Weekend in Costanta (7/13 - 7/15/2012)

Our weekend in Constanta was overall an über relaxing one, but not without a few bumps in the road.

Upon arrival, we checked into Pacific Hotel, a fairly new and eco-friendly hotel with apartment-style rooms. Anne, Kate, Allison and I shared a room together.

The room had a large living space with a flat-screen TV, leather couches, a balcony and two single beds. There was a fully-functioning kitchen with modern cabinetry and appliances. The master bedroom suite had a king-size bed, large windows, a flat-screen TV and a beautiful modern bathroom with a particularly complicated shower. If you pressed the wrong button or turned the knob the wrong way (which was likely since there were tons of buttons and knobs), you might get water sprayed at you from an unexpected angle. Note to self: turn on shower AFTER getting inside and closing the doors...

In order to turn on the electricity in the room, you had to slip your room card into a little compartment by the door. No room card, no electricity. And there were several occasions when our power would just turn off for a few seconds and then on again, for whatever reason, like when I was taking a shower. Otherwise, the hotel was very nice and accommodating.

The group all ate dinner together our first night in Constanta at a pizza restaurant called New Pizzaco, which is said to have the best pizza in Constanta. I had calamari in a honey mustard and rosemary sauce, and crepes for dessert. It was really nice to eat something different for a change.

After dinner, everyone split off and went separate ways; some wanting to explore the city, others taking a taxi back to the hotel. Since it was still light out and was a nice night, Allison, Anne and I decided to walk back to the hotel. The area right next to the restaurant was charming. The buildings were old and made of worn stucco, and they had a sort of French, New Orleans look to them. There were restaurants and bars left and right, people eating and sitting on terraces looking out onto the narrow streets.

As we weaved our way out of this quaint part of the city, we made the mistake of taking out a map to figure out where we were. Almost instantly, two men came up to us, one perhaps in his 30s and the other pushing 70 with no teeth, and ask us if we need directions. Within seconds, I feel a tug on my purse. I turn around to find another man looking through it, about to take my wallet. He immediately stops and walks away, without looking back. Both shocked and utterly pissed off, I turn to his two accomplices and curse them off, threatening to call the cops if they don't leave us alone. I don't think they were expecting that reaction from a little, blonde American girl. Nevertheless, they left us alone indeed. That, however, set the tone for the rest of our walk home and was merely just the beginning.

We instantly became aware of our surroundings as we began speed-walking. The city's charm and quaintness washed away with each step we took. Before we knew it, it had gotten darker and the neighborhoods we passed through were less and less populated, some parts looking abandoned. Dogs barked viciously behind chain-link fences and shadowy faces stared as we briskly walked by. We were trying hard not to make eye-contact nor speak too loudly, lest it became obvious we were tourists. Meanwhile, not a SINGLE taxi drove by. The three of us instantly regretted walking home, at least in such a small group.

After what seemed like hours, we finally made our way back to the hotel. We practically kissed the ground. Note to self: never walk alone at night, take a taxi home unless you are in a group of at least five (preferably with a boy or two). Lesson learned.

The next morning, after sleeping in, Anne, Allison and I took a twenty-minute taxi ride to Mamaia beach, where we spent the next six hours lounging on big, orange beanbags under canopies, sipping cocktails and swimming in the beautifully clear Black Sea. It was complete paradise and by far the best part of my weekend.

That night, after showering and feeling particularly lazy and not wanting to pay for a taxi, we dined in at the hotel restaurant. A seemingly uneventful evening turned into quite the opposite, when I dared Allison to eat the fish eyeballs of my salmon dinner. The man eating alone at the table next to us chimed in on cheering her on, and offered to buy her a drink if she ate them. Turned out he was in the army, and had a bunch of ROTC cadets from various universities here with him, whom we later met up with in Mamaia. Let's just say they were a pretty ballsy group, and leave it at that.

The Halfway Point

It's the end of our second week in Romania, and I can't believe we are halfway through our time here! It has been an exciting week of archaeological finds. We uncovered the top rim of a dolium in our trench, and are now working carefully around it, brushing and troweling, until we find what's inside and get it out in one piece. John suspects it is already broken though, since part of the wall collapsed on it. If that's the case, then anything inside the dolia will be well-preserved.

Secondly, I found a 6th century Byzantine coin!! I was very excited since my partner and I have yet to find anything of "real" value in our section, while everyone else is finding metal pieces and quality pottery. This gives me hope that there will be more things the further down we go.

Our trench also uncovered an early stone wall and possibly a room, which we are still working on.

Someone else in the other trench found a flute made out of bone, which was really cool to see. A key, some blades, and two small coins were also found.

