Sunburnt Scribbles...

Now at home, relatively free of jet lag and utterly enjoying the company of family as they eat the Israel feast prepared for them (replete with chocolate, humus, red cabbage, pita and saatar), I wanted to thank you, dear reader, for following the blog this season.  My hope is that through my words and the pictures/videos of others, you were able to get a real feel for the ins and outs of an archaeological dig. 

Anyone (in fine physical shape) interested in joining the dig for future seasons should contact Dr. Schuler at Schuler@csp.edu.  As he once told me, “Many hands make light (or lighter) labor.”  Having toiled all season on the road (a frustrating experience with a fairly satisfying end product), I certainly appreciated the efforts and attitudes by those around me.  After all, a dig experience really comes down to the people you meet and those who challenge you to grow. 

So thank you and sayonara.   

I’m sitting in the Ben Gurion Airport, waiting for my flight, surrounded by a massive group of excitable, Southern-talking evangelicals.  After two hours of lines and security (including a special check through my chocolate spread), the long flight across the Atlantic is looking more and more inviting.  The lady behind the Gate just called our flight and we are departing.  More posting will come later.   

As for now, eleven hours with coffee and Harry Potter.

1. Watched the yellow leaves drifting down from the Eucalyptus trees

2. Ducked as a military jet flew too low and scared the liver out of me (they are playing games today by flying low in the Jordan River Valley and then shooting up when they reach the Galilee and Lebanon border).

3. Rescued a long-stemmed, white flower from the compost trailer and brought it to the lab for decoration.

4. Assured a roofer that he missed me when he threw a piece of metal off the roof.

5. Had a staring contest with a lounging cat outside my door.

6. Hummed because the street is now finished.

So here I am, right before Yolanta came yesterday.  This is just one corner of the lab - pottery covered every available surface.  Now today, we photograph and pack it away for shipment to the states.

WOOHOO!!!!!!! 

One big hearty yell for the Northeast Church team, who helped me SO very much with pottery these past weeks! This afternoon was an exhilarating blur as I raced around the lab organizing ALL the pottery that we collected this season.  On the countertops arranged by squares chronologically went each bag of diagnostic pieces (rims, handles, particular body sherds, bases) laid out according to categories (fine ware, cooking ware, storage jars).  Under the countertop went each corresponding bag of body shards (unless they have writing or some distinctive quality, these pieces tell us very little). 

With two minutes to spare, everything was ready and waiting for Yolanta.  I had to breathe a bit-winded sigh of relief at this, because I had assured Dr. Schuler yesterday that there was no reason to panic or get stressed out.    

Now, Dr. Yolanta Mlynarczk from the Polish Academy of Science is one of the premier ceramicists in the archaeological world.   Having her come look at my pottery felt similar to having the United States president visit a small town city hall or perhaps the pope coming to check up on the local Catholic church.  It was almost like this was my test: was everything processed and arranged correctly?  Did my team catch everything?  Were the pots and jars reconstructed correctly?   

My goodness. 

It went swimmingly.  As soon as she came in, movement started.  Yolanta is a medium sized woman with a huge smile when pleased, short funky hair and a wonderful, mellifluous accent.  She concentrated on the material found in a room in C4 and along the north edge of a wall in C5 and D5.  Dr. Schuler was especially curious about these pieces because they were low enough that if excavated correctly, would tell us much about the time and people.   

Yolanta went through slowly, examining my piles and discussing what pieces were – thereby expanding my pottery vocabulary.  Several times she exclaimed to Dr. Schuler, “You really have the best pottery.”  She cooed over the lack of contamination between the layers, meaning that the pottery from perhaps the Ummayid period (the latest) hadn’t sunk or been forced by a shovel down to the Byzantine level.  Her greatest compliment was suggesting that the lack of contamination and the bounty of interesting pottery came from Dr. Schuler’s excavation method (the good professor grinned at this one).   

When Yolanta found a piece she wanted drawn, she would hand it to me and I would hastily slip it into a bag with the proper information scribbled on the front.  These pieces would be documented and photographed by the Concordia team and then tomorrow, passed forever on to the Polish artists and ceramists.  She finished her thorough examination and then breezed into the larger lab to skim the other presented pieces.  From this collection, she only selected a few, but I was amazed as she touched many and identified them on sight. 

Then she was finished, thanked us and left.          

And now, dirty, sleep-deprived and in desperate need of a shower, I can rejoice.  Everything these past weeks has been worth it.  Everything.  Perspective grants all labors happiness. 

Giddiness prevails. 

125 cubic meters

136.7 cubic yards

410.1 cubic feet

4,921.2 cubic inches

of dirt moved.

The street is near completion.  Tomorrow we will have an opening ceremony replete with ribbon and some form of cutting.  Tomorrow I will be proud of the work my team has done. 

Tomorrow.

As for today, Yolanta (the afore mentioned ceramicist) is coming to the lab at 5 pm to examine the pieces of pottery and unlock their secrets for Dr. Schuler and me.  The good professor’s anticipation of this event has been evident in his repetition of what needs to be done to prepare for her visit.  My preparation has involved a rapid processing of pottery (with the aid of Arnie, Rachel and the recently departed Laura and Lynn) interspersed between washing my laundry in the kitchen sink and shopping in Tiberias (the city across the lake).  With the assistance of the Israeli equivalent of Elmer’s glue, my fingers have assembled several large portions of jars, plates and casserole dishes – this is the part I enjoy most.      

But the street is almost finished and I breathe a large side of relief at that. 

