This is the final post of the Digital Nomad series with National Geographic Traveller.

Our two weeks in Jordan flew by in a highly enjoyable blur. Our Digital Nomad trip was hosted by the Aqaba Special Economic Zone Authority (ASEZA), and through our experiences they wanted to communicate three main messages to an international audience: that Jordan is a safe destination to visit; that Aqaba is a city which offers a variety of attractions which can appeal to many types of traveller; and that Aqaba’s position in the south of Jordan makes it a good base to use for exploring the country’s most famous sites: Petra, Wadi Rum and the Dead Sea.

So let’s take these in turn. All I can say is that Jordan felt very safe to us, and the security concerns we heard time and time again before we left the UK disappeared to the back of our minds pretty much as soon as we arrived, and never resurfaced during our two-week stay.

We enjoyed exploring Aqaba as a city, and while its attractions (for now) may be modest in comparison with those of major beach resorts on the Mediterranean, there’s enough on offer to entice visitors to get away from the hotel pool or beach and explore something different on every day of a typical holiday. The coral reef off the shore is easily accessible and offers good diving opportunities, as we discovered on our beginners’ diving lesson; snorkelling is also possible over the reef just by swimming from the beach. There is a mini-fleet of glass-bottomed boats around Aqaba waiting for customers to roll up, and at the upmarket Tala Bay to the south of the city we took a ride in a ‘submarine’ boat, which allows you to see a submerged military tank and a scuttled ship without the trouble of getting wet.

We enjoyed strolling through the centre of Aqaba, especially in the cooler evenings. On Friday evening we spent a hour or so at the Souk by the Sea, where there’s live music, food and handicrafts. The main streets in the downtown area have a lively, easy-going vibe, and there’s plenty of very affordable, traditional Middle Eastern food in the town’s cafes and restaurants.

Aqaba is due to expand dramatically in the next few years, along with a massive boost in its range of tourism facilities . The Saraya, Ayla and Maabar mega-projects currently under construction will bring luxury hotels and swanky seafront apartment blocks aimed at affluent foreign buyers, as well as a golf course, a water park and a convention centre. The aim is to transform Aqaba into a major international destination for all budgets and for all types of visitor. These hugely ambitious developments will almost certainly attract a new breed of visitor to come to the Jordanian Red Sea coast. I hope that in doing so, they don’t diminish Aqaba’s current more traditional appeal, even if this is not quite as glamorous or lucrative as that offered by the grand new plans.

As for Aqaba serving as a gateway to Jordan’s major attractions, the coast offers a more convenient base than Amman for exploring Wadi Rum and Petra, with both places an easily doable day trip away. That said, I would strongly recommend visitors to Jordan to stay overnight and experience the magic of the desert in Wadi Rum, and to book a night or two near Petra too, so that they can explore the site over at least 2 days; there’s the thrice-weekly Petra by Night, as well as several great hikes to do in and around Petra.

We ventured up as far as the Dead Sea, and while it’s possible to visit the Dead Sea from Aqaba in a day, it’s a long 3-hour drive, leaving just about enough time for a swim and a natural mud bath before heading back south; again, an overnight trip would mean two relatively easy days on the road and more time to relax at the lowest point on Earth.

Throw in a spot of diving, other water sports, or just some time lazing on the beach, and Aqaba provides an attractive base for a Jordan holiday. At the moment the most convenient way to fly in is via Istanbul on Turkish Airlines, who offer the only international scheduled flights to Aqaba. I found the flights pretty comfortable, although the late-night flight times aren’t ideal. The food is ok and having a movies on-demand service for a European flight is a definite bonus. A major advantage of flying into Aqaba rather than into Amman is that the Jordanian visa fee, currently 40 JD (£38), is waived.

Wadi Rum and Petra are Jordan’s two best-known attractions, and there’s plenty to experience beyond these headline acts. Our 3-day hike from Dana to Petra was a personal highlight, with an ever-changing series of dramatic landscapes more than compensating for the sore limbs along the way. We tried our hand at abseiling for the first time and lived to tell the tale. And our various encounters with Jordanian food, sometimes cooking but always eating, were always a pleasure.

