Petra, rock in Greek, say no more.
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| From Petra, Jordan |
We started off early and it looked like it was going to be another Pyramids fiasco – I really don't think we're cut out to do much tourism. Anyway it turned out to be fun after all the bad moods (mine) and despite a serious lack of energy, the precious little I had left sapped by the sun.
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| From Petra, Jordan |
We stopped for a good six hours mid day under the shade of trees where we slept, read and ate our picnic of digestive biscuits (quite why Djalma that we'd need three packs I do not know), hummus, baba ganough, tomatoes and flat bread.
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| From Petra, Jordan |
With a bit more energy we set up the mountain towards the monastery and the views looking out over the gorges, frankly by the time we'd made it up I was so tired that I wanted to turn back round, go to the hotel and lie down – I was done in. But Djalma dragged me to a look out point which would have been quite spectacular had we been able to see more but the lowering sun light was bouncing round the mountains in a way that didn't illuminate anything. We made our way back down after some more rest, Djalma sat on top of some rocks with some Bedouin guys drinking and listening to them play music, the dark quickly closing in.
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| From Petra, Jordan |
Luckily for us a guy as going back home, a local Bedouin, and he offered to show us the way. I was just plodding where ever I was directed and so we followed him to a nearish village in-between mountains, the moon rising over the top and got a taxi from there to the hotel and the REST.
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| From Petra, Jordan |
A poem from my sister:
I have a sister called Sarah,
Who really wanted a poop,
All she ever got was bum wee
A messy brown liquid goop
One day she will fire pellets
Of firmy round solid fun
Balls of steely brown missiles
Ejected with force from her bum
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