About 2300 years ago, a few centuries before the time of Christ, a relative unknown kingdom called Nabataeans came to power in what is now Jordan and southern Syria. Their rise to prominence was fueled by geographic happenstance; Jordan lies along a key trade route that connects the eastern Mediterranean with Arabia, the Persian Gulf, and the Orient. Whoever controlled this area profit-ed greatly from taxes on the silk and spice that flowed all the way from China in the east to Spain the west.

The Nabateans were astute merchants who took full advantage of their location. They flourished for a brief few centuries before Rome's rise to prominence. Their capital city remains a testament to their wealth. It is surely one of the great wonders of the world. It is Petra.

A surprisingly mountainous drive through southern Jordan brought us to Wadi Musa, the town that has sprung up on the steep hills of the valley that leads to the entrance to Petra. The valley narrows as it leads downhill. Down there, where the valley ends, Petra sits hidden behind a long narrow canyon known as the Siq.

I had seen pictures of the Siq many times (National Geographic recently had a good article about Petra, and the climax to the third Indiana Jones movie has Harrison Ford and Sean Connery galloping on horseback through its narrow confines), but never-the-less I was surprised and awed by the site. The Siq is much narrower, much taller, and much larger than I had expected.

Sandstone walls rise straight up as high as 3000 feet, yet in places the canyon is only 20 feet wide. It twists and turns and the paved canyon floor slopes gently downhill along the entire route. You could probably walk the length of it in 20 minutes, but most people take much longer, stopping to stare at the colorful cliff walls and the narrow slit of sky far above. The Siq is the main entrance to Petra. Designed to impress the ancient traders, it continues to awe all who enter 2000 years later.

The end of the Siq marks the beginning of the town of Petra and it announces itself with an unforgettable image. You have been walking in the shadowed darkness of a deep canyon. As you round the last bend you catch a glimpse of the Treasury. It is lit brightly by the morning sun and framed on both sides by the dark canyon walls of the Siq.

We passed the Treasury seven or eight times during our two days in Petra and every time we had to stop and stare in disbelief. Although not the largest of Petra's monuments, it is one of the largest and also one of the best preserved. That-- in tandem with its location at the end of the Siq -- makes for a site that never ceases to impress. Six towering pillars line the front. They are topped by a frieze and atop the frieze is another level of pillars, statues and adornments. Like all of Petra's great structures it is carved right into the cliff wall. The roughness of the mountain-side from which it is hewn only serves to accent the it's intricate details and smooth geometric forms.

At this point the valley opens up a bit. We continued downhill along the valley floor and several more facades came into view. Some were down low near where we stood but most were higher up, carved into the cliffs a hundred feet above. All of them mixed the usual elements of pillars and friezes and statues. The carvings were amazing and awe-inspiring, but equally dramatic were the swirling colors of sandstone.

I have never seen such elegant waves of color wafting through rock. In places the striations were set clearly in pancaked layers, but mostly they were jumbled storms of rich color, as if a fierce wind had blown through liquid rock and then set into stone. The smoothly carved facades unleashed the color in the same way that polishing an agate sharpens its features. We walked into one of the tombs and looked up to a ceiling of swirling color. It was like stepping into a Van Gough painting.

We spent almost two full days exploring Petra's hidden canyons. What struck me most (aside from the color) was the surprising size of the place. Petra wasn't just ten or twelve grand monuments, it was hundreds of temples, tombs, and hovels carved into a huge area encompassing several connecting valleys. The city stretched from the tops of 4000 foot peaks down to the bottom of the deepest canyons. It had a long colonnaded street. Monasteries. Churches. Marketplaces. It was absolutely immense, and I can scarcely imagine how impressive the city must have been in its heyday when the stone dwellings we see today were matched by an even greater number of wooden houses and businesses.

Petra is still opening its secrets to us. Just 5 years ago, right in the heart of the city in an area that had been stomped over by tourists for decades, an American research team uncovered a beautiful Byzantine church. The church houses three beautifully preserved mosaics, now available for all to see in their full brilliance.

