The path to Petra was lit by candles shrouded in simple paper bags. Their muted, flickering lights danced on the canyon walls. Above, the full moon glowed like a searchlight, bathing the rippled mountaintops in yellow light. As the canyon narrowed, the candlelight played on walls marbled in shades of brown, orange, pink and red. The wind came in soft, regular drafts, like the earth’s own breath. The ambiance was eerie, mysterious, and beautiful. We felt as if we were taking part in an occult ritual.