Yesterday, the tractor man came to pull back the dirt and stone (many pieces perched precariously overtop the line of the wall).  Dr. Schuler asked me to join him in directing Tahlel (the driver) - not that Tahlel needed any directing.  The man is truly an artist, and with his smooth movements of the shovel, he made the machine mimic some large dinosaur.  Andrea wandered over and commented on how the tractor actually looked cute in its fluidity; I had to agree.  Tahlel has such master talent that he separated tipped wall stones from the other rubble and lined them up according to how they once lay.  Sheer genius. 

Much of my pseudo directing was accomplished via hand signals as Tahlel speaks mostly Hebrew and Arabic.  At one point, he put up his hands near his eyes, opening and shutting them like the preschoolers singing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”  I called Dr. Schuler’s attention to this and he quickly moved dirt away from the boulders so Tahlel could see where to dig.  In another instance, he leaned out the window of the cab and said to me, “No Good, No Good” pointing to the boulders below (He was referring to the difficulty in getting a good hold on the stones at the angle where his tractor was parked).  I motioned and spoke of rolling stones into the shovel for him to then lift up and away.  He agreed and worked resumed.  When the street was clear and safe again, I gave Tahlel a Thai bow. 

Such artistry deserves great thanks.  

Coming soon, a musical montage portraying Dominus Maximus (the boys gave me this name) and her team in their quest to uncover an ancient street of doom.   Cast includes Mother Turreah (Linda moves dirt like a mole), the BFG (Bucket Friendly Giant – Matt has made a career of hauling dirt), Turbo (Kevin keeps going and going...), the Tin Man (Arnie must be a robot – he hasn’t stopped yet except to eat his special sandwiches) and Mr. Reporter (Mark gallivants all over the place).  Special appearances by Tigger (Andrea bounces in and out of the square), Dr. Evil (Professor Schuler grins as he messes up our street), Muscles (Jess is always ready for a break from drawing), the Chimney Sweep (Jackie worked all day on sweeping off the road) and the Ice Cream Man (Rauel, dig manager, has started bringing us popsicles on site).   

Musical numbers include: “Where the Streets Have No Name,” “On the Street Where You Live,” “Ave Turrhea,” “How do you Solve a Problem like Kristina,” “Singing in the Dust” and “Easy Street.”  Special encore featuring members of Square A4 in a chorus and kick line.   

I think the sun is starting to get to all of us. 

I am working on pottery in the lab tonight - the usual routine of weighing, sorting diagnostic pieces from body shards - and just came across the neatest piece of pottery.  My camera is a bit on the fritz, so I'll have to describe to you what it looks like.  It is the curved rim of some large plate and is made of a heavy, sandy tan material.  The neatest part is that along the edge of the rim are four indentations: three larger and a little one close to the third on the right. 

In a moment of spontaneity, I fit my fingers into those notches and they fit.  The potter, whoever he or she was, left their fingermarks in the clay as the plate was molded into shape. 

For the second time today, amazing.        

Work continues in the Cardo de Amore.  In an effort to have it finished in time for a parade replete with elephants and sedan chair, Dr. Schuler threw another team into the Pit of Despair with my team.  At first it was a bit difficult to try and coordinate the differing systems of digging, but cooperation prevailed and by the late morning, the seven of us constituted a well-oiled, dirt-moving machine. 

The main problem is that just too many rocks lay between the tumbled walls of the street.  Many of these boulders are made from basalt – which mean that at least two people are required to roll them out to a point where the tractor can collect them.  Shloamie wandered over to our street today and yet again told us with wild gestures of his arms that we really should rely on the tractor more to dig out the street.  We would, except the walls of the road are so fragile now that when the tractor did come over, it almost slid into the road (not a recommended action for a several ton machine). 

But the tractor driver is really good.  Yesterday, my team tells me that several times he jumped out of the cab to grab pot sherds from the dirt.  Another time, he maneuvered the shovel like a finger to point to a carved piece of stone.  Talent comes in all forms.       

My digging today started not on the end of the street next to the church, but where the street meets the decumanus.  Due to the large number of unmonitored stones resting at the edge, I yet again had to face my creeping nemeses. 

The first was a large black scorpion that rushed out close to my glove-clad fingers as I picked up a rock.  I should have anticipated this, but my mind was too focused on hauling dirt.  This scorpion was a granddaddy and came at me angrily instead of scuttling away as the younger ones are wont to do.  The boys were rather fascinated by it and after some insisting, finally handed me a turrhea so I could slay it.   I wasn’t anticipating that it would stay alive after I sliced it in half.  Oozing yellow juice from its end, it continued towards me.  Many, MANY swings later it lay dead between two rocks.  The irony is I actually felt bad for it.  Honestly, even something that horrible should die after it has been severed in two. 

By the third scorpion of the day, I wasn’t feeling so charitable.   

Then the six-inch centipede with turquoise circles on its back showed up.  It too found a dusty grave in the Pit of Despair.     

Enough with the bugs, although Mom, I hope you are proud of my achievements in aversion therapy.  Today we reburied the remains of the individuals entombed in the chancel.  This has been a many year process of uncovering, sifting and analyzing.  I had been hoping to hold one of the skulls and recite “Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him,” but upon seeing the bones, a feeling of reverence came over me.  These people lived, worshipped and died at this church.   

It was their resting place. 

Our dear Australian friends were part of the five who departed from the dig on the second week - not for home, but Cairo, Egypt.  They are sorely missed, but obviously have had a wonderful time.