Tempted to bring the children on holiday to a more exotic location than usual? No problem – or 'mish mushkila' as they say in Jordan, writes CAROLINE OULTON
‘MISH MUSHKILA” means “no problem” in Arabic – and nothing ever did seem to be a problem in the magical week that we spent in Jordan. Before going, I had had a picture card notion of what might be in store: desert, palm trees, the odd ruin, but the reality proved infinitely more exciting and for my eight- year-old daughter, who always goes on holiday to Cornwall, the trip represented a departure in every sense.
One moment she was bickering with her siblings in rainy London, the next she had been transported to the desert atop a camel, plodding past the towering rock crags of the seven pillars of wisdom at Wadi Rum, en route for the Bedouin camp where we spent the night. Overwhelmed, in the words of Lawrence of Arabia, by “this irresistible place; this processional way greater than imagination...” she was rallied with coconut biscuits and her own little kettle of sweet sage tea before running off to climb rocks and slide down sand dunes with the other children.
Dusk fell and we popped open beers before eating dinner under an awning propped up on pillows. I was determined to sleep out under the shooting stars but my daughter was reluctant. Mish mushkila. We selected a spot on the dunes while our Bedouin hosts brought out mattresses, bedding and a little pop up tent. So my daughter was cosily contained within walls less than a foot away, while I lived out a childhood fantasy of falling asleep in a desert night to the murmur of voices and bubbling of hookahs drifting across from the nearby camp fire. Much later, over tea-ed and over beer-ed respectively, she and I, hand in hand and guided by the light of the moon, wandered out into that breath-taking landscape, awestruck by the space and booming silence that surrounded us.
That was a high point, but then so was visiting Jerash on our first day where we cheered on gladiators, legionnaries and charioteers doing their thing under a savage midday sun in the actual hippodrome of one of the most perfectly preserved Roman cities in the near east. As the Muezzin called people to their midday prayer it seemed easy somehow to roll back the years and picture portly merchants bustling around in the forum.
Absolutely nothing though had prepared any of us for the thrill and impact of Petra, recently designated one of the New Seven Wonders of the World. Emerging from The Siq, the towering rock passage approach, in some places only six feet wide, we were stopped in our tracks by the might and magnificence of the Treasury’s façade, built several centuries BC, by nomad camel drivers.
Jordan was in the grip of an unexpected heatwave and my daughter's views on how best to spend the afternoon again diverged from mine. Mish mushkila. The children returned to the hotel pool on donkeyback with the male journalists while my colleague from Ellemagazine and I stormed up 800 steps to see the monastery and spectacular view at the very top of this breath-taking city carved into the rose-coloured rock.
Feeling somewhat superior after our 12km hike in the blazing heat, we caught up with our children at the Petra Kitchen to prepare a Jordanian meal in spotless aprons and gloves at scrubbed wooden tables, helped by the restaurant staff.
I lack the space to fully describe my first-ever Hammam – the shower consisting of a marble room, brass sloshing bowl, and erratic taps – lunch under a pomegranate tree with a Bedouin family, the breakfasts that to the childrens’ delight featured diced halva, the enticing hotel spas and pools linked with slides, coloured coral and Nemo fish visible without snorkels just off the beach at the Red Sea, group larking about smeared in Dead Sea mud, and our gifted guide, whose children’s names meant Foundation, Rock-in-the-Sea and Luxury.
All I can dredge up as caveats are the fact that Jordanian wine-making is still in its infancy, there was the odd spider in the desert and some of the children found the salt in the Dead Sea stung their eyes.
Even then though there were showers and bottles of fresh water thoughtfully left on the jetties to obviate prolonged discomfort.
We didn’t have time to test drive desert quad-biking for the over-12s, hotel kids’ clubs or hikes along gullies filled with thermal water and we couldn’t squeeze in the desert palaces or Bethany-beyond-the-Jordan where John the Baptist christened Jesus. Mish mushkila. We’ll just have to return there very soon.
- Caroline Oulton was a guest on an eight-day "Journey to the Lost City" family holiday with Imaginative Travel. Prices start at €881 (adult/child from five years), excluding flights.
Your own desert getaway
There is good availability for families looking to travel this October half-term, with departures on October 16th, 22nd, 23rd and 24th.
The package includes transport (by minibus, camel and 4WD), seven nights’ accommodation (five nights in a hotel, one
in a guesthouse and one in a Bedouin camp), most meals ( breakfast every day, one lunch, five dinners) as well as the services of a local group leader.
To find out more, call Imaginative Traveller on 0044-1473-667333 or see imaginative-traveller.com.
Flights are available with Royal Jordanian airline (rj.com).
For more information on Jordan, see visitjordan.com.