Finding my inner mountain goat!
I'd arrived in Petra after two nights of no sleep - one on a flight from the UK and another in a freezing cold seedy hostel in old Amman - and a five and a half hour bus journey, two hours of which were spent standing on the side of the Kings Highway waiting for a replacement bus after the driver broke the suspension by driving through one of the many giant potholes while he was distracted by chatting to the accompanying police officer. The guys at the Seven Wonders Bedouin camp had arranged to meet me from the bus and collect my bags and leave me to go in to the Petra site for a few hours. But my utter exhaustion and sickness got the better of me and I was in no fit state for anything except heading to my tent for some rest. Hashem, a charming young bedu drove me around the twisting roads of the Wadi Musa valley, through the town of Umm Sayhoun - (built in the 1980s to accommodate the bedouin who were forcibly evicted from the Nabataean caves which they'd inhabite