Last weekend, Delta and I went to Jordan. For several years now, we've been talking about going to Petra. And then all of a sudden last month, we decided it was finally time. Delta bid it as a trip, and I tagged along as his partner in crime.
Jordan itself was wonderful. The country is modern and extremely clean, the infrastructure is impressive, the people are incredibly warm and welcoming, and above all, the food is just wonderful.
But one of the most enthralling parts, by far, was actually being right there in the Middle East during Ghaddafi's first speech. Jordan itself feels stable. Delta and I never felt personally unsafe. Rather, it was as though the country was spellbound by a trill of tension, closely following all their neighbours on the telly. A mood of electric exhilaration was pervasive. When Ghaddafi came on to give his first rambling speeches, it was aired in arabic. But one of the Jordanians standing nearby instantly took us under his wing, translating the highlights for us. The nation was stupefied. Riveted. Frozen. All around us, history was in the making. And there we were, li'l ol' Delta and me, right in the middle of it all, shoving olives in our dumbfounded mouths like popcorn at the movies.
And then, of course, there was the spectacular Petra. Every bit as magical as it's reputation, and even much much more so. We were lucky: it wasn't yet high season, and we ended up having large stretches of the trail pretty much to ourselves.
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