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In 1904, while digging a canal in order to prevent the Dyle river from flooding the city centre of Mechelen (B) time and again, workers discovered a large piece of wood at a depth of about five meters. It turned out to be the remains of a prehistoric log boat, measuring at least 8.40 m in length. As a result an archaeological excavation was organized by baron de Loë, director of the Nationale Dienst voor Opgravingen/Service National des Fouilles.
Along with it the remains of a Late Iron Age settlement were found: the remains of at least five huts (pile dwellings), made from different kinds of wood and constructed on a sort of artificial island, objects carved from deer horn, metal tools (a fishhook and a horse’s harness), part of a wooden ladder, amber beads, a fragment of a grindstone and fragmented pottery resembling the La Tène vessels with sharp angles from the Marne region, France. Also human remains were found (at least five individuals), as were lots of animal bones (dog, pig, wild boar, goat, sheep, cow and horse).
Most of the organic objects were extremely well preserved thanks to the wet conditions provided by the marshy soil at Nekkerspoel, the little hamlet just outside of the Mechelen city centre were they were found. The log boat was taken to the Koninklijke Musea voor Kunst en Geschiedenis/Musées Royaux d’Art et d’Histoire (Royal Museums for Art and History) in Brussels (B) where it was dried, treated with beeswax in order to conserve it and put on display.
Now, more than a century has passed and the boat is still kept at the museum, but it’s no longer on display because of its poor state. However, the Mechelen board of mayor and aldermen has decided that the city would provide the necessary funds to restore the boat using 21th century know-how, but only if an arrangement could be made to display it in the city’s museum.
The municipal archaeology service was appointed the task of bringing back the Nekkerspoel log boat to its place of origin. You can follow the progress of its homecoming on this blog. So far, in the company of the curator we’ve paid a visit to the museum’s storage facilities where the boat is kept, we sent an official request to the director of the KMKG/MRAH and we are setting up a project team of key people that will make the necessary arrangements, covering paperwork, restoration, transport, display and publicity.
To be continued…
The Nekkerspoel Log Boat in 1904
A few weeks ago a new campaign was launched to make the Belgian public more aware of the discomforts associated with Crohn’s Disease.
Crohn’s is an inflammatory bowel disease resulting in acute abdominal pain and frequent visits to the bathroom. I tell you, being a patient myself, these symptoms can have a serious impact on your social life and your self-esteem. Imagine having to deal with travelers’ diarrhea for days on end and in the meanwhile trying to lead a normal life: taking public transport (more then once I discovered that the only toilet on the train was out of order), going for a job interview (stress can even make it worse) or just a romantic stroll through the park or on the beach. Even the simplest of things, like for instance grocery shopping or walking the dog, can all of a sudden turn into hell.
On the campaign website Controleer Crohn/Controlez Crohn there’s a map showing so-called Crohn’s-friendly places, i.e. shops, restaurants, hotels, etc. where Crohn’s patients are free to use the bathroom. Apart from the public toilets, that is. This should enable patients to plan their trips in advance, making sure that wherever they are going a toilet can be found.
So far in Mechelen (B), the city where I work, there are only two Crohn’s-friendly places registered: the local Delhaize supermarket and Hotel Vé. Since our office (i.e. the municipal archaeology service) is situated in the City Park – Botanical Garden where there’s no public toilet, I would like to add our facilities to this list of Crohn’s-friendly places (provided that the board of mayor and aldermen gives its approval), creating yet another corner of the world where Crohn’s patients can forget their troubles for a while, fully relax and simply enjoy the park.
Also see Crazy Crohn’s
In a second hand book store I found this map of linguistic and ethnographic entities in Europe (*).
Tourists on holiday or people on a business trip visiting Belgium seem amused by the fact that in this little country about half of the population speaks French (Walloon) and the other half speaks Dutch (Flemish). On the Straka map these two communities are divided by a more or less straight line, called the Belgische taalgrens or frontière linguistique belge (Belgian language border). It’s said that it originated during the Late Roman Empire as a result of Germanic tribes invading Roman territory from the north. Clearly, Dutch is a Germanic language while French descends from Latin, the official language of the Roman Empire. The language border marks the southernmost frontier of Germanic cultural influence in this tiny part of Europe. Up until today, this centuries-old border plays an important roll in Belgian politics, fueling (and refueling) the idea of dividing the country into two separate, independent states. And let’s not forget the German speaking community in the east of Belgium!
But if you think Belgium is quite a language quilt, you should take a look at Romania.
