Roll credits

It's done.

I'm home, safe and sound. The flight back was long and uneventful, but full of good movies. Once some rest and time with The Mr. has happened, I'll post a bit on Castle Karak and toss up a few more pictures from the trip.

Meat and Fire is still on for August 13; I look forward to seeing you there.

All aboard the Giant Red Dot, reprise

“Let them sleep who do not know the final day is here. The very last, and we leave at dawn.” –Laibach, B Mashina 

        

                In a short while, we’ll be heading for the airport. The flight back will take close to twelve hours; if all goes well, I’ll sleep through most of that. Once in Montreal, it’ll be another few hours of waiting, then a relatively short flight home. 

                Jordan is a fantastic country. If you get the chance to visit, it’s well worth the time and expense. The people are wonderful, the food is an adventure, and the landscape is breathtaking.

                I had the good fortune to dig with a wonderful group of people under the guidance of some very fine minds. There were amazing bits and rough spots all around, but in the end, we’re all coming home more experienced, more confident, and somewhat more dehydrated than when we arrived. 

                See you on the ground!

What a long, strange trip it's been

"Only one day is left, only one day. We are leaving the others; we are going away."-- Laibach, B Mashina

Camp Week is wrapping up. We’ve finished photographing, drawing, counting, washing, boxing, packing, shuffling, and captioning; tomorrow, we load stuff up and take it to either ACOR (the American Center of Oriental Research) in Amman, or to the Madaba Museum. After that, we’ll have time to play Tetris with our luggage and recent purchases. At about 11:00 at night, the bus will arrive (hopefully it will be the ParrotSquid Express, so named for the unintentionally-tentacled stuffed parrot hanging from the rear-view mirror) and we will head to the airport. In the wee hours of Friday morning, we will board the plane to Montreal, and from there, a handful of us will board the flight back to K-W. 

There will probably be a couple of follow-up posts when I get home, sharing some of the pictures I haven’t put up while overseas because of bandwidth limitations.

                It’s nice to go away, but it’s even nicer to come home. Jordan is awesome, but I miss my friends and family. Thank you for following my adventures. I look forward to seeing all of you (insofar as this is possible) when I return.

Bladders of Steel: Yousef's Tea-drinking Competition

If you go past the Church of the Map and turn left down Carpet Alley, there is a little rug store run by a man named Yousef. Visitors are welcomed into his shop with a warm smile and a handshake, and, more often than not, offered tea.

               

                Tea at Yousef’s has, over the years, become a traditional part of several digs based in Madaba. The tea is made in steel kettles over a propane burner; water and a small cane field’s worth of sugar are added to the kettle and heated to boiling, whereupon the teabags are added, suspended by their strings for about thirty seconds, then dunked a  few more times before the tea is considered ready to serve. It is considered polite to allow the tea to cool some before drinking it.

                Out of this tradition rose another: the tea-drinking competition. Every year, before the end of the dig, archaeologists go bladder-to-bladder to see how many cups of tea they can drink in one sitting before having to pee or having to throw up. The record number this year was 40 cups (about 2L, give or take), held by a member of the Tell Madaba dig group. We were determined that one of our own would break the record. Within our group there was competition as well, Tom and Sebastien each determined to beat the other.

                After supper, about twenty or so of us met at Yousef’s. The existence of a trophy startled one participant. “There’s a trophy?”

                “What, you think this is a joke?” replied Yousef, stern and straight-faced for a moment before grinning.

Everyone had at least a few cups; those of us competing kept track with a pen, either on paper or on our hands or arms. As we drank, people—mostly the men, interestingly enough-- tried on belly-dancing outfits. (There are some very interesting pictures floating around.) As the hours and cups passed, people gradually left. As 10:00 approached, it was down to six of us. Tom and Sebastien were neck and neck; the rest of us were at least ten cups behind (I put back a respectable 30).

                It took as much room as his bladder could muster, but Tom was the first to cross the victory line. With wild eyes and a declaration of, “Caesar is victorious!” he downed the last of his 41^st cup. 

Sebastien, not to be outdone, put back a 41^st as well, prompting Tom to reach for a 42^nd. Sebastien, relentless, did the same. They quickly decided on a tie because they were both about to burst. In the end, no matter how stalwart the heart, how keen the mind, or how strong the arm, the bladder is the great equalizer.