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In October by a wonderful orchestration of people and planes, I found myself in Athens with my husband and all my children for a short week together. In those few days we managed so see and do many things. One of the first was a day-long walking food tour in the Plaka which was so interesting and so much fun. We made a day trip to Delphi which left my daughter in tears, and another day trip to Aegina and the lovely temple of Aphaia. It is true that the Acropolis dominates Athens; you cannot escape it even if you wanted to. On our second night we found a restaurant in the Plaka beneath the Erechtheion. It was a lovely setting but Mary Chubb writes far more lyrically than I ever could about such an evening in Athens:. Quite near where we were sitting…the great rock, golden-crested with its splendid fragments, towered up into the last of the evening light. Just as when one looks wherever one happens to find oneself in Athens, for a glimpse of the Parthenon, and never fails to find it, whether sailing against the slow clouds or becalmed in a still blue sky, so the modern ways of Athens never seem to obscure or smother beyond recapture the feeling of continuity with her ancient glory. City in the Sand , p. It is not your usual tourist book or academic or archaeological treatise but something quite unique, quite special. On the Rock. They are the Greek marble workers who we may even consider the descendants of those who built the original Parthenon. Allyson, a sculptor herself, interviewed about fifteen marble masons and has found a way for us to read the very personal testimonies of the workers, their training, the details of the painstaking restoration work itself over more than thirty years. These are the people whom you may have seen yourself up on the scaffolding or among the column drums when you last walked on the Rock. I have never read anything quite like this. It was a lovely week in Athens and we all brought home various souvenirs as has always been the custom of travelers since Antiquity. This past summer I had the privilege of living out one of my dreams of visiting Greece. For as long as I can remember, traveling throughout Greece was my ideal adventure. Growing up my longing to see this country and to learn more about it guided me to become the Greek and Roman studies student that I am today. After instinctively taking an archaeology course, I fell in love with archaeology and was even more determined to leave Canada and explore this country and field that I had become enamored with. In May and June of all of my dreaming and planning had finally brought me to Greece. I enrolled in a travel history course with Carleton University and in the month of May traveled throughout the mainland. I stood in front of the monuments, of the artifacts, the history itself — and I cried from joy on more than one occasion. There I spent four weeks working on an archaeological dig site, a truly rewarding and life changing experience that only traveling abroad could have given me. Working on the dig site was a spectacular experience. It was exhausting, hard work, but also thrilling and incredibly fun. With the balance of work, traveling, and social outings, being at Argilos was one of the best aspects of my university experience. Argilos, an ancient Greek colony and trading hub, was occupied from the archaic to the Hellenistic period. This colony on the Thracian coast had varying levels of occupation until it was abandoned when Philip of Macedon took control of the area. The site has been excavated for many years, some of the major finds being long cobble stone roads and a series of early shops. This year the students participating in the dig such as myself further excavated a series of shops near this cobble stone road. The students were split up into teams, where in groups of four we excavated one shop. Three girls and myself were assigned Lot Four, a shop which had a large press. We worked there for four weeks, both on site and in the museum; digging, documenting, and cleaning and cataloguing the materials we found. At the dig site and in the museum, students worked under the supervision of Teacher Assistants who helped guide us and show us how to accomplish tasks. Although these supervisors were present, students were responsible for learning and doing all aspects of the work. For the first couple of days, we had to open the site, which meant clearing vegetation, sweeping up loose dirt, and taking measurements, elevations, and triangulations of the shop we would be excavating. When we did begin digging, it was like a dream! With Trowels in hand we would dig back layer after layer of soil, ensuring to keep detailed records of soil colour and any finds we made. Finding an artifact is definitely the most thrilling and rewarding part of this experience. Uncovering and handling an ancient artifact was beyond my expectations! When we needed to dig deeper, we would use pick axes, and sometimes shovels, all while ensuring we were keeping highly detailed on-site records. Digging is destructive. So these on-site records ensured that despite the destruction, we kept the provenience of artifacts, measurements, and other qualitative details that could be useful in the future. These tasks included setting up tools, sweeping, and clearing out buckets and wheel barrels of dirt. Doing these tasks and digging in our trench was highly physical and could easily feel taxing on the body. On the beach the high temperatures in Greece were welcomed, but on the dig site in over 30 degrees Celsius, the heat could get suffocating. However, the physicality of the work is part of archaeology! As long as one keeps hydrated and dresses appropriately, the heat is easily handled. Of course archaeology is hard work, but this makes it even more rewarding! Even though archaeology is hard work, we students still had lots of fun! During the four weeks, we lived in Asprovalta which was a smaller Greek city near Thesaloniki. This was a beautiful location with various