guide about the local prison, as we knew of its legend of mistreatment and torture of political prisoners. Our questions were awkward and met with quietness from our guide.
We drove across the desert askingabout the war in Iraq, opinions on USA, music, relationships, everything you ever wanted to know etc.
We arrived eventually to see Crac des Chevaliers (Fortress of the Knights) early afternoon.
It is a classic Crusader Castle. It is often billed as the most complete crusader castle, one like you picture as a kid.
"The Krak of the Knights, described by T.E. Lawrence as 'the best preserved and most wholly admirable castle in the world,' from http://www.greatbuildings.com/buildings/Krak_des_Chevaliers.html
After checking this out and discovering our castle guide was trying his moves on every second bloke he came across, we moved onto Apamea.
Apamea (pronounced Afarmea), is a well preserved Roman site dating to 300 BC.
For us the interesting part about Apamea was that it was in the countryside, we visited on Friday, the Holy Day of the Muslim calander and were fortunate enough to see many local families enjoying the area, for walking, playing, picnics..it was really nice to be able to see and we wer considered a real novaelty and all sorts of people would approach us for conversation, questions and photographs. Attention like this was alsways male dominated. Interaction from females was extremely limited. An occasional shy smile was about it.
A really pleasant atmosphere at Apamea.
We pushed onto Aleppo around late afternoon and arrived around 9 pm.. a huge day and a mammoth drive from Raaziq, our driver from Palmyra (brother of the hotel owner), who after a cup of tea, turned around and drove another four hours back to Palmyra.

Day Five (ctd) Damascus to Palmyra

Picture 1 and 2 : Signs for Iraq and Bagdad

Picture 3: The Road heading East to Iraq

Picture 4: Bus entertainment, crucifixion

Picture 5: Stark Cafe

Picture 6: Stairway Onions


The bus was packed. We hesitantly handed over our passports outside of the bus to our ticket tout and walked up the aisle looking for seats. We were pointed to the back seat and settled back for the four hour trip through the desert.
A high proportion of the passengers seem to be from the Syrian Army. We were surrounded by policemen and soldiers. The fellow next to Wayne was extremely friendly and became so familiar that he would rest his arm and hand on Wayne's thigh for long periods of time.
About a dozen people around us were fascinated with Wayne's camera and phone, which made for easy communication without much use of language.
They made a point of letting us know when something of interest was coming up. This was hardly necessary as anything of interest I had noted twenty minutes beforehand myself as it was glaringly obvious on the barren desert horizon.
Very friendly people and once again, genuinely interested to know about who we were and where we were from.
A video was playing and it seemed a little out place to be watching Muslim people enthralled in a scene depicting a recreation of Christ's crucifixion (it was actually a Jean Claude Van Demme movie).
On the way we passed a turnoff for Bagdad/Iraq. It was 150 kilometres away. Felt a little weird.
There were actually a couple of roadside food places called "Bagdad Cafe".
Toward the end of the trip I started feeling really cold again.
When we arrived in Palmyra we had to walk down the main street and the reception was incredible. Young children everywhere were saying "hello" and "welcome". It was incredible how many times we were greeted. From balconies, doorways, playing in the street, there must have been forty children that made a point of greeting us. It was pretty touching.

Our hotel room was up six flights of stairs and at each yurn of flight, in the corner was a pile of onions. The only reason we come up with for this was it looked recently painted and perhaps the onions neutralised the smell. Who knows? I guess we could have asked, though that would only quell our curiousity.
I had been wanting to go to the toilet for a while on the bus and quickly discovered that I was ill.
We went down to eat in the hotel cafe and I went up and down those six flights of stairs at least 4 times to revisit the toilet, which was not functioning correctly and involved using a hose everytime it was used. Remember that each turn of the stairs has a pile of onions in them. Their sight and smell only helped to increase my sense of sickness.
I was exhausted again. Back in the cafe, Wayne and I made plans for our next day. The conclusion of this was that we would have to rise at 5.30 am to see ruins at 6, this would allow us to press on for a tour of other parts of Syria that we awanted to see.
I told our host that I was ill and wanted to go to bed; could he rush a meal?. He said he was a nurse at the local hospital and knew exactly what to prepare for me.
It took an hour and a half of freezing in this stark cafe before my comfort food arrived..boiled potatoes. Just boiled potatoes.
I ate them, rushed once again to the toilet and went to bed (for a very interrupted sleep due to explosive diarrhoea) for the early rise.

