In prehistoric times, the island of Menorca was populated by the Taliotic people. When the Romans came, they recruited these Taliotic people to fight for them as slingers. How exactly do you compensate or convince a society that doesn’t deal in any sort of monetary values to fight for you?…

…women. You offer to pay the men with more women. See, Menorca, at that time was lacking women, and the funny thing is, that as of this day, nothing has changed. Take a look at this picture:

We call this picture “The Vultures”. Notice the line of creepy Menorcan guys in the smokey background ready to pownce. Our final, glorious Saturday night out in Menorca was basically hours of running away from these vultures. Nope, nothing has changed.

The Danish hand surgeon I sat next to on the flight over to Spain told me I’d have friends for life after a trip like this abroad. At the time, I didn’t know what the dig would be like, and who else would be crazy enough to end up at the remote island of Menorca for a month in October to dig up Roman ruins. I took Danish guy’s words with a grain of salt. I thought, perhaps, I’d be completely solitary - possibly not liking or hanging out with anyone from the program. I also thought we’d be too busy to go out and burn down Ciutadella on the weekends. As I said before in my “Misconceptions about digging” post, I was totally wrong about everything involving this little excursion.

About a week or two in, Lia and I were at the bar both having a conversation about how surprised we were to be having such an awesome time… in Menorca. The dynamics of the group worked out so well. Sure, everyone has their quirks, and when you live 2 inches from the next person they do start to make you cringe at times, but honestly - life would be boring if there wasn’t some drama involved. Take Juana the cook/housekeeper, for instance - a woman whom I think is crazy. We basically did not get along, especially after her bringing the sickness into our place, and even though I wished her not to be there, our little feud brought on the best stories and laughter down the line.

My last night in Spain was spent meeting up with a few other people from the group in Barcelona for Halloween. It had been a couple weeks since Lia and I’s initial conversation, but we both decided the feelings remained the same. We love our group, and we love Menorca. I thought it seemed silly at first, but I really do think I’ve made friends for life on this trip. We are already planning reunions, songs, travels, etc. I already miss the slumber party every night, hearing John come in at 6am (knocking over chairs or throwing keys at Doris), and the inside jokes. The good part is that I think everyone else will be missing this, too. I’m definitely looking forward to March in New York where I can meet up with the east coast crew and relive all the memories. It was a great month!

Well you may know from “The Sick Room” that I might be a little upset with a certain cook/housekeeper named Juana. I can’t say I had fond feelings for her before the whole “spread the sickness” incident, but after… after was the time when pleasantries were thrown out the window. It felt like war: Brooke vs. Juana.

It was made clear that I did not speak a word of Spanish. Juana made it clear that she did not speak a word of English. Any communication was done with the help of someone translating, much in the way when she found out I had caught her stomach virus. I was lying in bed, nearing death, when she came in to talk to Sarah. She realized I was sick and proceeded to say, “You probably have what I had… but I’m better now.” Oh, great, thanks. I’m so freaking glad you’re OK now, and even gladder you didn’t have the decency to stay home instead of spreading your illness to me. That was the day I decided I couldn’t stand her.

Tensions continued to rise as I spent the next several days at home while everyone else was at the dig site. The first thing she would do is come in and open the door to my bedroom while I was trying to sleep away my sickness. I would close the door, and she would come back and re-prop it open! What is wrong with this lady?!

The second day I was home was absolutely a nightmare. I was enjoying some cheese and crackers when Juana made her entrance. The first thing she did was run to the bathroom, hacking up a lung or vomiting (I’m not sure which). “Oh, great,” I thought to myself. I immediately went into my bedroom to get away from the drama, but next thing I know, Juana was in my room with a broom hacking all over everything. It went on like this the entire day, and I drew the line when she approached me after vomiting – snot running down her face, pale as a ghost. I was so sick still, but had to leave the building just to rid myself of any other throw-up stimuli! (I won’t even get into the fact that she proceeded to cook lunch and dinner while hacking. No one ate that night. We called the director to have him make her leave, but he said that if she was sick she would call him. She wouldn’t leave! This was my one main drawback of the program!)

