Author: Adrian's Got the Moose

Madaba- 14\1\2019

Madaba contains a historic old city quarter, complete with Roman ruins, churches and an alarming number of souvenir shops.

It was supposed to be my gateway to the Dead Sea, Bethany on the Jordan, and Karak. Due to the fact that almost no one stays in the town, and public transport being almost non-existant, I ended up skipping most of it.

I spent a morning visiting Mount Nebo, which is believed to be where Moses first viewed the Holy Land. According to Christian tradition, Moses was also buried there. It made for an interesting if not exciting diversion, trying to take photos while dodging large groups of the devout.

The church itself had some excellent mozaics, which this area is famous for.

I returned to the city in an empty bus, and a completed a self-guided walking tour.

The first step was Saint George’s Greek Orthodox Church, featuring a 5th century mosaic floor of the Middle East, which is famous, and the bread and butter of many of the souvenir shops.

Next was the Burnt Palace, an expansive private residence. The site also includes a church, which also has a mosaic floor.

A nearby site is the Madaba Archaeological Park, featuring a church, the remains of a Roman road, and the crypt of Saint Elianus.

A decent hike way is the Church of the Apostles, which features, shockingly, floor mosaics.

The last stop, and up a tough hill, was thhe Church of the Beheading of John the Baptist. For me it’s true drawcard was underground- the Acropolis Museum .

I also climbed to the top of the bell tower, which had some incredible views.

Petra Part 3- 11/11/2019

The next day I took on the Ad-Deir Monastery Trail, listed as “hard” by the handy booklet I picked up at my hostel. But I am nothing if not a little foolish, so why not? The trail marks a departure from the tour group infested main trail.

It took me a solid hour and a half to reach the monastery, through canyons and over rough-hewn steps, exhausting but rewarding.

The Monastery is very similar to the Treasury but is less in contrast with to the surrounds, which lessens the visual impact. But I think it makes for some interesting photos.

There are number of high peaks a short walk from the Monastery , complete with Bedouins ready to sell you tea to enjoy while you absorb the incredible views.

The wind from there on the day was a thing to behold, and kept me from getting too close to the edges.

To sum up, I loved Petra. The awe-inspiring structures are an amazing testimony to the abilities of the long-dead society that built them. My only complaint was the constant dramas of the drivers of the donkeys, horses and camels who plied their trade. If I never see or smell another donkey, I won’t mind at all.

Petra Part 2

As soon as I realised that the incredible facade from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade  actually existed, I have wanted to see it for myself. The next twenty years have done nothing to change that.

Petra is believed to have been settled as early as 9000 BCE and was established as the capital of the Nabatean Kingdom in the 4th century BCE. The Nabateans were nomadic Arabs, who grew steadily wealthy on the spice and incense trade. The city was absorbed into the Roman Empire, suffered from numerous earthquakes and then declined as sea routes overtook the overland trade. It disappeared into obscurity, known only to the Bedouin who camped there. Petra was rediscovered by a Swiss traveller in 1812.

You access the site by a 1.2 KM gorge, complete with water channels , carvings and water fountains for ritual ablutions. At some points the gorge is only three metres wide, making it a tight squeeze for caravans, but perfect for defense.

Before you exit the Siq, you get a tease of Al-Khazna, AKA The Treasury

Its as incredible as it looks in the movie. it’s in fact a temple, the treasury monikor results from a legend that a bandit gang hid their loot in a stone urn on the facade, an urn that is now known to be solid sandstone, now complete with bullet holes from treasure seekers.

Continuing the main trail takes you through another canyon, which widens,  then includes many royal tombs, a recontructed theatre, and the stairs to the High Place of Sacrifice .

To get to the High Place of Sacrifice takes a solid fifteen minutes of climbing, assuming you don’t stop for breaks, or to pat cats. It’s unknown if human sacrifices were ever conducted here, livestook and grain certainly was. However it was not a place I felt like lingering- bad mojo seemed to be evident, no matter how amazing the views.

