Before signing off, here's the last of the pictures from our Jordan journey.
We spent hours a day digging and sifting for pottery and later washing it. Before packing up the finds from the season, a few were put out for a photo shoot.
I admit that it can be cool to handle things, even broken things, that were formed in the Early Iron Age, or 1,200 B.C. But too much of a cool thing...
The night before our flight, Ken and I took one more walk to the nearby "Cash & Carry" to purchase snacks for the flight and find a last gift or two. Strolling along and looking around the neighborhood, I was reminded again just how much stone, tile and concrete inform Jordanian architecture.
Thursday morning a large group said farewells to those remaining. More than one of the college women said, "Thank you for having Graeme." A first for me, but not surprising. While not the keenest digger, Graeme made astonishing headway forming new friendships and learning Arabic. He may have dreaded the trip, but he found his own fun. Justin looks on the experience as an exercise in discipline; she worked with a prickly field supervisor but kept going and kept her cool. Ken and I learned we didn't miss an archaeological calling, a huge relief. But we do enjoy traveling together and thoroughly enjoy Jordanian culture and hope to return in the future for different reasons.
We've been home a week now. Jet lag took a while to beat, drat that 10-hour time change, but we're all pretty well back in the swing. Graeme has had two long-distance phone calls from his Jordanian dig buds. Justin, after a few weeks chillin', now works away on her essay test; she gets college credit for her misery, or rather participation in the dig. And Ken and I have turned some of our dig habits to work in our yard and garden. Start while the day is cool, wear gloves and comfy clothes, begin by clearing inter-season growth and debris. We don't imagine we'll find any artifacts and may faint if we unearth any broken pottery. We do intend to turn our outdoor space into a cool oasis, like many we enjoyed while in Amman.
Thanks for keeping company with us on our adventure and let us know if you'd like to lend a hand digging up a bit of earth in our back yard.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Friday, July 30, 2010
One more fieldtrip!
Yes, we're safely home now. But I still have a few more pictures/posts to share before signing off...
Wednesday, the day before our return flight, we poked around campus looking mildly helpful and did our packing. When Eva and Kambiz invited us to join them for one more excursion, we accepted. They had access to a car and general directions for finding the Hellenistic ruins of a palace about 25 km north of Amman. Olivia Jensen came along and we happily got lost several times before finally finding our way.
At the bottom of a wadi-carved valley, the grand outline of a stunning estate, Qasr Iraq al-Amir, stands amidst lush garden plots, pomegranate, fig and olive trees.
We caught the end of a guided tour with a French group and watched a short documentary explaining the structure. Eva translated for us. Once surrounded by an artificial lake, the structure had two floors above ground level. As we wandered around, amazed by the massive carved stones -- hauled up huge sandpiles that were removed after building -- I was happy NOT to see a single pottery shard.
We returned to campus in time for lunch. Whew! There we said farewell to several of the team: Anita, my digging partner flew out that night and David and Amanda Hopkins left to visit Petra.
Wednesday, the day before our return flight, we poked around campus looking mildly helpful and did our packing. When Eva and Kambiz invited us to join them for one more excursion, we accepted. They had access to a car and general directions for finding the Hellenistic ruins of a palace about 25 km north of Amman. Olivia Jensen came along and we happily got lost several times before finally finding our way.
At the bottom of a wadi-carved valley, the grand outline of a stunning estate, Qasr Iraq al-Amir, stands amidst lush garden plots, pomegranate, fig and olive trees.
We caught the end of a guided tour with a French group and watched a short documentary explaining the structure. Eva translated for us. Once surrounded by an artificial lake, the structure had two floors above ground level. As we wandered around, amazed by the massive carved stones -- hauled up huge sandpiles that were removed after building -- I was happy NOT to see a single pottery shard.