A few days passed. I got better – went on an excursion – and was looking forward to lunch again. As luck would have it, I was walking to the back bathroom when curiosity had me look into the kitchen window to see what was cooking. I see Juana plating some lasagna and then proceed to stick her finger full in her mouth… and then plate some more lasagna. YUCK! I stopped and made an “oh my god!” expression on my face when she looked up and saw me shaking my head in disbelief. No freaking wonder I got the stomach flu! She knew I wasn’t happy. It was out there now in full force – Brooke vs. Juana.

Juana retaliated the following week when I was waiting for the shower. She told me to wait a minute while she put clothes in the washer. She walked out the other entrance and said something in Spanish in the distance. I walked in, dropped my clothes, but just wasn’t sure if it was OK yet to start my shower. I had to track her down, point to the bathroom and mime somehow if she was finished. Juana turned to me from what she was doing with the dirtiest, most annoyed look on her face I have ever seen (as if I should have understood whatever she said in Spanish from the other room). Well sorry lady! You know I don’t speak Spanish and I needed to be sure I could start my shower without anyone trying to get in while doing so.

The following day I was telling the group about how Juana gave me that nasty look, and I got a response I wasn’t quite expecting from Adam.

“Yeah, I don’t think Juana likes you. I’ve seen her give you some looks.”

The entire group chuckles as I confirm to myself this is war.

Adam continues, “But you do the same to her, so…”

Full-blown laughter explodes from everyone there. Yes, yes I do give her dirty looks, and rightfully so. As I explained before, her indecency cost me several days of my trip - licking her fingers and coughing on my food. WAR!

There were many more incidents until the end of the month – including the movie interruptions and the communal basket clothes argument – but I can’t say for sure who won the war. Juana did get me good with that stomach flu, after all.

I am finally adjusted to life back home, but still have a few stories to tell of my adventures in Spain. Here is a little piece on why I was fearing not making if off the island - the Tramuntana winds.

From day one we were told about the Tramuntana winds that can pound the island – stopping all work from proceeding. It’s hard to imagine, but we’re talking like tropical storm winds, up to 100 mph at times. The first time the Tramuntana winds made their mark was with a little storm and a lot of COLD weather!

I remember getting up to use the back bathroom in the middle of the night. The room that leads there has no windows, so not only could I see it, but I could feel it as well. The trees looked just like on the weather channel when they are covering a hurricane – very eerie.

Just to give you an idea of the winds that pound the island, take a look at how the trees are growing by the EcoMuseu:

Now you can see why I was fearing not making it off the island! The winds were blowing, yet I somehow managed to not be blown into the sea on Halloween. Lucky me!

Can’t believe that my time is about up! I leave tomorrow for Barcelona, and then on the 1st for home. I have many stories to tell, but since I haven’t been feeling well (again) they will have to wait ’til I’m back in the states. I hope that the Tramuntana winds let my plane take off tomorrow! Just getting to the library for internet has been a chore. See you all soon!

P.S. Here are some things I would enjoy when I get back:

A nice big hamburger and french fries.
A piece of pecan pie with good coffee.
A real breakfast with bacon, eggs, and pancakes.
A real shower with water pressure, and the ability to leave the water on the whole time.
A sweatshirt.

I now classify our room as the sick room since each girl seems to go down for a day or two as of recently with some ailment. It all started about a week ago when Lia spent 2 days in bed after what we initially thought was a hangover. The funny part is that Lia, being Canadian, knows how to handle her beer, and she didn’t drink that much to begin with. She ended up spewing after both Ecomuseu death rides (*all the roads are bumpy, hilly, and windy to and from the Museu).

That night, Doris and Sarah stayed in Mahon to experience the delights of Indian food (we crave flavor and variety after Juana’s cooking every day). They both felt ill that night, attributing it to the spicy food, and Doris ended up in bed for the next two days, completely passed out and crawling immediately back into bed if she dared arise for the bathroom.

Monday night came the real kicker when Tamsin said she was feeling ill. I exclaimed, “Who brought this sickness in here?!” She said it was Juana, our housekeeper. She has been ill with vomiting and diarrhea.

“Oh, my god! You mean she’s been puking and whatnot… and cooking all of our meals?! We’re all going to get sick!!!”

