Jordan 2022, part 20 (Qasr Bshir, Karak)
Trying to get to the Qasr Bshir fortress, Abdullah, a young Jordanian who was driving me on this day by his car, as an excursion to a couple of important sites close to the Desert Highway, turned at some point from the dirt road and headed straight across the desert. This was not a desert of the Sahara type, with dunes and huge amounts of sand. There was certainly some sand, but this was more of a wasteland with the ground sufficiently firm for a car to drive over it. I could distinguish very pale traces of some vehicles that had passed who knows when. I presumed that probably Bedouins drove here, since although they still live in traditional tents, I often saw 4x4 vehicles beside those tents. At some point, these traces disappeared from the ground and we stopped.
I could see the Qasr Bshir fort quite clearly in the distance and according to some estimate of mine we would need less than half an hour to get there, so I proposed this to Abdullah. He had already told me several times that he didn’t even know of these places that we visited on this day and it was quite obvious that he found it all very interesting, so it took no time for me to convince him.
The walking to the fort itself would not be any problem at all, but outside (outside the car) there was a proper storm – an exceptionally strong wind and the temperature that was even without it quite low. I dressed well, putting both jackets on, my winter wool cap, the hood, as well as my thermal gloves. Needless to say, I also put on the face mask that I had on me, not because of any covid, of course, but it turned out that it felt very good as it prevented me from inhaling directly the cold air, for it seemed as if my throat were freezing.
When we left, it became obvious right away that it was good that we left the car where we did. We certainly would not be able to drive further on, at least not from the side from which we were approaching.
Since I was well dressed and did not feel cold at all, my only real problem was the remarkably strong wind that often rocked me. From time to time there were also rain drops, but we were going downwind, so there were not too many problems. The wind actually helped me occasionally by “pushing” me forward. But, I must admit that the overall sensation here was – absolutely fantastic!!! Wrapped up in my two jackets, the shawl, the cap and the hood, slightly bent and squeezing myself lest the wind got to my body through a hole in my wardrobe, feeling the cold on my face and hearing only the howling of the wind, I had an impression of going several centuries back in time and like an ancient lost traveller I was approaching a fort hoping that they would allow me in and let me warm up by the fire. Very, very primal experience. I enjoyed it thoroughly.
From time to time I stopped in order to take a photo of the fortress that I wanted to reach. At some point I could also see the traces left by some vehicle, but it was unclear where they came from and certainly, apart from the two of us, at this time there was not a living soul in sight.
Occasionally it seemed that the fortress was quite close, but the ground was rather wavy and of a uniform colour, so it was difficult to see clearly where we would need to go downhill only to go uphill once again.
And then we finally reached the fortress.
So, these are the remains of a Roman military fort which archaeologists claim to be unexpectedly well preserved. I must admit that this was not my impression at first sight, but one should bear in mind, first, I am not an expert and, second, this fort (castellum) is from the period of Ancient Rome after all, when it defended the south-eastern borders of this large empire. It is believed that the backbone of the Roman forces here included cavalry.
The fortress has an almost perfect square plan with the sides of 56 m on an average. On the corners, there are towers that project from the curtain wall by over 3 m. To the left and right from the main entrance there are also towers, or more accurately their remains.
This fortress was an important link in the whole line of Roman watchtowers and forts that served to defend the border of the empire. Within the square fortress, there was a spacious courtyard with premises for the crew built against the interior side of the curtain walls. On the basis of some inscriptions, it has been established that the fort was built in the period from 293-306 CE.
Abdullah was sort of trying to get to the inner courtyard, by climbing over the debris, but he didn’t get very far. I just went for a walk around the fortress. However, it was important to be careful about where one was placing the foot, because, here and there, I could see some smaller or bigger holes. I was not quite clear about their origin, but I did not think it was that important either.
By the way, the corner towers used to have three floors.
I made the circle around the fortress very quickly, thus returning to the main gateway once again. I just took a photo of it and then I packed my camera into my waist bag.
