Desperate Times

Last night my roommates and I were officially fed up. Our apartment is a train wreck. Left only to dream wistfully of the nonexistent air conditioning and tempted daily to cave and drop 30 euro on a pathetic, plastic fan, we have awoken nightly to the buzz of happy mosquitoes about our ears, the stifling 95 degrees drenching us in sweat and cutting short precious hours of much-needed sleep. Adding to our annoyance are our comically tiny towels, the size of which couldn’t dry a single dish were they meant for the kitchen, our broken washing machine and the constant discovery of new bug bites. And after walking around Knossos all day in the hot sun, we discovered that the water in our bathroom had mysteriously turned off. No showers for us.

Hmph.

To console us in our discomfort, Minnoli, local legend and our favorite restaurant owner, let us in on a secret. Drinking raki, the local moonshine, keeps the skeeters away.

By all means then, Yammas!

The stuff tastes like rubbing alcohol, but he was right. Several shots later and we had forgotten our lack of creature comforts and arose this morning with no new bug bites. We couldn’t change the heat, but we could now beat the mosquitoes. Hurrah!

Our relief was short lived, for little did we know that a much bigger problem lay just around the corner. When we tried brushing our teeth this morning, no water came out of the faucet. As it turns out, what we thought was an easily fixable pipe difficulty is in all actuality a wide-spread water shortage. Not only is the entire town of Pacheia Ammos without running water, all the towns within a ten mile radius of here will be without any water until Wednesday, at the earliest.

I can only imagine our grubby little faces at the moment of that announcement. Fifty filthy archaeologists, staring in dreadful silence and disbelief at the bearer of the bad news. All you could hear were the obnoxious cicadas humming in the olive trees.

So, no showers?

No. No showers. Or sinks, or toilets.

What are we? Savages?! Showers are a basic life necessity, and gosh darn it if theres nobody in this world who doesn’t deserve a shower more than an archaeologist after a 13 hour day in 105 degree weather. Words cannot describe how dirt-encrusted the skin, how matted the hair, how streaked the sunscreen and sweat, how absolutely and totally FILTHY each and every one of us is at the end of our work day. So, yes, I suppose ‘savages’ is a good word.

Once the reality set in, us smart ones sprinted to the nearest super market and bought all the water bottles and baby wipes in the place. After my first failed attempt to remove any amount of grime from my body by splashing myself awkwardly with a water bottle, I now realize that I must brace myself for the next few days. I must resign myself to my fate. I am simply going to be the dirtiest I have ever been until Wednesday, forced into isolation for the welfare of others and driven mad by my ever-worsening grossness, incapable of relief until water once again flows from our faucets.  

And if the water does not reappear on Wednesday, I may attempt to dig a well, out of desperation. Or throw myself into the Aegean, clothes and all, in hopes of obtaining some semblance of cleanliness. And believe me, if worse comes to worse, I will not hesitate to buy forty 6-packs of 2 liter water bottles and fill my bathtub to the brim.