Greece – Blood on the Rocks

Now I am switching gears slightly. I left the rest of my food notes at work today, and my kitchen is being demolished today and tomorrow, so I can’t get up there to retrieve them until probably Friday. Therefore, you now get to hear the famous Goat Bone Story. Food will continue as soon as I get my notes. — Kate

Updated May, 2006 – I have added a picture of the infamous bandage! — Kate

Getting smoked in the head by a goat tibia is not a normal occupational hazard during archaeological fieldwork…but it happened to me all the same.

My very first day fieldwalking, I was out on Aaron’s team, with Jim, Monica, and Andy May. It took me a little while to get used to the terrain, the heat, the sun, counting paces and sherds and bags, and also to acclimate my eyes to looking for a completely different pottery than I am accustomed to observing. Things began to click after an hour or so, and I was really enjoying myself.

We were up on the crest of a hill overlooking Potamos, and in order to get there we walked around the edge of the valley around the village and climbed over a very rusty wire fence. There are fences like this all over the island (I think I ended up climbing over at least nine, the most memorable being the one which ended over a cliff and relied on a wooden pallet as an integral support member. In one happy event, there was actually a giant hole where a fence ended in mid-field, so we got to go around that one), ostensibly to keep the goats out, but I think the fences are just another physical manifestation of the more whimsical aspects of islander psyche.

In any event, tracts proceeded apace, we were making really good time and getting lots of ground covered. This was mainly because there wasn’t much there to find, but that is part of the point of doing a survey. One has to go there and record endless zeroes because then one has empirical evidence and one’s feet are well on the shining path of Scientific Truth.

During the course of the morning, I noticed that Jim and Aaron seemed to really enjoy lobbing small missiles at each other, usually with a comment like “Here’s another!” or “How about this!”. Since Jim was 15 metres to my left, and Aaron 15 metres to my right, I was very up close and personal with this somewhat baffling display. Apparently, Jim and Aaron worked together on the predecessor of this project, which was held on Kithera, and they used to enjoy grubbing up field onions and throwing them at each other. Now, the soil composition on Antikythera apparently makes the onions much more resistant to extraction, so small petrous projectiles (non-diagnostic sherds, rocks) were deemed an adequate substitute.

After breaking for lunch (See Greece – Food – Part 1 for more details about that famous first field lunch), we were getting ready to start again, pacing off our positions and taking the bearing. I had just sighted my bearing and had dropped my compass back around my neck when I saw a brief flicker out of the corner of my left eye past the brim of my hat, and then something hit me very hard in the head (Figure 1). I was quite impressed with myself, as I only experienced a brief flash of light, and momentary disorientation. As my eyes focused on the ground in front of me, I saw a goat tibia lying on the rocks. That seemed kind of strange, as I had noticed Jim playing with it a moment before. I lifted my head and looked over at him and he was doubled over, yelling “Oh my GOD! I am so sorry!” I smiled kind of ruefully (and thought he was a bit of an idiot), but no major damage seemed to have been done. The spot on my head stung a bit, so I rubbed the side of my head through my hat and then prepared to re-take my bearing, because I couldn’t remember which random rock or shrubby thorny blob I had sighted on.

Figure 1. Desired and actual flight path of goat tibia.

My hair was really damp with sweat, and kind of itchy, so I scratched my neck, and my hand came away all covered in blood. Fuck. I yelled over to Aaron and showed him my bloody palm, and then took my hat off. Immediately blood began raining in big fat drops off the ends of my hair and onto my shirt and trousers. Inside the crown of my hat, there was a significant pool of blood. Fuck again. I whipped out my bandanna and tied it around my head. Aaron ran over and I asked him if he had another bandanna, which he did. So I tied that one around over the first one, and put my hat back on for pressure.

I knew I had to go and probably get stitched up, so I told them I was going back to the hotel. Now I don’t know if they just were in shock, or didn’t think or whatever, but no one came with me back to the hotel. I think if I had lost consciousness or was dizzy then they would have sent someone with me, but who knows. They lined up and began to walk another tract, while I began the descent back to the hotel. I felt ok, a tiny bit dizzy in a couple spots but I don’t know if that was due to the heat, tiredness, not drinking enough water, or the injury. In any event, I had to pass through the village before I ascended to the hotel (Figure 2), so I figured if I did pass out, it would be right in the middle of the village, and someone would find me sooner or later. As I ascended the road to the hotel, I looked over and saw the team still on the ridge, so I think they did stay to watch and make sure I made it back safely. During the walk, I bled through the bandages and down my neck and shirt even more.

