Petra From Memory

It was a sweltering day in Jordan when my family embarked on a journey through Petra. The boulevards bustled with camels, donkeys, and tourists chattering in one-hundred different languages. The streets were lined with two-thousand year old ruins from the long gone Nabatean empire. The winding road through Petra was carved into a sheer cliff. Jagged stone walls provided a haven from the blistering Middle Eastern sun. The shade left a cool, bluish hue on the rocks. I was admiring the aqueducts which wind down the sides of the main road. The path turned gently. The view that suddenly unfolded petrified me. A single smooth, white, classic column, framed on either side by cavernous walls, appeared in front of me. The tunnel-like passage opened onto a formal square, and The Treasury building unfolded in all its glory. I was absolutely awe-struck. The power of art and architecture had forever connected me to the civilization that vanished long ago.