Pella

The chill of late autumn has infiltrated the desert of Jordan. Yet, rather than it being a time of death and hibernation, it is oddly a time of greenery. Cold nights have created dew for the morning and, suddenly, grass has sprouted impossibly in the sand. The median I cross every morning has gone from lifeless dirt to lush grass. Vacant lots of ugly brown have become unlikely parks.

We decided to drive to Pella to see another out-of-the-way site in Jordan. Hidden between Jerash and Um Qais, this smaller ancient city is often forgotten since it is less than one-tenth the size or its neighbors and incredibly hard to find. My now-sputtering car managed the roads heroically. The drive through green rolling hills reminded me perhaps of a of distant memory of Ireland, but more likely a movie's stereotypical portrayal of Ireland.

We had to ask for directions a half-dozen times and once a deceptive sign brought us to a restaurant rather than the site, but in the end we made it. The rapidly descending dusk, fell upon the hills where Jordanians were picnicking. It could have been a July Montana night at 8 p.m., but it was a December Jordanian evening at 5.

Other than a few Jordanian children who were interested in climbing and a few parent who were interested in sitting in the grass, the site was ours. Half-covered mosaics ands two-thousand years of pottery shards made the site seem like after archaeologist had their way with the excavation, it was again forgotten.