Oh, how right I was. The next morning I awoke for digging early and choked down my breakfast. I knew something wasn’t right, but I just thought my stomach was upset from being tired. The feeling continued while digging in the hot sun, but silly me, in denial that this could be “the sickness”, marched on with the idea I was just tired. After lunch, I just couldn’t take anymore. My stomach hurt with a burning, cramping passion, and I proceeded to spew multiple times in the EcoMuseu bathroom (in case you cared to know). I dreaded the EcoMuseu death ride home – would I make it?

Equipped with a double-lined plastic bag, I sat in the front seat setting my sights on one steady object, avoiding any contact with the moving outdoors. I held it in for 45 minutes of topsy-turvy roads and people asking me if I’m alright. I thought I was going to “pull a Lia” as soon as we got there. “Just find a place between two cars on the street, and you’ll be good,” she said. Luckily, I made it to the residence bathroom, and then to bed for basically the next 4 days.

I curse Juana. I curse her and her lack of hygiene and decency. I feel as though I lost a week of my time here because of it. Lia ended up getting sick again with more of the stomach illness (so maybe the first time was a hangover?) – but was definitely in bed for a few days with burning/cramping stomach. Some of the guys are also feeling a bit ill as of late.

I must say that the girls were the best in taking care of me in my time of need. Drinks, movies, medicine – all was taken care of. Thank you all for making my sickdom more bearable.

In Spain, an American will quickly notice how secure the Europeans are about their bodies, and what is being shown to others. I’ve seen people changing into their swimsuits while at the beach, and I have also heard word of our housekeeper walking into the bathroom while Doris was washing her clothes and proceed to pee with the door open. Shocking, no?

I feel as though some of the roommates have taken in a bit of this mindset. Our room has bay windows with a strange set up for blinds… meaning they don’t really cover the windows. We are also on the top floor, not too terribly visible to the surrounding buildings. With this in mind, the other girls in my room have tossed all cares into the wind and change whenever without checking out the window.

Little did Emily know that Saturday night she had an audience. She was going to change her shirt for going out, was luckily looking in the opposite direction, when we heard a loud whistle just as her top came off.

“Oh my god!” she said as she frantically grabbed a shirt to cover up.

We weren’t sure if the whistle was even meant for her at first, but the coincidence in timing made us a little freaked out. I looked out across the window at the one apartment that might have a view of ours and sure enough there were about 5 boys on their window balcony whistling and yelling at us. One of them held beers in his hands and motioned for us to come over.

They looked about 16.

It was actually kind of cute. The group of boys started shouting “Te Amo” across the street, and even busted out guitars to serenade us. We spent the next hour or so just cracking up at the situation because they just wouldn’t stop. One of the boys came over to ring our buzzer and Regina (our dig supervisor) told them to fuck off (you gotta love her straight-forward German personality).

At one point we got John and Adam into our room – they were going to take their tops off for them (at least they’d get some action that night – haha). When the boys across the street realized we had guys in our room (it is a room of 6 girls after all), they all started cheering and yelling for them. I guess they were excited that some guys were able to get into our room, even if it wasn’t them!

One of the boys came back later to ring our buzzer again after we all had left to go out. “Las chicas… we love them… where are they?” he asked. It was probably pretty hilarious when Regina had to tell them we were too old for them and that they had no chance. Can’t you just picture one of these boys calling all of his friends over because he has an awesome view of a room full of girls?

It only took 2 days to realize I made a big packing boo-boo when coming to a dig. Sure, if I were just traveling to some city, I’d have more than enough stuff to wear and be ready physically. When coming to a dig, I was 100% unprepared.

Shoes – I only brought two pairs of socks because I figured I could just wear my chacos most of the time, and my keens when it is nasty or cold out. However, using a pick-axe and wearing sandals, even though they are sturdy, is probably not a good idea. I have to wear my Keens every day – and thus had to buy 2 more pairs of socks from the store.

Labor – When I think of digging I usually picture people with brushes lightly removing dust around bones, etc. From the point above, you might notice I am using a pick-axe daily. The dig is a lot more laborious than I imagined – but I do enjoy feeling completely worn out afterwards.

Dirt – So, I quickly realized that picking dry dirt is very tough. We end up watering down our trench in order to dig easier, meaning we are completely muddy by the end of the day.

