Got me a car, then, and surprise! - it's the same as last year. Not just the same make and model, the same, identical car. Plus a few extra scratches.

Went out to do some running around Aredhiou, where access to the mountains is seemingly the easiest; because before you know it, you're halfway up the Troodos. Oops. Ran into another little lithic scatter, which was great - there are a couple of essential things I'll need to change in my interpretations from the last few papers, as I'm starting to understand what people were doing in certain places and why they were not in others, and that's pretty much all I could expect from this season. But I do love how I can look at an aerial photograph, or even just a map with geology and hydrology layers on top of the topography, and tell you where a site will be. "Site," of course, remains this dubious entity created by archaeologists unaware of, or not interested in, the landscape approach and ephemeral hunter-gatherer activity, but I feel confident enough in what we have seen so far to call a lithic scatter a site, to call a Johnny that consists of more than a single piece of chert a site. A quarry is a different matter, and that's where Carole's and my approach to definition differ - hers is a technological one, defining quarrying activity by the presence of primary reduction materials, while mine requires at least the presence of locally outcropping raw material to qualify (we always clash about Politiko Kamaras, where I can't see any source to justify the material). But that's for another time to disect.

Just did a bit of hiking around today, as I couldn't really face any more archaeology and needed some time to think. As I left the car, with its little note with my phone number and a "Be Right Back" to ensure any potential passerby that I didn't just dump a stolen car by the side of the road (see last year's exciting event of receiving a phone call from the rental agency while I was on top of a mountain), I had all this anger stored up inside me that wanted to get out, that needed either a mountain-top scream or some peace and quiet to dissolve. So I walked, straight south, seeing nobody, hearing nothing but the wind and some distant farm noises, and I got most of it out of me. I don't even know where it came from this time. It's been a good week - reading up on a lot of things, making sense of old publications and their usefulness in my current research, feeling confident about shaking my head at some interpretations of the old literature; going to the beach, too. On top of that, I've been getting some informal lessons in geomorphology from Jay, who is probably way too patient with my desperate attempts to get my head around those complex processes of landscape change. Awesome guy. He took me out to the Karkotis Valley, where he was going to study a section and grab some charcoal for C14, and explained the entire landscape to me. The amount of stuff that I learned in this one day surpasses almost everything I learned in terms of archaeology in the last year. Seriously. He also offered me detailed GIS contours, rivers and geology for the entire project study area, which will finally allow me to do some serious data manipulation (once I manage to build that DEM I'll need to get started...), and added all sorts of useful extension and extra software that might come in handy. And he's just a really nice guy. So I've been positive recently, feeling pretty good about research, about my place in it, and about the decision to give it all up for the greater good (my greater good - because it still kills me a little every day); the anger was surprising.

But after climbing up a pretty steep cliff (the word slope is probably not even appropriate anymore at 75%) just to get to the top of a hill (and facing a potential 50m fall to the bottom every step of the way), it was all good. The views were amazing (pictures another day). I never understand people who judge the climbing of a mountain for the sake of climbing a mountain as a futile exercise - if it's not the views or the challenge of the ascent that make it worth it, the necessity to focus every thought on not falling to one's death is a very cleansing experience. Nobody forces you to do it, in any case.

I found a randomly crashed smiley-face kite in the middle of nowhere. Made me laugh. I wish Google Earth could pick that up.

Off to Paphos tomorrow morning to see Carole. Will finish up some image work, share some pictures (including the one of me being covered in yellow ochre - which makes me look fake-tan orange - and crouching on the biggest piece of umber I've ever encountered - it's a sight!), and go and see Alan's site at Ais Yiorkis. Maybe pop up to Aspros if there's time and interest. I'll probably get horribly lost.

Back on Sunday!

В утренних новостях, главный метеоролог Москвы сказал, что грозы, последние несколько дней бомбящие город, носят небывалый тропический характер. Солнце, жара, духота, и очередной заход рваной тучи на удар с пикирования.

Канун своего дня, Перун, отмечает с размахом, от души.  Молнии разрывали ночную тьму прямо напротив моего балкона: сначала холодный протяжный треск, и через мгновение — плотный, мощный удар грома в лицо. Так предок отвечает на приветствие потомка. В эти моменты я сам удивляюсь своей странной, безумной, дикарской радости. Трепещите подлецы, сплетники и трусы! Это не просто эйфория, это восторженное буйство души. Понимаю, что игра с грозой не шутка, но всё же, как хорошо!  Самое время рассказать  о Громовом Доме.

 
***

 

Макариха,  вид с севера

 ( Смотрим и читаем дальше )

Originally published at still a ways away. Please leave any comments there.

It would probably be undiplomatic to save my latest communique with the Internal Revenue Service as “anotherfuckinglettertothefuckingIRS.doc,” particularly given that I print the filename and path at the bottom of all my business correspondence.

I am, however, tempted to do so.

telophase

Which of the following recent pilot seasons to I want to check out, as they are hitting DVD?