This was important because we had to go back to the car walking in storm and now the wind was blowing directly into our faces, plus it was starting to rain. But, there was no other way out and we moved forward. It was interesting that the car could not be seen anywhere on the horizon. This was precisely because of all the numerous albeit small and shallow depressions, and the rolling configuration of the ground. Because of that, I often turned back to look at the fortress, remembering at which angle I had looked at it when I first went towards it. In this way, I gauged the direction in which I was returning now.
Because of the stormy conditions, the return was very strenuous. Using this improvised navigation technique of mine, it seemed to me at some point that Abdullah was moving a little bit more to the right than necessary, but I did not follow him. I even shouted in his direction that I thought he should move to the other side. After going up a slope I finally saw the car. I was delighted – as if I had a built-in GPS! On top of that, I was also delighted that I would soon get into the car with no wind.
Still, before doing that, I took some photos of the landscape I was surrounded with. I wondered quietly if it was worth dragging myself here in order to see the crumbled fortress. ABSOLUTELY! Certainly, not necessarily because of the ruins themselves, but because of the adventure and the experience I could not wipe the smile off my face.
Now we knew exactly where we should go in order to get back and soon we reached the Desert Highway where we continued in the direction of Karak. As I would realise a few days later, here I missed the opportunity to visit yet another historical fortress in the town of Al-Qatrana – Qasr al-Qatrana, admittedly from the Ottoman period. Namely, that fortress is almost literally beside the motorway (on the west side), but I must admit it slipped my mind when I planned the excursion for this day.
Still, I have no regrets about this, because I was exceptionally content with what I visited and saw. When we got back to Karak, Abdullah took me to yet another great place – a top-notch sweet shop. As he told me, the owners of the shop were some Syrians and that, according to him, only added to the quality, because the Syrians made the best sweets in the Levant. When I look at the following photos and remember the baklavas, the sensation is almost as if I can still feel their scrumptiousness in my mouth.
Soon I was back at the B&B. Although it was, naturally, not windy there, it was extremely cold and so the owner of the B&B turned on a heater in the living room that worked using kerosene. So, I finally found out why kerosene was sold at filling stations. This is something I noted already back in Amman and I was utterly confused, but heaters of this kind explain it all. As for my room, I had an air-conditioning unit, so I could sleep quite well.
After the day when I exposed myself to the terribly strong wind and the walk across the desert in the middle of nowhere, which actually felt EXTREMELY good and made me happy, after the day that was mostly cloudy and often rainy, while the strong wind blew from the early morning until the evening, the next day I was greeted by the relatively clear skies, the sunlight, as well as – the snow! The owner of the B&B at which I stayed in Karak had told me the night before that it would snow, but I thought it would be a few snowflakes. Well, this was more than a few snowflakes.
I found it interesting when I saw a boy in the neighbourhood who got out onto a big terrace and tried to make something out of the snow.
Having woken up after a very good night’s sleep, I packed up my things and then had breakfast. Afterwards I was to continue with my travel around Jordan. The plan was to leave Karak in the morning by transferring by bus to the city of Tafilah and then to the city of Qadisiyah. The arrangement was to ask the driver of the bus to call the receptionist/manager of the hotel where I had the reservation for the following night and then he would come to pick me up in Qadisiyah.
The arrangement with the owner of the B&B in Karak was that he would drive me down to the foot of the hill and the bus station, but in the morning he told me his brother got his car. Well, ok. Let’s say I believed him. From the window of my room I could see nicely the bus station down below, not too far away, but I did decide to go there by taxi.
