As I wandered Larnaca I found a great deal of graffiti, and as I started becoming familiar with the city, I started to notice patterns emerging. Houses are left alone, highly trafficked downtown areas have more tags than residential areas, and abandoned buildings are free reign for any and all graffiti. The style, frequency, and type of graffiti are all influenced by the area of the city they are painted in—for example, there is an area with many galleries and workshops where there are many large and elaborate murals. But there were two specific tags that I saw over and over again throughout Larnaca, and even in other cities like Nicosia and Paphos. The consistency and seeming animosity between the taggers intrigued me. 13s and 7s were spray painted on the walls of buildings, electrical boxes, lamp posts, dumpsters, fences, on the shutters of abandoned houses, and any other unsupervised surface–and what’s more, they overlapped each other, 7s were covered up with 13s and vice versa. The 13 tag was also written as θ.13 and would sometimes have ΠΑΟ written next to it, and the 7 tag was occasionally written as θ7. These tags occurred so frequently that I started making up bits to explain who was leaving them. I wondered if these taggers were members of two rival gangs, and if their tags were a way of marking territories. I started playfully referring to them as the 13 thieves and the 7 serpents. They really seemed to hate each other, and it seemed to me as if the 13 thieves were the main aggressors as they were usually the ones to cover up the tags made by the 7 serpents.
Θ13 over 7
7 over Θ13
As my time in Larnaca continued, the lore started to become more and more elaborate until my curiosity got the better of me and I decided to research the true origins of this incredibly intriguing graffiti. But after going down a long research rabbit hole, I made the unfortunate realization that I was more entertained by my own stories than the truth.
For our final group expedition outside the relative familiarity of Larnaca, our overlarge bus traveled up the Troodos mountains and foothills to the village of Lefkara, one of my personal favorite stops from last year. The municipality of Pano Lefkara has allegedly been occupied since the neolithic period, but the trip was not about taking in the wonder of ancient cities or temples or mosaics. There would be no burning alive at an archaeological park while Tom gives some background information in between vending machine stops. Instead, there was to be tourism, souvenirs, and picturesque views! Last year, Riley and I visited a beautiful church looking out over the mountain which was our first stop once hopping off the bus.
Sadly, there will no longer be a five o’clock Zorbas run to fuel for working the morning away any longer this summer. As digging has concluded for the season, it is time for fabulous, final trench updates! EU 36 has closed this season with a bang, but let me start at the beginning (actually the middle).
Last week, Mason’s trench report concluded with us venturing to the western side of our unit in hopes of reaching a floor surface. While we thankfully did not have to navigate through the boulder-strewn ground of wall collapse like before, we instead met a happy surprise. While digging, on top of the south wall mentioned in Mason’s report, we found a wall coming out of the western baulk, confirmed the wall in the middle of the trench, and discovered a small wall dividing the unit from east to west. Upon this new discovery, we concluded that we had two new rooms, making a grand total of three!
It’s been a month since we got to Cyprus, and Friday was the last day on site, so now I feel in a good position to reflect on the entire season from my angle, mostly from the ground sweeping dirt.
We actually didn’t get to much digging on the first day, as most of the time was spent cleaning out the trenches from last year, so we really started the next day. I was put in a six person group overseen by a Brandon (as there are two Brandons this one is usually called Brandon 2), who again split us in half to two new trenches, EUs (Excavation Units) 37 and 38. 38 attracted enthusiastic volunteers, as many years ago the first few archaeologists on this site dug some survey pits and found some scraps of material suggesting there might be some kind of metal production going on over there. In contrast, all we were told about 37, the trench I ended up in due to my slow reaction time when asked which one I wanted to dig in, was that Brandon 2 thought there might be a wall there or something (the outer wall of the structure in the fort which is most well understood) and that there was a running joke among the staff that there was a Byzantine church somewhere around there (a pet theory of Brandon 1’s mentor, doubted early on by the Hellenistic nature of the rest of the site).
I learned two basic truths early on in the dig process. After a day of scraping off topsoil and sieving it under the supervision of Brandon 2, I realized firstly how unexciting he found the potsherds, no matter the decoration or size of them, as potsherds are excessively common and the context of topsoil is essentially no context, being plowed up over the centuries. Secondly, when I got back from the first day of dig to talk to my roommate Mason and telling him how Brandon 2 wanted us to dig down to bedrock in the course of the month, he was flabbergasted and told me Brandon 2 is a figure of archeological legend, not wearing sunscreen or long sleeves, nor drinking water, only eating one apple while pacing around during breaks (for fear he will not stand back up if he sits down), and digging whole trenches by himself when allowed to. Essentially his hubris was justifiably unmatched, but perhaps me and my two similarly inexperienced trenchmates were not capable of matching his lofty aspirations.
