The Volcano That Changed The World (7 page)

Without hesitation, Elektra responded.
“Yes, she told me about your work. To answer your question, the name Thera comes from a Spartan named Theras, who settled here sometime after the large eruption.”

The wine they orde
red arrived. It was a white; Mark generally preferred reds. Alexia offered a toast, “To your first night on Santorini.” They clinked glasses and drank.

He
found it pleasing. It was very dry with a citrus aroma. It would go well with the local seafood he had ordered for dinner. “This is very good. What is it?”

“
It is from our indigenous grape, Assyrtiko, which has been cultivated here since the ancient Greeks arrived.” Elektra’s voice sounded a proud note.

Surpr
ised, Mark said, “I don’t recall reading about Santorini wines.”

Alexia
injected abruptly, “Light, seeking light, doth light of light beguile.”

Realizing he had been ignoring Alexia,
Mark gave her a confused look. “Is that Shakespeare?”

“Yes, from
Love’s Labor’s Lost
.”

“What does it mean?” Elektra asked.

Alexia said thoughtfully, “Taken in context, it means that if you seek the truth only in books, you will be deprived.” She added, “To learn the truth, you must go to the source, as Mark has done by coming here to learn about Santorini.”

Mark smiled
. “I’m impressed: an archeologist who quotes Shakespeare.”

“He’
s one of my favorite authors, offering many nuggets of wisdom,” Alexia said while taking a sip of wine.

Mark
thought about the wine again and turned back to Elektra, “I don’t recall seeing any vineyards from the air when we landed or while driving here.”

Elektra
smiled knowingly. “Because of our strong winds, Thera vines are not staked like you are probably used to seeing. Instead, they are trained low to the ground in a basket shape to protect them. Look for them next time you drive around.” As she finished her explanation, she took a satisfied sip from her wine glass.

Setting
her glass down, she said, “This wine has a very slight smoke and mineral taste imparted by our volcanic soils. The volcano helped produce almost perfect soil conditions that yield our very distinctive wines.”

Fo
r Mark, a lover of wine, to discuss the dramatic intersection of geology and wine was a real treat. They ordered another bottle once their meals arrived. The food and wine were a delicious combination, the air temperature soothing, the breeze pleasant, the sound of the waves relaxing, and the conversation stimulating. He found himself getting a second wind; he was adjusting to the new time zone with very little effort. His anxiety about the goings-on in Tallahassee receded to the background.

“It is interesti
ng that you are both scientists. I do not spend much time with scientists,” Elektra remarked as they ate. She turned toward Mark, “Based on your background, do you tend to question everything, or are there things you take on faith?”

Mark thought t
his was a strange question. He had heard that Europeans were more open to religious discussions than Americans. It was actually a topic he enjoyed, but that he knew well enough to stay away from in the States. He considered the question for a moment and said, “I tend to question material and take little at face value. Information needs to make sense to me from a scientific or logical point of view.”

“I
nteresting,” Elektra responded. “I grew up in the Greek Orthodox Church where I was taught to accept many things on faith, but now I, too, tend to question what I was taught. How do you explain the difference between faith and science?”

An
other unusual question, thought Mark. As he considered his answer, an annoying fly buzzed around his wine glass. It gave him an idea. “Give me a moment.”

The fly landed near the edge of the table. In one swift motion, he moved his right hand across the table and grabbed the fly out of the air just as it took off.

“Impressive,” said Alexia, somewhat sarcastically.

“Wait, there
’s more,” Mark said, excited that he actually caught the fly.

There was a pitcher of water on the table.
Mark saw it and asked, “Is anyone going to drink the water?”

They shook their heads.

He then plunged his right hand with the fly into the pitcher.

“What are you doing?” Elektra asked
, taken aback.

“I’m drowning the fly
,” Mark said, smiling mischievously.

“And you are doing this because
…?” Alexia probed with cautious interest.

“To answer Elektra’s question,
” Mark interrupted.

Alexia
raised her eyebrows.

Mark had the feeling he was not making a very good first impression.

