I am on the modern Desert Highway, on a route, in places disconcertingly straight and swift as an arrow, from Jordan's capital city, Amman, to Petra. The car moves smoothly through a three-hour drive, the desert vistas shifting perceptibly and endlessly from pink to orange to brown with the changing focus of the morning sun. The ancient city of Petra, I have learnt, is one of Jordan's national treasures and a tourist magnet. Petra is today a UNESCO world heritage site and in the eye of a burgeoning cultural storm as it is poised as a favourite in the naming of the New Seven Wonders of the World. This contest, initiated by the Swiss adventurer Bernard Weber, to reawaken interest in the world's cultural history, urges people worldwide to vote for their favourite sites from a list that includes the Pyramids of Egypt, the Statue of Liberty in New York, Eiffel Tower in Paris and Peru's Machu Picchu.

So, recently, the historic site of Petra, a strong contender for the coveted title, saw a revitalisation as Jordan's Queen Rania Al-Abdullah walked straight into the annals of history as an ancient bazaar, bustling with street vendors, children at play, on horseback and with their camels, was recreated with great pomp, costumery and ceremony. As the bustle subsided, Bernard Weber arrived on camel back to present Her Majesty with the official certificate of candidacy announcing that Petra is among the 21 finalists from an original pool of 77. "Petra, I believe, offers an enduring message to all mankind," she said. "In Petra, human beings - ordinary mortals like you and me - saw potential beauty and grandeur in walls of stone. They imagined the possibility of elegance and splendour where others would see only a barren and desolate wilderness."

Today, even as the sun cuts through the cold (mind you, in winter this place is often transformed into a snowy wonderland), I reach the site that has enthralled and drawn me here. The magical rose-red city is spectacular in its setting - situated deep inside a narrow desert gorge or siq. I choose to walk through this amazing parting of the mountain though horse-drawn carriages can also trot you through. I walk into the chasm that tore into the mountain in a prehistoric quake, leaving cliff walls on either side, soaring sharply upto 80 metres high, often in striations of pink, carved lightly in places and amazingly, as my guide points out, lined by deeply engraved channels and cisterns that capture water and guide it into constructive use. At a point, I throw bits of chipped limestone into a carved basin already brimming with slivers of stone. Alas, my bit bounces off, as do my hopes of a wish coming true. But by the time I am at the gorge's end, I realise that this is in fact every traveller's wish come true.