The day ends, but my thoughts keep climbing
It's 10 pm and I'm back in my hotel room, sitting by the window with a cup of tea that's gone lukewarm. The wind has picked up outside, making eerie whistling sounds through the ancient valleys of Petra. I'm tired but fulfilled after another day exploring this remarkable place.
This morning started early with a determined hike to the Monastery (Ad-Deir). I left my hotel at 7:30, wanting to beat both the crowds and the afternoon heat—though "heat" is relative in December in Jordan. The air was crisp, probably around 5°C, and I was glad for my layers as I made my way through the Siq again.
The Treasury was just as breathtaking on second viewing. I paused for a moment to take it in, watching how the morning light played differently on the façade compared to yesterday. A handful of other early visitors were there, all of us sharing knowing glances—the silent acknowledgment that we'd made the right choice to arrive early.
The path to the Monastery is not for the faint-hearted. Over 800 steps carved into the rock, winding upward through narrow passages and along cliff edges. I took my time, stopping every few minutes to catch my breath and to photograph the changing landscape. The higher I climbed, the more dramatic the views became of the surrounding mountains and valleys.
About halfway up, I met an older Jordanian man selling tea from a small stand perched impossibly on the edge of the path. I stopped for a brief rest, and he told me he's been making this climb daily for over 30 years. When I mentioned I was from Norway, his eyes lit up.
"Norway! Very cold, yes? Snow all the time?"
I laughed and explained that yes, we have snow, but not year-round. He seemed disappointed, as if I'd shattered an illusion. We chatted about the changing seasons in Petra—how winter brings fewer tourists but more challenging conditions. The wind can be brutal, he said, pointing to the narrow passages where it funnels through like a natural wind tunnel.
After about an hour of climbing, I finally reached the Monastery. The massive façade, even larger than the Treasury at 50 meters high, seemed to materialize out of nowhere as I crested the final steps. Unlike the Treasury, which sits in a narrow space, the Monastery has an open plaza in front of it, giving visitors space to take in its full grandeur.
I sat on a rock for nearly 30 minutes, just staring at this incredible achievement of human ingenuity and determination. Carved directly into the rose-colored mountain over 2,000 years ago, it has withstood time, weather, and civilizations rising and falling around it. It made me wonder what I'll leave behind when I'm gone—what mark, if any, will remain of my existence 2,000 years from now?
After the Monastery, I made my way back down (much easier than going up) and spent the afternoon exploring the Royal Tombs. The Urn Tomb particularly caught my attention with its massive urn carved at the top of the façade. I learned it was later converted into a Byzantine church, with crosses etched into the walls—layers of history and faith intermingled in stone.
By late afternoon, the wind had picked up considerably, and dark clouds were gathering. The temperature dropped noticeably, and I could feel the first few raindrops. According to my weather app, tomorrow will be even chillier with potential showers in the morning. I'll need to pack accordingly for my departure.
Yes, tomorrow I leave Petra. My bus to Amman departs at 11:00, giving me just enough time for one final walk through the Siq in the morning light. I've already arranged with the hotel to store my luggage while I make this last visit.
Three days in Petra has felt both too long and not nearly enough. My legs ache from the climbing, my camera is full of hundreds of photos I'll need to sort through, and my mind is saturated with impressions. Yet I feel like I've barely scratched the surface of this place.
As I look at my calendar, I realize I'm 125 days into this journey, with 375 days remaining. A perfect quarter-point. It seems fitting to mark this milestone in a place that has stood for millennia, making my 500 days seem like the blink of an eye in comparison.
I've been thinking a lot about time today—how the Nabataeans must have experienced it as they carved these monuments, how the Bedouin who lived among the ruins for centuries measured their days, and how I'm counting mine down to my 51st birthday. Different scales, different perspectives, but all of us existing in the same spaces, just at different points.
The tea is cold now, and the wind is getting louder. Tomorrow will be another early start, so I should try to sleep. But I know my mind will keep returning to those 800 steps and the vast, eternal face of the Monastery, carved into the mountain like a message from the past that I'm still trying to decipher.
!The Monastery (Ad-Deir) at midday, with shadows creating depth on its carved façade The Monastery stands silent against the blue December sky, 50 meters of human ambition carved into ancient stone