N earby were two obelisks, believed to represent the chief male and female  Nabatean deities. They were created by leveling the hill top, leaving only the material that makes up the obelisks.

The main trail continues, with the remains of the Nymphaeum, the Trajen Market, then the Great Temple, which was excavated in the nineties and partially reconstructed.

After passing through the Temenos Gate, you can’t help but stare at Qesr Al-Bint, another temple, one of the best preserved structures in Petra.

a group of churches up a modest hill round off the remainder of the main trail, the best preserved is the so-called Byzantine Church, whih boasts some incredible mozaics.

Petra Part 1- 08/11/2019

Due to the vulgar nature of public transport and the unsocial hour I left Wadi Rum, I had to taxi my way to Petra- complete with a prayer break for my driver, which gave me a chance to buy some drinks and snacks.  After check in at my hostel, I had a beer at the terrace bar with some beautiful European twenty-somethings, which led to a late dinner down the hill.

In theory, the walk  from the gate to Petra and the street leading up to it and my hostel is an easy two hundred metre walk. In practice its all uphill, at a gradient that many cars had trouble with. I soon named this hill The Hill Of Doom. My first time climbing it with those beautiful twenty somethings almost killed me. By the time I left I could manage it only feeling slightly knackered by the time I got to the hostel doors.

The next day I took it very easy. I went for a walk to the less touristy part of town for dinner, helped a local clutch-start his aging Mercedes , before getting a haircut, and accepting the offer of a shave.

It was less scary than I thought, I  managed to be appropriately passive as the moustached barber ran the shavette over my face, and tried not to think about Sweeny Todd. After a ten Diner note and a handshake was exchanged I walked into the night air feeling about ten feet tall. I headed back to the hostel for an early night.

Wadi Rum, 07/11/2019

Made famous through the writings of T.E. Lawrence (of Arabia) and the movies based on his writings. Filmmakers often use Wadi Rum as a substitute for Mars in science fiction movies, as well as other Earth desert settings. Scenes from the Star Wars franchise ,as well as the upcoming Dune movie have been filmed there.

I spent two nights at Wadi Rum Nomads Camp. I slept in a small cabin made up to look like a tent, and we took our meals in a similar, larger building, often to the sounds of the owner’s music act.

The landscapes were simply breathtaking. Massive sandstone edifices rising up from the almost impossible flat landscape. Minimal vegetation, except for a handful of trees around springs and within canyons, almost everything was below a metre, but all to my botanical eye perfectly adapted to the harsh environment.

Ancient springs were marked with inscriptions in stone in multiple languages to inform travellers, a courtesy that would have saved many lives.

One canyon had permanent standing water, and inscriptions in multiple languages pictogram forms .

On the second day we took a hike to the top of one mountain, from which you could see the very edge of Saudi Arabia, as well as sea life fossils caught in sedimentary rock.

Before we headed back down, of course we had tea. I think it’s tribal law that whenever two or more Bedouins gather together, tea must be brewed and consumed. Often complete with herbs picked nearby.

It didn’t matter how many times you throught that you had seen it all, taken photos of it all, you would turn around and see another amazing vista.

The nights at the camp were cold, but incredibly quiet, insects being almost entirely absent compared to the Australian bush. There was also no Wifi or phone reception, which was good for a social media detox.

But all good things come to an end, and the next stop in my trip was Petra, an ancient city surrounded by a tourist trap.

Aqaba, Jordan- 4/11/2019

My three night stay in Aqaba was uneventful except for some time hanging out with some excellent backpackers, However I do want to talk about Jordanian hospitality.

I arrived at my hostel ludicrously early in the morning, something like fourteen hours before my proper check-in. I found all the lights out, and the host, Baha asleep on the couch in reception. He woke up and set to fetching me some tea, and trying to sort out a bed for me, despite my suggestions that a couch somewhere would suit my jetlagged arse just fine. Baha ended up making a bed for me on the floor in a common room while I brushed my teeth and took out my contacts. After I assured Baha that everything was perfect, he left me to it, and I fell into a peaceful sleep.