We've had a lot of rain this week in Murighiol, which has made it both difficult and easier to dig. The first day it rained, my trench was filled with puddles, so we could not dig in it that day. Instead, we dug in the other trench. The next day, most of our puddles had dried up, but left the dirt moist, making it easier to dig. This was really nice because, since day one, our trench has been very difficult to dig in because of how dense the soil is and the amount of rocks we've had to remove. We've had to use a pick-axe roughly every 10 minutes to loosen the soil. Even Mihail said he's never encountered ground as hard as this while digging. The upside is we're all going to leave Romania with Michelle Obama worthy arm muscles. Check!

Thursday night, we had yet another big thunder and lightning storm. It poured so hard that the dirt roads in the village turned into mud rivers. We didn't even bother driving to the site to see what our trenches looked like; John said there was no way we would be able to dig. Instead, we all got on a one o'clock bus to Constanta, a large city situated on the Black Sea coast about three hours away, where we will be staying for the weekend.

I posted some pictures below of me working on the stone wall, happily brushing away. Mum, these are for you since I know you always complain that I never take pictures of myself. Enjoy!

Swimming in the Danube Delta (7/9/2012)

On Monday, instead of digging, we all took a boat trip on the Danube (I know I originally said the Black Sea, but turns out the Black sea trip is this weekend). We were split into two motor boats, and left the harbor around 11 a.m.

The quote of the trip was, "there's so much life on the Delta!" And it's definitely true. The Danube Delta is flourishing with vegetation, frogs, birds, fish and other wildlife. We would coast through these narrow passageways into large, open waters of the Delta where a thousand lily pads bloomed. I have never seen so many lily pads in my life!

After an hour of boating, we finally came to a nice swimming spot and docked. I was so excited to swim! The water was perfect temperature; warmer than I thought it would be. And the bottom of the Delta is solid MUD. In an attempt to walk out of the water onto the shore, I was knee-deep stuck in mud to the point where someone had to yank me out.

Afterward, we ate a traditional Romanian meal of sausage (a large ate of vegetables for me), mustard, bread and beer.

Pilgrimage of Saints Epictetus & Astion (7/7/2012)

Saturday, we all walked three miles up the only paved road in Murighiol, past the dig site, to monastery where the pilgrimage of Saints Epictetus and Astion (the two saints which were found at Halmyris) was being held.

The ceremony lasted over four hours, but we only stayed there for one. Beforehand, John instructed us to dress appropriately; ladies must wear pants or skirts that cover up the knees, and modest shirts that cover your shoulders. Most of us were scrambling because none of us thought to being pants or modest clothing, since it's hot as Hades and we spend most of our time in the dirt. Thankfully, Anne lent me a long scarf which I wrapped around my waist into a makeshift skirt.

Before we even arrived at the monastery, when we were still a quarter mile down the road, we could hear monks singing and chanting.

People must have came from all over to this pilgrimage because there were hundreds of cars, tour buses and horse and carts. As we approached the gate entrance of the monastery's property, you could see the tops of a hundred umbrellas shading families from the hot sun.

The pilgrimage was an outdoor event, since they are currently building a new church. Orthodox monks wearing long robes, gold crosses and monastic headwear sang under a lean-to, while villagers stood or knelt in prayer before them. Bishops, wearing white robes and gold headwear, lead the prayers.

The remains of the saints were held under a separate covered structure, where people could get in line to view them. I was disappointed to see that the remains were covered in velvet cloth in a clear container, so you couldn't really see the skeleton at all. Still, villagers kissed the glass and knelt to pray, as widows wearing black robes and hair-coverings looked on.

Although I am agnostic, I thought the songs of the monks were absolutely beautiful. In fact, I videotaped some of it so you could hear it. I don't know how good the quality is, but hopefully you can make out some singing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sMpeo3-vBjc&feature=youtube_gdata_player

I also discreetly took a lot of photos of the villagers. I am interested by religion and like watching people paralyzed in prayer. It's something I never could do myself because I never felt a connection with "God" or a god, even as a child. So, in some ways, I envy the faith these people have in their religion. Still, I prefer to take an objective stance.

After spending nearly an hour at the pilgrimage, we all walked up the road to the nearest bar and had a few drinks (everyone here is either agnostic or atheist, but we all noted the irony).

"Shut up and dig"

It's the weekend, and I'm sitting in an internet cafe in Tulcea. Tulcea is a modern city that's 10 lei and a 40-minute bus ride away. This city feels 10 times the size of Murighiol, and there's not a horse and cart in sight (the most common form of travel in Murighiol). I'm sipping a kiwi smoothie in the shade on the cafe's terrace, as people, buses and cars hustle by in the 100 degree heat.