We returned to campus in time for lunch. Whew! There we said farewell to several of the team: Anita, my digging partner flew out that night and David and Amanda Hopkins left to visit Petra.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
My friend Abu Bilal
Looking west from the high point of Tall Umayri down into a small wadi (valley) there are several tents and a large oblong cucumber (fagush) field sloping down towards the east. Each morning, a farmer would be out in his gray gelabia and red kafiya with his wife and sons picking the cucumbers. I inquired to several of the dig veterans but nobody seemed to know anything about the Tall's newest neighbors, nor did they seem to have any interest to know. But I was dying to know. I guess that's why I became a sociologist/anthropologist, I have this insatiable curiosity about people. After several days I just decided to walk out to the field and strike up a conversation using my steadily improving but still limited Arabic. Abu Bilal welcomed me and his sons surrounded me speaking some English phrases. Soon a tray of turkish coffee appeared out of nowhere. During breaks I would walk over to hold conversations. They would usually fill up a large bag of fagush for me to share with the people at the dig. One day they brought over homemade flat bread. If I didn't go out to talk they would send one of the sons with the bag.
With my limited Arabic and the sons' school English, I pieced together something of their lives. Abu Bilal is an elementary school teacher in a village south of Amman, he does this farming job in the summer with the apparent permission of the landowner, the wealthy Abu Jaber. His son's names are Bilal (oldest), Osama, Abdula, Mowan, Sofian. They were always curious about the U.S. "How many wives can a man have?" I spent several evenings at their place drinking tea and attempting communication. On the last night at their tent Graeme was with me and with his much better Arabic it was easier. Rasiah, the wife, made this wonderful coffee cake. Today I said goodbye and gave them some pens for school and several Arabic/English dictionaries. It is being invited into the family life and friendship that I find most rewarding.
With my limited Arabic and the sons' school English, I pieced together something of their lives. Abu Bilal is an elementary school teacher in a village south of Amman, he does this farming job in the summer with the apparent permission of the landowner, the wealthy Abu Jaber. His son's names are Bilal (oldest), Osama, Abdula, Mowan, Sofian. They were always curious about the U.S. "How many wives can a man have?" I spent several evenings at their place drinking tea and attempting communication. On the last night at their tent Graeme was with me and with his much better Arabic it was easier. Rasiah, the wife, made this wonderful coffee cake. Today I said goodbye and gave them some pens for school and several Arabic/English dictionaries. It is being invited into the family life and friendship that I find most rewarding.
The Dead Sea!
Sunday began with breakfast at 6:30, allowing a full morning for square supervisors, like Ken and me, to check notebooks. Other folks found employment moving crates of worthy pottery pieces – diagnostics – to a storage room on the third floor of the girls' dorm. Lizzy, my field supervisor, worked with me so the job wasn't overwhelming and I got through it by lunch time.
Resting during the heat of the day prepared us for our last big outing: a bus ride to the Dead Sea. Our group of 17, including the bus driver, packed cameras, swimsuits, sack lunches, and a watermelon for the 60 kilometer (one hour) ride. The average elevation in Amman is about 765 meters above sea level, while the Dead Sea is 400 meters below sea level. Our bus moved quickly along the Dead Sea highway so I was unable to photograph the drastically changing landscape, small towns and terraced farms carved along valley slopes.
We arrived while the heat of the afternoon still baked the salt-crystallized beach. Stepping into the sea did nothing to alleviate the heat. The warm, oily waters matched the temperature of the air. We floated in every silly posture, paddled around, and tried to avoid splashing the stinging brine into each others' faces. Ken and I searched for and found clay, said to have various healing properties. We painted up. After a few minutes an itchy tingle encouraged us to rinse off in the sea and finally under the marvelous fresh-water showers along the shore. I love fresh water! Guess I didn't have the mud on long enough to work it's magic; people still recognized me instead of thinking I was Justin.
Amman Beach really is a family beach. As afternoon turned to evening, more Jordanians moved to the shore and into the water. Mostly men and children swam, but an occasional woman, fully clad, also waded in. People were friendly and the atmosphere was relaxed. What a change from our usual routine.
All rinsed off, we claimed our chairs and faced the sea and setting sun while we ate watermelon and sandwiches at the lowest point on earth.
The full moon watched as our little bus made the steep drive back to the cooler clime of Amman.
Resting during the heat of the day prepared us for our last big outing: a bus ride to the Dead Sea. Our group of 17, including the bus driver, packed cameras, swimsuits, sack lunches, and a watermelon for the 60 kilometer (one hour) ride. The average elevation in Amman is about 765 meters above sea level, while the Dead Sea is 400 meters below sea level. Our bus moved quickly along the Dead Sea highway so I was unable to photograph the drastically changing landscape, small towns and terraced farms carved along valley slopes.