In the morning after a breakfast of falafel, omelette, and bread washed down with strong Turkish coffee I checked in properly. Baha informed me that he wouldn’t charge me for the extra night, and after arguing for a short while, I realised that further offers of extra payment would cause offense. Due to cultural restrictions, the traditional Australian gift of beer was not a good idea, so I bought Baha some nice Swiss chocolate instead.

When I woke from my first night in Aqaba, the jetlag I held at bay with alarming levels of coffee and adrenaline demanded its dues. I spent most of my first day chilling at my hostel, before a late lunch of chicken and almonds on a bed of hummus. The next day I went to the beach with Sam from Canada and Colin from Newcastle, then dinner with some lads from the hostel that had adopted me for the duration.

The next day I went to Wadi Rum in a shared taxi with three of the same lads. Florian had talked me into joining him for part of the tour and Bedouin camp stay, so off I went on my next adventure

Istanbul- 04\11/2019

I stayed at my hostel long enough to shower, shave and change clothes before inflicting the streets of Istanbul with my wanderlust. I spent a happy hour getting lost in the winding streets of Galata, watching a youth dance act, and attempting to pat some of the famous cats of Istanbul, before starting to make my way to Sultanahmet. This is where things started going awary- The hostel manager inforrmed me that a marathon was on today, and much of the tram network had been shut down. This lead to what should have been a ten minute tram ride into a forty minute walk, much of which was along the marathon route.

Which was more interesting than a tram ride. There seemed to be quite an international contingent , who seemed to take it more seriously than many of the Turks. I good time was being had by all, with bands, people cheering on and encouragement via loudspeaker. It was also interesting to note how many Turkish women ran with full headscarfs, managing to look  quite glamorous.

Once in Sultanahmet I went straight to the Basilica Cistern, the largest of hundreds of underground cisterns that stored water for Constantinople, built in the 6th century CE. The base of two columns feature medusa heads thought to have been reused from late Roman temples.

But my favourite part is the view down rows of columns.

When I visited in 2008, they kept a few feet of water in the cistern, complete with frolicking carp, and a cafe, where a small child stole my sprite. For the movie buffs, scenes from the James Bond movie From Russia with Love were filmed here, amongst others.

Due to the marathon, I spent half an hour trying to travel the few hundred metres to Hagia Sophia. Eventually I retreated to a nearby cafe. While consuming tiny cups of Turkish coffee I discussed life with the cafe owner, as well discussing my favourite Turkish dish, a type of stew cooked in a earthenware jar, and served, still sealed, with a hammer and chisel for your convenience.

By the time I consumed enough coffee to kill a lesser backpacker, the marathon had began to wind up, and machine pistol-wielding police started to let people through, so I made my way to Hagia Sophia with only mildly bruised ribs for refusing to get out of the way for a Chinese matron.

I feel Hagia Sophia is the perfect example of the layered history so common in Turkey. built in the year 360 CE as a Greek Orthodox cathedral, after the Ottoman Empire took control of Constantinople it was converted into a mosque, then turned into a museum. When originally built it was the largest single building known.

A ramp leads to the upper gallery, which was traditionally reserved for the Empress and her court.

Apart the incredible architecture , the old Christian mosaics, with typical Turkish pragmatism, were plastered d over rather than destroyed. Many of them now have been partially uncovered and restored.

This is probably where I should sum up Hagia Sophia, but you don’t get a lot of poetry from me when I am jetlagged, so please accept a few more photos instead.

Hong Kong – 02/11/2019

After an excellent brunch of shrimp and pork dumplings at the only Michelin-starred restaurant I could ever afford, and catching up with my friend Claudia over bubble tea, I headed straight for Chungking Mansions. After walking past it on my last stay in Hong Kong, I read everything I could get my hands on this building- It’s shabby melting pot of low-end globalization right in the heart of Hong Kong is a fascinating counterpoint to the sanitized extravagance of the rest of this place.

Annoyingly, I was already footsore and exhausted at that point, so I limited myself to a few lazy walks around the first two floors, a beer outside the shop I purchased it from, an excellent Indian meal, and a handful of ill-conceived photos.

