So, the conversation that ensued in the exploding comments section on her wall, was over whether the word “girl,” really needs to be abandoned completely, in the workplace or out. Interestingly, it was the men in the audience who said that it was a bad word, and the women who were fighting to keep it.

Now, I went to a women’s college, which we indeed objected to being called a “girls’ school,” because it made it sound like we were going to Miss Porter’s and were studying to get our “M.R.S.” degrees. Despite this, many, if not all, of us individually proudly called ourselves “girls,” and our school’s unofficial slogan was “There ain’t no bitch, like a Bryn Mawr bitch,” while we proudly wore t-shirts emblazoned with the luxury car logo, and the phrase “B(ryn) M(awr) W(oman): the Ultimate Striving Machine.”

E.B. White wrote an essay about us once, the famous passage which we all memorize being, “I have known many graduates of Bryn Mawr. They are all of the same mold. They have all accepted the same bright challenge: something is lost that has not been found, something’s at stake that has not been won, something is started that has not been finished, something is dimly felt that has not been fully realized. They carry the distinguishing mark – the mark that separates them from other educated and superior women: the incredible vigor, the subtlety of mind, the warmth of spirit, the aspiration, the fidelity to past and to present. As they grow in years, they grow in light. As their minds and hearts expand, their deeds become more formidable, their connections more significant, their husbands more startled and delighted. I once held a live hummingbird in my hand. I once married a Bryn Mawr girl. To a large extent they are twin experiences. Sometimes I feel as though I were a diver who had ventured a little beyond the limits of safe travel under the sea and had entered the strange zone where one is said to enjoy the rapture of the deep.” — E.B. White

Do you really get the impression that White thought being a “girl” was somehow demeaning? No! Hell, I want to be that girl. She sounds amazing, something to aspire to. And why can’t we be girls and women at the same time? E.B. White certainly didn’t see a problem with it.

In social media, my persona is “Girl Archaeologist” and in real life my favorite t-shirt reads, “My marxist feminist dialectic brings all the boys to the yard.” I freely admit to being a feminist. I see nothing wrong with it. I am a feminist because it has never once occurred to me in my life to think that I couldn’t do something because of my gender or sex or sexual orientation, and I abhor the thought that others might labour under that misapprehension about themselves.

All my life I’ve worked in comic book stores, video game companies, union technical theater crews, and professional archaeology crews – all situations where I was lucky if the male:female ratio was better than 8:1, and I have never once altered my behavior or my language for the sake of my male colleague’s sensibilities, but then again, I’ve also been told that I just acted like one of the “guys,” whatever the hell that means. If they had treated me differently for being a girl, because of some perceived mental or emotional deficiency, I probably would have socked somebody, but if someone offered to carry the extra heavy piece of truss during a stage breakdown or take a pickaxe to a particularly stubborn excavation unit I saw no problem with that (I’m not an idiot, they’re bigger than I am!), as long as I still got to drive the truck. Which I did, because I was a better a driver than any of them.

So, yes, I AM a girl. I like being a girl. I’m also a woman. And I’m a feminist. And I’m a bitch. Those are MY words, and you can’t have them, so what are YOU going to do about it?

Even more exciting in my view was that this story wasn’t about some new discovery. New excavations are of course important and exciting, but there’s plenty of material that has already seen the light of day that sits in museums or warehouses, or that stands in archaeological parks or completed excavations sites slowly being  sucked back under the earth by erosion and plant growth, that archaeologists work every day to say new things about: new theories that attempt to explain how those people who came before us lived and thought. Its no longer the 19^th century, and archaeologists don’t simply seek to describe, we seek to understand, and so we build models and theories to explain what we see in the data. These theories are really the most important thing that archaeologists do, and certainly what we spend the most time thinking about.

But that’s where the problem come in – A theory is just that: A theory.

This week the internet was swept with stories concerned a large stone tower found at the site of Jericho in Israel. Built during approximately 11,000 years ago, the tower has nothing to do with Biblical Jericho (its arguable whether Iron Age Jericho did either, some day maybe I’ll talk about that, too!), but was instead a major structure associated with a large Neolithic village.  The tower was excavated in 1952 by Dame Kathleen Kenyon (one of the all-time great archaeologists, and oh by the way, she was a woman), and has been a subject of much debate and analysis ever since.