Day Five Damascus

Photo 1 : Ummayad Mosque, Damascus Minaret

Photo 2: Ummayad Mosque, Damascus Courtyard gold mosaics

Photo 3: Damascus Pistachio pastries

Photo 4: On display inside the Azem Palace museum, a 19th Century softdrink bottle, perhaps?

Photo 5: Damascus Roman Western Temple Gate

Photos 2, 3 and 6 from Wayne

Lebanon to Damascus in a taxi. To catch a taxi, one has to wait until the cab is filled before it leaves. So at th taxi area, drivers will shout out there destination. Each seat in the car is worth “x” amount of money and you can buy out the seats and go immediately, though generally the wait for other passengers is not too long. I waited 45 minutes. You can walk around the area as the driver keeps an eye on his customers. I can’t exactly remember how much I paid though it’s a ridiculously small price to pay for what you get.

Getting from Lebanon to Syria meant a slightly organised rigmarole of getting in and out of the taxi on four separate occasions. There’s been tension between Syria and Lebanon in the recent past, though at the moment it has eased off a little. The actual people speak kindly of each other, which is different of my experience in the UK where many Scottish border people have little kind words for the English.
My companions on the trip were four Syrian men and a Palestinian lady. All of them really worked hard to let me feel welcome. These are the little moments that are the real deal and it makes me feel good just remembering the kindness.
I was alike a hot chip to the seagulls when I was dropped near the bus station and set upon by hotel touts.. mind you, this was the only experience of being really hassled for money in Syria. The taxi driver really gave it to the hotel peddlers on my behalf. They backed off.

I walked to the hotel, Al Haramein, a great find off the internet in a little pedestrian alley.
A nice old building with courtyard area.
I had a scour around the town for a few hours. The souks (markets, shops in a covered bazaar setting) are a great place to get look at a cross section of the locals and easily feel a little more part of the scene. I had a kebab and fruit juice (hand squeezed, around 40 cents).

Damasus is the oldest continually inhabited city in the world.
The city radiates from the Ummayad Mosque, built on what was originally an Aramean
Temple 3000 BC. It claims to contain the head of John the Baptist, though so do a few other places in the world).
When I got back to hotel, I started getting the shivers and could not get warm enough. It was coldish though not ridiculous. I put on a kerosene heater, as well as four layers including a fleece and feel asleep, exhausted under a couple of blankets.
My friend Wayne was to arrive from London that night around midnight.
I awoke when he arrived.

The next day we went out to discover more of Damascus, which essentially was looking at the mosque as well as walking the atmospheric streets of the old city and we had a look at the Azem Palace which is old Damascus House built during the 18th century. It has displays of Damascene arts and craftsmanship.
We were keen to move onto Palmyra which was four and a half hours away, so we were at the bus station which was one of the most chaotic places I’ve ever seen. Not a huge place, though a security check line ups, touts all over with a cut throat business mentality; it was absolute madness. Despite all of this, or perhaps because of it, we were on a bus within 3 minutes. This sparked a verbal fight between two touts. We were on our way…hopefully to Palmyra..we were sort of sure.

Day Four Lebanon Beirut and Baalbek

Pictures:
I'm having trouble posting photos for some reason at the moment.
In the meantime here's a few:
Photo 1: St Georges Bay Sailing Club Beirut, Lebanon which suffered a terrorist bomb blast in February 2005 which took the life of a former Lebanese Prime Minister and seventeen others
Photo 2: The Temple of Bacchus, Baalbek, Lebanon
Photo 3: Signs for Hezbollah in Bekaa Valley, Lebanon

It was about 8 pm and absolutely poured with rain when I arrived in Beirut. Through that night a mighty and very loud thunderstorm went on for what seemed like hours.
I went for a cab ride around town to orientate myself and have a look at the city at night.
Beirut is on the Mediterranan coast and there are some lovely view points around the city, particularly an area called "The Pigeon Rocks". This area, to me, felt very much like Eastern Sydney coastal areas.
The "Downtown" area was obliterated in the 70s. There's been civil war between Muslims and Christians, there's been war with the Israelis and more recently problems with Syria leading to terrorist attacks. Part of the shopping area has been rebuilt and feels a little weird. It's flawless, built in sympathy with surrounding buildings in this honey coloured stone (one book describes it as Disney like, which I felt was a fair description), though it was like a ghost town when I was there.
The cab driver was going to drop me at a restaurant with a view for late dinner and I asked him to take me to a cafe that he would eat at.


