There comes a time in everyone’s dig experience when you suffer from a case of sudden on-set insanity. Yesterday my trench leader picked up a stick and started prancing around our trench, brandishing his “magic wand” with theatrical flare and declaring orders with a giddiness we all suspect may prove to be an unusual form of heatstroke. In my case, it wasn’t so much insanity as it was standing on the brink of snapping from extreme annoyance and exhaustion. This occurred last Thursday, when after working for a week in “The Thunder Dome “(what we all call the hill from whence the thud of pick axes and shovels can be continuously heard, as opposed to the delicate scratching emitted from less hectic trenches), our trench master concluded that there was nothing of significance to be found in our trench. But did we stop digging? No. (Maybe more evidence for heatstroke?) Instead, another team (since then embittered) was made to join our trench, creating a Trifecta of trenches forced to pulverize the side of the hill in hopes of finding a house that we are all now sure does not exist.
This newfound knowledge that we are slaving away for nothing, the fact that the lecture I am sure to receive from my manicurist because of the callouses on my hands isn’t going to be made worthwhile by the discovery of a Minoan mystery, the claustrophobia caused by the addition of 5 more people to our already 12 person Thunder Dome team, the heat above 105 degrees, homesickness caused by the fast-approaching visit of my brother and being antagonized by fellow trench workers who have nothing better to do to keep themselves from going insane than make fun of Texas, all these things pushed me to the brink at the end of last week. What else to do but to have a nice little cry during kolatso (lunch) and lie down pathetically in the dirt amongst the cigarette butts and fire ants. Props to my roommate Molly for surviving the drama.
As if things could not seem more blue, after lunch, the trench next to us struck gold. Literally. They found a gold necklace link. And that made my heart break just a little bit more. Why today God? Why today. I need a win.
Thankfully, on the brink of going insane, my brother showed up. Saturday morning could not go fast enough! I stuck to my side of the Thunder Dome, keeping to myself for fear of finally snapping, and picking dirt from our trench baulks with such violence that chunks of dirt pelted the workers stationed 20 feet away.
Kyle’s midday arrival saved the day. He listened patiently as I chattered away in desperate relief at his presence, describing each of our 15 trenches with my extensive knowledge of all things archaeological. Later that day he got to meet Minnoli, who chose just this particular day to pull out his handy little comb and brush not only his mustache, but also his chest hair. We ordered tzatziki, souvlaki, moussaka, yogurt with honey, chips in olive oil, calamari and gyros, and ate with zeal as 60-year-old Minnoli charmed and shocked us with his flirtatious ways, then took the bus to Agios Nikolaos to eat even more. Sunday we traveled to Ierapetra and hopped on a boat to Chrissi Island, where we swam in the most beautiful water I’ve ever seen with the dramatic, imposing view of Crete looming overhead. We caught up on life, I forgot about useless Trench 29 and we snickered immaturely as we took furtive photos of obnoxiously hairy Greek men. I’m very grateful that we are still partners in crime, even though we have passed the age of acceptability for such behavior.
Then, back to the daily grind of Gournia. As fate would have it, our day at Chrissi gave me a nice case of sun poisoning, and I have been banned to data entry and extra pottery washing for the next few days until the headaches, fatigue and shakiness leave me. Which is just fine with me, as it is supposed to be 112 tomorrow. As ‘112’ reminds me of childhood days scrambling eggs on blistering concrete sidewalks, I have no desire to be out in such heat throwing rocks into a wheelbarrow. I got very good at data entry today, and I plan on being even better at it tomorrow, enjoying the sweet comfort of air conditioning. Maybe the change of pace will bolster my spirits enough to be impervious to the petty chitter chatter of my equally tired compadres in the Thunder Dome.
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