After several moments, he took his hand out, shook the excess water to the floor, and plopped the motionless fly and beads of water onto the table. Looking up from the fly to Elektra, he asked, “Is the fly dead?”

Elektra studied the fly. It lay in a small puddle of water not moving. “Yes,
I think so.”

“Watch,” he said and picked up a
saltshaker. He liberally sprinkled salt on the fly.

All three watched
intently. Nothing happened. Then one leg began to twitch, then another. Within a few moments, the fly stood and took to the air.

“What happened?” Elektra asked.

“That depends on your point of view. If you believe in faith without science, then perhaps you have just witnessed a miracle.” Mark smiled broadly.

Elektra was not amused. “Okay, what really happened?”

“From science, we know that flies breathe through tubes in their bodies with openings in their abdomens. When I drowned the fly, those tubes filled with water and the fly stopped functioning.”

“That part I understand. What about when
you sprinkled salt on it?” Elektra pressed.

Mark
smiled and explained. “Have you ever heard of osmosis? In this case, osmosis caused water to move from inside the fly through its body membrane toward the salt on the outside of its body. In effect, the salt pulled the water out and the fly could breathe again.”

“It’s like when you put salt on a slug and they shrivel up
,” Elektra added.

“
Exactly; that’s right. Only this use of salt worked out better for the fly than for the dried up slug,” Mark responded roguishly.

Now
Alexia chimed in. “Okay, Mr. Science, I think I’ve heard enough. I’m trying to eat here.”

“Sorry, but I thought that demonstration was a good way to differentiate
between faith and science.” Recalling his class on myth busting, he added, “Science debunks both ancient miracle mongers and their modern successors.”

Alexia
grunted something having just taken a mouthful of food.

Not to be deterred
and feeling a connection with Elektra, Mark said, “I’ve thought of another example. In my country there’s the story of the Mormon miracle of the gulls. In 1848 during the Mormons’ first harvest in Utah when, according to the story, seagulls miraculously arrived and saved the crops by eating thousands of insects that were devouring their fields.”

Taking
a sip of wine, he continued. “The insect swarm was likened to the eighth plague of locusts described in the Bible that preceded the Israelites’ exodus from Egypt. Are you familiar with that?”

“Of course,” responded Elektra.

Mark elaborated, “From a faith-based perspective, the Mormons considered this event to be a miracle, but from a scientific perspective, it is a frequent natural occurrence that has happened many times since that first harvest.”

“What do you mean
? What scientific perspective?” Elektra asked.

“
Seagulls are native to the nearby Great Salt Lake, and these birds often eat insects in adjacent valleys. It doesn’t take a miracle to explain their presence and eating habits. The Mormons were simply fortunate that geological events created the Great Salt Lake, which, in turn, provided a home for gulls.”

“And what about the
plagues described in the Bible?” Elektra asked. “Were those miracles?”

“
I haven’t really given them much thought, but it wouldn’t surprise me if natural phenomena could explain those as well.”

As their plates were cleared, Alexia turned to Mark. “In the morning, we will go to Akrotiri and you can see the work we’ve been doing there.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”
Mark said.

Alexia
continued, now all business-like, “I’ve been thinking about our email discussions concerning the discrepancies between Plato’s account of Atlantis and what we believe occurred at Crete as a result of the Thera eruption.”

“Have you come up with any ideas that might explain the
difference in the timing of their destructions and the difference in size between Crete and Plato’s description of Atlantis?” Mark asked, his interest piqued.

She responded thoughtfully.
“Maybe. Plato’s story is based on Egyptian hieroglyphs discovered by the lawgiver Solon. Plato relied on the Greek translation of those hieroglyphs. I’ve seen a copy of this translation but didn’t see anything that helped to resolve the discrepancies. It would be useful if we could find the original hieroglyphs to see if they match the translation Plato relied upon for his story.”

Stunned, Mark asked,
“Wait, you can read Egyptian hieroglyphs?”

“I
once took a course on interpreting hieroglyphs. Using my textbooks, I can do a reasonable job,” Alexia responded casually.

