I consider myself lucky enough to have learned Latin in high school. I know that most who give the language a try find it a pain in the butt, but I always found it a walk in the park. At some point I joked I must have Roman blood in my veins, because I was so quick to translate anything.

Although my Latin classes are now far behind me, I still love anything Roman. You can imagine how happy I was in Israel when I saw Roman ruin after Roman ruin. I noticed I still knew 90% of the historical facts I'd once learned, but as I crossed the border into Jordan, I  found a major gap in my knowledge: the Romans had been all over this country too and I didn't, couldn't, wouldn't believe it until I saw it with my own eyes. Then, when I did, it was like Christmas had come early.

My Roman adventures started in Jordan's capital Amman, which was known as Philadelphia in Roman times. On a hill in the middle of the sprawling city that is home to millions today, you can find the Citadel. I've got to be honest and say that there is not a whole lot left of the Roman ruins, but the tall columns of the Temple of Hercules are iconic for Amman. Spread out over the top of the hill are other ruins from the city's Persian, Byzantine and Umayyad period, as well as bits and pieces of statues. I was constantly walking away from my tour group to check out a new piece of history. I ended up almost losing the group entirely, as they marched on diligently while I was busy taking pictures of everything and anything on the top of the hill as well as the view. The view of the city is something you don't want to miss. There's street art to be spotted, and a gorgeous theatre from the Roman days right in the middle of all the modern buildings.

Although Amman's Roman roots are a great place to start, Jerash is where the magic happens. I visited the city on my last day in Jordan, after spending time in Petra and Wadi Rum, so I was quite exhausted by the time I walked through the ancient gate. The atmosphere made me forget my exhaustion right away though. I felt like I was in high school again. Back in 2013, I visited Pompeii with my Latin class, but visiting Jerash was even better (probably because it doesn't have a history of a ton of people dying thanks to an exploding volcano).

Pompeii had the 'advantage' of getting buried underneath a big layer of ash and other debris that kept it well-preserved. That was not the case with Jerash. In fact, a lot of it was destroyed by an earthquake in the 8th century. Later on some of the buildings played a role in the crusades and then the place fades out of history to be discovered by some German guy in the 19th century. It was mostly intact then, which it still is to this day. Sure, some buildings have caved in, but its mostly the roofs of places that are gone. The gates are still as beautiful as ever, the theatres are still there, the temples look amazing and the colonnaded street is the most impressive piece of Roman architecture I've seen in ages, for the simple fact that these relatively fragile columns are still standing upright after 2000 years.

I walked through Jerash with my tour guide and the group I'd been traveling with for the past 11 days. I wasn't paying attention to what our tour guide was telling though. I needed half of my brain to focus on the huge cobblestones that made up the pavement, so I wouldn't break my ankles on them. The other half of my brain was busy daydreaming about Roman legions, gladiators and gods. I felt like I wasn't living in my own century anymore. It was almost like I could hear Latin whispers, like I could see people in long tunics and stolas scurry past me in the corner of my eyes. I felt right at home in Jerash. 

If I hadn't been completely drained, I could have spent days exploring all the Roman temples and buildings. Sadly my legs felt like they couldn't carry my weight much longer when the tour guide said we could walk around on our own for a while. I stayed at one of the theatres, where the ancient stage was now used for some event celebrating the Jordanian royal family. For some reason, there was also a Jordanian man playing the bagpipe. He was playing it badly, but enthusiastically, and I couldn't help but smile. After my visit to Petra, it was difficult to impress me, but I loved Jerash. In an ideal scenario, I would have visited this place before moving on to Petra, which is hard to top. But as I'd booked an organized trip through Israel and Jordan, that decision was out of my hands. Still, Jerash was a perfect place to end my adventures in the Middle East. It was calm, quiet and impressive. My inner Latin student hadn't been this happy in years and as I left the gates of Jerash behind, I felt like I'd found a long-lost piece of myself back.

On a warm night in June, I was on a bus that would bring me to Wadi Rum, Jordan. I was excited to see this famous desert. In my mind, I already saw myself roasting marshmallows over a campfire, talking with others from my tour group till midnight. It would be the perfect end to a perfect day, which I'd spent exploring Petra and climbing to an illegal viewpoint. I couldn't wait to sit back and relax under an endless starry night sky.