The tower itself is indeed an imposing and remarkable construction. Built entirely of uncut stone, it is nearly 9 meters in diameter and stands preserved to a height of over 7 meters (nearly 28 feet), though its original height remains unavoidably unknown. Its current size, including the associated wall, it would have taken 100 men 100 work days to build, a more than significant investment in time and labour, and arguably the most energy-consuming structure built up to that point in history (of which we know, of course). Through the center of this tower is a staircase allowing access to the top, which was found stuffed full of bodies – 12 to be precise – though it was clear that these were not part of the towers original purpose, as at the time they were interred, the passage through the base of the tower was almost completely filled with soil. The tower was also rebuilt at least twice, as can be determined by two successive “skins” or outer layers of stone, added most likely at times that the town walls were being reconstructed. The tower and settlement were abandoned after only a few centuries of use, and the next settlement wasn’t built on the site for another 2000 years, sometime in the early 7^th millennium B.C.E.

Dame Kenyon’s original interpretation was that the tower was a defensive structure, connected as it was with the walls that encircled the village. Later scholars, including O. Bar-Yosef, thought this unlikely, since the tower is actually inside the walls, whereas a practical defensive structure might be expected to jut out from the walls, giving a good view and angle of attack for defenders. Also, there’s no evidence for any kind of inter-site conflict during this period, so Bar-Yosef theorized that the walls and ditches were built as defense against flooding, not attack. The tower he suggests was instead used for ritual activities or served as some other central focus for the community. Danny Naveh, in 2003, took a more anthropological approach to interpreting the tower and other monumental features of early Neolithic Jericho. He put forward the idea that the tower (and walls) were built as signs of power, on the one hand to people not outside the village at a sign of power and control over the local territory and natural resources, and on the other hand, as a message to the inhabitants of the village of new social distinctions and power within the community, a daily reminder that someone within the community had enough influence to martial the manpower to build such an imposing structure.

So this week the public learned not of these theories, but of a new one recently published by Roy Liran and Ran Barkai, two scholars from Tel Aviv University, in the major archaeological journal, Antiquity. These researchers discovered using computer models that on the solstice the shadow of a nearby hill would have hit the top of the tower first, before engulfing the rest of the settlement. They’ve hypothesized that the tower was therefore built both as a time-keeping device and as a magical guardian against the darkness of winter, while serving as a monument connecting the settlement to the sky and land. Whatever person or persons who mobilized the population into building the tower may have used the people’s fears as motivation.

Now, I study ideational or cognitive landscapes (i.e. what people think of their landscape and how they understand how it works in relation to them and their society), so I actually think this is a pretty cool theory. I’m not sure I’d go quite as metaphysical as they did but still, it’s a pretty awesome theory, and I think it’s great (a bit weird, but great!) that MSNBC, CBS, and other news outlets have decided to report on this fascinating piece of archaeological theorizing.

The important thing to remember, though, is that it IS just theorizing. It is based on evidence, so its more than mere speculation, but its still just an idea. Nothing has been proven, no great mystery has been securely and confidently solved.  So why the ridiculous headlines? MSNBC declares, “Jericho mystery solved: It was a tower of power” and that “Archaeologists reach conclusion,” even though two paragraphs in, the quotation from the actual researchers begins, “We suggest…” SiFy titled their article, “Archaeologists solve tower of Jericho puzzle?” Perhaps the question mark is supposed to make it better? And several other stories inform us that, “Jericho Tower Was A Monument To Intimidation,” which interestingly isn’t the main thesis of the current investigators, but that of Naveh, published 8 years ago, and which again is just a theory.

All of these news articles try to tell us that the “mystery has been solved” that somehow the case is closed, and we now know just what the tower at Jericho was all about. And really, we don’t. We don’t know what it was all about, because we can’t go back in time and ask these people what is was all about, but we have some pretty good ideas. And honestly, most of the researchers if asked, would probably agree that the complete story is most likely some combination of these ideas. Humans aren’t simple creatures, and we rarely just have one thought about something: the story is –always- multifaceted. And archaeologists are just trying to get a better understanding of that story. Is there some reason why we can’t just tell the public that?

In conclusion, I leave you with one of my favorite quotes from the French writer and philosopher Voltaire:

“Doubt is not a pleasant situation, but certainty is absurd.”

