the middle East is beautiful.
Already at 8 in the morning, it was at least 95 degrees of dry, intense heat. My deodorant, sunglasses, and sun block never left my body from 7 in the morning until 7 at night for most days of our trip. When the tour bus dropped us off at the gateway, all sorts of Indiana Jones merchandise and paraphernalia greeted us because of “The Lost Crusade” movie that had been filmed there. The site was a major source of income for the impoverished town, and I was filled with excitement to begin exploring the huge city carved straight out of the walls of desert sandstone.
The tour group and I had to walk about a mile from the gateway to the Siq, a narrow path between towering canyon walls no more than 20 feet wide. Roaming the wide desert paths and rock formations, we eventually came to the Siq. The path had shrunk significantly and thankfully, it provided abundant shade for us to leisurely walk to the next destination. The thin dirt and cobblestone road winded left and right, revealing small sections where light would invade and burst into the mysterious windey and dark path. You would not know what you would see around the corner, or when you’d finally see the glorious Treasury, where the people that had resided in this hidden community had held all the valuables of their King; the treasury that foreign invaders had traveled far and wide to attempt to steal from. I felt like I was travelling into a different time period. We knew we were near the end of the siq when the two canyon walls on either side of us seemed to abruptly end. The dark rock walls sharply contrasted with the immense light that began to pierce our eyes with each step. There was only a sliver of this bright orange light as the sun bounced off of the rocks into the clearing and penetrated into the siq. The sliver dilated, as did our eyes, and the Treasury of extraordinary sunset orange and red rock towered over us. Our eyes were glued to the 2,000 year-old, hand-made masterpiece. Our pupils followed the large steps into the Treasury, and were fixated on the long columns starting from the bottom stretching to the very top, while poring over the ornate designs and bullet holes where foreigners tried to see if treasure would burst out from inside.
At noon, we weren’t even done seeing the entire site. By this point, we had seen beautiful cathedrals, tombs, and temples carved out of the colorful rock after being on our feet for four hours in 105 degree MiddleEast heat. Dehydrated, I was running on empty and my energy was depleted. My hunger disappeared as quickly as it came because of the heat as well as the fatigue. So when we finally had the chance to sit, my brother and I put our heads down and waved our white flag to heat exhaustion. All I wanted was to cool down and not move a single muscle fiber. After a little peer pressure, we somehow mustered up the energy, the will to climb the “800 Steps of Sacrifice,” a strenuous stairway to an even bigger and more elaborately designed monastery. These Steps of Sacrifice were of all different sizes, and a task that could not be made robotic. Each step needed to be considered, with its own amount of concentration allotted and determination devoted to it. However, the energy and sweat that was sacrificed was worth the view at the very top. Overlooking miles of rugged Jordan Mountains, they called it “View on Top of the World.” Layers of perspiration, dirt, and sun block all congealed into one thick layer on my skin, and I had tanned about 5 shades darker than how I came. I had to focus on each step I took in order to continue putting one foot in front of the other, even on flat ground. Meanwhile, flies were all around us as well as the horse carriages taking others back, Bedouin (the local tribe) villagers relentlessly asked for money, and the heat weighed down on us like an anchor. I cannot describe the joy and relief of seeing popsicle stands at the end of the valley, let alone devouring one. We finally arrived back to the Indiana Jones merchandise stands and the tour bus, which signified air conditioning and the return of “Western comforts.”
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I remember my impression of it when i went only 1 1/2 yrs ago. The land was harsh, politically and environmentally, but there was a certain kind of beauty to it. Not only were the people hospitable and kind, but their religion and cultural ways were captivating. Their eyes were profound and you could tell these people had seen a lot in their lifetime. Even spending a night on a felucca riding the Nile, you’d know the river could tell millions of stories if it could speak.
So with everything going on in Egypt/Tunisia/middleEast, i know everyone is thinking about how the US should act and how large of a role it should play.. And i know the US funds hella money to their military each year, that we’re good friends with Mubarak & that it’s a sticky situation. But i feel an unfairness for these people.. and i wish them the freedom we take for granted.