When we arrived at our camp in Wadi Rum, I immediately knew that this was not going to be anything like the campgrounds I stayed at in the Australian Outback. Even though our travel brochure said we'd be staying in tents, we were housed in concrete housing blocks. Every apartment had a big bed and a bathroom. Nothing wrong with that, but when you're looking forward to camping underneath the stars, you don't want to spend the night in something that resembles a house this much. The adrenaline rush from climbing to Petra's illegal viewpoint disappeared the second I entered my room. I threw my luggage on one of the beds, threw myself on the other. I couldn't help but wonder what my time in Wadi Rum would look like after this disappointing start.

By the time I left my room again for dinner at the central pavilion, it was dark outside. Dark, but still there was no star to be seen. For some reason, the camp owners had put colored spotlights everywhere. Bright beams shot up at the sky. Light pollution made it impossible to see a single star, let alone the entire Milky Way. I sighed as I trudged through the sand. Loud music was playing at the pavilion and we'd barely finished dinner when a few Jordanian men invited everyone to come and dance. I felt like I was forced to enjoy an animation team's efforts as if I was on an all-inclusive holiday in Turkey. It was uncomfortable. All I wanted was to go to some quiet place and enjoy the desert's beauty. Instead, I was stuck in this overly commercialized camp. My friends in the group decided to leave the camp behind in search for stars, but I didn't go. There were dance parties all over the desert, as well as stray dogs. I like neither. I went to my room, wanting to be alone, but the thumping bass of the loud music that was played at the pavilion made it impossible for me to enjoy some quiet alone time. What was I doing here? I asked myself. How did I end up at this party camp? This was not what I wanted...

I cried that night, alone in my room. It was the only time I cried on that trip through Israel and Jordan and it didn't last very long, but it did make me realize this aspect of Wadi Rum really wasn't for me. I sat on the porch of my concrete box for a while after I'd stopped crying. Other members of our group came up to me to talk. Apparently I wasn't the only one who wasn't a fan of this 'camping trip in the desert'. I could only hope things would get better the next day, with a jeep safari planned, 

A good night's rest hadn't affected my opinion on Wadi Rum much. I spent as much time alone as possible before our jeep safari started. When it was time to leave, I climbed into the back of one of the jeeps, which turned out to be the slowest jeep I'd ever seen. We were the very last to arrive anywhere and I quickly got annoyed with our lack of speed and especially how close we were staying to civilization. The desert itself wasn't very impressive. I was told it once served as the set for Star Wars scenes, but these days it's more fit for a postapocalyptic or dystopian franchise due to the heavy plastic pollution. The highlight of this jeep safari was driving down a single sand dune. All of it was anticlimactic.

The turning point came when our group was split into two. Half went back to the camp, the other half had paid for an extended jeep safari. I was one of those who'd paid extra and that save my entire Wadi Rum experience.

I continued the safari in a faster car with a driver who understood our need for some action. He'd fall behind on the other jeeps, then slow down until my friend gave him what we called the 'speed sign'. The driver would floor it, race through the desert while I stood upright in the back of his jeep, basically tormenting the gods. The wind would tug at my hair and I'd scream for joy every time the driver swerved or flew over a minor bump in the road.

It wasn't just the increased speed that made me enjoy Wadi Rum more though. The extended safari led us further and further away from civilization. Now we got to see the desert's actual beauty, without tons of litter on the ground. We went to places that were indeed otherworldly as some places in the Star Wars franchise. I loved it there and wished I could have seen this part of the region sooner. 

Eventually the jeeps stopped near an arch. I was baffled. This wasn't just any arch, but the one you see in every single travel brochure for Jordan. I was over the moon that I actually got to see it in real life. And it got even better: I was allowed to climb it. After my little adventure in Petra, this was a piece of cake. Sitting on that arch, looking out over the desert, I felt truly blessed for getting the chance to be there.

The trip ended after a visit to another arch (which I also climbed, of course) and a visit to an ancient water well. I noticed that I didn't mind the disappointment that the previous night had been anymore, now that I'd gotten to see the desert the way I wanted to see it. We took a different route back to the camp and saw gorgeous rock formations along the way. We gave the driver the speed sign multiple times, each time enjoying it more and more. In the end, I accepted Wadi Rum for what it was: a polluted desert with too many parties to my taste. But Wadi Rum is also what you make of it: it's about climbing arches, exploring an alien world by jeep. A change in accommodation would have solved most of my issues, I now know. So no, my visit to Wadi Rum wasn't a waste of time. It was a lesson learned.