Above all else, the single factor running through all of our encounters in Jordan was the warm hospitality we experienced. Thankfully we’ve been to Jordan before so we knew it wasn’t just because we were there as guests of ASEZA, or on a project which involved the National Geographic name; we had enjoyed exactly the same welcome and friendliness on our previous visit, back in the days when I had ‘a real job’ and we were ordinary tourists. From the Bedouin who called us over for tea as we were hiking, to the strangers who would call out to us to let us know how welcome we were, to those we dealt with directly as part of our project who left a lasting impression on us with their kindness, it is the people in Jordan that would give us the greatest reason to return. Genuine hospitality is perhaps the easiest ingredient to market; and the hardest.

You can find six other posts from the Digital Nomad project on the National Geographic Traveller website.

Reflections on Aqaba and Jordan is a post from: 501 Places

This post is part of the Digital Nomad project with National Geographic Traveller.

The greeting was warm and unfussy. After a long drive back to Aqaba it was a pleasure to stretch out, sit in the shaded courtyard and do nothing more energetic than sip tea while our host busied herself with preparing lunch.

We were at the home of Ghada Al Fayoumi, and were about to enjoy home-cooked bukhari – a traditional Aqaba dish made with rice and lamb, mixed with spices and beans. An initiative is being developed in Aqaba to offer visitors the chance to have a meal in a typical family home. The benefits extend beyond merely sampling some great food; there’s also the chance to venture beyond the city centre and to encounter people in their own homes, a sharp contrast from the tourist activity along the beach front.

Ghada called us in from the courtyard and into her cool living/dining room. Seeing the mounds of food on the table my immediate reaction was to ask how many were going to join us. “Just us,” she said with a smile, as her teenage daughter joined our small group. “This is the Arab way.” A large plate was filled with meat and rice, and around this were a green salad and over a dozen pickles, including chillies, pickled lemons, radishes, carrots, spring onions, and and a mixed green salad.

My plate was piled particularly high, and I had barely made a modest dent in the mound before Ghada was on her feet and piling more on my plate. As the only male around the table, my protests were always doomed: “Arab men always eat very well” she told us, and a third plateful was soon added.

We retired back to the courtyard for dessert. Ghada had prepared hooh – a sweet pastry with nuts, drizzled with a mixture of sugar and lemon juice. Ghada chatted with us in her faltering English, proudly pointing out her plants: “I talk to them every morning – that’s why they do so well”. At the back of the courtyard was an enormous air-conditioning unit (around the size of a typical bank safe), which appeared to be a fully-functioning relic of the 1970s.

Topped up with more tea and some of the juiciest dates I’ve tasted, Ghada took out her phone and showed us photos of her father’s recent fishing trip, where he took a video of himself reeling in a giant tuna; not for the first time on this trip, a mobile phone provided a source of communal entertainment without any constraints of language.

Before we left, Ghada told us about the book of traditional Aqabawi recipes on which she’s currently working; it has been a long project which she has had to squeeze in while taking care of her children and grandchildren, but is now nearing completion.

We enjoyed our afternoon visiting Ghada, chatting with her and eating way too much of another traditional Aqabawi dish. A serious post-trip diet is most certainly on the cards.

Lunch at a local home in Aqaba can be arranged on request via the Tourist Information Centre in the city centre.

You can find other posts from the Digital Nomad project on the National Geographic Traveller website.

An oversized lunch in an Aqaba home is a post from: 501 Places

This post is part of the Digital Nomad project with National Geographic Traveller.

I try not to look down. The only thing between me and a 20 metre drop into the gorge below is the rope to which I’m attached; but thinking about that isn’t going to help. Instead I focus on trying to move slowly backwards and making my way down the wall as if I was back-stepping along the beach; but the dangers posed by my natural clumsiness are never far away.

We are in Wadi Mukheiris, a narrow canyon which starts at around 200 metres above sea level and empties some 600 metres below into the Dead Sea, the lowest place on Earth. Our guide Atef Hababseh from Terhaal Adventures dishes out the harnesses and helmets, and we start our walk on a gentle downhill slope which provides no indication of what is yet to come.

