The Cave Bar

When you lead a group of students overseas, even if you love spending time with them as much as the excellent Cyndi Brandenburg and I do, there is a time when, after you have settled the little lunkheads down for the evening, that, to paraphrase the Drive-By Truckers, Daddy Needs a Drink.  We had heard that there was a cool bar right outside the entrance to Petra that would be a great place to visit.   So, after experiencing Petra at night (which was a memorable first for me, and which I'll discuss later), and getting the students safely ensconced in our hotel, we decided to stop by for a nightcap.  The bar was called, in the end not surprisingly, the Cave Bar - not surprisingly because it was in a cave.  We asked the bartender if the bar was new, but he said that it had been there since something like 1995, which means that all the other times that I've visited Petra I managed to miss it.  This doesn't seem possible - well, actually, it does, because I'm more than a bit of an idiot.  Even considering my profound idiocy it still bothered me because it means I missed a lot of opportunities to relax in a very cool establishment.  I ended up ordering a Philadelphia, which is a local Jordanian brew (again, the Middle East is never as simple as one would think).  It seems like an odd name for a Jordanian beer, unless you consider that the ancient name of Amman was Philadelphia.  It was a lovely ending to an exhausting day that had started off with with an early morning bus ride, and then trips to Madaba, Mt. Nebo, a swim in the Dead Sea, and then eventually pulling into Petra at night.  Next time we take students to Jordan, and we obviously have to return, we'll simplify the schedule - and definitely schedule another visit to the Cave Bar. 

Yes, the eponymous Cave Bar.  It is located between the main entrance and the gate to the actual historic part of Petra.  Just climb up behind the souvenir shops, or ask anyone.

I was going to get a second Philadelphia but they ran out, which seems odd for your national beer.  Obviously, Cyndi ordered some drink that reflects her more patrician upbringing.

The evening was not actually this blurry.