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Wednesday, July 5
As much as it’s possible, the group has developed a routine. We rise at 4:00 AM, silently get our stuff together, then shuffle our way to the bus. The ride takes about 10 minutes. As we climb upward, it’s the last opportunity to reflect on what we signed up for. Take my word for it: the examined life isn’t always worth living. It’s best just to get off the bus, embrace the already-80 degree air, then mechanically put one foot in front of the other to make your way up the half-mile path. Once we arrive at the site, we raise the sun shade, gather our tools, and begin to move earth. Dirt and rocks go into the bucket, get tossed on the back dirt pile, then repeat ad nauseam. Below is my area at sunrise.
06:30 is a quiet celebration. It’s the beloved coffee break. The group leader extracts a camping stove, lights it, then spends the next few minutes boiling water. After it's done, he distributes shot-glass size cups. I’ve never been a coffee drinker, but I now love people who are. Their years of drug addiction results in me being able to do sweet, sweet nothing for about 10 minutes.
08:30 is another milestone: breakfast. Like everything in the field, it’s not free; there’s a cost you must weigh for each small pleasure. For example, do you want to sit in the pit while you dig? If so, you must constantly be vigilant for dirt and scorpions which can enter your pants in the most creative of places. The price for breakfast is a ¼ mile walk up the hill to the tourist center. A typical meal is a roll, cucumbers, and a hard-boiled egg.
On my walk back to my area, I heard an aircraft flying directly overhead. I love aviation and I can usually guess the type from the sound of the engine. However, this was one I had never heard before. I looked up and received a stark reminder that I wasn’t in Kansas anymore.
Thanks to my many visits to the Air Force Museum, I was able to identify it as a MQ-9 Reaper, a remotely piloted surveillance aircraft operated by the US Air Force and its allies. I had only seen one in the past, but I never heard one. Back home, there is little need to actively monitor the border between Ohio and Kentucky. Here, knowing what’s happening in Syria can mean the difference between life and death. The Reaper circled for about 30 minutes. I smiled and waved to make the best impression I could. However, I couldn’t help but remember that these are often armed.
11:30 is the call to clean up. It’s a welcome sound because the temperature has risen about 20 degrees and the sun is at full force. We collapse our tent, store our tools, and begin the long walk back to the bus. No matter how much I try to cover up, there is no hiding from the sun’s steady pressure on the back of my neck. The bus takes us to the kibbutz, where another decision gets to be made. Should I have lunch now, even though I’m sweaty and dirty? Or, should I shower first, then have lunch later? The answer may seem like an easy one, especially at home. Showering first means you can truly enjoy your meal. However here, the fresh shower is immediately negated by the sweat soaking you receive on the walk to the cafeteria. So, today, like every day, I eat filthy.
One final note: today was laundy day. But, like everything here, it didn't go according to my past experiences. Instead of individually marked bags, we took all of our dirty clothes, then threw them into one shared pile on the floor. The next day, we had to dig through everyone else's pants, t-shirts, and undergarments to extract what we believe was ours. Honestly, I don't remember if I had Fruit-of-the-Loom or Hanes. I did my best, but I secretly worry that I might now be wearing the house mother's underwear.
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