Figure 2. Where the incident occurred, and Kate’s path back to the hotel.

Upon arriving at the hotel, my first thought was to locate James, as I knew that the other director, Andy, was out with a team. The apotheke group was just finishing lunch as I arrived. They were at first a bit baffled to see me, because we weren’t due back until after 3:30, but then they saw the blood. I found this out after, but apparently they were very impressed at my sangfroid as I strode in, pale-faced, covered in blood and said “Is James around? I need stitches.”

James had just left not 10 minutes prior, so I asked if someone would take me down to the village and show me where the doctor’s office was. I actually walked right by it on my solitary march but since it was my first day, I had no idea where anything was. A girl named Jen took me down to the doctor (the Good Doctor), who was incredibly nice. She was excited to have a patient, as I think life on the island is relatively calm with few emergencies. She quizzed me 3 or 4 times about how it had happened, and the furrow of her eyebrows as she stared at me and wondered if she really was hearing what I was telling her, that it wasn’t a Greek-English translation issue set me off laughing. How ridiculous the whole thing must have sounded to her!

She froze the cut and gave me three stitches. She then wrapped my head in a horribly ugly bandage, which James later christened “The Comedy Bandage”, (I did allow him to take photographs of it, even though it is HORRIBLE. I will post them as soon as I receive them). And she sent me on my way, with a huge list of instructions. No fieldwalking for 7 days. Stitches out in 7 days. No getting the cut wet. No swimming. No being out in the sun. No washing hair for 48 hours. Keep covered in gauze for 3 days. If I have headaches, dizziness, or anything weird, see her immediately. Take antibiotics for 5 days. Put iodine ointment on it for days 4-7.

Figure 3. Comedy Bandage – photo by James Conolly.

I then went back to the hotel, washed out my hat and the two blood-soaked bandannas and then lay down for a while. In the interests of full disclosure, I have to admit that I was feeling a little sorry for myself at this point. All I could smell was the drying blood crusting in my hair, I had a ridiculous bandage, the cut was alternating stinging and throbbing, and the two people I know best are both not around for tea and sympathy.

Not to mention, it was my freaking first real day on the island, and I didn’t even make it to 1:30pm before being taken off the field. That was the part that really irritated me about all of it, was that it wasn’t even my fault! Being collateral damage sucks. So I sent myself to my room for an hour and a half pity party, which involved staring at the television suspended over my head and Stage 1b Moping.

At some point, the teams came back, and there was a knock at my door.

I wasn’t mad at Jim, more just baffled about the whole throwing things while fieldwalking concept. I know that if I had ever done that in the field school run by Susan at Trent, my ass would have been handed to me on a silver platter. If there is one thing I learned from my time at Trent it is “Don’t fucking throw things at other people.”

So how did this all play out? Some highlights:

That afternoon I went down to the beach while Libby, James and Sach went for a swim. I waded, which isn’t swimming. Technically. I had my hat on, so I wasn’t in the sun. Technically. Of course, as I am down there violating the letter but not the spirit of the Good Doctor’s rules, she walks right by me. I was so very busted. The Good Doctor just asked how I was feeling. There’s a reason she is called the Good Doctor.

By the second day, I couldn’t stand the abattoir reek any longer, so I begged for someone to help me wash my hair. Due to the location of the cut, I couldn’t really wash my hair myself, because I couldn’t see to keep the water away from the stitches. James volunteered, which spawned a deeply funny conversation, the gist of which was: “James, when we met each other (at a barbecue at a Professor’s house to welcome James to Trent), did you ever think that a year later you would be washing dried blood out of my hair while on a survey project in Greece????”

I didn’t follow most of the Good Doctor’s instructions, but I did get the stitches taken out a week later by the replacement Bad Doctor (Good Doctor left for her summer break), who didn’t believe that it had been 7 days and wasn’t going to take the stitches out. I told her she had to because they were getting healed over. It hurt like a bitch when she ripped them out because they had gotten really adhered.

Jim was so contrite he bought or offered me beer and ice cream every night at supper until he left the island.

So, I have a pretty scar, and a funny story to tell at parties, no?