Mark was impressed. His language skills were poor and he was easily impressed by anyone who spoke more than on
e language, let alone ancient text. The mention of Egypt gave him an idea. “I have a colleague, Dr. Brennan Hickenbottom from the University of Birmingham, who is working with me on the Thera eruption. He’s using my recent findings on the trace element signature for Thera ash to find and correlate Thera deposits in Egypt. I can contact him there and see if he can locate the hieroglyphs and photograph them for us, or see if a transcription can be made.”

“If he could
locate them, photos would be very helpful,” Alexia said enthusiastically.

“I will email him when I get back to my room
,” Mark said.

They finished the remaining wine and
Alexia insisted on paying the bill. As they sauntered back to the hotel, the moonlight illuminated their path. Elektra asked Mark, “Is your room okay for you?”

“I haven’t spent much time there, but it seems fine.”
Looking around and gesturing with his arm, he added, “And the view is hard to beat.”

Giggling,
Elektra stumbled, catching herself by grabbing Alexia’s arm. “I think I’ve had too much of our fabulous wine.” The two walked together, leading the way for Mark.

Arriving at the hotel,
Alexia asked, “Mark, how does eight o’clock tomorrow morning for breakfast sound? In the lobby of the hotel?”

“Perfect,” responded Mark.
“See you then.”

They said their goodnights. As
Elektra and Alexia walked away, Mark, feeling another burst of energy from their dinner conversation, went into his room and turned on his computer. He had brought all the hardware and cables necessary to hook up to the hotel’s modem—though wireless internet technologies were increasingly popular in the US, here in Santorini, it took a bit more effort to connect to the web.

As soon as he was connected, he
sent an email to Brennan asking for his assistance in locating the hieroglyphs that Plato relied upon in his story about Atlantis. Mark provided what sketchy details he had and hoped they would be sufficient for the search he was asking Brennan to conduct.

Chapter Five

Change is the only constant.

—
Heraclitus

Akrotiri, June 1998

Ever since the discovery of the Minoan Palace in Knossos about one hundred years ago, the cause of the destruction of the advanced Minoan society has been the subject of controversy and dispute. The Minoan civilization, the first in Europe with a written language, simply referred to as Linear A and B, began in Crete and dominated the Mediterranean Sea and beyond. This civilization flourished almost five thousand years ago during the Bronze Age until it was suddenly destroyed at the peak of its power around 1450 BCE. The disappearance of the birthplace of the Western world remained a mystery for a very long time.

             
The ancient city of Akrotiri on Santorini contained pieces of the puzzle that would eventually help scientists resolve the cause of the Minoan downfall. Mark’s work would build on earlier findings, especially that of Alexia’s father, Dr. Demetri Papadopulos.

***

             
The next morning, Mark arrived in the lobby early to find Elektra at the reception desk. He greeted her and asked, “How do you feel after last night’s dinner?”

“Oh, I’m fine
, thank you. It was a wonderful evening. I hope the wine didn’t cause me to talk too much.”

“Not at all.
I found the conversation very enjoyable.”

“
As did I. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes. The room is very comfortable.
I slept through most of the night, so I think my body has converted to local time.”

This was followed by
silence. Not knowing what else to say, he asked, “So how well do you know Alexia?”

Smiling broadly, Elektra said enthusiastically,
“We’ve become very good friends. She always stays here when working on Santorini.”

Just then, t
he door opened and Alexia walked in, dressed in her normal work attire of khaki shorts and shirt. After greeting Elektra and Mark, including kissing both on the cheek, she turned to Mark, saying, “Sorry, I’m a little late. Hope you didn’t have to wait too long.”

“No problem. It gave me a chance to talk with Elektra.”

Alexia looked briefly at the two of them, smiled, and then asked Mark, “Shall we go?”

“I’m ready.”

They said goodbye to Elektra, with Alexia adding, “See you this evening,” and headed for the beach, where they ate breakfast to the sound of the waves lapping on the shore. To Mark, the thick Greek yogurt tasted exceptionally good especially when combined with fruit, and he enjoyed the exceedingly strong coffee. That combination sufficed for his morning meal. He was eager to start work.