However, the owner of the B&B got me some kind of a van, which I thought was a taxi since it came right in front of the house where I was staying that was practically in one of the side streets. I was told that it could take me to the bus station and this would cost me 1 JD, but it would not be worth it, since the buses were not running on account of the bad weather. That’s why I was offered the option (4 JD) to be taken to another bus station, closer to a university of some kind and close to the main road. Well, I thought, there was no point in trying to be smart, so let them take me wherever they thought it was better. Along the way, the van, which was something between a private taxi and public transportation, picked up a couple of other women and it took them wherever they wanted to go and then it took me, as the last woman sitting in the van, to that alleged bus stop. But, as it would turn out, the situation was far from dandy and the van driver practically spoke no English. Somehow I managed to understand that there would certainly be no bus for at least one hour, if it came at all, but I was not sure that I understood him well and did not feel like getting out of the van with my large bag without knowing where I was and to wait for something that I was not sure was coming at all, while not knowing if there was any English-speaking person around, for there was more snow in the street here than on the castle hill, which in turn meant fewer people in the street. I was inside the van and I decided to stay there until a solution was found. You may think whatever you want about the Muslims and their relation towards women, but my impression was that in fact they generally respect women. Let me clarify – I had an impression that as a woman and a foreigner on top of that, he would not kick me out in the middle of the street simply because he brought me to the place that we had agreed upon.
Then I remembered that I had the phone number from the next hotel where I was going and that they spoke English. I gave that number to the driver and he dialled it. First he said something to the person on the other end of the line and then I could finally talk with somebody who spoke English. So, the buses apparently did not work because there was a lot of snow and the advice was for the van driver to find somebody who had a 4x4 vehicle. Apparently, the van driver said that he knew such a person. The whole situation was starting to get surreal and then it all just amplified from then on. The van driver continued to drive slowly in this part of the city and whenever he saw any vehicle of the four-wheel-drive type, he would stop, open his window and start to talk. I think he must have asked if the owner of the vehicle would take this crazy woman from the van to the city of Tafilah. It was becoming quite obvious that nobody was in the mood. What now?
I told him to call again that manager from Dana (my next destination) and then, through that manager as the interpreter, I proposed to the van driver that he took me to the city of Al Qadisiyah where the manager of the hotel would take me over. We agreed about the price and so I headed the way I desired. I could finally relax and enjoy the snow-covered landscapes we were driving through, that were normally a desert.
While driving along the King’s Highway to the south I wondered why there was such a chaos just because some snow fell. After all, the situation at the motorway seemed quite decent, taking into account that the snow was thawing rather fast.
And then I realised that these people here are simply not used to driving in snow and probably their tires are not good enough. Through the mobile phone “interpreter” I proposed jokingly to the driver that we should switch places, since I knew how to drive in snow. Of course we did not do it. He knew I was merely joking.
At first, the quantity of snow on the road was not too big, but soon we got to a section with more snow, i.e., it was less cleared and I wondered if this was a good idea, but by now it was all done.
However, the road started to go down and soon we entered a dry, desert section. So, everything was fine and I could relax.
After a while we went up to the snow covered areas again, but on my mobile phone map I could see that we were getting close to the city of Tafilah that was at approximately two thirds of the road to Qadisiyah.
However, the driver somehow thought it would be better that he took me to the place called Al Ayes, some 5 km before Tafilah.
Here again he drove in circles for a short while, as if looking for something, and then he stopped by a similar van, went to the driver and obviously arranged something. After that he told me he would not go any farther, but rather that other driver would take me over, against a small price difference. Since I realised there was no point and I certainly had no way to argue with him, I paid the difference to him and then he paid it to the other driver... Still, regardless of all of this, I still firmly believe that they respect women here. He simply did not feel like driving any longer or perhaps he had some other thing to do back in Karak. That’s why he first found someone who could take me over, arranged everything, certainly paid less than what he told me (this has nothing to do with their relation towards women, but rather with their relation towards foreigners who do not speak the language) and then he even carried my bag to that other van.
Be as it may, the pronounced surreality of the whole situation in which I found myself did not fade away for a single moment. But, ok... I moved to this other van and then we headed for Qadisiyah. Even the clouds dispersed a little and I could see parts of the blue sky. I guess this was a good sign.