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One of the biggest blessings in my life is being able to do what I love. It means being able to do archaeology on daily basis, and to be part of a wonderful and caring community of people whose joy is the same as mine. Everywhere I go and every place I do research, I find another group of archaeologists that are amazingly talented, intelligent and kind. I think that when you love what you do, all of the hours of hard work, the heat, the sore feet, the sun burn, it all falls by the wayside because for us, there is no greater reward than being able to find history.
That is how this past summer was. We found a settlement of approximately 10,000 to 25,000 people, which was about 1000 years old. The work was hard, but worthwhile. One of the people I met while working was Jason Bush. Jason is resilient, hard working, and always cool under pressure. A genius with the GPS and GIS software, Jason is one of the reasons that we implemented such a new and complex methodology for recording sites in the field. Jason while be writing his master’s thesis on the work we are doing in Mexico, but unfortunately he hit a roadblock on the way.
Jason has been recently diagnosed with stage III testicular cancer. Being a graduate student, his health care doesn’t kick in until the fall semester, and unfortunately the cancer was discovered two days before that starting period and therefore, according to the health care provider, is considered a pre-existing condition. That means the insurance will not cover doctor’s appointments, chemotherapy treatment, operations, or lab tests associated with the cancer.
Now, I could ramble on about how this is a perfect example of why people like Jason and the vast majority of Americans need health care reform to pass, but this isn’t about heath care. This is about reaching out to the greater community of archaeologists and to ask for their help. With the accumulation of medical bills, Jason is estimated to have 120,000 dollars in debt, and that is after the initial treatment package. In helping Jason, we are helping a student. We are helping him finish his thesis. We are helping him get on his feet and work in Mexico again this upcoming summer. We are helping to relive his financial troubles so he could afford to continue school, and go on to a PhD program. We are investing in his future as an active member of the archaeological and academic community, a community that I know to be strong in the bonds it makes. That is because we all love what we do for a living, and none more than Jason. So please, pass this blog along, and visit jasoncancerfund.org, and continue to aid Jason through this tough time, and help him get back to doing what he loves.
For more please visit jasonbushcancerfund.org, or go to his facebook page, under Jason Bush Cancer Fund. You will be helping immensely just by passing these tags along.
People watching is a favorite past-time of mine. I love noticing the subtle intricacies of human behavior, and as I watch for these details I can’t help but take in the surroundings that affects human actions. In this case, the surrounding is a beach. More precisely, is it Zihuatenejo, on Mexico’s Pacific coast. We have taken a three day break to relax from our field work, and I now find myself hiding in the shade, soaking in the sights and sounds of this beautiful place. The ocean waves provide a constant soundtrack to the scene, as well as provide some comic relief for the sun-soaked people watcher.
The majority of travelers to this beach are Mexicans, as this beach, Playa de la Ropa, is a much more subdued beach, with the resorts built into the sides of the cove that surround the green-blue waters. There are also some Europeans, as I hear German, British and Dutch accents wander in and out between the crashes of waves. A group of Mexican boys have now begun a game of soccer on the beach, with the ocean waves sporadically joining in as a player, stealing the ball in its surf and carrying it back to the sea. Play is halted until the ball is retrieved, only to be lost again by another splashing, white wave.
People slowly walk up and down the beach, enjoying the view the ocean provides. A tall German man, bald and wearing a Harley-Davidson tank top, walks a very minuscule dog up and down the beach. With his sun-burnt head and the small dog’s fear of the ocean tide, the pair make a comical duo. Down the beach a contingent of Canadians have stuck a Canadian flag on a pole firmly into the sand, marking their place in paradise. No one takes notice, as the red maple leaf doesn’t exactly strike fear into any on-lookers.