It looked promising as the cafe was up a back street, clean as a really clean whistle and the few men in there were watching tv with their food etc.
The food was brilliant. I'm not sure what the best part was; Great tasting grilled meat, awesome meze dips, fresh salads, soft warm bread though I fear that perhaps the real reason I felt like a king when I was eating was that I was served the first beer that I'd had on the trip.

No, wait, I tell a lie. Two men in a shop in Petra happily sold me what they thought was the best beer in the world. I was ecstatic to find beer being sold in a corner style store. When I got to my room and opened them, I found out pretty quickly that it was (Laziza) non alcoholic beer. I had bought three bottles and tipped two and three quarters down the sink.
So not only was I served a beer, it was actually an ice cold, alcoholic beer in a chilled glass; it went down a treat.

Beirut is known for it's excellent nightclubs with great live music.
I felt pretty exhausted, having started the day in the desert way back when and I would have probably gone out if I was with someone half keen to go, but instead watched half of a early 70s Egyptian movie featuring many beautiful, leggy women. Strangely, the plot would always work so there was a focus on their bare legs). I'm not complaining, though it was weird.
Thinking about it now, I guess Benny Hill reruns would seem a trifle odd to a newly arrived foreign initiate.

Next day, just another quick look around the town in daylight.
There's a lot of very expensive new developments built all over the city, though they will be next door to most run down looking places.
Buildings are scarred from bullets and war blasts. I wouldn't pretend to know what sort of horrible things the People of Beirut had gone through in very recent past. I cannot imagine the mind set of someone who has lived through seing death, bombs, shootings in their own town and then staying there and getting on with it. The few people I met were very nice to me and it didn't seem very polite to discuss their opinions on things at length. The taxi driver, with whom I spent about an hour and a half just wanted to focus on the rebuilding of the city.
I got a bus stop and began a three part journey to Baalbek, in the Bekaa Valley, near the Syrian Border.
The bus ride is a story in itself which I won't go into now, though at one stage, I felt I was being transported by the Beverly Hillbillies of the Bekaa Valley of Lebanon.

My main reason to go was to see the ruins of Baalbek on the way to Damascus.
A UNESCO site, apparently Baalbek is one of the finest examples of architecture at Imperial Rome's most powerful point.

Baalbeck’s awe-inspiring temples and city ruins are among the largest and finest examples of Roman architecture in the world. Visitors can easily spend several hours, or an entire day, exploring the wonders of this ancient city – from the grandeur of the columned temples to the intricately carved stonework, and the sheer size of the stones used to construct the temples. Like many archaeologists and historians, you will be amazed at the ancient feats of engineering required to build these magnificent stone monuments.
From sacredsites.com


As I walked into the site I was accosted by a few people selling coins and the usual guidebooks. One guy, however was imploring I buy one of his t shirts, which featured a shadow of a raised arm holding a huge gun.
Vague, as I am, I said no an walked on into the site. I hired a guide to show me around for an hour. (hiring a guide sounds expensive, though it's excellent value and as you can imagine you get a lot more out of a visit anywhere).
My guide had been working there since 1962. 1962!! He knew it all. He was a nice bloke and he made it all very interesting. The main things that stick in my mind are the mind blowing size of the structures and the stones they moved to put it in place.


In 27 BC, the Roman emperor Augustus supposedly took the unfathomable decision to build in the middle of nowhere the grandest and mightiest temple of antiquity, the Temple of Jupiter, whose platform, and big courtyard are retained by three walls containing twenty-seven limestone blocks, unequaled in size anywhere in the world, as they all weigh in excess of 300 metric tons. Three of the blocks, however, weigh more than 800 tons each. This block trio is world-renowned as the "Trilithon".

People that should know don't know how these foundation blocks were transported. It's a mystery to rival the pyramids, apparently.
Snowcapped mountains as a backdrop against the ruins made a beautiful setting.

"Why these stones are such an enigma to contemporary scientists, both engineers and archaeologists alike, is that their method of quarrying, transportation and precision placement is beyond the technological ability of any known ancient or modern builders. "
From:
http://www.sacredsites.com/middle_east/lebanon/baalbek.htm. It has good pictures if you want more info on Baalbek.