Soon we are scrambling over and jumping off rocks; from time to time our guides help us across gaps between boulders. As the tallest in the group I have a definite advantage, as so much of the descent requires finding a steady lower rock on which to place an outstretched foot.

There are three abseiling episodes in total, with the final one being a frightening 20-metre drop. Even though Atef does his best to give us the confidence to step out over the edge of the drops, it stills feels like the most unnatural thing to do.

Here’s a video of my less than elegant descent:

After our group of 4 and the other guides had carefully managed to descend the last waterfall, Atef shot down the rope making it look all too easy; so much so that he allowed himself a bit of showboating at the end:

Perhaps harder still than the abseiling was the final 2-hour stretch after the final waterfall. Tired feet and aching muscles meant that the constant scrambles over boulders, plunges into pools and slides down rocks on our backsides became ever harder.

My knees ached for the next two days and the bruises will take a while longer to fade. We were promised an adventure and we certainly had one. I’m not sure when I’ll have the chance or the inclination to abseil again, but when I next look at a waterfall and see someone dangling from a rope against the rock face, I will at least be able to offer sympathy based on my own experience.

A full-day abseiling trip in Wadi Mukheiris with Terhaal Adventures costs around £75, and includes transfers to and from Amman or Madaba, lunch and water.

You can find other posts from the Digital Nomad project on the National Geographic Traveller website.

Over the edge: our first abseiling adventure is a post from: 501 Places

This post is part of the Digital Nomad project with National Geographic Traveller.

When we came to Petra for the first time in 2009, we spent the few hours we had at the site rushing to see the most famous parts of the site before making a premature exit and returning to Amman. We had more time to spend on our second visit, and although we visited most of the same sites that we’d previously seen, it proved a far more rewarding experience.

The first thing I noticed as a repeat visitor to Petra is just how quiet the place was. We came on the trail from Little Petra which enters the site at the Monastery, and even in mid-afternoon when the light makes it arguably the best time to make the climb to the site, there were around 15 tourists there. I asked around and the common consensus I heard was that visitor numbers are less than 10% of what they were in 2010.

The lack of crowds is great news for those wanting to visit Petra and have much of the place to themselves; it’s tragic though for the many people who rely on a high number of visitors from whom they can make a living. Men with camels and donkeys were standing around trying to sell rides, stall holders were packing up early or hadn’t showed up at all, and cafe owners reported barely a handful of visitors on a typical day.

The relative emptiness gave us the chance to stop and talk to people working at the site, who were happy to chat if only to relieve their boredom. Led by a young boy called Mohammed and his mule, we climbed the steps to the High Place which overlooks the Treasury. It’s a 40-minute ascent which eventually leads around to a look-out point directly above and opposite Petra’s most recognisable landmark. There’s a makeshift tea shop there, and we stopped and chatted with the owner, a charismatic Johnny Depp lookalike. With him was a young Japanese lady; she is the fiancée of his uncle, and came to Petra as a visitor, finding a lot more than she’d expected. She now lives in the nearby Bedouin village of Umm Sayhoun, built to rehouse those who for many generations had lived in Petra’s caves.

The story of New-Zealander Marguerite van Geldermalsen is even more unusual. She arrived as a tourist in 1978, also fell for a Bedouin man, and moved into one of Petra’s caves with him, raising a family and spending several years living in Petra, before moving to the new settlement. I read her book ‘Married to a Bedouin’ just before coming to Jordan, and I was delighted to meet Marguerite in Petra. She was standing by the stall where she sells jewellery made by local women according to her own unique Petra-themed designs.

She also sells signed copies of her book, which has now been translated into 12 languages. I asked Marguerite if the visitor numbers now are similar to those when she first moved into Petra, over 35 years ago. She explained that in the 1970s and early 1980s, the Bedouin who worked in Petra also had animals, and money from tourism was a welcome extra. Now this is their only source of income, so it’s really hurting them. She told me that writing the book was an important project for her to do, as with the Bedouin moving out of Petra, she wanted to create a written record of what it was like to live within Petra’s ancient caves.