I venture back into the ocean to try and catch some waves to body surf on. There, from the ocean looking in on the beach, I notice other subtleties that are a stark reminder of the outside world. First, more trash is in the ocean and on the beaches than I noticed in my last visit four years ago. The beaches were also littered with people four years ago, whereas now they are devoid of the tourists they are so used to attracting. Resorts are operating at half capacity, and the beaches are almost empty of the sea-vendors that usually frequent the beaches. They are the wave-runner renters, the para-sail providers, the little old women who sell silver and shell jewelry, and the tanned and tattooed old men who roam the beach with pictures of large fish that people have caught on their deep-sea fishing tours. Only a few remain, and business is not doing well. The resorts will last, they will suffer but they will last. But these people, the everyday entrepreneurs, they suffer the most.
Dinner-time rolls around, and I make my way to one of the beach restaurants, where one can purchase a steak and a margarita for 12 dollars and have enjoy it in the comfort of your swim suit. The sun slowly sets behind one of the large outcrops of rock jutting from the sea, and the city of Zihuatanejo slowly starts to shimmer in its evening lights. The brilliant red streaks of sun and the purple clouds paint the sky, and couples take this opportunity to stroll hand in hand under the vast watercolor scenery. And there I sit, a speck no more easily visible from the heavens than the millions of grains of sand that surround me. And I watch.
(I apologize to any proud Canadians who might wander across this post)
The little things. These are the places where one must find joy, in the little things. I was reminded of that last night, as I walked back from one of the small store/homes that are cozily scattered amongst the streets of Patzcuaro. They sell the basics, chips, candy, soda, beer. But I visit for the 5 peso mangoes, which the kind woman carefully cuts and places in lime juice. They are heavenly. They make my day. The little things.
As I walk back, slowly eating my mango, I watch the neighborhood kids play a game of soccer in the cobble-stone street, with the occasional grown-up joining in, unable to resist the joy of the game. Dogs spectate from the rooftops, occasionally barking down jeers at the game in progress. I walk by the panaderia (bakery), where the old ladies are already preparing the dough and pastries for the next morning. The smell is intoxicating, and makes me anxious for my breakfast in the morning. Then I pass the house where the garage band is playing…off beat drums, off-note singer, sounding wonderful. The non-stop music of Mexico, from the cafes to the blaring car stereos, adds a constant soundtrack to my travels (even at 4 in the morning). These tastes, smells, sounds and sights all add to the experience that is being an archaeologist, or just a traveler, in another land. It’s the little things that make a trip special. It’s the little things that will shape your memories of that place, a place traveled once upon a time.
The work also has it’s little intricacies, the small joys that make it possible to awake early the next day and do it all over again. Finding an interesting artifact, distinct from the same old pottery we find everyday. Something as trivial as a figurine, obsidian point, or even a new type of architecture gives you the energy to once again hike up the same, steep hill the following day, in hopes of a new, exciting find. The area we are surveying is one that has not been done before, so everything we record is the first time an archaeologist has done so. So everyday is something new and exciting, although to the layman’s eye, it all looks like a pile of rocks. But one must notice the little things to understand the ancient site: the curves of the wall built 1000 years ago, the subtle room cut out of a natural rock outcrop, or merely picturing the site devoid of trees and shrubs, and imagining the beautiful view the ancient people once had from a open plaza on a cliff’s edge.
Little did I know that I would be working at such an amazing site two months ago. The sheer density of structures puts the estimated population of the site in the tens of thousands, and although we don’t like using the term, one could put the title “city” on our site. But in order to map, survey and collect artifacts from such a site, a feat in itself very daunting and intimidating, one must find joy in these little things to be able to continue each day the mentally and physically exhausting work that we do. It is this love of the little things, in the minute details of the history, the everyday archaeological discoveries, the joy of a beer and homemade salsa after a day in the field, that allows for the everyday archaeologists like myself to persevere.