Romania’s linguistic and ethnic entities: 20 (light purple/blue) = Romanian, 32 (pink) = German, 33-45 (green) = Slavic, 59 (yellow) = Hungarian, 61-63 (light brown and dark pink) = Altai
(*) Straka, M. 1979. Karte der Völker und Sprachen Europas unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Volksgruppen. Graz: Akademische Druck- und Verlagsanstalt.
More interesting maps on http://strangemaps.wordpress.com/
Archaeology has inspired some poets to go lyric on lithic (or any other period for that matter). Nobel Prize laureate Seamus Heaney (The Tollund Man, Viking Dublin…) is without doubt my personal favorite.
Here’s my attempt at writing some poetry on archaeology. I wrote this one poem (RV 98) about ten years ago, just after graduating university. Originally written in Dutch, I recently translated it. The poem focuses on an archaeological excavation (my first as a full-time paid archaeologist) on the premises of my former boarding school, situated in the village of Rotselaar, Belgium. We struck upon the ruins of the late medieval Cistercian abbey Vrouwenpark and its graveyard with the remains of some 200 nuns. I worked there for about six months in 1998 and 1999.
I had stayed at this Catholic boarding school for six years (12-18 years old), finishing secondary school. Although I met some really great teachers there and the atmosphere sometimes resembled that of Dead Poets Society (Touchstone Pictures, 1989), I generally felt misunderstood, very restricted, patronized and not being able to express myself. While excavating I saw something of a parallel between the life and death of these nuns and the feeling of constraint that I had experienced while staying at this boarding school. Fortunately I got away, but they never did.
Onverstoord graven naar maagden In het jaren verboden park. Undisturbed digging for virgins In the before forbidden park. Vastgeworteld in de oksels Van hun kerk, hun kerker, hun cel. Vastgeroest in de rosse grond Verloren zij hun vlees, hun vel. Deeply rooted in the armpits Of their chapel, their gaol, their cell. Rusted down in their ruddy turf They all lost both their flesh and fur. Vastgegroeide diamanten In hun knokige idee-fixe. Vastbesloten weer te keren Met in hun hand de crucifix. Diamonds lay encrusted Within their knuckly fixed idea. Firmly bent on coming back Clutching at their crucifix. Dieper dringt de zware spade In het verjaarde bottenpark. Deeper digs the heavy spade Through the former bone yard park. Wie had toen ooit kunnen denken Dat we jaren eenzelfde lot Deelden met hen die daar liggen Gevild, ontvleesd tot op het bot. Who would have ever thought Of us sharing the same fate With those who rest in peace All skinned and thoroughly boned. Na zes of zeshonderd jaren Bevrijd uit het bevroren park. After six or six hundred years Freed from the frozen park.
I’m still recovering from surgery (now four weeks ago). About ten years have passed since I was first diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease. At that time I was graduating university with a dissertation on the topography of Roman rural settlement in the Campine and the Hesbaye region, Belgium. It was pretty hectic, feeling sick or tired most of the time and having to cope with the pressure of finishing my dissertation. But I made it! I got my master’s degree in 1998. In the summer of 1999 I ended up being hospitalised for a week with bowel (sub)obstruction. As a result, my doctor began treating my Crohn’s with immunosuppressives. With very good results! I was feeling better than ever. That is, until November 2007 when I was hospitalised for a second time with the same problem as before. After a third stay in the hospital, only three months later, the doctors decided that surgery was the best option for me. They performed a right hemicolectomy, removing part of my colon.
So here I am, still feeling a bit weak, but getting stronger day by day. The wound is healing nicely, although leaving a bit of a nasty scar. But I don’t mind. I’ll carry it with pride!
While studying historical landscapes, it’s fascinating to see how man succeeded in taming the natural forces that surround us. During the Middle Ages in Europe man built large dikes to defend his village or city from devastating floods. He planted trees and hedges in order to prevent sand dunes from shifting and swallowing his arable land. Not only was he able to protect himself from these forces, he also learned to use them for his own benefit, e.g. constructing water- and windmills and later also hydro-electric stations, solar panel fields… Nowadays, man has even gained control over the weather, shooting silver iodide and dry ice into our atmosphere for cloud seeding. However, the only natural force he never learned to tame is the one we call TIME. Although rarely regarded as a force (certainly not in physics), this photo clearly shows the real potential of time.
It was taken on a day trip in March 2007 in the village of Hotton, situated in the south of Belgium. We followed the trails called Fond des Trottes n° 34 and Porte Aïve n° 23, and stumbled upon this old signpost. The sign indicated that the trail we were following lead to the Voie des Morts, or in English: the Trail of the Dead. Spooky! Anyway, I’m lucky to be alive to tell the story. To be continued…