What struck me is how tight-knit the staff seemed to be, relationships  enforced by calls across stalls, and quick handshakes, all surrounded by Indian music and smells of cooking. the tourists I saw seemed mostly in a hurry to get to their accommodation on the higher floors, as if they were removed from the whole situation- In a famously expensive city, Changking and Mirador Mansions are widely known as the cheapest lodgings in the city.

None of the usual harrasments I have learned to expect seemed to be evident, and I felt just by sitting, eating and drinking a beer without rushing to somewhere more polished I felt like I was in some small way accepted by the community.

As the light started to fade I walked around Tsim Sha Tsui. in front of shops selling Rolexes, I was offered fake ones, as well as drugs, tailored suits and massages. I was wanting to witness some of the riots that had gotten so much attention in the western media, but apart from graffiti, there was not a riot police or a masked protester in sight.  Everyone seemed to be busy with having a good time, or getting somewhere else as quickly as possible.

Eventually my attempts of voyeurism left me mildly unimpressed with myself, and I had to make my way back to the airport.

In the metro stations the situation seemed more tense. Groups of riot police kept a watchful, if bored eye on commuters, and PA announcements delclared disruptions to services that I could never quite catch. The riot police seemed to be ignored by most, but I did notice a few older, I assume mainland Chinese men approach them and thank them.

I approached an infomation desk, where I was informed that yes could get on the airport express from that station, except when I found it it was all cordoned off, and a bored transit worker sent me to another station. When I got there I found all but one of the accessways were blocked off, and when I got to the one that was not I had to show my passport and boarding pass before getting to the platform, a process that I had to repeat as I exited the train station. This procedure must have been implemented after the disruptions a month ago at the airport.

Once safe in the airport, drinking an overpriced imitation orange juice, I messaged Claudia that I had gotten to the airport. Apparently in Central, the most obnoxiously fancy part of Hong Kong , some friends of hers were watching rugby and were bizarrely tear-gased from police responding to something a short distance away. Earlier while nearby this area, Claudia pointed out boarded up storefronts yet to be repaired from previous riots.

Perth International Airport- 01/11/2019

Due to my lovely Perth family dropping me off to the airport after a lovely Indian meal, I have half an hour until I can check-in. So obviously its a drink at the airport bar overlooking the check in counters, and indulging in some people watching. The only people who don’t seem stressed are the flight attendants, I’m amazed how many people are wearing jeans, and how many families seem unable to fly without their entire worldly possessions stuffed into suitcases.

So Check in was more complicated that expected. Apparently, when the airline changed the flight times after booking, my payment became disassociated from my ticket, and I couldn’t get my boarding pass until this was sorted.

While trying to pass through Security, the nail scissors that were ignored the last half a dozen flights had to be inspected. The interesting thing is that I could not touch my backpack until it been cleared, and to make things quicker I had to give instructions exactly where the scissors were located. Apparently, I impressed the lady by giving clear instructions, but a better airport ninja would have put them onto the tray in the first place.

Second beer now just above my gate, hopefully nothing dramatic happens until I land in Hong Kong, which may be interesting due to the current state of civil unrest.

Yes, that’s me, drinking alone at a bar. Still in work clothes, twenty-year-old paperback being read between sips of pale ale. practically, I am here to have a meal from the food van outside and to listen to the blues music I failed to get anyone else interested in. While I’m enjoying the beer, the food and the music, the real reason I am here is that if I wasn’t, I would have bought some depressing take away on my way home from work, and stared at a computer screen until I summoned the energy to shower and go to bed, all entirely alone, instead of alone in a crowd.

Here the barmaid who flirted with me last time is absent, but I did have a conversation with the bar manager about Vietnam. Apart from a quick chat with the one-man band on my way out about my novel, and half a dozen nods with regulars, that’s the limit of my social interaction. But it still beats home.

It’s strange that I do this all the time when I travel, but it seldom occurs to just show up at a bar alone and eat and drink in my own city.