Luckily, Brandon 2 heard our trepidation and divided both EU 37 and 38 in half to ease the digging process. Once we had the topsoil off the first of a pattern appeared. Two large rectangular stones peeked out of the earth, in a row, which we all concludedmust be a wall. After all, the nearby EU 38 (our natural enemies) was already pulling up multiple walls, and hadn’t Brandon 2 said something about an outer wall for the structure? But once dragged over our brave supervisor squinted at the rocks, swept them off a bit, stood on them, and concluded it was impossible to tell if they were a wall or not (though he was excited by the prospect of there being a potential outer wall). Fortunately for us, however, a strange ceramic slab was found in the corner of the trench which, after the consultation of an expert, was concluded to be an ancient roof tile, a very cool rare thing apparently. This established our ability to find weird things (the next day fragments of a basin were found that was joked to be the fictional Byzantine church’s baptismal font), but no architecture, whilst no metal ever turned up in EU 38, but loads of walls did.
Exploring Cyprus today, one sees English and modern Greek everywhere. That, I’m sure, comes to no surprise to my dear readers, but perhaps you may wonder what script would have been seen a few thousand years ago. If you have not been wondering that, then start now, because I’m going to explain it whether you like it or not.
I must warn my readers now that you may find yourselves crestfallen at the lack of my usual verve and brilliant unending wit in this post, so I extend my deepest apologies. The reason for this is that our fearless leader Tom Landvatter cruelly bullied us for not recalling his singular lesson on Cypriot syllabary in Greek 111, and ever since then I have found myself unable to access my usual character which my readers so deeply love. Indeed it brought me deep shame to not have remembered a lesson from months ago, and I now recognize my absolute failure as a student [n.b. from Tom: this is true, they all should have remembered it]. I only hope the sweat and tears I shed over this blog post, and the many hours of research I committed to it, is enough to redeem myself [n.b. from Tom: perhaps.]. With this apology offered, let’s talk about the Cypriot syllabary, the script used in ancient Cyprus between the eighth and third centuries BCE.
Cypriot syllabary is a descendent of Cypro-Minoan scripts used in the second millennium, which themselves may have evolved from Minoan Linear A. Currently it is unclear whether the script was developed to record an indigenous language or Greek, a problem which is complicated by the lack of understanding of indigenous languages in Cyprus. Evidence from inscriptions show it was used to record Greek and at least one indigenous dialect, Eteocypriot, but the original reason for the script’s development remains unclear.
Inscriptions bearing the syllabary are predictably most attested in Cyprus, but can also be found in Egypt, Syro-Palestine, southeastern Anatolia, Greece, and Italy. The script contains fifty-five individual signs:
The Cypriot Syllabary
The script was deciphered in the late 19th century after the discovery of two bilingual Greek/Cypriot inscriptions. Robert Hamilton Lang deciphered the word for king, and along with George Smith and Samuel Birch, cuneiform and Egyptology experts, managed to attribute phonetic values to the script. Several other names come into play, but because I respect your attention span and I’m willing to bet you do not remember the names you just read (because neither do I), I will spare you circumlocution. Don’t worry, I won’t quiz you later [n.b. from Tom: I will.].
There is an impressive number of extant inscriptions bearing Cypriot syllabary, totaling around 1,400 instances preserved on a variety of objects. Most are funerary or dedicatory inscriptions, but also vases, coins, statues, seals, jewellery, and weaponry. The largest example of the script is the Idalion bronze tablet which details an agreement between the king Idalion Stasikypros and a doctor named Onasilos and his brothers, where the king promised a reward to the family for providing free medical services when the city of Idalion was besieged by the Persians and Kitians (who resided in Larnaca) in the fifth century BCE. One could not imagine that happening today.
The Idalion tablet
There is a second variant of Cypriot syllabary called the Paphian script, with inscriptions coming from Paphos and the surrounding areas. The normal version is attested throughout the rest of Cyprus.