Bar-Yosef, O. “The Walls of Jericho: An Alternative Interpretation,” in Current Anthropology, Vol. 27, No. 2 (Apr. 1986), pp. 157-162.

Kenyon, K.M. 1957. Digging Up Jericho. London: Ernest Benn.

Liran, R. & R. Barkai, “Casting a shadow on Neolithic Jericho.” Antiquity Online Project Gallery. http://www.antiquity.ac.uk/projgall/barkai327/

Naveh, D. “PPNA Jericho: A Socio-Political Perspective” in Cambridge Archaeological Journal, Col. 13, No. 1 (Aug. 2003), pp. 83-96.

But my brother-in-law bought Assassin’s Creed II instead, because he wanted to run around Renaissance Italy, a period and location that both he and my sister are familiar and fond of, which I respect. Its fun to run around a simulation of place you’ve been in real life, particularly if its a good simulation, which AC II most certainly is. So for the past two days I’ve been watching him run around a stunningly well-depicted Firenze, with his Mom who is also visiting and who recently biked through the region pointing out landmarks, even the building that she stayed in. He’s racing through the game, because he really wants to get to Venezia, where he and my sister went last year for Carnival, at which point I expect his critique of the game to increase exponentially, though so far he seems quite pleased.

Now, when I play games I never race through them. I fit so squarely within the “explorer” paradigm of game players that I don’t even bother playing any sort of game on rails. They drive me bonkers. And while I watched him running through the streets of Florence, as I had previously watched friends run through the streets of Jerusalem in the previous installment of this series, all I wanted to do was grab the controller out of his hands and search all the nooks and crannies he was ignoring. And I was also thinking about how incredibly cool it would be if they set one of the Assassin’s Creed games in Cyprus.

Obviously, I’m partial to Cyprus. One might even say unfairly biased. I’ve worked there on two different excavations and two different surveys, as well as basing my Master’s thesis on the Bronze Age mortuary landscapes of the island, and spending a good chunk of time in the lovely Ottoman period mansion that now serves as the Cyprus American Archaeological Research Institute in Nicosia. In total I’ve spent nearly 6 months on Cyprus, and in that time I’ve managed to squeeze in a fair bit of a sightseeing, and Cyprus is the island for it, most particularly for the periods addressed in the Assassin’s Creed mythos. Forgetting the amazing archaeological sites that stretch from the far recesses of prehistory through the Roman period, the island is littered with Crusader castles, monasteries, and venetian walled cities. Not to mention major holy sites that the folks back then loved to squabble over (oh, wait that hasn’t changed much, has it?) including the burial place of Lazarus (the second time he died, I guess Jesus wasn’t around to bring him back) and of the prophet Mohammed’s wet nurse, Umm Haram, who fell off a donkey in a battle during the Arab invasion of Cyprus in the 7th century.

Agios Lazaros Church in Larnaca, Cyprus

Hala Sultan Tekke, the Mosque of Umm Haram

None of this is surprising if you look at a map! If somebody feels like invading or controlling the Holy Land, Cyprus is THE place to stage yourself. Heck, the same holds true today, with nearly 15% of the island designated as British military bases, and with the Turkish army having invaded as recently as 1974, leaving the island a divided political and strategic nightmare.

Particularly as befits the Assassin’s Creed series, the Templars spent some time on Cyprus after Richard I of England (the Lionheart) sold them the island after the Third Crusade. The Templars set up their base of operations in the city of Limassol, but they didn’t fare so well there either, and after a rather bloody insurrection on Cyprus in addition to their loss of the island of Arwad off the coast of Syria to the Egyptian Mamluks, they also took flight, selling the island to the Guy de Lusignan, in 1192, who was pretty much homeless after having lost Jeruslaem in 1187, being denied entry to Tyre in 1190, and failing to win the siege of Acre in 1191. Cyprus remained a crusader kingdom in the hands of the Lusignan family until 1489.

Kolossi Castle, built 1210, home of the Hospitaller Knights

St. Hilarion Castle, summer home of the Lusignan kings

The last queen of the Kingdom of Cyprus was the Nobil Donna, Caterina Cornaro. Her father had been a Patrician of Venice, and had produced four Doges. Her husband, James II (‘the Bastard’) died shortly after their marriage, and after her son died under suspcious circumstances, she became sole ruler of the island, but in 1489 she was forced by the ruling merchant class to abdicate her sovereignty to the Republic of Venice. It is reported that she and her former subjects wept when she was forced to leave the capital, which by this time had been moved from Limassol to Nicosia.