A short walk away, a woman at a stall started chatting to us and in traditional Bedouin style we were soon sharing photos on our phones. She laughed at our Bedouin wedding story, and told us that people no longer have this sort of wedding in Umm Sayhoun, but it would have been typical in her parents’ time in Petra. I asked when the last Bedouin moved out of the caves, and she pointed over the hillside opposite and said that a few families still live here, albeit illegally.

Petra’s monuments are of course it’s most recognisable asset, but the people who have lived in and around its caves, tombs and carved façades, and who are still around and willing to share their stories, are every much as part of its fascination.

You can find other posts from the Digital Nomad project on the National Geographic Traveller website.

Petra beyond the façades is a post from: 501 Places

This post is part of the Digital Nomad project with National Geographic Traveller.

No pain, no gain.

My feet and my calves were letting me know in no uncertain terms that I’d far exceeded my normal level of physical activity. By the end of the second day I’d covered around 40 kilometres on uneven paths, climbing up to over 1,000 metres above sea level on at least 3 occasions before dropping to valley floors and walking along dried river beds and through narrow canyons.

It was the promise of the reward at the end which motivated me to keep walking and scrambling for the three days of our 60-km trek. We were walking from Dana to Petra, considered one of the best hikes in the Middle East and part of the Abraham Trail which runs for 1,000 km across Israel, Jordan and Turkey (the Syrian section is sadly off limits for now). Although our route was a slightly truncated version of the classic 6-day trek, we were pretty much squeezing 5 days of hiking into 3 long days.

From the moment I knew that the trek was part of our itinerary in Jordan, I was excited at the prospect of entering Petra by walking through its back door. What I hadn’t anticipated were the rewards we’d also experience along the way.

Led by our guide Murad Arslan from Terhaal Adventures, we started what was a relatively simple first day at the head of the Dana Valley, surrounded by the mostly abandoned, Ottoman-era stone houses of Dana village. We were walking to Feynan Eco Lodge, 14 km away at the bottom of the valley. Our trail followed the contours of the river valley, dropping steeply at first before winding alongside the dried water course, with the descent of almost 1,000 metres reflected in the transformation in vegetation, from the arid Eastern Desert landscape to the juniper and oleander trees of the lower Sudanese terrain.

If our first day was a gentle introduction, the second day was altogether more challenging. We started from Abu Sakakeen and climbed twice from the valley floors to mountain peaks, on largely unmarked paths which would have proved very hard to find by ourselves. We started later than Murad had hoped and as we walked he pushed us on, increasingly conscious of the distance we still had to cover before sunset.

The views across Wadi Araba, part of the Great Rift Valley, were an irresistible distraction, and I kept stopping to look back and admire the panorama which stretched for many miles westwards, well beyond the Israeli border. Murad pointed out the dark areas on the far side of the valley, irrigated land on Israeli kibbutzim; we watched as first a group of starlings then a pair of migrating falcons passed overhead and circled the sandstone cliffs.

During the whole 10 hours of walking on that day we met only 4 people: a group of hunters who greeted us warmly before disappearing into the shrubs with their rifles. We were still some way from our camp spot at sunset, and we walked the final 2 km in pitch darkness, arriving far later than planned at the basic camp set up at the remote Shkaret Umseid by our Bedouin host. The lentil soup and grilled chicken he had prepared was particularly well deserved that night.

The final day was considerably easier, although by now our aching legs and feet were making each kilometre feel like a mile. Little Petra was our lunch stop. This Nabatean settlement may lack the size and splendour of the main Petra site, but the site is every bit as important a part of the Petra story. It was here that visitors to the ancient city were accommodated (few were allowed into the Nabatean capital), and it was in Little Petra that most of the city’s trade was done. There are several impressive carved façades, and despite being free to visit, we saw no more than 10 visitors in the hour or so we were there.

From Little Petra to Petra is around an 8 km walk, first along a dusty road and then up and down a series of steep steps. We were met by a strong wind for this final stretch, particularly ill-timed as some stretches pass along a narrow ledge carved into the sandstone mountain, with a sheer drop which I tried as hard as possible to block out of my mind. Murad showed us just how much more precarious the path had been until it was improved in 2013; we were grateful we hadn’t heard of the trek before our previous visit.