Unfortunately, I am in the business of priceless antiquities. The difference between myself, a scientist, and a looter, is that instead of money signs, I see excel sheets full of invaluable information that can aid in our accurate research and retelling of prehistory. When I look at a whole, intact vase or bowl made 1000 years ago, I look at its stylistic variables, its quality, and any associated archaeological features so that I can try to piece its life and the life of its creator in my head. I have a tangible relationship with a person who lived 1000 years ago because of this one, beautiful and personal object they created and I rediscovered. This is what makes the object priceless to me. I cannot ascribe a monetary figure to it, and I make it my job to discourage and stop those who do.
Therefore, based on this information, I cannot give away too much information on this blog as to where or what we are mapping, collecting and documenting. I can say it is the most impressive site I have ever worked on, and will alter our perception of archaeology and prehistory in the region where I work. And yes, my team did find a pyramid. We have found quite a bit that will aid on a successful reconstruction of life as it was 1000 years ago. I only hope that my skills and abilities are sufficient so that my analysis will do justice to the people that once lived here, such as the everyday makers of the very pottery that I pick up off the ground.
If this sounds too romanticized for your taste, then so be it. These are the thoughts that pass through my head every time I enter the field. When I find myself standing in an ancient room, I picture a small family inside, making food, eating, children playing with figurines. When I pick up an obsidian blade, I think of the care and skill it took someone to create it, and that it was used to process maize or maguey. I attribute personal, human qualities to everything I do and see in archaeology, and because I see myself as an anthropologist first, an archaeologist second, and a historian third.
So, with this lengthy disclaimer out of the way, I can say with the utmost confidence that I have enough data to do three dissertations! The site is amazing, and believe me, you will be seeing it in publications over the next ten years. But for those that can’t wait quite so long, I may be able to let some details slip when I see you, after an oath of secrecy of course 
The work is daunting, but even with the knowledge of the enormous task of data collection and processing that lies ahead, we remain as giddy and excited as ever. I am so lucky to have this opportunity, and to do what I do. When you are continually amazed by what you do, and when that tingling moment of excitement never seems to fade, never gets dull with each discovery, then you can count yourself among the truly lucky.
Other than that, I find myself falling deeper in love with the country, region, people and history of this region. But I must say, my deepest love is for the food! And yet, no matter how much I consume, I still seem to be losing weight, thanks to the rigorous hiking and climbing that is in store for us everyday. But I will continue to find time to write and share my adventures, and thank you so much for reading them. Until next time…
As I sat having breakfast this past Sunday with my co-worker and new friend Jason, I am amused at how American and perhaps surly we may appear to the town people. It was a sunny morning, and we both had on our sunglasses, and looked fairly like CIA agents trying to blend in. Our field beards had not been tidied up, and that plus our quiet discussion must have been the reason that the merchants didn’t come near us and bother us with their handi-crafts (except the chicle girls, who have no fear). I am starting to feel somewhat like a regular in the town, as most people have slowly stopped staring at us and now just give a freindly smile and wave. This is especially true for the ice cream woman, who knows exactly what I will be ordering at around 3:00 pm.
The field work continues, and the farmers are also getting used to our gringo parade throug the fields up to our study area. The forest is just as thick as usual, and since the rains have started the critters and creatures have all come out. I have made friends with the walking stick bug, have made enemies with the centipides and bees, and am indifferent to the dung beetles. I have also made enemies with the agave plants, which are the cactus that they make tequila and mexcal from. I find that when stabbed with one of their spines, I puff up like a blow fish in the area stung. The archaeological sites are very dense, but we are making progress. I am helping to head up a survey team, aptly named team deuce (#2) because we all have stomach issues due to the Mexican cuisine. But we all love the food, and keep torturing ourselves.
The rains are something we also have to contend with, as the rainy season now is in full swing. Like clockwork, at three o’clock everyday the streets of Patzcuaro flood with the large rivers of rain the flow down the hills towards the center of town. Now, we have a tropical storm off the Pacific coast that may put us out of commision for a few days. But that’s okay, because everyone will gladly welcome the time off.