The Venetian fortifications still stand around Nicosia

The Venetians rebuilt the fortifications of the Lusignans as well as many of their own during their reign which would last less than 100 years, as they were deeply hated by their Cypriot peasants who supported, almost gleefully, the successful Ottoman invasion in 1570.

So what’s my point here? My point is that Cyprus during the Middle Ages was awesome. The architecture is stunning, and a lot of it is still standing! The politics of the period are as convoluted and fascinating as one could wish, perfect fodder for a game about assassins and intrigue. Free running through Limassol or Larnaca or Nicosia? Awesomeness. Racing up and down the cliffs and tiny back hallways of St. Hilarion? Trying to save (or kill) the Black Prince? Defend the monarchy from the avarice of the venetian merchants? Or running your own merchant vessels out of Kyrenia and Famagusta harbours? Protecting your castle from inevitable sieges, while building up your salt mines or sugar cane plantations? So many cool options, the mind simply boggles!

So, the day after I had the brilliant idea, I was milling around the kitchen while simmering a nice pumpkin curry for lunch when I picked up the January 2010 issue of Game Informer, to discover that someone had done it already. Seriously. There’s a new PSP game called Assassin’s Creed: Bloodlines, that takes place on Cyprus. Only problem is that apparently it sucks. Combat sucks, plot development is poor (how?! Its Cyprus for god’s sake! Who were your writers?!?!), you only get to visit Limassol and Larnaca (no Nicosia? or Famagusta? What crack were you smoking and did you bother to do any kind of real location research?) and well, its on the PSP which is ALWAYS a bad idea. Epic fail. I’m totally bummed.

There was a lot of news today on a subject directly related to this: the lifting of a 9-ton red granite slab from the its resting place on the seabed in the harbour at Alexandria. This particular massive block of stone is believed to have come from a temple built by Cleopatra VII (that would be the Cleopatra, the one who ousted her brother, fooled around with Caesar, and then backed the wrong horse with Marc Antony). Archaeological work has been going on in the harbour since 1994, but nothing has been removed from the water since 2002. This was for good reason: the Egyptian archaeological authorities simply didn’t have the resources to deal with the conservation of artifacts and architecture from an underwater excavation.

The BBC reported that it was because the removal might damage them, which is only sort of true. The actual process of removal, like any excavation, is unlikely to damage the items if done with care. It’s really what happens afterwards thats the problem. The Associated Press article correctly reports that the salt in the seawater is the cause for concern, but in an impressive misunderstanding of science, they claim that when the object is in the water the salt acts as a preservative. This really isn’t true. Salt actually has very little effect on most types of material while they are submerged in seawater, except for the indirect effect it has on the how much oxygen there is present in said seawater. An ancient ship sunk in freshwater can be just as well-preserved as one in salt water. But, likewise, the salt doesn’t do any harm.

Think about it: when you dissolve a spoonful of salt in a glass of water it “dissolves,” and vanishes. What’s really happening is that “salt”, i.e. sodium chloride, is what in chemistry is also called a “salt,” which is an ionic compound resulting from a neutralization reaction of acids and bases. In the case of Sodium Chloride (NaCl), or table salt, one atom of sodium, with a single positive charge (Na+), is neutralized by a single atom of chlorine, with a single negative charge (Cl-). When in solution (i.e. dissolved in water), the sodium and chlorine ions interact with the water (H2O) which actually exists in a partially ionized state itself (H+ and OH-). Basically, all the ions are floating around together, neutralized, stable, and happy. But when the water is removed, say for example by evaporation, the sodium and chlorine ions are left on their own, and in a panicked effort to stabilize themselves they link up, and they happen to link up in an orderly fashion, which is what produces crystals. This orderly crystalline structure that the ions aline themselves in is sort of like an open-lattice, so it also takes up way more room in crystalline form than it did when it was just a bunch of little individual ions.

This whole process isn’t so much of a problem when it happens on the surface of something. When you go to the beach and go swimming and then fall asleep in the sun, you just wake up with a thin layer of salt crystals all over your body, which you can just brush off with a towel. But when an object is porous and all the water evaporates from inside it, the salt will crystallize wherever it happens to be and that includes inside the porous object. And in reality, just about everything is porous if you leave it sitting in water for several hundred years. Even granite. And when those ions form up into their surprisingly strong lattice crystalline structure, where they take up way more room than they used to, the resultant salt crystals will push on and possibly even break apart the material that they’re forming inside. Even granite.