"You want to see the viewpoint?" My friends and I had barely made it out of the Siq, the gorge that leads to Petra's famous Treasury in Jordan, when the first Bedouin approached us to offer his services as a tour guide. "You want to go to the viewpoint?" The man pointed to the left, where we could clearly see steps leading up to the edge of the gorge.

"Do we really need a guide to get up those steps?" We discussed among ourselves in Dutch. "Isn't the viewpoint supposed to be easily accessible to tourists with a map?" We didn't understand the need for a guide to get to the viewpoint at all. Besides, we wanted to get to Ad Deir, the Monastery, as soon as possible. So we politely declined and started our hike to another famous Nabatean ruin.

A few hours later, after visits to all the main ruins, we still couldn't quite get the idea of hiring a guide to take us to the viewpoint out of our heads. We decided to do it - if the price was right.

Back at the Treasury, the three of us waited for one of the Bedouin to approach us again. The first to do so was a young guy, who can't have been much older than 16. He started at 20 dinars for the three of us. Way too much for a simple walk up some steps. After a few minutes of negotiating, we were stuck. We offered 15 dinars.

"Sixteen. I take you for sixteen."

We all looked at each other, about to walk away. "No," one of my friends said.

"No," I repeated.

"No," my other friend completed the set.

The guy sighed and gave in. "Okay. Fifteen. Come."

Happy with our deal, we followed him to the far left of the gorge in which the Treasury is located. I was still doubting if we weren't getting scammed though. Then I noticed a sign, which we completely ignored: "Exceeding this point is forbidden". What had we gotten ourselves into?

As we reached the end of the gorge, we noticed that the staircase we'd noticed was incomplete. It started a meter or so above our heads, which led us to wonder how we were supposed to get up there. The answer: we weren't. The guy showed us a rocky slope.

"Up here?" we asked, our voices full of disbelief.

"Yes. Up here. I help you."

"How am I ever going to get up there..." I whispered to myself. It seemed impossible, at least to me, but our guide had already started climbing and looked at us expectantly. So we followed him, careful not to smash our cameras to smithereens against the rocks, careful not to drop our water bottles. When our guide saw us struggling, he took our water bottles and carried them for us. He jumped from rock to rock, ledge to ledge, without a care in the world. Following was no easy feat, but he showed us where to position our hands and feet and pulled us up when we were about to fall right back down. We tried to work together as a team; there was no other way to make this trip to the viewpoint work. And just as I thought I'd gotten used to climbing up the sides of the gorge, I looked around and realized just how close I was to an untimely death.

A small ravine had opened up to the left of me. When I turned around, I got dizzy. We were high up already, to the point where one wrong step could mean the end of everything. My friends had come to the same realization. Every step, every move, every breath was filled with fear for our lives. Turning back wasn't an option though: that was at least as risky as continuing the climb.

"At least we'll get our money's worth," we kept saying. "If all three of us survive this, of course..."

I became hyper-aware of all the places where I could slip and fall. If that'd happen I'd break a few bones at the very best. That thought made me tense, which actually made it more difficult for me to focus on the climb. Fear was taking over. I had no idea how long I still had to go, if I'd be able to do. In my mind, I started apologizing to my parents for being so reckless. That's when I scraped my knee as I slid down a rock. My foot had slipped, resulting in my knee meeting the rough surface of the ledge I was trying to climb. The incident had no major consequences, except for my knee hurting like hell. There was no blood to be seen, but the pain grounded me in that moment and allowed me to focus again. Mentally, the climb became easier. Physically, it was still as hard as ever.

It seemed like we'd been climbing for ages, basically living in fear, when the terrain flattened out. Admittedly, there was still a ledge and a deadly drop right next to our path, but that didn't seem so scary anymore now that I could walk instead of climb like a discount Spider-Man. All of a sudden, we spotted a little hut, a stick with the Jordanian flag next to it: the viewpoint.

That was the moment when we realized we'd climbed to an unofficial and illegal viewpoint. Not that we cared then. We were just happy we'd survived the climb, happy to experience something both so scary and unique.