The most exciting thing to have happened recently, besides one of the girls nearly stepping on a rattlesnake, was a trip to Tzintzuntzan with my adviser. I haven’t been there in four years, and since finishing my Master’s thesis on this capital of the Tarascan empire, it was nice to put names and map dots to actual places. The yacatas, or pyramids, look as impressive as ever, and once again I was reminded why I am an archaeologist and work were I do. The mountains that cradle the site are large and impressive, and is the perfect setting, with the lake to the north, for the Western empire that could contend with the Aztecs.
Thanks for reading my tales, and I hope to update soon. I also have to give a shout out to my cousin and Godson, Scott, and to tell him that we will be swimming in Lake Michgan soon enough!
Two weeks in and I have now become accustomed to workig here in Mexico. The country keeps amazing me, with its smells, sights, sounds, and wonderful people. The last weekend, a hike was had that took us up onto a mountain that views the entire Patzcuaro basin from the south (see photos). The most recent weekend, we did a tour around the lake, and visited some frequented locales that included archaeological sites and a stop for excellent carnitas (grilled pork in tortillas). I have finally adjusted my taste to the correct spiciness level, and put hot sauce on basically everything…except for the excellent ice cream here. My Spanish is also improving, and I find myself being able to get around pretty well around well.
The archaeology is going well. We have just recently begun to survey in a very important area, which is think in vegetation and cover. It is a close to a jungle as you can get in the highlands of Mexico, full of odd trees, pretty but painful agave and very unusual creatures. This is very uncharted territory, and we are the first to be documenting these sites, which are very dense. Many think we are close to uncovering a pyramid (the first team to find one, subsiquently, gets a very good bottle of tequila). It is exciting, but slow going. Soon we will hit a good pace and have the whole of the site documented.
Hopefully, we will be on the hunt again this upcoming weekend, on a more casual, adventure driven experience. A few of us, myself included, will be hiking one of the mountains that cradles the Tarascan capital. It is said, from the historic documents and Spanish records, that on a certain side of the mountain was a shrine marking the end of a pilgrimage that started at midnight by the Tarascans from another nearby sight. The shrine has supposedly been seen, but not recorded. This may not sound exciting to some of you, but people, this is as goes as it gets in archaeology. Indiana Jones type-stuff…
As a crafty attempt to enter into the 21st century, I have set up the new spot for keeping up with my travels as an archaeologist…The Vagabond. This blog is intended to let interested parties know what I am up to and the new adventures I have stumbled into. I have also set up a Flickr account tied to this blog, which will be full of photos from my new camera.
The blog will be an mixture of what interests me, and will no doubt reflect some of my intellectual heritage in such media as music, movies, philosophy, social theory, art and most especially literature. I will approach this as I do most things, from a scientific, philosophic and historic viewpoint. Sounds boring huh? Well I am told I am a halfway decent writer, so I will try and make this lively…
This first section will follow my travels through Mexico as I undertake my research for my PhD dissertation. I am a bit nervous, and not as nearly as excited as I should be, yet as soon as I begin packing I know the traveler’s itch will set in. Unfortunately, the adventure bug has laid dormant in me for a few years, so it will be fun to shed my American sensibilities and see the world through new eyes again.
I will be staying in the little city of Patzcuaro, in the Mexican state of Michoacan (check it out on Google Earth, there is actually really nice coverage!) We will be doing full-coverage survey over a very large and crucial area in the Patzcuaro Lake Basin. In layman’s terms, this means a shit-ton of walking. But I am looking forward to wandering through the country-side, and see this as a modern day, albeit Mexican version of the Canterbury Tales…a pilgrimage in the name of enlightenment, all in homage to the one thing all grad students strive for…the complete dissertation.
So, what follows are tales from an archaeologist, setting out on the path…
And blame not me if you do choose amiss.
The miller was a churl, you well know this;
So was the reeve, and many another more,
And ribaldry they told from plenteous store.
Be then advised, and hold me free from blame;
Men should not be too serious at a game.
-Chaucer, excerpt from The Miller’s Tale, Canterbury Tales
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