The mortal enemy of all travellers is Delhi Belly. It is indiscriminate, appears with little warning and can be completely random in its timing.
On our first trip to Asia, we were lucky and only had a couple of bouts. We weren’t anywhere remote then and there was no mad panic, or fear of death by embarrassment.
That was not the case in Petra.
Heading into the desert
For those of you that haven’t visited; Petra is absolutely huuuuge. You start by walking for a good 10 minutes from the visitor centre to the start of the Siq Canyon, which in itself is 1.2km long. At that point you reach the world famous Treasury. But that wasn’t what we’d come to see this time, we wanted to go much deeper.
The Siq
We'd come up with a plan to see sunset from the High Place of Sacrifice - a viewpoint that is a longish walk uphill to a cliff top overlooking the Royal Tombs. We began the walk and nearing the top we came across a local Bedouin lady who wanted us to buy a cup of tea from her.
This was probably the moment that set this disaster in motion.
The High Place of Sacrifice
Being the only ones up there at a very quiet time of year (summer) we obliged and were a little surprised to find the water wasn’t very warm.
Up to that point we’d been loving the local tea which is boiled with sugar and sage to create an absolutely delicious blend (which incidentally is known as type 2, referring to its likelihood of giving you diabetes - unsurprising given the quantities in which you drink it!).
Not wishing to offend we slurped the tepid concoction and continued on our way to the top.
The views were glorious and there wasn’t another soul around. The temperatures had cooled from the stifling midday heat and everything was bathed in a pink glow for miles in every directions. We sat for over an hour enjoying the absolute magic of getting a little piece of Petra all to ourselves.
These are the moments we travel for.
The view from the High Place of Sacrifice in Petra
But then it hit. The searing stomach pain and panic that we were a long way away from refuge....
Panic
I don't know if anyone has ever seen two tourists run down the crumbling mountainside as quickly as we did, being careful not to stumble but knowing that in Delhi Belly situations every second counts.
We reached the bottom, thinking all was going to be well as Petra is well kitted out with toilets. However, this was Ramadan and the government workers who looked after the facilities had clocked off early, locking the toilets behind them. All of the toilets. Each and every one, and we were a long way from town.
The trail back from the High Place of Sacrifice
Panic levels were increasing.
Petra is in the middle of a vast desert and there is nothing but sand and rock in all directions. We were a few kilometres from even the edge of Petra and roughly a 45 minute walk uphill from the nearest hotel, and time was most definitely of the essence.
It’s at this point that you begin to improvise.
The Bedouin Solution
Bedouins are allowed to come and go through Petra as they like as it is their ancestral land. During Ramadan, they often hang around after everyone has left for the day to break the fast together as the sun sets.
After describing first through words and then through hand actions (the international symbol of holding a stomach is universal) they got the idea. But on confirming there was most definitely not a single toilet open, their suggestion was one that provoked a strong feeling of horror.
Go to the nearest cave.
A cave…. In the ancient city of Petra, a world heritage site and one of the most treasured archaeological sites on earth.
Yikes.
The ancient city of Petra
They seemed to think it would be completely fine and said “natural toilet”. Unleashing Delhi Belly on a nearby cave in the middle of one of the wonders of the world was not something we wanted to be remembered for. Especially as there were Bedouins who sell overnight camping stays in those caves….
After begging and waving money around, they changed their minds. Their car - which they had originally said couldn’t be driven - was miraculously able to take us the back way through Petra and out an exit that only locals know about.
The kidnapping?
After hopping in the car, we soon realised that our rescuer didn't quite understand the urgency of the situation. He stopped to pick people up; stopped to drop them off; occasionally stopped to have a word with someone, all the while we were slowly dying in the backseat.
We finally reached the main road when suddenly the windows went up and we were told to duck and hide beneath the seats.
It’s at this point that we wondered if this was a set up, were we being kidnapped? Why would anyone suddenly start telling us to hide so abruptly?
However, as soon as we were being shouted at to duck, we were being told get up again. We’d passed a police checkpoint and found out that locals are fined for driving tourists around Petra. Ooops.
Back to safety
Once we got into Wadi Musa town, we knew the end was in sight. However our driver suddenly stopped 200 metres from our hotel and told us to get out! WHY?!
He pointed to the police car that sits outside the official Petra entrance. Of course!
Having thanked him we rushed as quickly as possible back to safety. Well, safety being holed up in a hotel room for three days trying to recover!
If you’re in Petra and are offerred tea from a random woman on the top of a cliff, maybe give it a miss.
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