Clothes – I’m definitely wearing the same two clean shirts on a rotating schedule. I feel extremely silly, and even sillier when meeting my well-dressed compadres out for drinks. I’m looking around for some cheap shirts to mix it all up – yes, still looking. If you saw the style on this island, you’d be at a loss, too! (Aladdin pants = muy hippy)

Weather – I really thought it would be cooler weather in October, so my other clean shirt is long-sleeved. Unfortunately, (or fortunately – yay never ending summer!), the weather has been hot on most days, except for when it rains. Even then, it clears up and gets hot again in the afternoon. The rain has been more than normal here as well. Mallorca, the neighboring island, has been having huge flooding issues.

So, traveling carry-on was great for my mental sanity – I do hear that SpanAir is NOTORIOUS for losing your luggage – but it was not so great when trying to pack for this sort of activity. I definitely should have brought my Ariel and risked checking it so I’d be more comfortable now Oh well – you live, you learn.

Last week our excursion involved checking out all the taliotic sites around this side of the island. The taliotic people were the inhabitants of the island that started off living in caves, and later moved into stone villages. The Romans later came and used the taliotic people to their advantage as slingers (sling shot people) in their army. The cool part is they used lead shots, meaning that if they didn’t kill them from the shot, they would later die from lead poisoning!

Here are some pictures of the caves and the taliotic villages we saw that day.

Here are some goofy pics of me in the caves:

The best part of the day came when we arrived at Cala Morell – the most gorgeous little town, reminding me of Greece, and where every photo taken is of post card quality. I can’t imagine a better place for a village than on the top of the cape. It was quite breathtaking and seriously made the excursion one of the best ever. I’ll just let the pictures talk for themselves.

Spain is known for being laid back and having an intense night-life. Siestas seem to always be a cause for walking back home empty-handed. The daily work schedule runs from 9-1 and then from 5-9, making for a really relaxed work day. And don’t think that just because they lay around all day that they do the same at night. Oh, no. The Spanish start late and stay out even later – most not coming home from discos until 7am! I just had my first taste of a typical night out for the Spanish last weekend.

We started at a bar around 10pm, but since the owner wanted to leave early for a big party, he gave us a free round of shots and we then jetted off to the next bar in the obelisk square.

The second bar was very funny. John, the resident party-animal, found the guy from The Darkness, who he then talked into coming over to our table for a quick serenade of “I believe in a thing called love”.

Ok, so this guy was actually from Argentina, but he played along and gave us a line. How nice!

After a bit longer here, we made our way to the port where there is club after club right by each other, all having no cover charge. I usually do not go to clubs, or discos, because I am not a big dancer, but the group got me in by telling me about the top level bars and that there would be someone hanging out with me up there probably at all times. The funny part about that is when people get drunk, they don’t really care about how bad they look dancing, thus causing me to feel kind of a like a loner at times. Oh well, I still had a blast. The first club had an insane 80s vibe to it, with the bar maids dressed like someone from flock of seagulls or some other crazy 80s group. The songs were all from the 80s - see here where we are dancing “like a maniac”:

At some point we made our way to yet another club, during which time I found myself hanging out on the top bar. That was awesome because it was much cooler and you can look up at the sky. Lia and I wanted to up to the roof, but the security guards suggested we don’t go up. It’s not that we couldn’t - they just highly pushed us to not go - suspicious much? Later on, I saw a big group of nicely dressed guys coming down from the roof and I was convinced it was the Menorcan Mafia. Of course, someone told me it was just a wedding that went on earlier, but doesn’t the Menorcan Mafia make for a much better story? Maybe that’s why the security guys didn’t want us to go up there… hmmm…

Since I don’t dance, sometimes I found myself looking for other things to do - looking for other people that speak English to talk to. I started talking to one of the security guards who was from Belarus. The first thing he said to me was, “I’m not security. I’m a dancer.”

“Oh, so they hired you here to dance?” I asked.

Just then someone was talking to him on his earpiece.

“Oh, oh no. What’s that?” I asked.

He said he had to go take care of something real quick.

“Oh, its a dance emergency!”

It still cracks me up. He kept coming back to chat but had to run away for more dance emergencies! I just keep envisioning him trying to break up a fight by dancing in between them. Oh security guard/hired dancer. I know you were trying to tell me that your profession is a dancer and only security on the side, but you still make me laugh!