Before Even London Was Londinium

II- Petra

my lips are dry and burning, I was stroked by that sun today, I’m hurtin all over. Back. Left knee dodgy again. I think I’m locked into my room, Mohammed had to take the key from me under the door this morning to bring breakfast in. hope there’s no fires or earthquakes. I’m like a cranky baby right now. I must just be tired. Everything was pissing me off. Dinner was 11 jd’s, they said it’d be 8. Batteris, 4 dinars, after the first set didn’t work. Every kid saying, Hello, and then, One Dinar! They said there was music at the Cave Bar at 7- go back. Nope, 9 o’clock. I’m too damn tired to wait. This isn’t a goddamn travel guide, it’s my brain on paper. So. Petra blew my mind. I mean, it blew my mind. Palaces carved into canyon rock. Pink canyon rock. Deep gorges and high peaks. A whole little city carved by hand into rose-coloured stone. And I’d be a kid on a playground anyway, climbing in and out of these gorges, but then to walk up rock-hewn steps carved by Nabateans before little tiny baby Jesus burped up, and ascend to an altar surrounded by a spinning vista of peaks and valleys, an altar to the gods, a stone bench for the onlookers, the believers, and some high priest would slit a mewling lamb’s throat, and the bubbling blood would flow hot and fast like water into this basin here, and out through that pipe there and surely these heathens would dance and wail and chant, I had my arms up touching the clouds, thinking what I should sacrifice, here at this altar, holy even before London was Londinium.
Up and down, I went, up and down, drinking in views like milk, sunshine dripping down my chin, greedy little smile all over my face, hobbling down steps by the end of the day because my mountain-running knee says Enough is enough. What tools does a man use to cut a 90-foot column out of a sandstone cliff? Or an entire banquet room with straight, high ceilings and smooth walls? I left my fucking jaw in Petra. I don’t even feel I need to go to Macchu Picchu now. It was like that.
I’m glad I remembered how good this day was. It was just l.o.n.g. Hit the canyon trail at 6.30am and didn’t look back. Limped back up that same trail many climbs and canyons later, at 6.30pm. And dinner was good. A vegetarian’s nightmare. I had mansafe- Jordanian classic. Chuckled to myself, mawing tender lamb straight off a white leg bone, Mansafe maybe, but Lamb not so safe. I’m such an idiot. Humous and babaganoush to boot. Eating like a wolf. Rip-offs be damned, cheats be damned, my breaking knee be damned. I’m on top of the world looking down down on creation. Hope I can walk tomorrow.