Diary Of An Archaeologist - Wattys 2019 Non-fiction Winner

That Time Someone Tried To Break Into A House With Archaeologists

Hey! Welcome back, ready for another archaeologist story? Well, grab a drink, grab a blanket, because this is another spooky one.

For this particular project, I was sent abroad with three of my fellow archaeology graduates to a monastery in the middle of a forest, miles away from any form of civilisation.

We were tasked with assessing the monasteries entire history through all methods of archaeology we had learned over the years, and at the end of the month, we had to present a plan on how this monastery could be repurposed in a way that fitted with the history.
It was by far the most challenging project we had ever gotten as students, but also the most fun because if our plan was good enough, there was a chance it would be used by the owner. 

On our first day, we explored the surrounding area, that had forest paths for hikers and nature lovers. The monastery itself had fallen in disrepair over the years. The only thing that was still standing in one piece was the monks sleeping quarters and kitchen, which was now being used as a restaurant. The rest of the chapel was either burned down or just bare bones of what the construction once used to be. The lady who owned the land was part of an old noble line, whose family owned the property for centuries, so she greeted us on the first day, gave us as much information as she could about the monastery and professed her wish to bring the land back to its former glory.
We asked her about the burned chapel; she told us it was burned down so many times that people say it's haunted, and the only things left was some silverwork and artefacts, that used to belong in the chapel and were now stored in the basement below the restaurant. After that, she showed us around the monastery.

Now, let me explain to you the layout of this place. The single-lane road that led up the mountain stopped at the church chapel that had only two walls and the arches still standing, the library that was attached to the church was little more than an archway. And at the end, tugged away between the ruins and the forest set the only livable building, plastered in white with a wooden framework; the restaurant, with a wine seller in the basement, and our bedrooms on the second floor.

During the day this place was like something out of a fairytale; with its gothic architecture and luscious green surroundings, the monastery was breathtaking. And many locals came up for a walk and a nice dinner at the restaurant. It was a really pleasant place to be. Very serene and calming.
But at night, when the restaurant's staff left for the day, and it was just the four of us and the monastery, it was nightmarish. Those arches suddenly cast long eerie shadows, that gothic architecture was suddenly very imposing, overshadowing the house we slept in.
I remember my first night walking around there, and just feeling very uneasy, and restless like something wasn't right. The other female archaeologist, Kimberly, convinced me it was probably the idea that we were so far off from civilisation. And perhaps she had a point, I grew up in the city, I'm used to sounds around me, people around me, but this silence was new for me. And since she grew up in a rural area and wasn't bothered one bit by the fact that we were cut off from the world, I chalked it up to that and went to sleep.

The next days, I slowly but surely became used to the solidarity, and even began to enjoy it. We would work during the day, talk to the guests in the restaurant over dinner, and then went for a walk through the forest, or played some card games, until nightfall. Tobias and Marc, the other archaeologists, were a blast to hang around. Together with Kimberly and myself, we had a great time the first two weeks we were there.

It wasn't until the third week that the isolation and lack of Wi-Fi started to get to us. Tobias and Kimberly argued over the smallest things during work, Marc would sometimes just disappear into the forest, and I often found myself hiding somewhere in the ruins, just writing by myself.

We started to run out of work to do as well; we had documented the entire monastery, made a 3-d computer model of it, documented all the artefacts in the basement, made a couple of plans to attract more guests, and we didn't know what else to do.