J had been telling me many stories over the years we dated about his travels in the Middle East, and especially about the archaeological dig he had been participating in over the past ten years. Since his first trip in 1984, he had been "promoted" to assistant director at the Abila dig (most likely because he had been one of only a handful of guys who had kept returning year after year, and did the director's bidding), and so because of that the director of the dig, Dr. Harold Mare, paid
J's airfare plus waived his dig fee. Dig fees could be anywhere from $1000 to $2000, and went to support the dig (which would be typical on any dig in the Middle East). Supposedly the money went towards your food and camp lodging, but that was always questionable at Abila, as life there had been reduced to its lowest terms. (In order to place it geographically, Tell Abil is located in the northern most tip of Jordan, about three miles from the Yarmuk River valley, a very deep gorge which forms the modern border between Jordan and Syria. Abila is mentioned in the New Testament as being one of the ten cities of the Decapolis, but is known in modern times for its spring, which is called
Quweilbah.) Archaeological digs rely very heavily on volunteers who are interested in participating for a variety of reasons. Most are seminary students, or students of biblical studies, anthropology, geography, ancient history, art history, or really, just about any discipline that might touch on the history, culture, politics, language, geography, or geology of the Middle East. However, not just students want to dig. Old priests (we had one, Father Leo, from WV who was about 90!), gay priests (I say this because I swear another particular
Father on this dig was gay--he always brought some young, hot gay guy(s) with him every season!), your average religious lay person, and even non-religious very rich older women who have a lot of extra money to throw away and who want some adventure and/or meaning in their lives all want the experience of digging in the Middle East (you guessed it-we had one of these too, as does probably every dig). Okay, so just about anyone, really, who has the time and the money and is not afraid of flying can find their way to a dig Me? I just wanted to go in order to be with my new husband of eight months. I had no particular interest in the Middle East, or in any desert region for that matter! Nor did I have any particular interest (as of yet) in Jordan as being part of the Holy lands. Well, I was
sort of interested in Petra, as I always thought, until I learned better, that I might have to escape and hide there during the end times (and believe me, that's a whole other story! I was raised in this wacky occult religion run by Herbert W. Armstrong.
Please. Don't get me started on that!). Okay, where was I going with all this? Oh yeah, I mostly just wanted to go to anywhere in Europe, but now that I think about it, how adventurous would that have been?
J thought it was hilarious that
he, a regular Protestant guy, would be the one to take me to Petra for the first time, and we would just walk in and walk out, and the world would still be going on as usual!
Well, like I mentioned earlier, money would be our biggest obstacle, not for him so much, but for me, and so we would have to wheel and deal with ol' Dr. Mare, who was a notorious miser.
J felt like he owed him his entire academic career up to that point, but still we had to ask if he would
pleeease waive my dig fee, and maybe pay some of my airfare too,
pleeease!
J was not only a little afraid of Dr. Mare (who was around 70 years old), but there was this whole gang of really old guys (crotchety "gerriatric" academics) at this dig that had been controlling Dr. Mare's perception of how things should be run at Abila, and
J was extremely intimidated by them (he had loads of horror stories about them as well), and had me scared to death too.
J had also drilled it into my head that life on this dig would be no picnic, providing me with every minute detail of the conditions under which we would eat, drink, sleep, shower, pee, poop, and yes, dig! He didn't want me saying that he hadn't warned me. And so, thus, we would use the term "honeymoon" very loosely.