We were greeted by another Bedouin, who sold us some incredibly sweet tea. I was enjoying my adrenaline rush - until we were invited to sit on the edge of the gorge and let our feet dangle into the scary nothingness below. Now I loved the view, so I did get close to the edge... on all fours. Vertigo petrified me. Eventually I scooted towards the edge on my butt. I'd love to say I enjoyed the experience, but in reality I was leaning back as far as I possible, so I couldn't slip and slide down to my death. I can laugh about it now, and I'll never regret this dangerous adventure, but in that moment I was still afraid I was going to die.

After the initial adrenaline rush was over and all the tea was gone, we realized we now somehow had to get down to Al Khazneh again. Just like on our way up, our guide ran and jumped ahead while I was almost shitting myself. We took a slightly different route this time. Not that this made the descent any less scary: now, we had to cross a ravine on a bridge that was no more than a few planks. First our guide crossed without blinking an eye. Then my friends went after him. I was left on the other side and again, vertigo got the better of me.

"I can't do this!" I yelled.

"Come on, just run!" came the answer from the other side.

I took a deep breath and looked at the planks. What if I'd lose my balance? I did the only thing I could do to prevent myself from getting permanently stuck right then and there: I ran.

I sprinted towards the edge, planted one foot firmly in the middle of the makeshift bridge, half-jumped and landed on the other side. I felt like I'd literally ran away from my fear. I'd found my footing in the gorge and started jumping and running down the steep path now. Our guide looked at me in surprise, then concluded: "You are a sportswoman."

"Yeah." I beamed with pride. I felt so in control, so in my element. I still knew that what I was doing was reckless, but now I had faith in myself. I could do this. And so I ran, skipped, jumped, walked and slid my way down to the start of the prohibited path.

Before I knew it, all of us where standing in front of the Treasury again. I felt euphoric. Adrenaline was running through my veins agains and I couldn't contain my excitement. Okay, we had gone up a path where tourists weren't allowed to go and okay, we'd all thought we were going to die. But let's be honest, life would be awfully dull if we always played by the rules. Sometimes you need to take a risk. Walking Petra's prohibited path was one of those risks. I will never forget the fear for my life, the breathtaking view and the euphoria that followed it all.

"You want to go ahead?" our Jordanian guide shouted down the path to my friends and me early in the morning.

"Yes!" we shouted back. We were already thirty meters ahead of the group and, with all due respect, we did not want to walk to Petra with these slow people. Sticking with them would definitely ruin our chances of taking any good pictures of Al Khazneh, the legendary Treasury. The place would be crawling with tourists by the time our group would get there. Besides, my friends and I wanted to hike to Ad Deir, the Monastery, and had been told we'd need our time for that.

"Okay, go ahead!" Our guide gave us the green light and we bolted off.

Even though all three of us had been to Petra the night before, when the Treasury was lit up by countless candles just like it is in all the pictures in travel brochures for Jordan, the walk to the rose-red city was every bit as fascinating by day as it had been by night. Now we were able to see all the Nabatean ruins on both sides of the path that led us to the Siq. We discovered something new around every corner. Once inside the Siq, the small gorge that leads to Al Khazneh, our eyes started playing tricks on us. Every weird and odd shape along the walls of the gorge could have been part of a Nabatean structure. We noticed carvings and water basins we'd walked straight past the night before. I took dozens of pictures; every pebble there was interesting by daylight.

After 2 kilometers, we emerged from the Siq and found ourselves in front of the Treasury. It was still quite peaceful; very few tourists had made it to Petra before us. Still, taking a decent picture proved to be a challenge. The sunlight and shadows in the gorge made it difficult to capture the image as beautifully as our eyes did. Since we couldn't get the pictures we wanted, we decided to start walking to Ad Deir right away. That was the moment I discovered Petra was way different from the way I'd imagined it. For the longest time I, like many other people, had thought that the Treasury was Petra. All of it. Even though I knew that to be false at the time of my visit, I still thought the entire city was situated inside small canyons and gorges. This turned out to be false too. Soon after we left the Treasury behind, we entered a huge open plain full of Nabatean ruins. While it was very beautiful, it was also very hot and I burned to a crisp in no time; I hadn't even taken sunscreen with me, as I'd expected to be in shadowy canyons all day...