It's been a tough week of digging, troweling, pick axing, wheelbarrowing, hoeing and brushing for five hours per day in the scorching sun. It's only week one of four, and I can already see the dirt settling into my pores, despite how hard I scrub in the shower.

We are currently working on two 12 x 2 meter trenches, about a quarter of a meter deep so far, in the area of the harbor. Our crew is split into two groups (S1 and S2), and then each digger is paired off and works on their own 4 x 2 meter section of whichever trench they arassigned (mine is S2C).

So far, my trench partner Anne and I have found hundreds pottery shards, limestone floor tiles, stones from a Roman road, numerous animal bones and teeth (including a goats's jawbone with all teeth in tact) and glass. Other trench sections have yielded arrowheads, Roman blades, nails and imitation Greek pottery. We are still hoping to find more valuable things as we dig deeper, like Roman coins and "dolia" (large clay pots used to store perishables; also called "pythoi" in Greek).

During our snack break, we all walk back to the excavation house, a two-story red farmhouse with a tin roof that sits next to the site. Mihail and John use it to store all their tools, and there's also a working fridge in there and a skull which sits atop the fridge. There is a well in the back of the house that has really good quality water that's very cold. Everyone fills up their water bottles there, pours water over their heads (or on John...) to cool down. Our break last about 30 minutes, but sometimes longer on really hot days.

We also play with a stray dog who has found a home here at the site and with us. We named him Charlie, after a character from the TV show It's Always Sunny in Philedelphia. He is still very young, perhaps not even a year old, and he looks like a mix between a jack russel and a chihuahua. At first, he was very timid, maybe even a little bit afraid of us. But now he sits on the porch of the excavation house each morning, awaiting our arrival. As we open the van doors, he runs over to greet us. He is the sweetest dog, with lots of energy but when you pick him up he just completely collapses in your arms.

There are hundreds of stray animals here in Murighiol, and it breaks my heart to see how skinny some of them are. But I will be particularly heartbroken when we have to leave Charlie here. He too is quite thin, but we have been feeding him. We have really taken him as our own. When we first saw him, he had ticks all over his face and body and was pretty dirty. We took off the ticks and gave him a bath with well water and baby shampoo we bought from the general store. Allison and I just bought him a small sack of dog food while here in Tulcea. My trench partner Anne is really trying to arrange for Charlie to come home with her. But there's a process that requires a visit to the vet, and two weeks quarantine after he's in the US. We all have agreed to chip in as much as we can toward any expenses, so that Charlie can have a good home. It's quite possible he will die here otherwise. The odds are against him.

Our day usually goes as such: wake up around 6:45 a.m., eat breakfast at 7, take a quick van ride to the site at 7:30, fill up on water and put on sunscreen and bug spray at the house, then walk to the site carrying all tools and wheelbarrows, work till 10:30 (taking water breaks in between), break for snacks, then work till 1 p.m. Our van comes to pick us up at 1:30, lunch is at 2, dinner at 7:30, time in between and after is free.

I'm really enjoying working with everyone. The labor isn't easy, but we are encouraged to take water breaks whenever, and it feels so satisfying to see the hard work you've done (even if it has transmitted itself onto your skin and clothes). For those of you who are wondering, I have yet to go for a run or do any other exercise besides what we do on site. And, to be honest, I haven't felt the need (nor the energy) to do so. Everyone takes naps between lunch and dinner, and I've been sleeping like a baby at night.

Weekends are generally free but we have a few things planned this weekend. Tomorrow (Sunday) is the pilgrimage in celebration of the two saints which were found on site at Halmyris, so we all want to go to that. Instead of digging on Monday, we are all taking a two hour cruise to a beach resort across Purple Lake. I can't wait to go swimming!

Tour of Halmyris (7/2/2012)

I woke up at 6:45 this morning to get myself washed up and dressed for the day, before heading to breakfast with Allison, Andrea and Mihail at seven. Breakfast consisted of an egg omelet with veggies and bacon, a side of sliced fresh tomatoes and cucumber and homemade apricot jam and fresh butter with toast. Again, I feel bad speaking up about the bacon, so I just did my best to eat what I could of the omelet, while discreetly feeding the bacon pieces to a slim cat purring at my feet. The apricot jam, however, was fantastic. It wasn't too sweet, as some jams can be, and it tastes as fresh as ever. We also were served some kind of lemon, herbal tea (possibly mint) that was also delicious.

After breakfast, we took a five-minute drive to the archaeological site. We spent the next two hours walking around the site with John, who gave us a full history of its occupation.