My Guide book mentioned a kidnapping and shooting within Baalbek in the seventies by the Hezbollah party. I mentioned this to my guide an he said he knew nothing of it, followed by silence. I didn't persue the point. Though the penny was starting to drop for me about the t shirt and posters I had seen in the town:

From Frontline:
"Posters of Hezbollah "martyrs," or suicide bombers, line the streets of the city. A souvenir store sells videos of Hezbollah guerrillas attacking Israeli soldiers, alongside shelves of Hezbollah hats and postcards. They even market a Hezbollah scent called "perfume of the martyrs." "

I asked the guide (I've forgotten his name, unfortunately) where is a cheap place for good Lebanese food and he took me fifty metres to his mate's cafe. I was warmly welcomed into a small, bare cafe that made the King of Yeeros' Wickham Castle look like a Mc Donalds.
They wanted to chat and fed me good microwavable local pastries. I noticed a few bottles of wine. I was aware that Lebanese wine is very famous and recently had read the best wines of Lebanon come from the Bekaa Valley. They served me excellent wine and coffee which doubled my heart rate.
It felt real good being there.

I caught a bus to a town called Chtaura and then a taxi in the form of a huge American gas guzzling Dodge, to cross the border and go to Damascus, Syria.

Day Three Jordan

All pictures are taken at Wadi Rum, Jordan. Note in one photograph the size perspective of landforms with the jeep
You can also see in one photo how sand colour varies according to rock colouring in that area
After seeing Petra, I drove the hour and three quarters to Wadi Rum that afternoon.
Wadi Rum is desert area in the south of Jordan. I had read that Wadi Rum was a great looking place and that it had impressed Lawrence of Arabia very much. Guidebooks and websites had amped me up to have a look at the desert. The option was there to stay overnight under the stars, so why not? I arranged a night in the desert before I left England.
I was late for the meeting with the guide, Eid. I was tearing down the highway and was rightfully pulled over by the police. “Where are you from?” as everyone asked with genuine interest. “It is a 90 kmh zone and you were doing 110”
I didn’t know what to say and just did the old turning up palms with slight shrug of shoulders in a “It’s a fair cop; what am I to do? type look. (Miss Kate T acted out a great example of this in one of the Albert Street videos)
He looked at me, laughed in friendly manner and said very genuinely, “You be careful”.
I got there in time for sunset. It is without doubt a very attractive part of the world and was a unique experience for me, though throughout the night, the “I wish someone special was here to appreciate it with me” feelings would often rear their head. It would have been a very cool experience with a girlfriend. Still, it was a fantastic experience, regardless.

As mentioned in a previous post, Eid was no stranger to the world of technology with his mobile phone making mine look like it may have been used by the Nabateans back in Petra a couple of millennium ago.
In hindsight, I may have over romanticised in my head the idea of the Bedouin people living a traditional lifestyle.
Eid, the bloke looking after me, was telling me how the village weddings are expensive (there was one the week before). Pretty much everyone in the village goes.

“The feast for so many people and the goat.”, I heard him say.
“Yes,” I said confidently, feeling very culturally aware, as in my memory I recalled the act of giving a dowry in some parts of the world requires presenting livestock as a gift between families... “I guess weddings are expensive no matter where they are.”
After a few moments’ pause I tried to extend the conversation.
“Is it always Bedouin tradition to give a goat at the wedding?”

Slight pause…”Goat?..goat? no.. no… Gold....gold…. it is typical gift at wedding. Much gold. Gold is expensive. We eat the sheep and goat.”

Good food and much tea was provided and I slept on a simple thin foam mattress under the stars. The sleep was interrupted by the visit of a hedgehog looking for food.
Next day I had a two and half hour jeep tour of the desert. Besides the obvious highlight of seeing a vast desert ("...echoing, spacious and godlike..."- Lawrence of Arabia), with huge landforms and mountains, a moment that sticks well in my memory is that of seeing a mother camel with her one week old calf. We were maybe fifty metres away and I went to get a photo out of the car (near the car), though Eid suggested that I stay in the car, warning that it could turn nasty if the mother sees me as a threat.