Tour groups seeing the Holy Land in Israel often include a side-trip to Petra, but the political situation being what it is their numbers have been seriously curtailed. The result for those who do travel to Petra is a relatively peaceful experience. It certainly isn't solitude, but it's a far cry from the screaming mobs of Italians that swamp every temple and tomb in Egypt. In fact, one morning Sarah and I took a hike through one of the side-canyons in Petra and were completely alone. It was an area that didn't have any carvings, so the star of the hike was geology, not achaeology. I think the colored sandstone walls smoothed clean by flowing water easily rival the painted slot canyons of Utah, Arizona, and New Mexico.

After two great days at Petra it was time to move on. Together with Kristian and Bronwyn, our new friends and travel partners, we hired a taxi to take us north to Amman. Along the way we would tour a few of Jordan's other attractions.

When the European crusaders came to "liberate" the Holy Land in the 11th and 12th centuries, they built an elaborate chain of castles and forts all the way from Turkey in the north to Aqaba in the south. Most of these castles (or at least their remains) are still sitting quietly in the desert today. Our first stops were at two of the castles, one near the town of Shobak and one near Kerak.

These castles are castles in the way you always want castles to be. They are imposing fortresses set high on hilltops. None of that girlie Neuschwanstein stuff, they're all cold stone, arrow slits, and long beer-halls in which you can almost catch a pungent smell of grilled boar hanging in the air. The Shobak castle was in extreme disrepair, but we spent an enchanting hour probing the remains of its hallways and storerooms. At one point we descended a crumbled stairway into a small "secret" chapel that was partially buried. There, disguised in one corner, was a tiny passageway that descended into the hill. We started along it but our flashlight batteries died and we had to turn around. Later, we found out this was the secret escape tunnel that led to an exit at the bottom of the hill. It was just like something out of a medieval fantasy novel: the castle is under siege . . . ready to fall at any moment . . . the king runs for the chapel . . . a brown-robed monk shepherds him into the hidden passageway . . . his loyal knights guard the entrance while he runs to safety.

After the castles we dropped down out of the mountains. Way down.

I can say with absolute certainty that I will never stand on the summit of Mount Everest, the highest place on Earth. Just won't happen. I set my sights lower. Much lower. We headed for the Dead Sea. At 1000 feet below sea level it is the lowest place on Earth.

Swimming in the Dead Sea had never really appealed to me. Our guidebook lists a whole litany of details that don't sound welcoming: 20 times as much bromine at sea-water, 15 times as much magnesium, 10 times as much iodine, magnesium chloride that induces vomiting with the slightest intake. But since it was on our route to Amman we figured, why not? Let's give it a try.

We donned our suits and walked down to the water. Sarah and Bronwyn ignored the stares of the young Jordanian boys who hang out on the beach hoping to catch a glimpse of flesh, anything more than the occasional exposed wrist or forearm that passes for lewd exposure in the rest of the Middle East. The water didn't smell bad (for some reason I had always expected it to reek) and it looked clear and calm. We waded in and by the time I was at a depth of 2 or 3 feet I could feel the water tugging at my legs, trying to float them to the surface.

We waded in further, then leaned back to let ourselves bob on the surface. It was a very strange feeling, and we all spent the first minutes giggling. You actually feel the water pressing up along the length of your body. It is very difficult to keep your legs underwater, because you're always being pushed back into a horizontal float. The nearest sensation I associate it with is skydiving -- if you lean forward the water spins you onto your back and if you lean back you're tossed onto your stomach. We bobbed and laughed for a few minutes, but quickly felt the sting of the salts in previously unknown cuts, and ran for the showers. I am really glad we took our dip in these waters at the lowest place on earth. Maybe I'll write a book, Into Thick Water.

A short drive from the Dead Sea and we were in Amman, the capital of Jordan. We are nearing the end of our time in the desert now. We will probably have a few side-trips here and there from Amman and from Damascus, but no more of the long journeys across desolate stretches southern Egypt, Sinai, or western Jordan.