Highlights of the Dig Season

As promised, this blog entry is (mostly) about the dig itself, and not (too much) about the diggers. With the loss of half of our team (all the young, strong students and a couple of adults) for the second half of the season, naturally we did not get as much accomplished as Mark had planned for us. There was no opportunity to excavate newly-discovered rooms to the north or do much more work on the rooms to the west. Work on the street had to be abandoned as well; the plan had been to excavate as much as possible to toward the decumanus, the main street of the city.

Still, our little group of eleven with a couple of youthful forty-somethings made progress in some areas, and the full season yielded some interesting information. Mark divides the results of the 2006 season into three major categories.


Tomb
First, the team finished excavating the tomb in the chancel. Glenn Borchers and Jay Anders were the primary volunteers on this job. This was Glenn’s fourth season at Hippos; as a retired soil scientist, he’s a careful observer of changes in soil and has been invaluable for the last three years on the tomb excavation. (He’s also known by all volunteers as the guy who loves nature photos; one of the first days of the 2006 dig he spent nearly 10 minutes photographing a scorpion who seemed to be posing especially for Glenn. My first reaction when the scorpion made an appearance was to think, “Get someone else to kill this ugly thing quickly!” Glenn is of a different spirit and taught me some things this summer.) Jay is a medical doctor who used his expertise to analyze the bone fragments found underneath the sarcophagus that was removed during the first week and then carefully replaced (the sarcophagus, not the bone fragments) during the final week.

While the rest of us washed pottery on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, Jay and his wife Susan Pratt sat in the lab at the computer, comparing bone fragments from the day’s finds to the on-line version of Gray’s Anatomy. Last year the remains of what appears to be three separate persons were removed from the stone sarcophagus. Apparently there was an earlier burial underneath the sarcophagus, and excavating that earlier internment was the goal for 2006. Based on Jay’s analysis of the bone fragments from 2006, apparently there were two persons first buried in the main chancel area—an adult, probably male, and a juvenile, sex unknown. So many people! Were they all saints venerated by the early Christians of Hippos? Were they the patron and his/her family members who built the church and thus were given a place of honor at death? Were they somehow related to the woman whose resting place is off to the side of the chancel, and whose remains were venerated, probably even after the church ceased to have any regular liturgical function? The excavation of the tomb is complete, but endless questions remain.


Mosaic Floor
Work on the mosaic floor in 2006 yielded some interesting information about the church. The mosaic team lifted off a couple of sections of the top mosaic floor and exposed an earlier mosaic floor underneath. They discovered the original floor was of a superior quality to the second mosaic floor laid on top of the first. To me, it’s very similar to the kind of thing one experiences in an older home; underneath that cheap carpeting someone laid 30 years ago to spruce up the place is a well-worn but much superior hardwood floor. Some of the figures exposed in the original floor include several common border patterns, crosses, a duck, a lion, and perhaps a gazelle.

Once one has seen some of the mosaic floors in the Galilee, it’s easy to imagine a Byzantine-era family business of father and sons/daughters making the rounds of the major populations centers with their pattern books and letters of reference from Tabgha, Kursi, etc., meeting with the equivalent of the Byzantine church/synagogue/monastic councils, and saying, “Sure, we can do birds and fish. You like the tricolor braid border? No problem! You want something really special? How about the Nile flood measure or the famous lighthouse at Alexandria—you’ll be the talk of Palestina Secunda!” (The Nile flood measure and lighthouse at Alexandria are figures in the mosaic floor at Tabgha, the Byzantine church that commemorated the feeding of the 5000.)

The uncovering of the earlier floor together with Yolanta’s analysis of the pottery point to the second of the important discoveries of 2006: the NE church is earlier than the “Polish church,” perhaps fifth century, rather than the later date of sixth/seventh century for the NW church, that is, the one being excavated by the Polish team. Mark will be researching mosaic floors as part of his preparations for writing the final report of the season.

Rooms with a View
Finally, the discovery early in the season of a wall extending further west of the rooms immediately off the small atrium and of a room to the north of the nave during the final week point to a larger complex than we knew of at the beginning of the 2006 season. During the final week, Mark moved a group of volunteers to the north of the nave, thinking that if they found a stylobate (the foundation for a row of columns), it would be evidence that the church had been built on top of a earlier Greco-Roman temple platform. He was disappointed when the diggers didn’t find what he was looking for, but I keep reminding him that at least we know something definitive: the NE church was not built on a Greco-Roman temple platform. Instead, the diggers discovered another room with bench. We may end up with more benches than cisterns in this complex! The seemingly endless array of rooms on the north, south, and west sides of the church proper may take Mark back to an earlier theory: that the NE church is an urban monastic complex. If it is fifth century and not later, that could be a significant find. Most of the monastic communities from the Byzantine period that have been excavated in the Holy Land were isolated, desert communities. We know from my fourth-century liturgical soul mate, Egeria, that there were urban monastics as early as the fourth century, but the materials remains of a fifth-century urban monastery could shed new light on their daily communal life and on their role as the guardians of a pilgrimage site for the tomb of a woman saint.

Life in a War Zone

This map shows the ancient Decapolis cities, including Hippos (Sussita on this map), Damascus (the current capital of Syria), and Gerasa (Jerash, now in Jordan) and Philadelphia (modern-day Amman, current capital of Jordan). One can see how close we were to Syria and Jordan; Lebanon is further to the north.

The hostilities between Hezbollah and Israel began on Wednesday, July 12. It was ex-Marine Irene who, on a trip to the women’s latrine area with me that day, noted the increased air activity of the Israeli military. Until then I had been oblivious to it. With our speedy wireless internet connection, we had quick and immediate access to news sources and by Wednesday afternoon were well aware of the growing conflict, most of which was further north of us. Since our work week was Sunday through Thursday, by Thursday afternoon we were all settling into what we had thought would be our first relaxing weekend at En Gev, with no day or overnight trip scheduled. And it did start that way for us. There were some students who needed or wanted to go to Tiberias for some shopping. Since Mark and I were low on shekels, I went with the group to show them around to the places they needed to go and take care of our personal business as well. It was a pleasant, successful shopping trip. Steph and I got money at the bank machines; Jessica got a new camera just like the one she had lost, and Steph got lip balm; Irene browsed a bookstore and got a children’s game to help her with her elementary Hebrew; Cameron and Andrea looked for souvenirs for family and friends; and we ended with ice cream on the Sea of Galilee. But just a little over 24 hours after we had returned by public bus to En Gev, the first Katyusha rocket hit Tiberias. And so began the Saga of the Evacuation of Students.

It was Tuesday when Darryl and I returned from that adventure and Wednesday before we were back on the hill of Hippos. I think that was the first of many days when, in my state of half-sleep hiking up the last half mile of hill to the dig site, I heard what sounded like distance thunder and thought, “Oh, we might get rain.” NOT! It never rains in Israel in July; that sound was the distant booming of Israeli artillery. Those distant, thunder-like booms were our constant companions on Hippos for the remainder of our time in Israel, reminding us of the superior military strength of Israel.

