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January 19, 2001
Today I travel to Madaba along the Jordan Valley and then into the hills, in silence, on the silent back seat of the dig bus. I become aware of car wrecks, two new ones over an edge which has no guard rail.
We run into trouble with the tourist police when we reach Madaba: we’re not a designated tourist bus, and we go up a one way street the wrong way. Finally we straggle in light rain to the early Byzantine church of St George, which hosts a mosaic map, dating from the 6th century AD, the colour still stunning. It’s a map of the Middle East, including the oldest surviving cartographic depiction of the Holy Land.
I escape from the group and somehow manage to find the archaeological park, the remnants of an old building displaying mosaics, some of them in place as paving, some hung on the wall. One is the victim of iconoclasts: cloven hooves and a tail remain and the rest of the animal has been overlaid with a tree. I finally track down the source of my growing attraction to mosaic: the restfulness of a limited palette, the same attraction as that of traditional Aboriginal art perhaps.
I join local people going about their business, walking the streets past stalls selling schwarma, falafels, plastic buckets and vegetables.
Soon it’s time to return to the bus to visit Mt Nebo, where I stand where Moses stood. There below me is the Dead Sea, blue but edged with the whiteness of salt. The landscape is bare except for groves of olive trees. Inside the partially excavated church are more mosaics, and a very large vicious-looking scorpion – no wonder people don’t warm to my star sign.
We travel on to Um er-Rasas through a desolate landscape. We come, in a bleak wind, to a strange tower, maybe a rare trace of ascetic monks who retreated to the top of a pillar. The ruins include an almost intact cistern, collapsed arches and partial excavations. Further on are scattered black ruins, perhaps of a Roman military outpost. Inside a vast tin shed we find a mosaic showing buildings and fruit trees contained by a wonderful border. Again iconoclasts have been at work, darning out the offensive human forms between the fruit trees.
The bus journey back is long, through rain and into dark. The hill where I saw crashed vehicles in the morning has me invoking my protective angel.
Ooh mosaics and a map all in one would make G a happy girl. Your journey there reminds me of a scarey drive in the hills in Sicily. I really would like to travel in the middle east but it will never happen, so I’ll just enjoy it through your posts. G hugs to you sweetheart 🙂
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So you are a Scorpio, Meg? I’m one as well, my birthday is October 25. When is yours? I loved coming along on this trip with you. I love how you figure out your “growing attraction to mosaic: the restfulness of a limited palette, the same attraction as that of traditional Aboriginal art perhaps.” I love mosaics and am happy to stumble upon them anywhere. Don’t you love the sense of history in Jordan? I never visited these places, but I love the thought of being in a place “where Moses stood.” I’d also be nervous driving back in the dark after seeing those two accidents earlier.
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Marvellous mosaics, what history you travelled through, and I was amused by your comment about Scorpio!!l
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The mosaics are wonderful, but such a rugged land. I wonder if it was always so arid, or if the thousands of years of human action have had their effect.
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The mosaics are lovely and yes, a limited palette can be a good thing. I love the blueness of the Mount Nebo photo. Wishing you a peaceful happy weekend xx
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Peaceful and happy to you too. How’s progress towards moving? Or does that question shatter peace and happiness?? A sitting-up-in-bed-while-J-tends-the-fire hug to you.
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No progress but it’s not a worry just yet. Plenty happening to divert me in the next couple of weeks. Will start worrying in September. Stay snug! XX
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Good luck, Jo! 🙂
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