While
eating fresh bread, buttered and covered with thinly sliced ham, Alexia explained, “The excavations at Akrotiri were difficult because the research teams had to penetrate through pumice stone and hardened ash. My father first began excavating here in 1967, and back then the tools for removing the rock were crude.”

             
Mark had read publications by Alexia’s father
,
Dr. Demetri Papadopulos. “Your father’s archeological detective work was exceptional. I enjoyed reading his findings, how he figured out what caused the destruction on Crete. You learned your trade from the very best.”

             
Alexia seemed slightly embarrassed. “Thank you,” she said and continued. “During his work on Crete, he dug at one particular Minoan villa at the harbor town of Knossos when he developed his theory.”

She
stopped and took a sip of tea. “While excavating there, he was struck by the power of the event that caused the violent destruction. During this time, he discovered pumice, a volcanic substance uncommon to Crete. This observation led to his theory that the villa and palaces of Minoan Crete were destroyed by a volcanic eruption.”

             
Putting down his coffee cup, Mark commented, “I studied his paper published in the late 1950s. His theory was very insightful; he was definitely ahead of his time.”

             
“That was his first publication setting forth his ideas on the volcanic eruption, but very few people at the time accepted it,” Alexia said, somewhat sadly. “Mocking his theory, many pointed out the lack of a volcano on Crete. Early on, his theory was largely ignored.”

             
Following another sip of tea, she added, “This rejection motivated him to eventually begin excavations here at Akrotiri. He knew the former city had been destroyed by the Thera eruption. He believed that if he could find pottery here from the same time period as that found in the destroyed palaces and villas on Crete, he could link the timing of the destruction at the two locations, and in turn, link that destruction to the Thera eruption. In so doing, he would identify the volcano and prove of his theory.”

Mark said
, smiling, “Your father succeeded, and I agree with his theory, but there is an issue that needs resolution.”

             
“And that would be…?”

H
e explained, “Based on geological evidence, the Thera eruption occurred around 1600 BCE, whereas archeologists date the Minoan civilization destruction at around 1450 BCE, so there is about a one-hundred-fifty-year discrepancy between the geological evidence and the later archeological evidence.”

             
Alexia looked at him, giving a satisfied smile, “That’s right, Mark. I’ve considered that discrepancy and believe I have an explanation.”

“
Really? What is it?”

Alexia
thought for a moment, “This may sound a little strange, but I would like you to first see the destruction of the Minoan Empire through my father’s eyes. I want you to see his excavations at the harbor villa on Crete, to see what he saw that led him to his theory. Once you’ve seen that, you will better understand my extension of histheory
.
Can you wait until we get to Crete?”

             
Disappointed, Mark said, “I’m not a very patient person, but if I must wait—”

             
Alexia interrupted. With a suggestive smile, she said, “There is an old Greek proverb, ‘Anything worth possessing is worth waiting for; anticipation makes it that much better.’”

             
“That proverb can be applied to many situations. The advice it offers is better given than received,” Mark said.

             
“Perhaps, but I ask that you wait until Crete for that discussion.”

“If I must…”

Seeing that Mark had finished his yogurt, she interrupted, “Shall we go? Are you ready? I now know that you have no patience and I don’t want to keep you waiting for your introduction to Akrotiri where you can see the destruction this volcano caused.”

             
“Yes and yes.”

Mark paid f
or breakfast. He was learning to use the drachma, the Greek currency.

              On the short drive to Akrotiri, Mark noticed the vineyards just as Elektra had described them—grapevines on the ground trained in circles forming groupings of vine baskets. Having visited many vineyards in his life, he had never seen anything like it.

             
Alexia noticed his stare. “What do you think of our vineyards?”

             
“Very creative,” Mark said with admiration. “With enough time, humans can figure out just about anything—including how to grow delicate grapes on a windy island. Necessity, in this case, the need for wine, really was the mother of invention.”

             
Alexia nodded and returned her attention to driving. The road was narrow and slightly undulating. Villages of low-lying, light-colored buildings were scattered among the fields and the rock-covered landscape. Each village had a church with a dark blue domed roof that added color to otherwise dull cream-colored buildings.