To answer Frazer’s question, I have never been interested in discovering the Australian desert. Going to Wadi Rum was not a reason for going to Jordan, although after reading about it, it seemed silly to miss seeing it. That seems to be a recurring situation for me when travelling. I read about the area and discover many, many places that I really want to see and I feel it’s very important to see them or experience it. This results in me leading a very hectic holiday. I realise that is not everyone’s cup of tea, though it’s how it is for me.
Eid pointed out that “Saudi” was a couple of hours away across the desert.
The hire car, back in the village, had a tank almost empty, so when we got back to Rum village, Eid took me to the “petrol station” - two guys sitting in chairs outside a dark room- where he organised a jerry can to half fill up the car with cheap Benzine (from Saudi).
I headed north to The Dead Sea and Mount Nebo. I went first via the Desert Highway which is a fast route and then across to the King’s Highway to drive through Wadi Mujib, the “Grand Canyon” of the Middle East.
The Desert Highway was bizarre. Two days before I was caught up in torrential floods of rain and today the car was engulfed in sandstorms that would blow forcefully across the road. They start off as brief blasts then turned into long clouds of sand where it was necessary to slow down as visibility was very poor at times. This lasted for about forty five minutes, then there were a few series of signs for turn offs for Iraq and Saudi, neighbouring countries. Seeing those signs and knowing a short distance up the road was very much a war zone, was bizarre. Of course, I was in no danger and not once on the whole trip did I feel in any danger; though to see a reminder of my geographical position was a spin out. The terrain was very much flat, barren desert with occasional breeze block shanty town villages. Very much like the television reports from roadside Iraq. This “awareness” of where I was turned out to be one of my strongest feelings on the whole trip.
Unfortunately, for much of this day I had no camera as my batteries had run out for the digital and Lufthansa were still “looking after” my luggage.

I turned onto the King’s Highway, although it was quite foggy at times (which reminds me that on the first day driving from Jerash I drove through pea soup fog, hazard lights, 20 kmh….more extreme weather patterns in Jordan).
Despite the fog I got some fantastic glimpses of Wadi Mujib, a national park. The road follows a ridge and takes you into a deep valley and out again. Very spectacular views.

I was to catch a plane at 4 pm, so there was pressure to see a few places in a short space of time. I wanted to swim in The Dead Sea, see Madaba and Mt Nebo.
I was behind time; I tore down a huge mountain on a country road to get down to the Dead Sea. The car was sliding here and there, though I felt safe enough.
Once again, I was stopped, this time by a military man with a military tank at roadside on this tiny country road. (These stops become reasonably regular as you approach the Israeli border.
“Why do you drive quick, quick, quick?”
I explained I wanted to swim in The Dead Sea, though had to catch a plane soon. He nodded and smiled as he explained to his fellow gun toting colleague. (I know nothing of names of weaponry, though I can assure you they were, without a doubt, very serious guns indeed).
He lifted the barricade and off I continued.

In this frantic rushing and late state of mind, I had earlier pulled into a petrol station to fill up the empty tank. The fellow serving me asked, “Where are you from?”. This is typical as I said before and people do genuinely want to know about you. It was a nice thing. The petrol station man and his three mates insisted I take tea with them. This involves accepting three (small) glasses, to be polite. After one glass, I explained as best I could that I had to run off. This perhaps was tantamount to an international incident, though my tip may have helped the situation.
The tea in Jordan and Syria is very sweet, and although not a tea drinker usually, I quickly got used to it and ended up looking forward to a few cups.

The Movenpick Resort (expensive and big) is the first that you come across on the Dead Sea Highway. To enter the beach from Movenpick, it costs approximately 20 British pounds (a lot). The cheaper swimming public beach alternative was a further fifteen minutes down the road.
My luggage did not originally arrive with me and I was still without my bag (and swimmers). I had asked at the Petra Movenpick if it was possible to hire swimmers at the Dead Sea branch. “Of course, sir”
Time was of the essence. I checked in the car to the car park, which involved a form to be filled out and passport scrutinised.
Now picture a resort of extremely high standard and me walking into the reception with my boots absolutely coated in desert dust and clothes I had been wearing for three days with no shower in desert, either.
At reception I asked where I could hire the swimmers.
“You can buy them in the shop, sir”
“Buy them??... Where’s the shop?”
Down the stairs, turn to the right, follow the path and you will see it on the left next to the…..”
I ran off in the direction he pointed. Got outside and saw how incredibly huge this place was, looked at the time, added on buying swimmers time, trying them on, changing, getting to the water, shower etc and just as strong in my thoughts, I was incensed I would have to pay twenty pounds, plus whatever Movenpick charge for swimmers, for a five minute swim.
It was just all a bit ridiculous. Resigned to the fact that I was not destined to experience swimming in the Dead Sea this trip, I walked out to the car park and left for Mt Nebo.