I don’t know exactly how many times Tiberias was hit by Katyusha rockets in the remaining days we were in Israel, but it was occasional enough that I never felt we were in imminent danger. From the news reports it was clear the areas of Israel north of us and major population centers like the city of Haifa were much more dangerous—and nowhere in Israel was as dangerous as Lebanon, which suffered far more civilian casualties and damage to infrastructure. I tried to reassure family and friends via e-mail that we were relatively safe: Being at En Gev, a kibbutz with a population of 250, was not a major target area; it was no riskier than driving a car across the United States, I said in many e-mails (which was no comfort to a friend planning a trip from Fargo, ND to Santa Rosa, CA!). I did NOT mention in any e-mails that the kibbutz had opened its bomb shelters. The one for the Concordia Team was close to our “lab” building, where Mark and I had our living quarters; no one else from the group could have made it into the shelter in the one minute warning we told we would have between the time of the air raid siren and the impact of a Katyusha. I counted on our isolated location and took comfort that Mark and I had had the good sense to update our twenty-year-old will before leaving for Israel.

I don’t think either Mark or I lost sleep because we were in a war zone, but after a few days, the tension of the situation did begin to wear on everyone, especially through the situations of our Israeli friends there. Efrat, the kibbutznik who took care of our needs, was very worried about her elderly parents living on a kibbutz in the North Galilee. She wanted them to come to the relative safety of En Gev, but they refused to leave their home. Itamar, the King of Logistics for the dig, worried about his wife and young daughter in Haifa until they moved temporarily to Elat in southern Israel. During the last week, they joined him at Kibbutz En Gev. Arthur Segal and Michael Eisenberg, the dig director and his assistant from the University of Haifa, also worried about their families in the city of Haifa and reported in low tones to us when injuries and deaths occurred there. As Andrea stated so eloquently in her interview with Minnesota Public Radio, we could leave; our Israeli friends could not.

Perhaps most evident to us was the economic impact of the conflict on northern Israel. Kibbutz En Gev has a variety of economic ventures to remain solvent; those related to tourism were hit early and hard. The Fish Restaurant, catering to tourists by the busload, saw its business dry up instantly. At first the kibbutz closed it for a couple of days but then re-opened it for the trickle of guests who lived nearby or took the risk to travel in the area. Efrat confided that it was very expensive to keep it operating but they had resolved to keep it open. Just days before we left Efrat told me she had a meeting with kibbutz officials about the operation of the mini-market she managed. It was losing money, and they had to decide whether or not they would keep it open. These economic hardships were quick and severe; I can only imagine the extent of the economic hardships the people of Lebanon suffered during the month-long conflict and will continue to suffer for years because of the devastation to lives and property in their country.

It was Thursday, July 27, in the late afternoon when the breeze across the Sea of Galilee picks up strength. We were in our living quarters with the air conditioner running noisily to keep us cool as we got organized to pack and leave the next morning. We were startled out of our routine by the sound of not one but a series of several blasts, the sound of Katyusha rockets hitting. The force of the blasts was so strong it rattled our windows (as had earlier Katyusha blasts on Tiberias) and also blew open the door to our bathroom. We thought they had hit on the east side of the Sea of Galilee; nothing we had experienced before then was that loud, that forceful. We were mistaken; it must have been the stiff breeze across the lake that made them sound so close. Once again, Tiberias had been hit; no casualties reported. We gratefully resumed our organizing and packing, counting the hours left before our bus would take us to the Tel Aviv airport.

We’ve been home for over three weeks, and I’m still hearing from friends who say, “We prayed for you.” I’m thankful for those prayers and say so. What I often forget to say is, “Pray for the people of Israel and Lebanon; pray for lasting peace in the Middle East.” What we experienced for two weeks was nothing compared with the lifetimes lived in war zones by millions of people around the world.

For more on life in the war zone of northern Israel, read Marc Hequet’s account:

http://www.biblicalarchaeology.org/bswbOO_diggingunderfire.html

The Great Secret of Pottery Shards

I asked Mark to send me a photo of the diagnostic pottery (so one could see handles, rims, and bases), but instead he sent me this photo of a partial oil lamp! Oh well, you get the idea.

Only rarely does a volunteer make a big “find” of gold amulets (like Linda Miller in 2005) or an inscription (we’re still waiting for this one at the NE Church) or the tomb of a woman in the chancel. For most of us lowly volunteers, our daily finds consist of pottery shards, fragments of glass, and animal bones. As one of the eager, first-time volunteers who opened square F4 during the first week on the job, I was disappointed that we did not keep our pottery shards from the first day. The top section of soil was too disturbed, I was told by Head Honcho Mark; we would begin recording our finds the next day. We all learned “the rule of thumb” for discerning whether or not to keep a pottery shard: if it was bigger than one’s thumb, it’s a keeper! And so we religiously followed the rule that first week. But the lower we got in our square, the more numerous were the shards. Soon Jessica was reminding us when the rule of thumb (which grew to the size of a gorilla’s thumb then King Kong’s) was in question, “Think about whether or not you want to wash that shard this afternoon.” Not only did we start thinking of the tedious job of daily pottery washing, we also all became conscious of the fact that someone working in our square would be asked to carry our bucket of pottery down the rocky, uneven, half-mile trail to the bus. The heavier the bucket of shards, the uglier a job it became.

But even an amateur archaeologist like me knows the importance of pottery for dating the time period of a given site, and so we continued to be diligent in our pottery collection and daily washing. I learned it was more important to clean the edges rather than the front or back of pottery shards—odd, that (so one can see the types of clay and amount of glaze I’m told). After the evacuation of the students (which included Pottery Queen Stephanie Randolph and Crown Princess of Pottery Tabitha Cook), I discovered even more about the processing of the pottery after washing. I helped Linda Miller, crowned Pottery Queen after Stephanie and Tabitha’s unwitting abdications via evacuation to the USA. I quickly learned that pieces with handles, rims, and bases were separated from the other shards and cataloged by type (basically, they were separated into everyday dishes or pots and “fine china”—technically, “fine ware”); the rest of the shards (no sections of handles, rims, or bases) were merely weighed, counted, and placed in a separate bag that included the date, square number, and locus (the depth of the square).

During the last week, Yolanta, one of the Polish archaeologists came to “read” our pottery; that is, she examined the so-called diagnostic pottery—the pieces of handles, rims, and bases. One of her conclusions: the NE church (our site) is older than the “Polish church” (the one the Polish team has been excavating). Our church may date back to the fifth century, that is, the age of the Councils of Ephesus and Chalcedon (431 and 451, respectively) when the church was hammering out language for the incarnation. The earlier dating put me in awe of our work.