restaurants, bars, and shops. All of the students lived in one of three apartment buildings, each being around a five minute walk to the beach and restaurants. After working at the site, we would spend siesta time either napping in our rooms, quietly enjoying the courtyards, or going to the beach. Beyond this, there were scheduled trips to sites, museums, and even to Thesaloniki and the island Thasos. On top of all of this, the entire time you are working, eating, and celebrating with some of your closest friends! I took the introduction to archaeology courses in taught by Marianne Goodfellow. Through this class, I was introduced to many incredible books and authors, and in my reading I found an extreme admiration for Mary Chubb. She was born in and passed away in , having lived a long and very interesting life. I read her first book Nefertiti Lived Here and instantly was intrigued by her writing style and story that brought her into the archaeological world. Mary talks of his death in the Epilogue to Nefertiti Lived Here. After reading her first book, I found her other less known but equally amazing book City in the Sand. This book gave me an appreciation for the archaeological world and the careers of people within it. In City in the Sand, Mary wrote a joyous, moving, beautiful account of her time in Mesopotamia. Her excitement for the finds and her curiosity pours off the pages as you read:. There was something particularly appealing to me in that dusty little hoard in the pot. It was the human touch again, a voice speaking down the ages, which I only heard when I saw and felt the small personal belongings of the ancient ones. This lapis lazuli seal had been turned, hour after hour, in a warm brown hand, while the patient tool etched and scraped and dug into its surface. This borer had once bitten down into the heart of the seal, whirling round under the same clever fingers that had been at rest now for years. City in the Sand, page Her gift for expressive description really gives way to how her deepening knowledge of ancient history develops throughout the book. You can feel the meaningful connections she makes with others on the excavation and the site itself throughout, and you are captivated right till the end. Mary discovered by chance the life of an archaeologist but an unfortunate bike accident soon left her unable to work in physically demanding places. Upon returning to England after World War 2, she lost her leg in a collision with an army vehicle. Mary then turned to writing about her experiences and the people and places she very much loved. Clare Goff An Archaeologist in the Making , Gertrude Bell Desert Queen , and Hilda Petrie Letters from the Desert are women of archaeology who present a background through literature and correspondence into such a challenging and fascinating field of work. There is no shortage of biographical and autobiographical literature that gives insight into the world of archaeology; we just need to pick the books up and read them! Mary herself encourages us to do so:. My hope that this book succeeds in passing onto its readers something of what my tenuous link with archaeology has meant to me — its frequent ups, its occasional downs — and, above all, its undeniable fun. City in the Sand , page You will feel the sand blowing against your face and the excitement of discoveries being made. This is a novel but also a story of travel through ancient landscapes. This new book about both Pliny the Younger and the Elder is on my summer reading list. This book published by Soberscove Press in Chicago is bilingual; the English text is followed by a Greek translation printed on Mediterranean blue paper. The photographs accompany only the English text. It was with much sadness that I recently learned of the death of Diane Wilson. Diane was one of the first students I taught when I came to Carleton as a lecturer in She was in a combined third and fourth year course on the Greek historians. I was told by the Classics chair, Ellenor Swallow, that Diane had only taken two years of ancient Greek and might need some extra help. In those days the Classics program was primarily a language one with just a few classical civilization courses to provide background. Many students came to Carleton with 4 or 5 years of Latin at high school and began reading unmodified Latin texts in their first year. Those were the days! There were four students in the historians course, all 4 th year, except Diane: Earl Docherty was an expert on the topography of famous Greek battles and brought his own maps to class; Winnie Frome had transferred for a year to Carleton from the University of Alberta; and Jacques Perret had had a sound classical education at high school. The class took place in a small room on the third floor of the library; a fourth floor was still under construction, but there was no back extension to the library. I therefore shared an office with the ever affable but redoubtable Terry Robinson, and Diane would regularly appear at our door in my office hours to go over some of the Greek she had found difficult. Thucydides speeches especially can be very challenging. Although she lacked a certain confidence because she had less Greek than the others, she had what I would call a steely determination. After she graduated in , as is customary with most students unless the goddess Fortuna intervenes, I heard no more from her — that is until She was introduced to her husband -to-be, Ron Tremblett, on a golf course in and they began living together in Diane played classical piano and had achieved grade 10 piano from the Royal Conservatory. She also began to enjoy travelling abroad and went to Russia and Egypt among other places. Do you remember her? Although she said that her Greek was a little rusty, now that she had retired, she would like to read some again. Occasionally she would say to me after class that some of the students seemed not to have a good grasp of English grammar. She also audited a couple of other classes of mine and became a regular