             
As his mind wandered, thoughts of the attempted-murder investigation crept back into his consciousness. He quickly forced them out of his mind, focusing instead on the present and Santorini.

             
When they finally arrived at the site, the entrance surprised Mark. “Why such a large parking lot?”

             
“Akrotiri is open to the public. It is one of the island’s most popular tourist attractions. People refer to it as the ‘Minoan Pompeii.’ It is the best known Minoan archeological site outside of Crete.”

Alexia continued, “
Just like Pompeii was destroyed yet buried and preserved in 79 CE when Vesuvius erupted, Akrotiri suffered the same fate when Thera erupted. The difference was that the people of Pompeii were killed while the people of Akrotiri were able to evacuate prior to the eruption.”

The thought of burning
to death triggered Mark’s mind to think of the opposite—freezing to death, and momentarily he was back in the ice core lab. He shivered involuntarily.

“Are you alright?”
Alexia asked, as she watched him.

“Yes
, I’m fine.” It seemed that no matter what he was doing, the attempted-murder memories were just under the surface waiting to break through into his consciousness at any opportunity.

As
Alexia parked the jeep, she added, “Lucky for you, you’ll receive a private tour and see locations not yet open to the public.”

             
“It pays to know the right people,” he said as he exited the jeep, smiling.

             
Wearing his standard field equipment, a backpack and his FSU baseball cap, Mark followed Alexia to the ticket queue where she flashed her security badge and was instantly recognized by the attendant. There was an exchange in Greek and they entered the excavated area.

Mark was immediately impressed by the size of the site. He
saw many two- and three-story buildings or portions of buildings still intact. The structures were made of stone with wooden beams, preserved by the ash, used to support windows and doors. Each floor in the buildings contained several rooms.

Alexia informed him, “What you see is only
a portion of the city that’s been excavated so far. The majority of the once colorful buildings are still buried in ash waiting to be unearthed. There is still much work to do here.”

The streets were paved with
cobblestones and had clay pipes running down the middle of them, obviously used to control storm water runoff. The water-control engineering was a testament to a very advanced civilization, thought Mark. All that he observed was covered with a fine layer of dust, a remnant of Thera’s ash that had once covered everything. 

Peeking into s
everal rooms, he noticed large caches of pottery consisting of bowls, figurines, jugs, and amphorae. The texture and shape, but especially the colors and geometric patterns on many items reminded him of the decorations on Native American pottery. He wondered if the connection was only a common human creativity trait or if there was a more direct linkage. It was such a crazy thought that he chose not to pursue it.

Pointing to an a
mphora, Alexia interrupted his contemplation, “Those were used to hold wine. Following up on your discussion with Elektra, we have been making and drinking wine on this island for a long time.”

“Another reason to admire
th
e
Akrotirians,” Mark said.

They continued walking among the ruins.
Beautiful frescoes adorned some walls, showing scenes from daily life and special events, providing hints about life in Akrotiri before disaster struck. Many frescoes dealt with the sea and fishing; some displayed sporting events like boxing; some showed pictures of animals and flowers while others focused on beautiful women performing various daily activities.

             
As Mark took in everything, Alexia watched him intently, asking, “How much do you know about the settlement here? For instance, when it began?”

             
Mark had done some research. “The oldest signs of settlement here date from about the fourth millennium BCE or even earlier. Is that right?”

Alexia gave him an approving look.
“Yes, that’s correct. By about 2000 BCE, Akrotiri already had developed into a major port.”

“We know this because artifacts linked to Akrotiri have been found from that period
on Crete and from as far away as Anatolia or Asia Minor on the west coast of what is now Turkey, from Cyprus, Syria, Egypt, the Greek mainland, and other Greek islands.”

Shaking his head, Mark said, “The people from Akrotiri really got around!”

              “That’s what traders do. They had an extensive fleet and were excellent seamen.”

             
“Could they have traveled beyond the Mediterranean? Perhaps out into the Atlantic Ocean?” Mark asked, hesitantly thinking of the pottery.