Watching Sunsets From The Caves of Petra - Jordan

A woman carrying her baby walks down the stairs, waving at us, signalling an invitation. It was well past 6, and we were on our way out of Petra. All three of us looked at each other, full of excitement. I politely nodded, and we decided to follow her. Walking back to the cave, we were in for an authentic experience. She was Bedouin and had been living in the cave. Opportunities like this won't be coming around that often.

As soon as we entered the cave, we were welcomed by two children. Both of them had joy in their eyes and were super enthusiastic about the foreign visitors. I remember the layout of the cave to this day. Its window was perfectly situated towards the setting sun. In the right corner, there were two or three tents with sleeping mats and bags set up as local beds. In the middle of the cave, an older lady, our host's husband's mother, was making a fire.

Our host was the only one speaking English. She explained that her husband was out at work and would be coming back shortly. Her husband's mother started preparing dinner and, as you guessed, we were invited to be their guests.

This whole moment felt surreal to me because suddenly I was in one of the world's wonders, in a cave of a building that was constructed over 2000 years ago, about to eat food with people with whom I not only did not share a common language but about whose entire nation I knew very little.

As we got through the initial talk, our host's husband arrived back from work, and as word got around that they were having visitors, our host's brother came along too. As his English was almost fluent, we were able to learn more about their life through him.

The sun slowly set, and the moon rose. Getting to know our hosts, we asked about everything: our lives, what brought us here, our dreams, and our goals. When the question of our ages came up, after revealing mine, I asked back. The answer stunned me. "We do not count our age because we do not want to be tied by numbers. I'm as free as any star in the sky." Beautifully poetic. It got me thinking about why we are so bothered by our age and numbers.

As dinner was ready, we all feasted on hummus, baba ganoush, and freshly made bread, dining all together with our bare hands. We continued sharing stories. As more and more stars appeared in the night sky, I took a moment and walked out of the cave to take it all in. I heard nothing—just a few camels enjoying their dinner. Other than that, there was an endless silence. The moment when you realize that civilization was here, in this place thousands of years ago, and now you are at the same place, surrounded by a random family of Bedouins who invited you to dine with them.

Looking at the night sky, I realized we should probably start heading to our hotel as the night was not getting any younger. Expressing our gratitude and thanks, we left the locals some money, said our farewells to our hosts, and asked if any of them knew the way to the main gate. Although it was long past closing hours, it was our best bet to get out of Petra.

Here, the brother offered to escort us via the "secret entrance." His name was Ali. He took his camel, said his farewell, and we all left the cave. As we left, Ali's behaviour slightly changed. Almost as if he saw an opportunity, he first tried to let us ride his camel, then started talking about his "marriage to a Norwegian girl." He even went as far as saying he's 27 years old, so in the end not as free as every star in the sky. The biggest surprise was his using a fluent Czech phrase, "dávej oslíku," hinting at the number of tourists from Czechia he had probably served. As we managed to get out of Petra, he charged us for the escort. As we were (maybe not) too generous, we were invited to his friend's house. The time was entering morning hours, and the tiredness kicked in—we found ourselves in a random living room full of over 100 rolled carpets. After a quick look at each other, we realized what we were even doing there and decided to call it a night, as Ali was getting increasingly pushy with his selling services.

As we left Petra on the other side, we still had to find our way back to Wadi Musa, the town where our car was left and our hotel booked. We hitched a ride with a car that was way exceeding its capacity but somehow made it back.

After a short sleep, we woke up early and headed to the Back Door of Petra. A hike from the inside of Petra led us first to the Monastery and then to the Treasury of Petra, two monumental buildings. Yet, the most fascinating part was the hike itself. We trekked through open fields, cliffs, and mountains, with a view of the endless desert and brown, rocky hills. We saw Bedouins running and climbing up the rocks in their sandals, hurrying to work to offer their services to tourists somewhere in front of the Treasury or Monastery.

Encountering almost no fellow tourists, just a bunch of abandoned cars, sheep, and locals who were trying hard to sell things to us, my mind could not stop wondering. What was it that happened last night? Was it a real, authentic experience, or were we just targeted as tourists and a possible source of income for locals? Was the connection we created genuine? Talking with Lukas and Juro, we agreed that it did not matter. The memories we have are vivid, and watching the sunsets over the caves of Petra will hardly be taken away from us.

Officially, the Bedouins were “removed” from Petra in 1985 when the park became a UNESCO World Heritage Site. But unofficially, they are still there. Thirty-five to fifty families remain in the 2000+-year-old caves they have always called home.

We managed to sneak into one and see what their life was about. Another moment to be grateful for the possibility of travel. Not only to experience things we did not think were possible but also to be grateful for how lucky we are to live the lives we are living.