Though we all agreed that the ruins were gorgeous, we walked briskly past them. Our destination was still far away: first we had to find the right path (quite the challenge with no signs or markers along the route), then climb anywhere between 700 to 1000 steps. Up until the restaurants at the start of the climb, everything went great. The path to the climb was more or less hidden behind a building, so we first doubtingly followed another trail until we saw more tourists and a camel disappear behind the building. We followed them, accompanied by a mule called Erdogan.

The first couple of hundred meters didn't pose any real problem. There were some steps, but most of the trail was level. We strayed from the path once, when we spotted the Lion Triclinium. I still have no idea if we were allowed to leave the path and almost climb up to this ruin, but we did it anyway.

After this slight detour, we continued our way to Ad Deir. Temperatures were rising quickly now. My drinking water disappeared faster than I'd expected. Then we were confronted with the steps. All 700 - or 1000, depending on whom you ask - of them.

We walked mostly in silence as breathing became more difficult. Looking back on it now, it's almost scary: Temperatures rising up to 40 degrees Celsius and no drinking water. Luckily we soon saw little stalls by the side of the track, where we could buy souvenirs and, way more important, water. We took breaks to drink whenever we could find a place that offered some shade. We also used those moments to look around in awe and say: "It sure is beautiful though." I think we said those words a hundred times that day, but they're true: the rock desert around Petra will kill you if you're careless, but it sure is beautiful.

After what felt like hours, hundreds of steps and a few false alarms when we mistook souvenir stalls for our destination, the path finally flattened out. We'd made it to Ad Deir. The climb had been breath-taking, both literally and figuratively, and when we finally made it to the Monastery, we knew it had all been worth it. We found ourselves standing in front of another gorgeous facade. All we said was: "It sure is beautiful though." I enjoyed those moments immensely. Ad Deir isn't as well-known as Al Khazneh, but at least as amazing. There are also way less tourists that visit this monumental ruin, so I could take my time to take it all in. The facade mesmerized me, its far-off and hard to reach location made it even more special.

Eventually we sat down for a cup of tea at the small restaurant opposite Ad Deir. My brain couldn't quite process the beauty of the desert, the ruins, everything. It was still early in the morning. Little did I know that this was still only the beginning of my Nabatean adventures.

To be continued...

At 18, I was swept away by a wave of existential fear. I was afraid I'd look back on my life in 50 years and regret all the chances I didn't take. So I started taking my chances, shouting YES whenever I got the opportunity to see or do something unique. This is why I didn't hesitate, not even a second, when my tour guide in Jordan offered our group the chance to visit Petra by night. It would set me back about $20, but I couldn't care less about that money. For days, I dreamed of seeing Petra's world-famous Treasury in the moonlight. I couldn't wait to see that dream come true.

By the time we arrived at Wadi Musa, near Petra, I wasn't very excited about my plans for a nightly visit to the rose-red city anymore. I was extremely carsick, on the verge of throwing up. Normally I don't get carsick all that easily, but the bus ride down the King's Highway from Madaba to Wadi Musa had seriously messed with me. I was white as a cloth. My friends had to carry my luggage to my room for me, and had I been on that bus any longer, they would have had to carry me too.
In the hours that followed, I did nothing but stare at the ceiling. I had to recover quickly, or I wouldn't be able to visit Petra that night. That thought almost made me cry. From a very young age, I had been told about how special the place was. My dad was - and still is - fascinated by the place. He hasn't been there yet though, which made me realize just how lucky I was to get the chance to see that capital of the Nabatean Kingdom by night. Petra is open to the public every day, but only three nights a week: every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Had we arrived a day later, a nightly visit would have been impossible. So I laid down and waited for the carsickness to pass.

