It took a little while for my eyes to adjust to the gloom inside the main room, but slowly I was able to make out the mesmerizing images painted on the walls and ceiling. Herds of oryx dashed through dense forests, pursued by hunters; a bear played the lute while a monkey clapped; baskets overflowed with ripe peaches; a couple embraced on a low divan ("They are having an affair," Houada explained); and heavy bunches of deep-purple grapes hung from a tangle of vines. A woman, wearing nothing but a long diaphanous skirt and some ribbons, which slyly accentuated the shape of her naked breasts, stood beside a pool, and up above, another lady with corkscrew curls floated, Chagall-like, across the ceiling. Scene after scene depicted every delight and fantasy any man could dream of. But how did these seductive images fit in with the prohibitions of early Islam? Most Arabic scholars, including Hugh, seem to think that the "pleasure palace" was just that: a place where the rulers could escape to, way out in the desert, far away from the confines of the court and the censorious eyes of their imams. But apparently this is not an explanation that tallies with the perspective of Jordan's present-day authorities, because, as I left, I saw this notice on the wall: "Joie de vivre is a just title for this period, where the arts converged to leave us a testimony of life at that time. Unfortunately, certain misinterpreted poetry let us falsely believe that such exuberance was merely hiding licentious behavior. None of the paintings of Qusayr Amra portrays scenes of unbridled 'loose living' or 'carryings-on.' It is the grapes, and not the wine, which are shown, and the paintings of the women are not given room for dubious interpretation." So, now you know.

Petra, the "rose-red city half as old as time," is, inevitably and understandably, the highlight of any visit to Jordan. The almost impossible trick is to arrive when it isn't overrun with busloads of other visitors. I suppose dawn in the middle of January might work, but then it would be dark, cold, and almost certainly raining. So what is a twenty-first-century traveler to do? Just what we did: Go in the spring, when the poppies are out; surround yourself with a bubble of like-minded friends plus two brilliant guides; ignore the crowds; and focus your entire attention on the ineffable glories.

The beauty and sophistication of Petra seem to be at odds with the fact that it was built by a nomadic desert tribe from western Arabia who had no architectural heritage of its own. But the Nabataeans were wealthy traders (their most profitable commodity was frankincense) who had traveled widely and were able to borrow from, and assimilate, the aesthetic traditions of the Egyptians, the Assyrians, the Mesopotamians, and, most important, the Greeks and the Romans. They migrated north in the sixth century B.C. from what is now Saudi Arabia and settled in Petra, and gradually expanded the territory under their power. At their peak (from about 200 B.C. to A.D. 50), they controlled the trade routes—and therefore the taxation—throughout the Hejaz, the Negev, the Sinai, and the Hauran regions of southern Syria. And it was during this time that their most magnificent buildings were constructed.