I woke up this morning at 4.45. I slept so badly, I don't know if it was the couple of drinks or the wildlife…or Hazel’s snoring. I was already awake when I heard her choke herself awake midst snore, but her alarm actually went off a few minutes later. But nevertheless, I made it up for the sunrise. Breakfast was at 6.30am (Same as yesterday, there's only so much tahini someone can take). We left camp at 7.30am and met our transfer at 8am at the entrance of the Wadi Rum site. The drive was two and a half hours, Peter and I sat in the back and dozed whilst Ahmed gave the others a history lesson on the Nabateans.

We arrived at our hotel at 10.30am and dropped off our bags and set off toward Petra. As you pass through the entrance gate there are two pathways. On the right there is a path for walking, on the left a path for the horses and riders. I had wanted to ride a pony in Petra since seeing Indiana Jones, pretty much my entire inspiration for going. I was going to ride one of those horses. At the end of the 800m horse/human track  you reach the entrance to the siq. The rest of the walk along the siq took another 30mins, about 45min in total, we walked through the narrow, tall, water warped towers and arrived at one of seven modern man made wonders that it is the Treasury. As I walked through the divide, turned around my last bend, I was breath taken, I'd been living up to this moment since I booked the trip. I stood there silently and then suddenly got really unnecessarily emotional and choked up as I stood I front and stared. I can't describe it and do it justice.
The bedouins who live in Petra wear headscarves and black eye liner, they look like Jack Sparrow, I'm not sure who came first. Either way, I'd be lying if I said I didn't find some of them attractive. Eff you Johnny Depp, it's definitely all down to you. In front of the treasury is a small café, selling tea and coffee, a small souvenir shop, resting camels, tied up donkeys, horses and carts, all waiting with their Jack Sparrow owners. 

We walked around the treasury, toward the city/ village, tombs, churches and temples. Ahmed led us to the start of the monastery walk and left us to return to the hotel.

The walk up to the monastery is 700-800 steps, depending which source you use. Peter and I went off ahead,I kept up with him until my panting got too much for me to comfortably and deniably hide. After he’d announced that he had run a couple of marathons I didn't even entertain the idea of hiding how unfit I am and I slowly slumped behind. 

Along the walk are more bedouins offering donkey rides to the top of the stairs. The donkeys are so little, I had ‘Little Donkey’ stuck in my head all day, and ladies trying to sell you souvenirs, such as scarves and bracelets. I stopped for a little sit down (regaining composure). Whilst sat enjoying the view, a family of three walked up; mum, dad and a boy that I learned to be 10. The little boy declared ‘how easy’ it was…little shit, I could still hear my heart beat in my ears. I decided I'd beat him up the stairs. And I did. IN YOUR FACE, YOU COCKY LITTLE BUGGER. 

I arrived at the monastery. It was stunning. An entirely untouched façade, carved into a cliff edge, with no bullet damage (unlike the treasury). I see Peter taking photos of strangers to be kind, all happy-go-lucky, not panting and sweating buckets like me. Stupid marathon runner. He accompanies me to the café near by; “made it ok?” he asks. Shut up. (I'd have decked him if I didn't already feel like my legs were going to give way). 

We walked beyond the the café to a view which was utterly incredible. We saw as far as the eye could see, with mountains and canyons, all colours of brown, blue and black, with the odd herd of goats and tufts of green foliage. Peter decided to do ‘save your life’ (circa 2000) at the rickety cliff edge. Twat. Utter twat. It resulted in me descending to the floor like a dropped sack of potatoes. 

We headed back. Homeward bloody bound! I am a massive fan of walking downhill. Walking uphill? Dislike. Steps uphill? Severely dislike. Walking downhill?  Yesssss. Walking down steps? Yes! All day, every day. Tripping down them?...yeh, that happened. Survived? Just about.

On the walk back we turned down camel, cart and donkey rides, trudged head down toward the Treasurey in brief conversation, making our tired way through the winding, colourful now-dry waterways. We reached the end of the siq.

A Jack Sparrow pony ride seller bellows “would you like to ride the horse?”… Yes. Yes I would. Indiana Jones eat your bloody heart out. A negotiated 5 JOD later, with confirmations that I am an experienced rider, and I'm cantering along the 800m stretch. Hotel and beer bound, this pony couldn't move fast enough. I reach the end of the stretch, hand the pony over, meet Peter, and head to a bar. The Cave Bar at the exit of Petra. We have a couple of well deserved beers. Turns out we've walked 16km today. 

We make our way back to the hotel at 5.30pm and meet in the roof top bar at 6.30pm for more beers, dinner at 7pm, where Peter decides to take on my cutlery skills as a lefty, (he's also a lefty but holds his cutlery like he's right handed, whilst holding his fork like a spaz) Anthea shuts him right down. Back in your box Pete. 

After dinner, drinks and shisha in the rooftop bar with Ahmed and Peter.

Today feels like a standard holiday. Sight seeing, beers and hotel