in the dust of an ancient city, tourist stalls collect in the enclaves at the bottom the hill Jesusclimbed on a number of fateful days.  up where the air was crisper, the river snaked along the plain lying below in stark contrast to the cracked, orange earth the stretched as far as the eye could see. this place held the same mystique for us as it must have for all of the film makers who came before us. resting in the cool of the evening, with the usual tagine of saffron-infused vegetables and steaming glasses of mint tea, we watched the last sunlight slowly roll itself off the tip of the fortress, sighing as it began its magnificent decent behind the horizon of the dessert.

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