The Paphian Cypriot syllabary
The use of Cypriot syllabary declined in the late 3rd century, with the last attested inscription coming from a sanctuary in central Cyprus from between 225 and 218 BCE. The script’s end is thought to have been as a result of the political and social changes following the death of Alexander the Great. I think I have now spun this yarn as long as I can, though I will include my source below for any avid linguists. I bid farewell to my readers, and, much like the topic of this post, I now shall drop out of existence in this thread. And I do hope that my worth as a student has been recovered, though I suppose that judgment is up to Tom [n.b. from Tom: TBD].
Work Cited:
A. Karnava, 2104. “Cypriot Syllabary.” In Encyclopedia of Ancient Greek Language and Linguistics. Brill, 404-408.
It’s been a big few days in the southwestern corner of EU 25, where Sarah and I have been working to bring a roughly 1.5 by 1.5 meter chunk of dirt down to bedrock as Vigla’s dig season nears its end. The area, bounded by walls to the east and west, a large slab to the north, and bulk to the south, is made up of sections of EU 33, which we excavated this year, and EU 25, excavated in 2024. It has a few peculiarities. Its western wall is built haphazardly over trash and strange slaps, and it contains large stone with a concave basin cut into it, maybe part of a mortar and pestle or an amphora holder. The space is also small–I wonder if a room this narrow could have had many practical uses. But overall, the area is mundane–betraying nothing of the spendors we would soon find, just below its surface.
I have been assigned to EU 39, along with Kendall, Kyna, and Caroline. We are led by Emilie, our lovely trench supervisor. The trench contains a room that is clearly defined by four walls. This room is one of the larger ones on site and three columns were placed in the center of the room to provide additional support for the now collapsed roof. So far we have been clearing the baulks between our EU and two others. Kendall and I have been assigned to the baulk that runs east-west, while Kyna and Caroline have been assigned to the north-south baulk. The north-south baulk has been cleared down to the level of the floor in the adjacent EU. Kendall and I have removed 5 stratigraphic layers from east-west baulk.
This year, us three returning students (myself, Riley, and Matthew) have been given our own shiny new EU to open. As seasoned veterans of Vigla we are supervising the trench together, which has turned out to be fairly similar to the year before, except with far more paperwork to fill out while covered in dirt with the knowledge that what you write will become a part of this trench and this site forever.
Our trench is EU 36, the westernmost unit of the site, directly in front of the shade tents. The trench was opened with the goal of finding the western outer wall of the whole building complex. The three of us began work on EU 36 optimistic and slightly confused about soil consolidation. After a few days, and more than a few new blisters, we made it through the topsoil in the 5 meter by 5 meter trench. Our fearless and stress-free directors then received word from the British base officials that their shoot schedule was going into overtime. Vigla is unfortunately located within the base’s firing range area, meaning we must work around their target practice. Now, with suddenly fewer days on site, the decision was made to cut the 5×5 meter trench in half and focus on one side for the foreseeable future.
As the days begin to tick worryingly close to the finish-line, EU 33 is a blur of frenetic activity and endless bothering of Elise, our valiant trench supervisor. It has not helped that I and the other Sarah in the trench (we aren’t called Team Sarah-ndipity for no reason) have been bedridden for the past few days from being sick. I think in reality the power of Sarah2 was just too much for the universe, but they couldn’t keep us down for long. This season, EU 33’s primary goal has been to knock down the bulks on the north and west sides. I have been diligently working on the west bulk, and wow, I don’t even know where to begin on this update because what on earth is going on down there?? In all honesty, I don’t even know if our Hellenistic friends knew what they were doing.
Somehow, it is already the month of July; the sun is getting hotter, and the time left in Cyprus is getting rapidly shorter. I was given the opportunity to return to Cyprus and work on a student research project with a Ruby-Lankford grant, and in doing so, I have become more familiar with on-site digging, the work done at Terra Ombra, and the lovely city of Larnaca. So much has already been taught and learned in this short time, and I am excited for the rest of the season to better understand the work done here at Vigla!
This year, I have spent a lot more of my time at Terra Ombra, where I have had the opportunity to expand on what I learned about pottery the previous year. Specifically, I have learned a lot more about the process pottery undergoes after being unearthed by the various young archaeologists at Vigla over the years. With the expertise and guidance of co-director Dr. Melanie Godsey, I have begun to help read pottery and look at basket-handle amphorae for more in-depth research.