My work on the pottery continued on my final day of recovery from that nasty intestinal bug. I stayed behind at the kibbutz but worked most of the morning photographing the diagnostic pottery—first one side of the shards of handles, rims, and bases from each square and each day, then the other side. Then Mark and I boxed them up and prepared them to be sent to him in the US by Michael, the assistant archaeologist of the Haifa team. The real surprise came with Mark’s instructions to me regarding the rest of the shards: all those pieces (the vast majority) which came from part of the pots other than handles, rims, and bases. Once carefully kept separate by square, locus, and date, I was shocked, shocked, to learn the great secret of pottery shards: They were now all mixed together in the pottery buckets, hauled back up to the dig site, and dumped over the side of the hill with other rubble excavated from the site! But wait! We so carefully saved them, carried them down the hill, soaked and scrubbed them, weighed and counted them . . . only to have them mixed up and returned to the site as junk! On the one hand, I was glad I hadn’t known the fate of all those shards as I collected and washed them throughout the four weeks. On the other hand, I wish I had slipped a couple of the nice pieces into a sock and brought them home. Had I known the great secret of the pottery shards, I might have taken the risk and become a smuggler of antiquities.

Introducing: The Fearsome Foursome . . . the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse . . . Four Men and a Babe . . .

From left: Brian Andrew, Jim Rogers, First Century Babe at Caesarea Maritima (they had characters who dressed and acted the parts of first century residents of the city), Jim Appelbaum, and Bill Meyer. Photo courtesy of Irene Abrams.

For those still reading my blog, especially those who were evacuated mid-season, this entry will introduce you to the four guys who arrived on evacuation day and opted to stay until the end of the season.

Within five minutes of welcoming them to Kibbutz En Gev I recall saying, “I hope you bonded with each other while traveling here, because you’re all housed together.” They had and continued to deepen that bond for the next two weeks! Apparently, all four were reading Garrison Keillor while in Israel. Well, that’s not too odd for a group of four Lutherans of their generation.

At our last supper together at the En Gev famous Fish Restaurant, they revealed these self-designations approved by the Gang of Four themselves: James the Elder (Jim Appelbaum) and James the Less (Pastor Jim Rogers), two appellations derived from our marking the feast day of James the Elder on July 25, who Festivals and Commemorations states, “is not to be confused with St. James the Less (the younger), the son of Alphaeus,” another of Jesus’ twelve disciples. As one can guess, Jim Appelbaum is the older of our two Jims. Next is Peculiar Bill (Pastor Bill Meyer)—to know him is to understand this naming. Bill informed us at dinner that Jim Rogers had translated the Greek inscription discovered on the main drag of Hippos by the Haifa team on the final day; according to Bill, it reads “Right Turn Only.” Truly a peculiar sense of humor! Rounding out the foursome is Brian the Bold. At this final designation Irene corrected my napkin note taking during dinner, calling him Brian the Wienie, with which the other three all heartily agreed.


Clearly, these four had not only formed a bond among themselves; their constant banter with Irene, Goddess of Peace (as they warmly referred to her) on the dig site, during daily pottery cleaning, and at the last supper signaled this additional bond that had formed quickly. It was evident as soon as Darryl and I returned from our evacuation mission in Tel Aviv, and we were only gone three days!

At dinner we all learned what the four had done to avoid getting the dust of Hippos in their living quarters, the entrance of which was well shielded from the sidewalk by a thick hedge of six-foot flowering bushes: they undressed down to their skivvies outside their front door. While no one on the sidewalk could see them, apparently an elderly neighbor of the female persuasion had a grand view of them from her adjoining patio and made a daily ritual of watching them. The four were of mixed opinion whether she was getting voyeuristic pleasure or watching them with a frown of disapproval. Since they also called their semipublic disrobing an “anti-katyusha device,” it seems more likely her reaction was the latter of the two options. I can only say I’m jealous I didn’t have a privacy hedge; I had to sweep the dust of Hippos out of our room daily!

I have many regrets from our time in Israel: not taking enough time to sit on the beach and contemplate events of 2000 years ago, the evacuation of the students, only getting to the spa in Tiberias once for a massage, and last but not least, not making time to pop in on the Fearsome Foursome’s daily happy hour. I’m assured the conversation was scintillating and instructive. Perhaps another year!


We were grateful for the presence of each of them and their unique contributions to the group.

Doctor, Doctor . . .

Since I’ve been sick and missed two days of digging, I can’t report much on the archaeological end of things from this week. I’m reduced to telling stories from the first two weeks of the dig, when "the kids" were here and up to their antics and when we had a bunch of academic doctors (ThDs and PhDs) and one MD: the 2 Drs. Schuler, Dr. Chambers, Dr. Friend, Dr. Holst, Dr. Patella, Dr. Pratt, and her husband, the lone MD, Dr. Anders. Few people called Arny Friend or me "doctor," but most of the other academics were in positions of authority over students who were digging, so they were all addressed by most as "Dr. So-and-So," including Jay Anders, the MD. Sometimes a small group of us doctors would be standing together with students around and would get goofy, addressing one another ""doctor," "doctor" in imitation of a scene from MASH.

After our evening devotions on the night before Michael Patella left, it was clear that something was afoot among the students. Andrea, I believe, served as spokesperson for the group, and made their request. Before we all went our separate ways for the rest of the evening, she asked, could all the doctors stand in the middle of our circle of chairs on the beach, shake hands with one another, and say "Doctor," "Doctor." We all complied and had fun doing it. One of the students caught this scene on video, and I’m told, it will be in "Hippos 2006: The Movie." The next morning at 4:45 as we waited for the bus, the students were discussing the scene among themselves. "That went even better than I thought it would," said Andrea. Cameron concurred. Since the students’ time with us was cut short, there seems little possibility that scene will end up on the cutting room floor. Watch for previews of this coming attraction!

When Rachel sprained her ankle, Joyce ate something that disagreed with her, and Amanda and Kristina were out of circulation with their intestinal troubles, we called on Dr. Anders for medical advice. One evening as I was discussing Amanda and Kristina’s ailments with Efrat, our caring kibbutznik, she suggested they go to the kibbutz clinic. When I explained that Dr. Anders was an MD and had consulted with the young women, Efrat replied, "Oh, he’s a real doctor!" I couldn’t wait to pass that comment on to wife Dr. Susan Pratt, with whom I had recently had a discussion about the superiority of an academic PhD over a "trade degree" such as MD! We all got a good laugh over it, especially Dr. Anders.

Tessa Arrives!

Tessa arrives!
No, we didn’t get a new volunteer. My niece Rachael gave birth to Tessa on July 23. Rachael’s mother (and my sister), who is a midwife attended the birth. One can’t see much of Tessa in this photo, but the look on her big brother’s face says it all. He is not too sure about this new arrival. No doubt he suspects the truth: he will no longer be the center of the universe in his family!

