Petra - In the Maze of Time
1/12/2009 |
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The way wound down ... through a labyrinth of red cliffs. They towered now on either side. Sarah felt stifled – menaced by the ever narrowing gorge. ... It grew dark – the vivid red of the walls faded.
A dark canyon winds its way to a stunning view of Khazneh al-Faroun, the Treasury with its elegant façade in a glaringly rose colour. Carved in rock, likely a tomb of a mighty Nabatean ruler, Al-Khazneh towers over a circular crevice tucked in between the sky high jebels.
Petra, begins here; a sandy pathway leads on through a ruined city that still boasts an ancient Roman theatre that was meticulously cut into a hillside, funerary halls, tombs, temples - all ornate with exquisite façades - and countless edifices whose uncertain use adds to the aura of mystery that shrouds the capital of the ancient Nabatea. A trek up steep stairs sculptured in rock, dangerously smoothed by centuries of erosion, ends opposite another monumental structure, ad-Dair, the Monastery, whose dark and cavernous interior is said to have once been a home to a Christian church. Ad-Dair is best visited later in a day, when from a place further up the ridge, bathed in the crepuscular mist, the mountains feebly sketch out against the backdrop of the setting sun.
After many exhausting hours – dawn through dusk – I enjoy a moment of respite. I drink hot tea – sugared and served with mint in a glass tumbler that burns my fingers. I chat with accidental friends united here by a shared sense of marvel. I stretch my blistered feet and indulge in the comfort of a thick carpet that covers the sand floor in a Bedouin tent. The day came to a close; the sun rose and set on Petra. I think I've witnessed a moment of eternity. These rocks, these mountains take me back to the beginnings of time. These ruins witness to finitude of material dreams.
Christie referred to it as a dead city and what's in fact left of a great culture is tombs, and more tombs. But the British authoress was far from giving in to the first impression; hers was a deep reflection on time, on the transient nature of things. Still, perhaps because of the scorching heat of the sun, the exhaustion, thirst (a constant companion); Petra appears unreal, ephemeral and yet eternal - carved in rock, chiselled in time. I brood on the very reason I've been drawn to this city that is misplaced in the desert and time. It had to be a photograph of the façade of Al-Khazneh – a temple hewn out of rock whose pink luminosity gives Petra's photographs the nostalgic quality of the colour-faded snapshots. Past is an intrinsic part of Petra, I reckon, and entering the city, from the moment of immersion in a cool and sinuous gorge, is like stepping back into distant history, and the feeling is both intense and enlightening.
Continue--
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