So what this means is that if you were to pull an object out of the sea that’s been saturated with saltwater, say a giant slab from the pylon of Cleopatra VII, and then just let it sit in the sun to dry out, little salt crystals would form all over the inside of the stone, and it could quite possibly crumble into a heap of dust. This would be why the Egyptian government didn’t want people pulling things out of the harbour at Alexandria. Fortunately there is a reasonably simple solution to this problem. If you take the object that has been saturated in seawater and soak it for several months in rotating baths of fresh water, the salt can be leached out of the object until it is sufficiently desalinated and safe to allow it to dry. Such will be the fate of this carved granite block, which took three days to drag to safety away from the shipping lanes and close enough to shore for a crane to pull it out of the sea, only to be put back into a giant tank of water.

So, what does this have to do with liminality? The word “liminal” comes from the Latin, limen, meaning “threshold” or “doorway”, and in the early 20th century entered anthropological discourse in Arnold Van Gennep’s seminal work, Les rites de passages. In this work liminality is presented as the second of the three stages a person passes through in a rite of passage: Preliminary (separation), Liminal (transition), and Postliminary (reintegration). The liminal phase is characterized by ambiguity and paradox, during which the participant exists simultaneously to both the preliminary and postliminary states and to neither.

This is a great metaphor to consider a harbour with. A harbour is the physical embodiment of a doorway or threshold for a city or civilization. The ships and people who pass through it belong both to their home ports and to those that they visit, while also having no home at all. The harbour is of the sea and of the land, but is also its own thing, and the harbour at Alexandria is no exception.

Berth for the world’s great fleets, former site of mighty palaces and temples, crossroads of the Mediterranean, center of trade, war, and knowledge, the harbour has seen history pass, and it now holds in its depths the remains of that history, the detritus of history trapped in its own liminal state, having both passed out of time and memory, but also preserved, not truly allowed to fade. And this one block (9 tons of carved red granite), of this temple (to the goddess Isis), built by this queen (Cleopatra, perhaps history’s most famous), has finally escaped its liminal state in the murky depths of the harbour…

…only to enter another liminal state, stuck in a tank of fresh water in a conservation lab, thanks to being submerged in salt water for 2000 years. Thankfully, this one should be a lot briefer.

Links:
BBC News – Egypt lifts huge ‘Cleopatra temple’ block from sea
Monument lifted from Cleopatra’s underwater city

The problem with being a grunt in the dendro lab is that you get to work on the material that no one else wants to. When I worked in the lab the post-docs and full-time researchers all had their own personal projects, and the students in the dendro course were given some choice in what kind of material to work on for their final projects. This left for the techs the samples that were hard to work with, boring (there are only so many cedar cores you can read from Cyprus before you want to gouge your eyes out), or… the wood from Yenikapi.

For the past three years the lab at Cornell has been flooded with samples from Yenikapi. The lab techs don’t get told too much about the samples that they are working on. Its just another piece of wood that has to be prepped appropriately, stuck underneath a microscope, and have each of its rings read and recorded in the computer to the precision of 1/100,000th of a meter. That’s 100ths of a millimeter. But even when we didn’t know what Yenikapi meant, me knew what having to work on Yenikapi meant.

See, there are four main kinds of wood that come into a dendro lab. First are your samples from living or recently deceased trees. Theses are cores or slices, usually in really good condition, that just need to be mounted and then sanded to a beautiful mirror finish before they can be read. Second are cores or slices taken from older decease trees… these might come from the wood used in a historical building or from an artifact like a piece of furniture, a coffin, or even the wood panel backing to a Rembrandt. Likewise these must be mounted and sanded, but often the wood isn’t in as good condition and the samples can be smaller and more fragile. The third and fourth categories of samples are the types found in archaeological or paleontological contexts, as they are ancient wood that has been somehow preserved. The third category is burnt wood, or charcoal, as once the wood has been reduced to carbon it usually doesn’t decay any further, unless it is damaged by water or impact (microscopic flakes of burnt wood can’t have the rings read!). The charcoal is wrapped with cotton string and masking tape to stabilize it, and then a clean surface is prepared for reading with a razor blade. The fourth and final category of sample is wet wood. Yenikapi is wet wood.

