Bedouins offered us their wares and one furtively proffered an authentic Caesarean coin, which we declined on the premise that it was illegal.
We saw a modern car parked in an ancient cave and a cheeky camel snorted at my son and startled him.
We spotted prayer mats laid out in a cave through a crevice. It offered some respite from the blazing heat.
It was not difficult to make the decision to walk up 823 steps to Ad-Deir ”The Monastery”, from where the view of Petra in the diffused afternoon light was dazzling – after leaving the kids at the bottom with Grandma.
Sugary soft drinks in a Bedouin tent high up in the mountains refreshed us and I bought a traditional beaded necklace on the way.
After a day in the blazing hot sun, we had sore legs that would take a week to recover but memories that would last a lifetime.
Later, I read a book called “Married to a Bedouin” about a New Zealand born nurse who visited Petra with her friend in 1978, met a bedouin from there, married him and lived there. It was a fascinating glimpse into the lives of the people of Petra .