Our path entered the Petra site at the Monastery, and we were very excited to glimpse our first view of the famous façade. I sat with Murad enjoying a glass of juice before we descended towards the centre of Petra, feeling quietly smug from our efforts as we let the handful of other visitors pass us by on their mules.

You can find other posts from the Digital Nomad project on the National Geographic Traveller website.

Hiking from Dana to Petra is a post from: 501 Places

This post is part of the Digital Nomad project with National Geographic Traveller.

“Not like that – watch me.” I stood back as Tariq took over with my chopping knife and within seconds had reduced my onion to pieces barely larger than grains of sand. After he’d delivered a few instructions to our group and we’d got the measure of his cheeky grin, we gave as good as we got and soon our table was enjoying a healthy dose of banter – just as well for a group of strangers standing in close proximity with sharp knives.

I was at Petra Kitchen, a cookery initiative which aims to give visitors to Petra a hands-on experience of preparing and eating Jordanian cuisine. The evening started with a short briefing, explaining the names of the dishes we would be preparing and the ingredients we would be using. We were then divided into tables of 8, with each table allocated their own chef.

In truth, we didn’t really ‘cook’ any dish in full. Most of the work we did involved chopping and peeling, with nobody being asked to do much more beyond frying onions. The meat had been prepared in advance, and some ingredients (such as the aubergine for Baba Ganuj) were pre-cooked, cutting out several golden opportunities for us to mess things up.

I cooked alongside 3 American couples, and we soon shared travel stories as we sliced our way through several bowls of veg and salad. Soon enough it was time to taste the meals we’d had a shared hand in preparing, and in proper Jordanian style the portions we had made were far in excess of what we were able to eat. At the end of the evening we were all presented with a set of recipe sheets for the dishes we’d cooked and eaten.

Petra Kitchen is very much a local initiative, with ingredients sourced from nearby suppliers and distinctive plates made by local artisans.

Here are a few photos from the evening in the kitchen. An evening at Petra Kitchen costs 35 JD (£34), which includes the cooking, the eating and all soft drinks.

Menu for the evening

Class briefing

Chopping cucumbers

Squeezing lemon juice

Preparing the aubergine

More than a pinch of salt

Putting the Araies Lahma into the oven

Baba Ganuj

Araies Lahma

www.petrakitchen.com

You can find my other posts from the Digital Nomad project on the National Geographic Traveller website.

Petra Kitchen – taking a stab at Jordanian cooking is a post from: 501 Places

It was kept from us until the last moment – and for good reason. “Let’s just say it will be a celebration” is all we were told. We had our suspicions when we saw what looked suspiciously like an elaborate bridal carriage in the camp restaurant earlier in the day. As we arrived back to the Rahayeb Camp covered in sand and dirt after a day of exploring Wadi Rum, our hosts informed us that we had no more than 15 minutes to get ready for what would be our starring roles in a Bedouin wedding.

The thought would have been horrifying to us both if we had been given advanced warning; Sam in particular hates to be on what she considers to be the wrong side of a camera. But there was no time for dissent. We quickly washed, changed and reappeared, ready for embarrassment.

In preparation for our visit to Jordan I read the book Married to a Bedouin by Marguerite van Geldermalsen, and so was curious to see how a Bedouin wedding looked; I just never imagined I’d have to play an active part in just such an occasion, albeit a bit of play-acting.

Ok, a confession. It proved just as embarrassing as I had feared, but a lot more enjoyable. A group of four guys took over my care and helped me dress in my Bedouin outfit. “Sheikh Agab” (the eagle sheikh), they proclaimed as my transformation was complete. While I can’t deny feeling very silly, it was hard not to enjoy being part of the general back slapping, joking and male bonding into which I was invited, despite not understanding a word of what was going on. I was given a few Arabic phrases to shout during the party, and then I was led out by my ‘uncles’ to wait for the bride.