I’m missing my second day of digging this week. In spite of many prayers and attempted good hygiene, I came down with the same intestinal problem Mark had on Friday/Saturday. I’m very glad to have it now and not when we are traveling at the end of the week.

The Final Countdown: Survived Sunday, Four Dig Days to Go

We are a pitiful little team of eleven people, most over 50 (Linda and Irene are our "youngsters" these days). The Bad News: The work progresses much more slowly. The Good News: We’re done with pottery washing in no time!

Mark made a miraculous recovery from his intestinal problems on Saturday evening (helped by the prayers of many, E-mail advice from Dr. Anders, and a dose of Imodium). So I didn’t have to be interim site supervisor of the day again. What a relief!

I did, however, move up the ranks of volunteers today: from unskilled (I’m really good at emptying buckets, especially if people fill them two-thirds to three-quarters full) to skilled labor. After breakfast I was reassigned to work on mosaic preservation. This requires working on one’s knees or rear end, and actually required some patient training from Irene in the various steps to re-mortar loose tesserae (the pieces of the floor) and to fill in some of the holes. It’s too late to do restoration, so instead of filling the holes with the recovered loose tessera, we’re just cementing in the "blanks."

Why was I so exhausted in the afternoon? Must have been those two days as nursemaid. I’m happy to report Mark is back to his cheerful self. Many thanks to all for your concern and prayers!

Photo Time! Pres. Holst Washes Pottery

Clockwise from left: Kristina Neumann (student from Concordia, Mequon), President Holst, Cameron Heiliger (CSP student), and Andrea Chandler (CSP student). For more details of President Holst's week with the dig, see the posting titled "Pre-Student Evacuation Blogging."

A Double All-Nighter: Evacuation of Students

It was just a week ago . . . On Friday, July 14, a group of us went shopping in Tiberias; Stephanie and I got cash from the cash machine outside the bank. Jessica found a new camera and SMILED. Andrea and Cameron poked around for some gifts needed for family and friends. Irene and I browsed the bookstore, and we all strolled around like tourists and had ice cream on the waterfront. Twenty-four hours later Tiberias was hit by a Katyusha rocket fired by Hezbollah from Lebanon. In the early afternoon on Saturday we gathered everyone together in the lab room, and Mark announced that all the students would be evacuated as soon as possible; adults wishing to leave at this time could also go. Darryl, the ex-cop and I were designated as escorts for the group. And I thought Steve’s lost passport was a big deal!

At 4 pm we gathered again in the lab for a hastily prepared communion service led by Pastor Jim Rogers from St. Louis. Jim was scheduled to lead our Sunday worship the next day, so he was the logical one to led the service; there were tears in the eyes of many as he and Bill Meyer communed the circle of people jammed in the room. Then we all loaded on to the bus Mark had arranged with Monika, his Palestinian travel agent. She had also booked rooms for us at a guest house in Jerusalem. It was a quiet ride down the Jordan Valley. Jessica shared her peanut butter on pita bread sandwich with me. I had forgotten to ask someone to pack supper for me—one of many blunders I would make over the next couple of days.

We arrived safely in Jerusalem, and several students noted the irony of coming there for "safety." In previous years the trip to Jerusalem was considered the riskiest part of the dig adventure and was subject to cancellation at the last moment. We were very close to the Old City, so Darryl and I set out on a reconnaissance trip. I wanted to know what time the English congregation at Lutheran Church of Our Redeemer worshiped (9:30 am) and what time the doors to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre were locked at night. I thought the latter might be a good "field trip" for the students while we awaited in Jerusalem for flights out. Another blunder on my part! We did make it to church at Our Redeemer in the morning, and Darryl was planning to lead the group on a tour of the archaeological park on the south side of the Temple Mount while I checked with Continental about re-booking flights. Nothing doing! The students were uncomfortable in Jerusalem, so following a discussion at the guest house after the service at Our Redeemer, we checked out and moved on to Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv. One taxi ride, 2 bus stations, 3 bus transfers and a couple of hours later, we made it! My big blunder of the afternoon: I purchased 13 tickets from Jerusalem to Tev Aviv (which took us to the central bus station there) rather than from Jerusalem to Ben Gurion. How much schlepping of luggage we might have been spared!!! I do wish I had a video of 13 people, 11 with a month’s worth of luggage, cramming into 4 small taxis for the first leg of that trip.

Once in the airport, the students were visibly more relaxed. They had all they needed: free wireless for their laptops and a MacDonald’s for comfort food. I made a beeline for the cell phone rental office—my smartest move of the day, perhaps of the entire 3-day ordeal. I passed the phone around and told the kids to phone home; I e-mailed Mark, who relayed my phone to the parents via his e-mail at En Gev, so parents could phone us, if needed. I tried talking to Continental Airlines to get the students on a waiting list. THEY WERE NICE BUT ABSOLUTELY NO HELP AT ALL!!! Within a short time, parents were making arrangements to get their children out of Israel. Amanda had travel insurance and so got booked on the midnight Continental flight that night; Jessica’s family somehow got her a ticket as well on that flight. Kristina’s family got her as far as London on British Air, where she met friends who housed her until she could make it back to the US. Stephanie’s parents got her on Monday morning flight to Frankfort, then Montreal, then O’Hare. A crazy route, but she was out of Israel less than 24 hours after the rocket hit Tiberias. And so we spent the first of 2 nights in Ben Gurion Airport. I was never without something to do; the Israeli security people were actually quite nice and let me accompany each student through the interrogation process, luggage search, and check-in with the airlines. When I wasn’t doing that, I was checking with other students about their status. Andrea and Cameron, among others, were searching the net for cheap, available flights in the coming 24 hours. Arny, one of the 2 adults, got a flight out to Brussels Monday morning. Nancy’s family, the other adult who had decided to leave because her family was so worried, joked about her husband’s efforts. For $1600 he could get her on a flight out on Monday; she said, "I’m worth $1600 to him; I’m not sure he’d go to $2000." Between the time the 3 left on the midnight flights Sunday and the 2 people left at 6:30 Monday morning, everyone else got their tickets purchased. Once we saw Stephanie off through passport control Monday morning, the remnant of 7 made our way to the taxi stand.