Mount Nebo is where Moses was shown the “promised land” by God after wandering for forty years. Moses died there, as well.
As the folks at VisitJordan.com say, “When you stand at the top of this mountain, you can see, as Moses did, the vast panorama that encompasses the Jordan River Valley, the Dead Sea, Jericho and Jerusalem”
There are shepherds dotted around these mountains and they look exactly as they must have all those years ago.

Madaba was just up the road and on the way to the airport; the main interest there is mosaic map. It is the earliest known map of the Middle East (6th Century) and its importance in history is well documented. The significance was mainly lost on me at the time as I had to get to the airport.
At the airport I made a fool out of myself. I had no watch and my phone had run out of batteries (thank you once again, Herr Lufthansa). I was late, handed the car in and ran to baggage people. They gave me a piece of paper and said I needed it signed by the man in the building over there. To cut a long story short, wrong building, running back and forward, security check, sweaty, big day and all and I’m thinking I have five minutes to get plane. Eventually race and upset people on the way to discover I have extra forty five minutes up sleeve. I was so rude to anyone who held me up time-wise. It left me feeling a bit disappointed with myself.

Next was a one hour plane ride to Beirut.

Day Two Petra

Petra is outstanding. Built primarily by a group of people called the Nabateans, then added to by Romans, you enter on foot or carriage via the Siq (a narrow gorge, at time 5 metres wide with walls hundreds of metres high). After about a km you glimpse the most famous landmark of Petra, the Treasury. I spent the day discovering the sites on my own as well as with a guide for a few hours.That evening I drove on to Wadi Rum, a desert area in the south of Jordan. Here I met a Bedouin, Eid who took me to a camp in the desert where I walked in silence, watched the sunset, walked in the night around in desert awe, slept under the stars and went for a tour of the desert the next day. Was quite amazing.The Bedouin are the native nomadic desert dwellers from all over Middle East. Tents will be set up for a period of time and their animals, sheep, goats, camels will graze in a certain area for a period of time and then move on. They are known for amazing hospitality and will always welcome people in for tea and conversation if possible.I met quite a few Bedouin while travelling. These days many are settled into towns and have given up the namadic lifestyle, though consider themselves Bedouin before any other nationality. I was tempted to compare their situation of blending in with their community seemingly successful with the Aboriginal situation in Aus, though if I am honest with myself, I really do not not know enough information from either side of the fence to comment.What seemed a little funny to me was that although the Bedouin can exist in these harsh conditions with no problems whatsoever and can navigate the vast desert with incredible accuracy, while camping, Eid received a text and jumped in his jeep and drove a couple of klms to send message and improve reception.Creating a travelogue is not my bag, though if you want to check it out, have a look at this lady's site on Jordan: http://www.jordanjubilee.com/ It has great photos on the places I've mentioned and it is much more informative than I could pretend to attempt in an hour on a Sunday morning.
Photos:
1. The Treasury (Petra)
2. Camel (Petra)
3. General Photo of Royal tombs carved into rock face (Petra)
4. The Monastery This is accessby a huge climb up a mountain. The courtyard in front of the building has been carved out of the mountain. To put things a little into perspective, the Urn on top of the building is ten metres high (Petra)
5. A random shot of rock colouring in one area of Petra
6 and 7. The Treasury (called a treasury when first discovered as assumed it would have held valuable treasures of Petra, though now known to probably been a tomb) (Petra)
8 Last Photo: This is the Village of Rum. It is where the Bedouin community have settled to a degree. It is fairly common for many Bedoiun to take off into the desert from here for a few days or months at a time. I love the way the road just ends and turns into an awesome desert.

Day One Jordan

A few photos to accompany the Jordan, Part One post.
First is sign for Dead Sea
Second is the clean up at the entrance for public swimming (Dead Sea)
Third is a general photo of the Dead Sea from Jordan (that's Israel West Bank in the background)
Fourth is the Baptism site of Jesus. The Jordan River is a mere trickle of what it once was due to Agriculture. It has also changed course slightly, as rivers do over time. I must admit that it was not “touristy” at all and is a serious archaeological site. The tour was lead by archaeologists that had worked/ are working on the site.
Fifth photo is the river as is today. As this shot was taken, the guide pointed out the sound of Jackals in the distance. It was a bit of a shivers up the spine sound.