Sam meanwhile had also been dressed up – I don’t think she’s ever worn as much make-up as was applied to her that evening. She was then required to squeeze into the bridal carriage, which was mounted on the back of a camel. A school group visiting the camp at the time was coaxed into joining in, and they cheered her and her camel into the camp, with singing and the obligatory outbursts of ululation.

After greeting my ‘bride’ and helping her from the camel, we sat together as we were serenaded, before being dragged up to join in the dancing. I was even handed a sword to complete the act, and instructed to wave it around while dancing – it looked a bit rusty although I’m sure it could still leave quite a mark. I was just glad that the whole performance didn’t extend to people shooting guns into the air.

Our hosts thought it hilarious when we told them that there had been more guests (and infinitely more photographs taken) at our Bedouin wedding than our real one. While I can’t claim it gave us a huge insight into Bedouin culture, it was yet another example of the understated warmth and hospitality which we have been privileged to encounter in our interactions with the Bedouin people during our time in southern Jordan.

Our Bedouin ‘wedding’ took place at Rahayeb Camp in Disi, in the Wadi Rum Protected Area, and was part of National Geographic Traveller’s Digital Nomad Project.

Getting married again, Bedouin style is a post from: 501 Places

This post is part of the Digital Nomad project with National Geographic Traveller.

You could call it unfinished business. A day trip to the Great Barrier Reef on Christmas Eve 2000 has since been remembered for a rushed and quickly aborted ‘free introductory’ dive. Once we signalled that our ears didn’t feel quite right, we were brought to the surface from the metre or so we’d stepped down the ladder hanging from the back of the boat, and our lesson was declared over.
So when we were offered the chance to have a half-day beginners’ diving lesson in Aqaba, we were both eager to find out if we really were unsuited to a sub-aqua environment.

We were met at the Red Sea Dive Center by the owner Abdullah, who introduced us to his brother and fellow manager Omar, and Khaled, who along with Omar would take the two of us through our baby steps in the water.

The dive centre is somewhat incongruously up a desert track around 500 metres from the main road which runs from Aqaba to the Saudi border. There was an American couple setting off on a snorkelling trip, but otherwise the place was empty – like most tourism businesses in Aqaba, the dive centre has watched helplessly as visitors have been scared off from coming to Jordan in light of the constant round of bad news from its troubled neighbours. Businesses such as the dive centre would normally expect to be filling up at this time of the year, but instead staff sit idle as rooms and tours remain unbooked.

Once we’d been kitted out and given a short briefing, we headed the short distance to the shore, pulled on our wetsuits and were given our tanks and regulators. The water temperature in the Red Sea is around 21 degrees Celsius at this time of the year; probably a degree or two warmer than the mid-morning air temperature as we stepped into the sea. We were carefully taken through a series of exercises, from breathing properly while wearing a regulator to clearing water from our masks. All obvious stuff to old-hand divers, but to a pair of iffy snorkellers it was a big deal. Omar and Khaled were remarkably patient, and dealt with our general ineptitude with commendable ease and grace.

Soon enough we were away, led by the hand by our respective instructors through the Japanese Garden area of the Aqaba Marine Park. For around 30 minutes we meandered along the sea bottom, reaching what for me at least was the impressive depth of 5 metres. Seeing more water above than below did not feel comfortable, but the coral and fish kept my mind away from any thoughts of underwater panic. Omar pulled out his camera and took a few snaps, and with constant checks to see we were ok, our confidence gradually grew.

My feeble bladder has been a constant curse on our travels, and so it proved today. I may have been a slow learner at the basic skills of diving, but there was no questioning my ability to get out of a wet suit and make a sprint to the beach toilets. We had been due to finish the dive in any case, but I managed to make what should have been a dignified and celebratory exit from the water into an embarrassing scramble.

We were both very grateful for the patience of Omar and Khaled, and left knowing that we could dive after all, given enough of a helping hand.

The Red Sea Dive Center offers beginners’ half-day courses similar to the one we were given, for 40JD (£40), and also runs full PADI certification courses for around 300JD.

You can find my other posts from the Digital Nomad project on the National Geographic Traveller website.

(Photo of us by Red Sea Dive Center)

Learning to dive in Aqaba – new skills and old problems is a post from: 501 Places