Sometimes when travelling without a plan, with no real time constraints, you have these Rimbaud-esqe moments: "WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING HERE", and Wadi Musa is a town that provides such moments on almost a daily basis. Staring at a cows head hanging in the middle of the sidewalk, trying to hunt down a pair of new leggings, being followed by a group of far-too-pretty teenage boys -or being spit at by the little spawn-of-satan child living at the hostel with his mom who is the owner..and you ask yourself, "Why am i here? and how...HOW did i get here??!". Like that Talking Heads song really.
I saw Petra yesterday but it was too hot to return today, so here i am, sitting on a couch, in the carpeted, spangled, cluttered budget-Sultan's-harem-like lobby of my current home. Doing nothing, with nothing to do.
I suppose i wouldn't want to be anywhere else.