You don't realize how vast it is until you really walk around everything and get a feel for what the fort was like in it's prime. The fort boasts visible ruins of six meter high walls with 13 towers and adjacent defense ditches and turf walls. In ancient times, the site lay on the bank of the southern arm of the Danube. But over time, the river moved north and the terrain around the settlement gradually silted. Miles of corn crop and wild canibis now grow where the river once flowed. When this essential element of the biotope became hardly accessible, the equilibrium environment deteriorated. From then on, Halmyris was vulnerable to attacks from barbarians, and the settlement was eventually abandoned sometime after 700 A.D.

Nevertheless, Halmyris was occupied for some 11 centuries, containing no less than 13 identified archaeological levels. But three main periods of occupation have been established; the native Geto-Dacian settlement, the early Roman fort and the late Roman fort.

Although John says the civilian settling outside the fort walls was most likely a poor one, where soldiers were the wealthiest class, the military part is so well built and fortified. There is a private bathhouse behind the walls as well as a basilica sponsored by Constantine the Great, who hired the best builders and muralists from Constantinople.

The site contains many mysteries, one of which includes the infamous "pits of hell," giant stone-built pit holes located far outside the fort, whose purpose has yet to be determined. There is also a secret tunnel in the bathhouse, which must be 15 meters deep and extends more than 30 meters underground. It is unknown where the tunnel ends because no one has braved the journey, although its built very well with supports still intact (most likely built by Roman soldiers). Some people think the tunnel connects to the "pits of hell," which may have been used as an escape route.

I learned a lot about Halmyris' history today, and it was nice to refresh my knowledge of Roman culture. Tomorrow, we start digging. And I. Can't. WAIT.

Welcome to Murighiol (7/1/2012)

The group met at 10 a.m. to take a four-hour bus ride to the village of Murighiol, where Halmyris is located. The bus didn't have air-conditioning nor functioning windows (apparently it's some kind of Romanian superstition to have more than one window open simultaneously).

Romania is a very flat land, and there wasn't much to see during the drive except for miles upon miles of bright yellow sunflower fields (which were quite stunning, actually). Sunflower seeds and oil are a popular commodity here. For those of you who have been to Greece, Romania looks very similar, but much poorer and without the hills. The village of Murighiol, where we are staying, is home to only a thousand people, and most of the houses are disheveled with thatched roofs. Some of the nicer-looking homes are stuck and have orange or grey tile roofing. The roads are unpaved, uneven dirt. There are stray dogs and cats everywhere, like Greece, and often people allow their farm animals to roam the village unattended. But since it is such a small town and everyone knows everyone, John says, if someone were to steal something or break into someone's home, the villagers would find out about it and could probably figure out who did it. So, crime as we know it isn't a problem here.

Myself and eight other girls are staying at Mihail's house, while the six boys and two remaining girls are staying in quaint cabins located just outside where we eat our meals each day. Dr. Mihail Zahariade is a sixty-two year-old Romanian archaeologist, who is head of the Romanian Institute of Archaeology. He and John are co-principal investigators for Halmyris. He is very sweet and hospitable, and speaks English well but very slowly. His house is quite nice in comparison to some of the other houses in the village. It's a ranch style, white stucco house with air- conditioning, a large unkempt garden and a wrap-around porch that overlooks Purple Lake. The house has the main part where Minail lives, with a kitchen and living room, ad then it has three unconnected bedrooms, each with two or three beds and a bathroom. I am staying in one of these three bedrooms with Allison, a senior archaeology major at Dickinson, and Andrea, a senior art history an classics double major at Weslyian.

After settling in, John gave us a quick tour of the village (its very small), and then we met up with Mihail for dinner.

As most of you know, I do not eat any meat, poultry or dairy products. And the word "vegetarian" (let alone "vegan") doesn't exactly exist here. Romanians are big on eating meat with every meal, and potatoes come with everything whether they're mashed, boiled or fried. Oh, and don't forget the beer. Lots of beer. Romanian beer has twice the amount of alcohol than in the states.

John and I have had a little trouble trying to explain to our cook, who doesn't speak English, what vegetarian means and why I can't eat anything that's cooked in butter. But I realize this is a situation where I need to be a bit more flexible, and so far I am just trying to be easygoing and eat what I can that's on my plate.

Otherwise, our meals are well-prepares and fresh. We are served breakfast and then two or three courses for both lunch and dinner.

After dinner, we all headed over to a sports bar to watch the World Cup final. Mihail and John were rooting for Italy, while the rest of us cheered on Spain as they won 4 - null.

It's been a long day of traveling and meeting new faces, and I know I will pass out the minute my head hits the pillow.