I had booked 2 rooms (that turned into 3 once we arrived) at a cheap hotel in Yahuda, someplace near the airport. We road in a comfortable, huge taxi at a fair price to this old, tired hotel. The doors had only push-button locks—not exactly secure! The carpeting looked like it carried a dozen different diseases, but the sheets on the beds appeared to be clean. Frankly, I didn’t much care; it had been decades since I had "pulled an all-nighter." I think it was about 8:30 am when Andrea, my roommate de jour (Saturday night had been a girls’ slumber party with 4 and 5 to a room) and I crawled into our beds. At 10:30 I was awakened by the pool party music; it sounded like the 80s hit "YMCA" was floating up 4 stories through an open window (this in spite of the AC working well). I got up and checked. No, the windows were closed; the music was just that LOUD. I went back to bed, only to be up less then 2 hours later. Darryl was at the door; did I know check out time was noon? I made my way down the rickety elevator to the lobby and had a heart to heart with the desk clerk (not the man who had checked us in). I must have looked really pitiful, because she let us stay into the evening, no additional charge. I also complained about the music and the lack of AC in the men’s room. They sent someone right up, and Darryl sheepishly admitted later that they had simply not pressed the right button to get the AC on! They turned down the music at the pool, and everyone got one more good nap in during the early afternoon.

Around 5ish pm on Monday we returned to the airport. There was nothing to do at the hotel, and we all remembered the leeks and garlic left in Egypt—I mean the comforts of Ben Gurion: free wireless and MacDonald’s. I had my second meal in 24 hours at Mickey D’s; this time I super-sized my fries and Diet Coke and scarfed down every bite and sip. There were no tickets to go in search of, no one to shepherd through security until about 2 am, so Nancy and I had a drink together while Darryl kept an eye on the "kids," as we lovingly referred to them. They were sweet to him; Tabitha brought him a beer, and he was happy. Over our drinks Nancy said to me, "I don’t know how you’ve done this." "Adrenaline," I answered. I was only half right; I didn’t realize it at the time, but friends and family all over the place were holding us in prayer. Those prayers sustained us all through a tough ordeal, me especially.

The worst moment came when Nancy, Kody, and Tabitha checked in on the same flight but only got boarding passes for the first of 3 legs of their journeys: to Brussels. When this has happened to me, it’s a sign that the connecting flight is overbooked. I fast-talked my way through Israeli security and spoke heatedly to the El Al airline supervisor. I got nowhere, but my fears were unfounded. They all got on the Brussels to O’Hare flight (along with Arny, who managed to get bulkhead seats for himself and Nancy) and even made their connecting flights to their final destinations from O’Hare. The last two to check in were Andrea and Cameron on their Olympic flight to Athens. No snags there.

Finally, Darryl and I waved good-bye to them as they went through passport control. We had breakfast in the airport before splurging on a taxi back to En Gev, rather than saving a few shekels traveling via bus and/or train. I should have known it would be a bad trip when the driver seemed to have no idea how to get to Galilee or what the fare was. I did get a price to Tiberias before we left the airport. Darryl and I both fell into a deep sleep for the first hour. We woke up just in time to get the driver on the road to Affula (I’ve only been to Israel twice, and even I knew that much!) Fortunately, Darryl had purchased a good map at the airport, and so we guided the driver along a shortcut that by-passed Tiberias completely and took us directly to En Gev. As we neared our final destination, the driver asked if we were married. "NO!" we both answered in quick unison—making us sound like an old married couple! At En Gev, the driver wanted to charge us over a 100 shekels more than the stated price to Tiberias. I blew my stack: "Absolutely NOT," I screamed. I gave him the agreed upon fare and no tip. I felt totally jet lagged and every day of my 50 years, and I hadn’t moved across one time zone!

Of course, the story is really about eleven happy homecomings, not the traveling travails of Regina Logistica and her personal bodyguard, Darryl. We thank God for everyone’s safe return and for the opportunity to get to know each of these special young people (and the special people with more life experience—Arny and Nancy), even though our time together was cut short.

Nancy in Birthday Tiara

For the full story, see the posting titled "Pre-Student Evacuation Stories: Birthdays at En Gev"

Correction: According to Cameron's eye-witness account, it was Stephanie, not Jessica, who wore the tiara in the pub after the "mature" (NOT "old" as same Cameron has maligned us) adults left.

Okay, so maybe people who buy and wear tiaras aren't always mature . . .

Living Kristina’s Dream* (and My Nightmare): Interim Site Supervisor for the Day

The excitement here never seems to stop. Darryl and I arrived back at Kibbutz En Gev mid-morning on Tuesday, July 18, after getting all the students through security, check-in, and passport control at Ben Gurion Airport. We stumbled through the day in a sleep-deprived state but both showed up at the parking lot Wednesday morning at 4:45 am. I wouldn’t say we were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed , but we made it up the hill. Things got crazy just before breakfast, when Mark slipped while climbing out of square F4, sprained his ankle, bruised his tail bone, and broke the screen on our cell phone (which he wears on the back of his belt}. Since no one saw him fall, I was quite terrified when he was flat on his back on the stone floor and passed out on me. Itimar, the member of the Haifa team who runs logistics for all teams, driving back and for to the site with food and water for everyone, drove the 2 of us down the mountain and to the local hospital emergency room. Three x-rays, one blood test, a cardiogram, two doctor consultations, and 800-plus shekels later, we were on our way back to En Gev, arriving in time for lunch and sympathy from the rest of our group and others in the dining hall.

There was no way Mark was going up to Hippos the next day, so I was put in charge of this group of independent-minded, wacko adults (what else can one say about people who opt to stay when the students are evacuated?). Eat your heart out, Kristina! Mark went over all the details of his list, much the same as I do when he goes to the grocery store back home. Most of it seemed quite straight-forward. Square F3: stop work after cleaning plaster floor in room. Square D4: continue down. Squares C/D2 (the mosaic floor): cleaning and fixing edges. B2: refill tomb; replace covering stones. Then there was C4 . . .

But let’s start with F3. Bill and Jim R worked on cleaning and sweeping the plaster floor. When they declared to me they were done, I looked in and thought, "I’ll bet their wives do the same thing I do after Mark has ‘wiped’ the counter top—they go back and do it over." I said nothing and prepared to photograph the area when Glenn, the model of patience and careful work, came over and said, "Do you think that’s good enough?" He and I worked another hour or more and got it up to snuff.

"Continuing down" in D4 was about the only smooth operation of the day. As one volunteer from the Haifa and Polish teams after another abandoned work on the mosaic floor, and other squares struggled to get buckets emptied, Irene, who took over the conversation work from Nancy, left the mosaics to help with some of the heavy lifting. I couldn’t do a thing to help her—I’m totally clueless about the conservation work on mosaics! I’ve mostly done the most unskilled of all the unskilled labor on this job (emptying buckets)! No doubt the cleaning and fixing edges of mosaics will continue up to the last minute of the last day of the last week.

"B2: refill tomb, replace covering stones" should have been a piece of cake–and would have been if the Interim Site Supervisor had used her brain! Like most mornings, it started out cloudy and comfortable ("cool" would be an exaggeration). Did I assign some people to do this simple task before breakfast, under these ideal conditions? Of course not! I waited until after breakfast, when the area was in complete, full sun! Poor Bill and Linda dutifully filled in the tomb, and Glenn, Mr. Tomb himself, supervised the replacement of the covering stones on the sarcophagus.