attender of the annual, dramatic readings of Greek tragedy I directed from I had known for some time that Diane had ongoing health problems and I would phone her once or twice a year to ask how she was. She and Ron lived in Carp. I was in Europe in October last year when she died, and it was only with one of my infrequent phone calls in January that I heard the sad news from Ron. He had nursed her for many months in her last illness and, I know, was a great comfort to her. Diane had a sister Beverly to whom she was very close but who predeceased her. To Ron I offer our profound condolences. On one hand, he is presented as winning fame as a warrior, and his revenge as a heroic act. On the other, the revenge is treated as more morally dark, particularly when Orestes uses guile to commit matricide. In ll. I have never regarded myself as particularly eccentric, though this may cause laughter in some quarters. I might even accompany this reply with a swivel or a few steps of dancing. I could even contact one of my former Greek students, Lionel Doonan, who has become a professional ballroom dancer, to give me a few refresher lessons. Moreover, if they decide to do a remake of the film of Zorba The Greek, I might even try to get an audition as Zorba. After all, I would do anything — well almost anything — to get a free trip to Greece. The benefits of retirement can be considerable. I have more time to read and write and travel. These are turning into a bit of a shaggy dog story. Of course, the disadvantages of old age are palpable. Touch wood, my health has held up so far, though my girth, while not yet quite reaching Falstaffian proportions, needs constantly to be reined in like a recalcitrant child. In on my first sabbatical, I bought a wonderful leather belt, which I still possess, in the flea market at Athens. Alas, dear friends, I can no longer wear it but keep it out of nostalgia. Last year, in the Plaka at Athens, I had to buy a much larger one of lesser quality which, to my horror, is 7 inches longer. O Tempora! O Mores! I did not grow up with Thanksgiving, which is a New World festival. Clearly as a young man I had not given enough forethought to the future by seeing the benefits of spawning a large progeny to attend me in old age, and so it was only last year I became a grandfather for the first time. Do please feel free to address me in future as The Dom. Even better, if your budget should allow, offer to crack open a bottle with me. I can assure you it will be money well spent. Isolation and loneliness, in addition to health, are, of course, the great terrors of the elderly. I therefore organize, on a fairly regular basis, soirees at which at least half the guests have to be less than half my own age. But one does become more isolated. I have not taught a course at Carleton since December nor directed students in a Greek tragedy reading since In the first instance, I could not keep abreast with the new technology, when students asked that the lecture notes be put online. Since I used to adlib all beginning Greek classes with just the text in front of me, I would not know what to put online let alone how to do it. The play readings were a different matter. It became too much of a hassle, going to Carleton on the unreliable OC Transpo in the afternoon rush hour and winter weather and, then, occasionally finding actors not showing up for rehearsals. You are beginning to sound like a grumpy old man. One just has to turn up, give lectures without any bureaucracy and without having to do any marking. To my surprise I was asked to present myself for an interview before two young ladies. Discretion forbids me from guessing their ages. I thought things were going reasonably well, but suddenly I decided to pull out of a bag my teddy bear, Sebastian. Although I had thought that this might jolly things along by helping them relax, on reflection I think it was a mistake of strategic dimensions, since I failed to be hired. I either had to have him put down or bring him over as a refugee to Canada. His immigration status is pending. As a result of all this I visit Carleton more and more rarely these days and know fewer and fewer people — there are some exceptions. Some people, of course do dimly recognize me from somewhere, but they are not quite sure where. Rather than nodding I think I personally would prefer to go back to the age of Jane Austen when people showed greater civility and bowed to one another. I could have told them, but they never asked. After ten long years the Greeks would not have left a true and noble gift outside our gates. Yet there it stood, four-legged timber beast of sturdy form. I shivered at the sight and felt forewarned. Amongst themselves they argued loud and long. Brandishing bronze spears, encouraging Laocoon and by his thrust the wooden giant groaned. Its secrets held. We should have pushed and dragged it to the ridge, burst it in shattered gallop off the cliff! Did hubris hide our Trojan common sense? Could a cold and lifeless creature soothe our gods? King Priam pleased and flattered by Sinon drank up the lies. Singing, dancing, pouring wine I crept away convinced my trembling thoughts would hold no sway. By night Greek ships slunk back from Tenedos while Sinon spilt warriors from that equine womb. With my daughter I donned my cloak and ran, she must survive! Behind us smoke rose up with choking ash. Donations to the Friends of Greek and Roman Studies are gratefully accepted and receipts will be issued. Donations are used for departmental events and honoraria. Thank you for your past contributions. I wish to thank Charlotte, Melanie, and Colleen for taking the time away from their classes and studies to give us their personal contributions to this Newsletter. Thank you to Josh as always for his contributions. I am once again very grateful to them both. Marianne Goodfellow. Family photo in front of the Parthenon. Charlotte Rahme. Dig site. Mary Chubb. Josh Beer. Replica of Trojan Horse, Turkey.

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