Three hours and a chocolate bar later, I got up to my feet and walked down to the lobby as if nothing had ever happened. It was time to visit Petra.
I met up with my friends outside the hotel and we followed the tour guide to the Visitor Center. I'd mentally prepared myself for a long walk, but the Center and entrance to Petra Archeological Park turned out to be a five-minute walk away from the hotel.
Waiting in front of the iron gates of the park made me restless. More and more people joined the crowd, along with a few stray dogs. Now I'm very much afraid of dogs, especially stray dogs, so I was extremely jumpy by the time the gates were opened. I guess that jumpiness had a positive side as well, because I shot forward and was among the first to enter the route to Petra.
My friends and I walked quickly. Petra by Night is quite the mass event and we did not want to get locked in by the crowd, not being able to see anything. We walked past a lot of people on the path toward the Siq, the small 2-kilometer long gorge that leads to Petra's Treasury. Our path was lit by hundreds of candle in brown paper bags, which looked like tiny lanterns. It looked amazing. I wanted to take at least a hundred pictures of the path, but the sun had already set and my camera could capture neither the image, not the atmosphere the candles created. I put the camera back in my bag and decided to just take it all in without electronic devices to distract me. There was so much to see, yet so much was also cast in shadows. I tried to make something out, tried to find the outlines of ancient ruins in this landscape that made me feel like I was in a Star Wars movie. I tried to imagine what this path had been like 2000 years ago, when Petra was the capital of a thriving kingdom. This was the entrance route for caravans two millennia ago. Now I was walking down that very same path in 2018, but the present had never felt so far away.

After a couple of minutes, we entered the Siq. The moonlight didn't reach us down in the small gorge, but here too our path was bathing in candlelight. There was a mysterious feeling radiating from the Siq, which made me giddy and excited. By then, very few tourists were ahead of us, so we walked a little more slowly down the ancient path. I'd expected it to be all soft and sandy, but here and there it actually resembled a modern pavement. I almost twisted my ankle once when a stray dog popped up out of nowhere, and I stopped paying attention to where I was putting my feet. Lucky for me, the stray dogs in the Siq are so used to awkward tourists like me that they didn't do much more than walk alongside us (though that still made me jumpy).
The Siq's many twist and turns made me lose all sense of direction and time. After a while, I expected the Treasury to be behind every corner we turned. Each time we were greeted by another stretch of candle-lit Siq. Then we rounded yet another corner, walked straight ahead for about 15 meters and all of a sudden we were out in the open again, right in front of the enormous facade of Al Khazneh, Petra's Treasury. I almost choked on the air in my lungs when I saw its columns, friezes and statues all lit-up by dozens upon dozens of candles.


A local came up to us and invited us to take a seat on one of the mats at the edge of the sea of candles in front of the Treasury. Walking fast had resulted in front-row seats, just a bit to the right of the very middle of the place. Since we were so early, we had to wait until all the other tourists had come out of the Siq. This time was spent trying to take the perfect picture of Al Khazneh. I received a crash course in ISO, but still managed to ruin a fair amount of pictures by picking my camera up way too soon. I was so focused on my camera that I barely noticed that one of the lanterns went up in flames less than a foot away from me. When I eventually did notice, I panicked for all of 30 seconds, then returned to capturing the mysterious world of Petra on camera.

Music started playing as the last tourists scuttled out of the gorge. The air felt thick with wonder. The music and singing that followed were majorly off-key every now and then, but it didn't bother me. When the music stopped, a man stepped forward and welcomed us to his rose-red city of Petra. Cups of tea were handed out. The whole thing reminded me of Middle Eastern fairy tales, which had always interested me more than their European cousins. I felt like I was living in one of those stories for a brief moment.
Then the spotlights were turned on. The Treasury lit up in blue, purple, green and red. Especially the red light made everything look magical. That special moment didn't last very long though, as tourists rushed up to Al Khazneh for that one picture to share on Facebook to make friends and family jealous. But who am I to judge? Soon I stood there too, posing for a picture that would forever remind me of one of the most magical moments of my life.


At the end of the night, my friends and I were among the last to walk back through the Siq. We let as many people as possible enter the gorge before us, then walked very slowly behind one of the last groups. At this point a lot of people were using their phones as flashlights, ruining the mysterious atmosphere inside the Siq. We tried to stay away from them and took our time soaking up every little detail of our nightly visit. It was getting close to midnight when I finally got back to my room, but sleep was the last thing on my mind. My head was spinning with images and experiences. I couldn't quite believe yet that I'd seen Petra's Treasury. I went through the pictures a thousand times, wondering what the place would look like by day. I was only a few hours of sleep away from my daytime visit to the legendary Nabatean city. I set my alarm, praying to hear it go off soon so I could pay another visit to Petra.