The instructions for square C4 read "remove Wall 592 (Shepherd’s wall) from south end of the square just past Wall 1201 — do not damage wall of masonry building below it." I was about as clueless interpreting these instructions as Mark would be reading a recipe to make carmelized onions. Not to worry, I thought, once I see the square and talk it over with veteran volunteer Marc Hequet, all will be clear. And I can always phone Mark, since we now both have cell phones (his still rings and can make calls; we just can’t access the voice mail, the address book, etc, because the screen is smashed). Needless to say, all was not clear to Marc H or me, even after a couple of phone calls back and forth. We all agreed this was job to postpone until next week; instead, we were given the task of opening a new square, F2. Now, I may be a complete novice at this archaeology work, but I have figured out this much: Opening a new square is work given to the newest, greenest of volunteers because they can do the least amount of damage to anything of import. It was the right decision!

Alas, I may actually have an opportunity to redeem myself on Sunday. Mark has been plagued since Thursday night with an intestinal bug that sends him to the WC every 5 to 10 minutes. It’s Saturday afternoon, and while he’s feeling a bit better, the trips to the WC continue. Looks like I’ll be site supervisor on Sunday! Kristina, how I wish you were here!

*Kristina is a student volunteer who’s dreamed of being an archaeologist since she was a child.

The Concordia Team "Headquarters"

It's Saturday morning, July 22 (Feast of Saint Mary Magdalene) at the kibbutz. I'm missing the trip to Ceasarea and Meggido so I can stay and take care of Mark, whose intestinal problems continue. On Wednesday he sprained his ankle badly up on the dig site; Thursday I was the interim site supervisor (there’s another story there!), and Friday I was nursemaid to a very sick husband---as he made numerous trips to the WC during the night and slept much of the day---and assistant pottery processor. Over lunch on Friday everyone started by saying how fortunate it was I had come this year; we ended by saying that perhaps I was bad luck (that MUST have been Darryl). We’ve certainly had a string of it!

I spent most of Friday afternoon and evening processing pottery with Linda, one of the 2 other remaining women on our team. With our work and the help of others, we got EVERYTHING processed from the first 3 weeks. All the pottery and other finds (iron nails, animal bones, glass fragments) come to the "lab" area, which is also where Mark’s and my room is. It's difficult to describe the space here. As one enters from the exterior door, there's a long hall-like room (with no AC). Straight ahead is a small room with closet of cleaning supplies and off of that 2 bathrooms with showers. To the left of the entrance and up 3 stairs is the "kitchen" area with frig, sink, counter, some shelves, and a hot pot. To the right along the exterior wall is a long hallway with a low counter, mirrors, and individual lights above them; part way down the hallway on the right is a sliding door to our room (with AC, old and very, very loud). Directly ahead in the hallway is a door to the "lab," a good size room with more counters, mirrors, lights, and AC. It has the computer with internet connection used by the group members and was full of unprocessed pottery until yesterday (about 2 weeks worth of huge ziplock bags full of pottery shards lined up for six linear feet). For our room, imagine a square in which our bedroom/office is an L-shaped space; the little square that fits inside the L is our private bathroom We have our two twin beds pushed together, 2 bedside stands, one "easy" chair, one dresser, and a table/desk with two chairs. On the table are our 2 laptops, piles of papers, and wires for laptops, cell phone, charging the camera, etc.

Why all the mirrors in the hallway and "lab"? We're in what once was the dressing room area for the theater on the kibbutz; I believe our bedroom must have been the dressing room for the conductor. In the 1920s and 30s this kibbutz was the cultural center of the Galilee and they had orchestra concert here. I think we are the only who use this space now. There's a large sliding door from the kitchen area that leads directly to the stage of the theater, which is dusty and full of pigeon dung. We've commandeered a section of it just inside the door to store all the processed pottery. You'd be amazed at the amount of pottery 20+ people working for 2 weeks can find. The amount dropped off the third week with the smaller number of diggers, which made it possible for us to process it all in a couple of days.

Stephanie and Tabitha, Pottery Queen and Crown Princess of Pottery, we miss you!

Andrea, maybe you could do a drawing of the "lab" space and post it for everyone to visualize.

Pre-Student Evacuation Stories: Birthdays at En Gev

One of my state-side Regina Logistica duties was to make sure we had a copy of each person’s passport; this means I am privy to personal information, such as one’s date of birth. One day as I flipped through the pile, I noticed that one person’s birthday was in July. So I did a thorough review and discovered four people would be celebrating birthdays with us in Israel.

We arrived at En Gev late Friday afternoon on June 30. Anyone who’s been to Israel knows that the country begins to shut down for Sabbath by Friday afternoon–banks and shops close at 2 pm, busses stop running in mid-afternoon, etc. There had been some confusion about our arrival time, and so no arrangements had been made for our Saturday meals. For subsequent weekends, each digger has been given credit for 36 shekels at the kibbutz mini-market to purchase food for Saturday’s breakfast and supper (lunch of leftovers is served in the dining hall). Efrat, a gem of a woman who is the kibbutznik in charge of housing and other arrangements for the diggers, graciously opened the mini-market for us Friday evening, and Mark and I purchased food for the group’s meals on Saturday. Since Sunday was Rachel’s and Stephanie’s birthday, I added a couple of Israeli cakes (small, loaf-shaped cakes that serve about 8 and are sealed in a package) in the stash of food. After our picnic supper and devotions on the beach Saturday evening, a couple of us tried to light the birthday candles I had brought from the US on these small cakes. It gets very breezy on the beach in the late afternoon and evening, so we were only partially successful, but everyone sang, and the birthday girls cut and served the cake. Sunday, their actual birthday, was our first day on the dig site, and most of us remembered to wish them a happy birthday and single them out for special razing throughout the morning of digging. It was all pretty low-key but better than being with a group of mostly strangers and not having the day acknowledged at all.

Steve Chambers, the professor from the Lutheran seminary in Edmonton who came with 3 students (and lost his passport after clearing immigration at the airport—I hope eventually to give details of THAT saga!) was our next birthday celebration. Steve’s wife had made sure all three students (Joyce and Clint Magnus and Dan Barr) knew it was Steve’s birthday on July 9 (a Sunday and our first workday of the second week). That day up at the site Clint came up to me and said, "There’s something important I need to tell you." I knew immediately what it was! At breakfast we sang "Happy Birthday" and that afternoon I asked Efrat if she had freezer space we could borrow; she was happy to oblige, and so our birthday celebration for Steve that evening included cake with candles we could not keep lit AND ice cream. Steve deserved something a little more to compensate for all the hassles of his lost passport, the tick he had removed from his leg the first week, and egg-sized lump on his shin from a misadventure with an archaeological tool called a terria.

