Grinning as if sharing a small secret, Imad said in his familiar Arabic accent,
"My friend, here the money for your tickets. Keep the tickets safely with you. I will have to present it to the company.”

Later, when I found myself standing next to the Theatre gate, it was even more overwhelming than it had looked from the hilltop.

Stepping through the entrance, the view opened..

Back at the Citadel, I continued wandering, and soon the path opened into the ruins of the Temple of Hercules.

Built around 160 AD…….

“Mosaic”—the word sounded familiar, but I’d never really stopped to think about what it meant. I knew nothing about how it was made, what it involved, or even why it mattered.

We left Madaba a little after noon, the car humming gently beneath us. The mosaic workshop was still fresh in my mind, but ahead lay a very different kind of canvas — the open stretch of Highway 15, Jordan’s famous Desert Highway, and the long road to Wadi Musa.

"Do you want to try a Turkish bath?"
I blinked, a little confused.
"A Turkish bath? Here?"
He smiled, amused.

Fresh from the Turkish bath and still feeling its soothing afterglow, I sank into a long, well-earned nap back at the hotel. When I woke, the room was bathed in muted gold light filtering through the curtains. I felt rested—and ravenous.