We arrived while the heat of the afternoon still baked the salt-crystallized beach. Stepping into the sea did nothing to alleviate the heat. The warm, oily waters matched the temperature of the air. We floated in every silly posture, paddled around, and tried to avoid splashing the stinging brine into each others' faces. Ken and I searched for and found clay, said to have various healing properties. We painted up. After a few minutes an itchy tingle encouraged us to rinse off in the sea and finally under the marvelous fresh-water showers along the shore. I love fresh water! Guess I didn't have the mud on long enough to work it's magic; people still recognized me instead of thinking I was Justin.
Amman Beach really is a family beach. As afternoon turned to evening, more Jordanians moved to the shore and into the water. Mostly men and children swam, but an occasional woman, fully clad, also waded in. People were friendly and the atmosphere was relaxed. What a change from our usual routine.
All rinsed off, we claimed our chairs and faced the sea and setting sun while we ate watermelon and sandwiches at the lowest point on earth.
The full moon watched as our little bus made the steep drive back to the cooler clime of Amman.
Monday, July 26, 2010
This is how I feel right now...
How I feel right now is summed up in the following lyrics by Bob Dylan...
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
No, I aint gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Well, I wake up in the morning
Fold my hands and pray for rain
I got a head full of ideas
That are drivin' me insane
It's a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I aint gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Well, I try my best
To be just like I am
But everybody wants you
To be just like them
They say sing while you slave and I just get bored
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.
Catching up while winding down
Here it's Monday and I've just finished organizing Saturday's pictures. I'm running out of steam.
The suq drew us in again. This time we went by bus with Suha and Vera. Thanks for adding to my pictures, Vera. We had a list of things we wanted, but just browsing was fun. Suha knows her way around, so we were quite successful. Also tried a few things we would have skipped if she hadn't recommended them: fresh prickly pear and hod-hod, a baked treat. Beyond the variety offered by all the vendors, the suq's swarming activity fascinates. While some shops target tourists, the majority of business is for locals; slice of life, you know. Needless to say, we had a wonderful time!
Saturday evening most of the group cleaned up for a traditional mensef meal. (I decided to take pictures of everyone sans dirt.) Our group dined on an outdoor terrace with a splendid view of the plain below and later of the full moon. For the meal, large platters of seasoned rice and grilled veggies, or grilled meat for omnivores, were shared by groups. The trick is to use only your right hand to scoop and form food into a ball, then pop the morsel in without allowing fingers to touch mouth. Ken tried this and succeeded. I chose the less daring plate and cutlery approach. After the meal, dessert and coffee, awards were given honoring many support staff as well as several from the dig team.
A few team members missed the festivities, so not everyone was captured in best dress. Oh, well.
Knowing we'd have to work Sunday morning, we went right to bed.
The suq drew us in again. This time we went by bus with Suha and Vera. Thanks for adding to my pictures, Vera. We had a list of things we wanted, but just browsing was fun. Suha knows her way around, so we were quite successful. Also tried a few things we would have skipped if she hadn't recommended them: fresh prickly pear and hod-hod, a baked treat. Beyond the variety offered by all the vendors, the suq's swarming activity fascinates. While some shops target tourists, the majority of business is for locals; slice of life, you know. Needless to say, we had a wonderful time!
Saturday evening most of the group cleaned up for a traditional mensef meal. (I decided to take pictures of everyone sans dirt.) Our group dined on an outdoor terrace with a splendid view of the plain below and later of the full moon. For the meal, large platters of seasoned rice and grilled veggies, or grilled meat for omnivores, were shared by groups. The trick is to use only your right hand to scoop and form food into a ball, then pop the morsel in without allowing fingers to touch mouth. Ken tried this and succeeded. I chose the less daring plate and cutlery approach. After the meal, dessert and coffee, awards were given honoring many support staff as well as several from the dig team.
A few team members missed the festivities, so not everyone was captured in best dress. Oh, well.
Knowing we'd have to work Sunday morning, we went right to bed.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Visual Review of this Week
Anita shared her pictures with me. Yay! So here are even more captured memories, some that I experienced, some that I didn't – such as a khebsa Graeme and Anita attended.
Oh, I also found a picture from Mary Boyd's evening lecture on cloth production:
Oh, I also found a picture from Mary Boyd's evening lecture on cloth production:
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