Tangent: I’ve no idea of the correct spelling of the word "terria"—I’m told it’s Arabic. It’s used to scrap into little piles the dirt loosened by the pick axes and then to scoop the dirt into the plastic buckets. It rhymes with "Maria," so the first week of the dig Andrea and I were making up songs and came up with this one:
"Terria, I’ve just met a tool named terria,
and suddenly I found
how wonderful a tool can be!"

Anyway, Efrat and her husbanc Eldad joined us for cake and ice cream at my invitation; they had gotten to know Steve well because of all the phones calls to the airport and Canadian embassy regarding his lost passport.. In spite of all his troubles, Steve was a joy to be around for the 2 weeks they were with us. He was like a little kid in a candy shop up on the site, getting into every detail of the whole dig and doing a super job at an area supervisor. We all miss him!

Our final birthday celebration was Nancy, one of the "mature" volunteers (or as one parent said about Darryl and me when the students were evacuated, Nancy is one with more "life experience" than the twenty-something students). Nancy and her roommate Linda are both 2nd year volunteers. During the trip to Jerusalem, just as we were about to enter the Old City through the Damascus Gate where there are dozens of vendors displaying their wares on tables in the open air, Linda and I were both near the end of the line of our group when I spotted a plastic, beaded silver tiara. "Linda," I said, "what do you think of this for Nancy’s birthday?" She agreed it was the perfect item, so we made a fast purchase and pushed ahead to catch up with the others. By the time Nancy’s birthday rolled around a few days after Steve’s I was tired of the cake and ice cream routine; instead, we gave Nancy the tiara after the devotions, sang to her, and then invited all to the kibbutz pub for a birthday drink. Nancy showed up without the tiara, but Linda managed to sneak out and bring it to the pub, and Nancy, always a good sport, wore it as she drank her Gold Star (the local brew). Mark and I left early (for some reason, we’re always tired—can’t imagine why, when we get to bed between 10 and 10:30 pm every night and the alarm goes off at 4:00 am!). I understand the party expanded to include some of the members of the Polish team and Jessica, one of the students, ended up wearing the tiara. Someone snapped a picture of Nancy in the tiara. If that person is reading this, please e-mail a copy to me to post!

Nancy chose to be evacuated with the students, so she’s no longer here with us; work on the restoration of the mosaic floor in the church has slowed considerably, since she was heading up that major task. Somehow, we’ll muddle through to the end without her, but it’s just not the same. We all miss her hard work and dry sense of humor.

Pre-Student Evacuation Blogging

WARNING: IF YOU’RE LOOKING FOR INFORMATION ABOUT THE ARCHAEOLOGICAL FINDS AT HIPPOS, THIS IS THE WRONG BLOG. IF YOU’RE INTERESTED IN STORIES ABOUT THE VOLUNTEERS AND OUR DAILY LIFE TOGETHER, READ ON! [written before the students were evacuated, but not posted until July 19]

Laundry and Travel Details
Good Grief! It’s 11 days since my last blog! I didn’t even have time to put away our clean dig clothes on Thursday, July 6, let alone post a blog. That day started by placing our dirty towels and linens (provided by the kibbutz) and dirty dig clothing outside our living quarters in plastic bags. Then to the parking lot, for our 4:45 a.m. bus ride most of the way up the Hippos hill (we hike in the remaining, uphill section). When we got back from digging at about 12:30, it was a mad scramble. First, we raced to our living quarters, washed arms and faces quickly, and then hot-footed it over to the headquarters of the Polish team. They have the dubious honor of hosting the laundry return site. There were a dozen or so people collecting clean linens and towels and pawing through piles of T-shirts and pants, each one looking for his/her own items. I had failed to make a list of T-shirt worn for the week, and so I found only 3 of my 4 shirts on the initial hunt. Fortunately, I was smart enough to have purchased 3 net bags in which I had sorted my socks, Mark’s socks, and Mark’s underwear (I had opted to hand wash my own of the latter). We returned to our place with our clean laundry (held away from our filthy bodies as we walked), hoofed it up to the dining hall, and had a quick lunch. Then back to our place for showers, then back to the Polish center to find the missing T-shirt, and then the packing for the trip to Jerusalem. Mark left before I did to meet our bus and driver (arranged through his Palestinian travel agent in Jerusalem), and I made a last stop at the mini-mart on the Kibbutz to purchase a white hat with large brim for the J trip. Darryl (more about some of the students and "mature" volunteers later) made a comment about Minnie Pearl when I showed up at the bus wearing my new purchase.

Jerusalem was a world-wind trip, but wonderful. We stayed at the Austrian Hostel in the heart of the Arab quarter of the Old City. Our driver dropped us at the Stephen Gate (across from the Mount of Olives) and we walked (uphill) along the Via Delorosa with our backpacks full of our clothing and personal items for the weekend. As we walked the cobbled, uneven street, I noted the inappropriate footwear of some. A few students were wearing only flip flops, and Joyce, one of the 4 Canadians, had on bejeweled, backless sandals more appropriate for the beach or patio than serious touring in ancient cities. Most of the group stayed in the dormitories, but a few of us had upgraded to private rooms, which were a bit tired looking, but large, well-furnished, and clean. Dining was the real treat. Seated at tables of four with cloth covers, we were served our soup, helped ourselves to a salad buffet, and then were served the entree and dessert. It felt very elegant after a week of kibbutz cafeteria lines and our breakfast on the dig site in an abandoned military building, seated (if one is lucky) on a broken chair covered in pigeon dung..
But let me move on to describe some of my fellow diggers:

President Robert Holst: Flexible, Accessible, and Adventurous
The president of Concordia St. Paul arrived on Wednesday, July 5 by public transportation. We chose to house him with veteran volunteer Marc Hequet in the "lab," a room with internet connection and the daily pottery et al. finds. Efrat, Regina Logistica of the Kibbutz who takes care of our many needs from providing toilet paper to helping with lost passports, was appalled that we did not give him a room of his own, but Pres H graciously accepted his less then ideal accommodations and quickly made himself useful by joining the pottery scrubbing on the beach. Christina, a student from Concordia, Mequon, said to me later that day, after the president had been chatting with the students for most of the afternoon, "You have the BEST president!" It was wonderful to have President Holst with us for the week. He worked hard on the dig site, moving dirt and rocks, and keeping up with those younger than he by several decades! When we gave out the "Regina Awards" on the evening of July 12, the president got the "Acto Doctoro Flumine Award" (trans.: the-go-with-the-flow doctor).

