The hippodrome at Jerash is 245 metres long and once held around 15,000 people. Twice a day a troupe of re-enactors fills one end of it with legionaries in segmented armour, two gladiator bouts and a four-chariot race on the sand. We get you there 45 minutes early and walk the starting gates and the vaulted chambers underneath while they are still empty, so you can see which stonework is Roman and which is 1990s reconstruction. Then we sit through the show with you and translate the parts the loudspeakers mangle. Afterwards we walk up through the South Gate to the forum, so you leave with the city in your head and not just the spectacle. Honestly: this is re-enactment, not archaeology, and the chariots move slower than any film has led you to expect. The seating is bare stone, no backrests, and the first half is in full sun. Performances are called off at short notice for rain, high wind or fewer than about twenty ticket holders — if that happens we refund the ticket portion and walk you round the site anyway. Loud horses, so not for under-sixes.
We are four guides from Jerash town, and we all grew up on the wrong side of the wadi from the ruins, close enough to hear the bagpipes drifting out of the South Theatre on a still afternoon. Between us we have about sixty years of walking the Cardo. We do one thing: Roman Jerash, properly. That means the drainage under the paving stones and the ruts cut by chariot wheels, not only the postcard columns. We keep groups small, we start early because the limestone throws heat like a griddle by eleven, and we will tell you plainly when something is not worth your entry fee. We also run the Ajloun day, because that castle deserves more than a photo stop.
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