Trip #2: Desert Castles

When most of us think of the desert, we picture vast stretches of sand, rolling dunes, a merciless sun overhead in a cloudless sky. For some areas of the world, that depiction may be accurate, but the desert wears many faces. An hour and a half outside of Madaba, the desert switches from goatgrass and gritty rubble to grey-black expanses of chert and basalt chunks overlaying dusty soil. This is the transition zone between the Fertile Crescent and the deep desert. It is in such an environment that we find the first castle on the tour—Qasr al-Kharaneh.

                That last picture was taken in a tiny side hallway that led to a pitch-black tunnel. Over the years, someone had scored a massive swastika into the stone at the end of the hallway, next to the tunnel opening. We were in a group, sharing the half terrified excitement of a forbidden passage. Who knew what it held? One of the others commented, “Haven’t we learned by now that going down dark, mysterious hallways marked by swastikas in ancient ruins is not a good idea?”

Further into the desert, settled among the black plains, is Qusayr `Amra. Once adorned with lavish frescoes, this 8^th Century bath house and meeting place is still willing to share some of its former beauty with visitors. The iconoclasm, which saw the destruction of most artistic depictions of living creatures and religious imagery, somehow seemed to miss the abodes of the rich. 

                The last stop on our tour took us through hills of basalt boulders and into Azraq, once an oasis, to see Qasr al-Azraq. Some of you might recognize the black stone edifice as the base of operations of Lawrence of Arabia; while the castle, in its current incarnation (it was built by Romans, then destroyed and rebuilt by Izz Ed Din Aybak), is about 800 years old, Lawrence made use of it as recently as 1918 or so.

The amount of graffiti at these sites was distressing. Some folks just have no respect for history—their own, or that of anyone else. Despite the modern mutilations, these massive structures are still imposing, still full of mystery, and still capable of awakening the adventurer in all of us.

Of patois and potsherds

What is it in the human psyche that prompts us, when presented with the opportunity to learn a new language, to learn the cusswords first?

                We have a rather international dig crew, composed of Canadians, at least one American, one Saudi, a Danish textile specialist, and a group of Austrians. One of my fellow Canadians asked his Austrian co-excavator how to curse out the very large rocks in German; this has spread, and now folks on the tell chat in English, give dig directions in mixed English and Arabic, and swear in German.

                The amount of potsherds we find and the number that come home are vastly disparate. We spend our days with our eyes full of sand and our trowels in the earth, collecting fragments of pottery in carefully marked pails. We bring them back, scrub them meticulously with toothbrushes and nailbrushes, scrape them with scalpels and sharpened spoons, and lay them out in baskets to dry. Of the 80 or more that might be in a pail, sometimes a mere handful of them are kept, usually diagnostics (rims, bases, painted pieces, ceramic tech) and pieces that mend with them. The rest are driven back to the site and tossed heartlessly onto the discard pile, reduced once again to trash.

                Today’s photos:

Sunrise from the tell

Fedoriarty at the dig site. The wall behind me is part of what was likely a shrine room, where travellers could make offerings to their deities on the way through. That, then, is holy ground I’m standing on.

                One of the Austrians has a hat almost identical to mine. Much of his dig clothing is very similar as well, down to the red bandana. Before the dig is over, there will be a picture taken of him and I standing together. If he’s okay with it, I’ll share it here.

                This weekend, we’re going out into the deep desert to see the desert castles. There will be pictures. There will also be sweat. Fortunately, one is easier to post than the other.