Let me illustrate that award with a story from Jerusalem. I mentioned earlier Joyce’s Jerusalem footwear (backless sandals with thin leather soles). I asked her about it at the hostel, and she explained that she had tried to pack light. She brought hiking boots for the dig days and sandals for the beach; she just hadn’t thought about shoes for touring (we’ll have to get something about that on the website for next year!). The hike up the Via Delorosa had been hard for her. It was after dinner and devotions, and was getting dark outside. The helpful hostel staff had said, yes, there were probably stores open where she could get a pair of shoes. Mark and I were too tired to go with her, so I asked President Holst, who knows Jerusalem well, if he would be willing to take Joyce shoe shopping. He immediately responded, "I’ve love to!" I don’t think he was just being polite; I think he enjoyed the adventure of exploring the Old City with others on a special mission. The 3 of them, President Holst, Joyce and her husband Clint, set off together and had a successful venture finding suitable shoes for the full days of our touring on Friday and Saturday.

Irene and Darryl: My Window into a Different World
I’m always interested in how adult volunteers hear about the dig and come for the first time (I’m still amazed by the number of adults who come for a second, third, and even fourth year). Darryl, who’s a retired undercover cop and living in Eldon, MO, is originally from Woodbury, a suburban of St. Paul. In Jan/Feb 2005 Darryl attended a series of lectures on archaeology Mark presented at Woodbury Lutheran Church in the Twin Cities area. So that’s how he got wind of the Hippos Dig. Irene, who’s from Maple Lake, MN, near St. Cloud, read the article that appeared in The Lutheran Witness in April 2005.

Irene drives a truck for a non-profit organization and saved her money and vacation time for a year to come for the entire 4 weeks. She flew with the "Group of Eight" from Minneapolis, so by the time we were at Newark, I found out that Irene had served in the Marines and in the Army Reserves as a chaplain’s assistant. I was very curious about her interest in the dig, so I was (politely, I thought) trying to pump more information out of her at dinner one of the first days we were here. I learned that she subscribes to Biblical Archaeology Review and has long had an interest in the subject. In response to one of my questions, she looked at me, smiled, and said, "I guess you don’t get too many truck drivers applying as volunteers." I love her sense of humor!

On to my education! The first week, I had given lecture to the group about the 4th century pilgrim to the Holy Land, Egeria. One of the first days of pottery cleaning I was the student. Irene, Darryl and I (and others) were grouped around one of the pottery buckets, scrubbing away at shards and chatting. Both Darryl and Irene have military and police experience, so the conversation naturally turned to these topics. It was a great learning experience for me, as they bantered back and forth about weapons, military strategies, Darryl’s undercover work, and other matters. I would occasionally interrupt and ask for a definition of a term or phrase, but for most of the time I just listened quietly and scrubbed away, in awe that I was sitting on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, scrubbing pottery and getting an informal education on police and military topics from 2 devout LCMS lay people who have used their God-given gifts to serve in the world in such risky professions. I thank God for the opportunity to get to know both of them.

Darryl was also a great help on the Jerusalem trip. Mark took the lead as we walked around Bethlehem and Jerusalem, and President Holst, Darryl, and I were the rear guard, hanging back with stragglers to make sure no one was left behind. At one site, Darryl spotted a street vendor trying open Glenn’s fanny pack and pickpocket him. Darryl grabbed the guy, shoved him away, and got the attention of other vendors who helped get the potential thief out of the area. It was great to have his police expertise with us for the trip.

Both Darryl and Irene are hard working, cheerful, and have a good sense of humor. On Monday, July 10, I left square F4 (where I am the area supervisor) to relieve myself—see Stephanie Randolph’s blog entry for details of the women’s latrine area. When I returned, my co-workers informed me that they had found a parchment in one corner. Sensing something was afoot, I went to the spot and found one of the white lunch bags we use for bones, glass, and metal finds. Written on it were these words "My dearest sisters [a common Egeria-ism!] Egeria slept here" followed by the date "314 AD." It was Darryl’s doing, mocking my enthusiasm for Egeria! I informed him it must be a fake, because the date was wrong (Egeria was most likely a pilgrim here during the 380s). Everyone had a great laugh over it, and I have a special souvenir to take home!

Birthdays at En Gev
One of my state-side Regina Logistica duties was to make sure we had a copy of each person’s passport; this means I have privy to personal information, such as one’s date of birth. One day as I flipped through the pile, I noticed that one person’s birthday was in July. So I did a thorough review and discovered four people would be celebrating birthdays with us in Israel.

******

At this point in my writing on Saturday, July 15, a katyusha rocket hit Tiberias, across the Sea of Galilee from us. The evacuation of students began, and I returned to Galilee on Tuesday morning after seeing all the students off at the Tel Aviv airport. Perhaps this Friday I’ll have time to write about the birthday celebrations for Stephanie, Rachel, Steve, and Nancy and the other topics on my list. Nine of us (all over 40) remain at En Gev and continue to dig. We’re not making as much progress with a smaller group, but we’re plodding along toward more discoveries.

Typical Duties of the Queen of Logistics

We've only been in Israel 5 days, and it's been never a dull moment for me, Regina Logistica! The craziness started even before we left Minneapolis. The "Group of Eight" (as I dubbed those leaving together on Thursday morning) were to meet at 7:00 am inside Door 3 at the Twin Cities airport. Seven of us were there, together with some parents seeing children off, but there was no sign of Kristina, who lives in Wisconsin, a 2 1/2 hour drive from the Twin Cities. By 7:30 we were getting worried. Mark suggested we phone. I, Regina Logistica, whipped out the file of application forms with phone numbers from my carry on luggage (so organized!). Mark called and asked for Kristina. Her mother said, "She's right here," and handed off the phone. Mark said, "Are you on your way to the airport?" No, she wasn't; Kristina had confused are arrival date in Israel (June 30) with our departure date (June 29). Fortunately she was all packed. Her mother and sister drove her to the airport while papa stayed home on the phone with the airlines and got her booked on a later flight to Newark. It was a close connection, but she made it, and all 18 of us who meet up in Newark made our connection to Tel Aviv.

Everything seemed to be smooth sailing at Tev Aviv. We had no trouble connecting with Lyle and Tim, 2 Americans working with the University of Haifa team on Hippos who hitched a ride with us to Kibbutz Ein Gev on the east side of the Sea of Galilee where we're staying. A minor glitch came with the delay of the flight from Toronto bringing the 4 Canadians on our team, but that turned out fine. Just as I was relaxing on the bus to Ein Gev, one of the Canadians, Steve, came to our seat and reported his passport was missing. It's still an ongoing saga; a full report later! Steve's luck has been bad most of our five days. Last night I assisted at the surgery to remove the tick from his calf (we're happy to report it was a complete success).

Wish I had time and energy to write something about our 2 days of digging, but today I had to host a trip to Tiberias by public bus for a few people; it was essential for Jay, whose boots gave out today on the dig. I'm happy to report the trip was a success, and I ended my duties as the Queen of Logistics by finding and returning Nancy's sun glasses.

Past bed time here! More before we head to Jerusalem on Thursday, I hope!