When wood or other organic material is submersed in water it doesn’t decay the same way it would on land, as there is no oxygen present. However, wood usually isn’t submersed in perfectly clear distilled water, and the salt, other chemicals, and biological agents found in the water have a definite effect. This is why sunken ships and old piers last so long, even for thousands of years, but not forever. The wood becomes dark and discolored, the structure of the wood becomes completely saturated and spongy, and finally it does eventually disintegrate. It can also be pretty gross. To get a smooth surface that allows the rings to be read, the sharpest razor blades must be used, and even they can often only make two or three cuts before they become too dull, and instead of shaving the surface of the delicate sample, you smoosh it into unrecognizable goo or fluff it into a cashmere sweater. The frustration of prepping wet wood must be experienced to be truly appreciated, and takes a remarkable amount of patience, which I really didn’t possess. There was lots of swearing involved. Thank god they put that lab in the basement and the prep room behind its own heavy door.

Additionally, wet wood samples aren’t sent into the lab submersed in water as they were found, as it simply isn’t practical. Instead the wood sample is tagged, and while still dripping wet its sealed in a Zip-Lock baggie. Now ideally, the air is removed from the bag, but its nearly impossible to get it all out, and sometimes the air removal step is skipped entirely. So, take organic material, and stick it in a moist environment in the presence of oxygen, and what do you get? Mold! Mildew! Fungi! Louis Pasteur would be horrified. Not to mention all the weird little insects from the water and the wood which just keep on merrily reproducing! I have seen wet wood under a microscope that looked like the surface of some alien planet, covered in a dense forest of bizzare trees and giant toadstools. It even has its own unique lifeforms, as bright orange and silver and even translucent insects scurry through the spongy remains of the wood.

Yuck.

But really, its the smell that gets to you. Because the wood from Yenikapi is oak that was submerged in the filthy stinking harbour of Istanbul back when it was still Constantinople. Some of it came from the hulls of sunken ships and some from the pilings of the Byzantine piers, but eventually this part of the harbour was filled in, most likely with garbage and household refuse and lord knows what else (the same way Manhattan was expanded in the 18th and 19th centuries), and after sitting down there, muddy and foul for over a thousand years, the whole area gets ripped up during the construction of a new subway system, and the archaeologists swarm in to do their thing.

And several hundred pieces of wood with the consistency of an overcooked souffle and a scent that falls somewhere between a high school linebacker’s jock strap and a rodent that’s been dead for a week, with notes of decaying seaweed, sewage, and the acrid tang of seawater, end up half a world away in the Cornell dendro lab.

The archaeological work on the site has steadily increased since the site’s discovery in 2004, as the Turkish government really wants to move forward with construction, and as a result more and more Yenikapi samples have flooded the lab each year. There was so much of it this year, that I heard its all the students or the lab techs get to work on. For once, I am thankful for my thesis.

Links:
CNN article about the construction at Yenikapi
Cornell Tree-Ring Laboratory
excellent Saudia Aramco World article about the archaeology

BTW, I’m also a video-blogger. Check out my YouTube account if you get the chance.

I’m morally opposed to all of the crap archaeoogy programs on tv. And of course, I believe the solution to this is for someone to give me my own show. I actually do have training in acting for stage and television, modeling, voice, and dance. Reel and headshots available upon request.

Education:
’10 M.A. in Archaeology, Cornell University
’01 B.A. in Classical and Near Eastern Archaeology, Bryn Mawr College

Excavations and Surveys:
’09 Priniatikos-Pyrgos Project (Crete), Irish Institute for Helladic Studies
’08 Priniatikos-Pyrgos Project (Crete), Irish Institute for Helladic Studies
’08 Kalavasos and Maroni Built Environments Project (Cyprus), Cornell University and Ithaca College
’07 Elaborating Early Neolithic Cyprus, Cornell University and University of Cyprus
’07 Petra Pool and Garden Complex (Jordan), Penn State University
’06 multiple projects in CO, WY, and UT, Metcalf Archaeological Constulants (Eagle, CO) and TRC Mariah (Laramie, WY)
’05 Excavations at Idalion (Cyprus), Lycoming College
’05 multiple projects in Southeastern CT, Mashantucket Pequot Tribal Museum and Research Center Archaeological Crew