Thinking about buses, I have this old 90s song, Buses and Trains (anybody?) stuck in my head.
Anyway, on to the scavenger hunt. Full disclosure: I don't take buses here in Kolkata; my transportation is mainly my car. But following is a video--taken from my car--showing Kolkata's iconic yellow Ambassador taxi, followed by the "mini-bus" or the private buses that serve/terrorize (depending on who you ask) the city.
The last time I took a bus here in India was a "luxury" bus to my Mom's hometown of Asansol, which is about 4-5 hours by bus or train. It was the first time we took the bus there. The bus itself was nice enough and air-conditioned (a plus in the summer heat!). But I have never been so afraid for that extended period of time, during which my in-bus snack-box went flying down the aisle at one point (pothole, stray animal in the way, out of control lorry (truck) who knows what the reason for the sudden break was!). Anyway, on the way back, I mutinied and refused to take the bus in favor of the train. I love trains. But that's another post.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Scavenger Call #5: BUSES
Well, after such resounding success on that last post, I'm so excited to announce the next! In particular, all your enthusiasm gives me high hopes to make this a more regular feature again, so with that long-term plan in mind, I am going to suggest a fairly specific task. That way we just might have enough stuff to get us through the next several months of fieldwork (6 months and 3 days for me -- scary!).
Going back to that original list, I think it's time for something from the transport category. And, given anthropologists' proclivity toward road accidents (cf. half of Susan's stories from Bolivia), I could think of no better topic for this post than...
So yes, calling all bus stories and photos: colorfully painted passenger buses, translations of things commonly written on buses, competing over how many people squeeze onto your buses, and, for serious bonus points, video of actually riding on said buses! (I know Susan has a head start on this one too, but let her serve as an inspiration to us all.)
You have one week. Let's do this.
Going back to that original list, I think it's time for something from the transport category. And, given anthropologists' proclivity toward road accidents (cf. half of Susan's stories from Bolivia), I could think of no better topic for this post than...
***BUS PHOTOS!!***
So yes, calling all bus stories and photos: colorfully painted passenger buses, translations of things commonly written on buses, competing over how many people squeeze onto your buses, and, for serious bonus points, video of actually riding on said buses! (I know Susan has a head start on this one too, but let her serve as an inspiration to us all.)
You have one week. Let's do this.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Un dia en la vida de una Susana
Annie Dillard once said, “How we spend our days is of course how we spend our lives.” I shame myself with this phrase when I spend too much of my time here in Bolivia reading gossip blogs and pathetically trying to download episodes of 30 Rock on Korean YouTube (damn you, Hulu international blockers!) instead of going to El Alto’s sprawling markets, knocking on the doors of aid agencies, or hiking in the Andes.
But life in El Alto is unpredictable -- if perpetually cold -- and therefore average days are hard to define. So perhaps a Glee-inspired mash-up?
Currently, most days in my life involve me trying desperately to come to grips with the fact that I am attempting to dance in a university troupe – aiming for Carnival, but more likely for a later entrada (dance parade) when I’ve had time to actually learn the choreography. Tinku rehearsal is Tues/Thursday nights from 8-10:30, and usually for about 3-4 hours on Saturday. So I spend a great many mornings waking up and thinking: Why can’t I sit up without the help of nearby furniture? Why do my feet feel broken? Why am I getting up at 6am when I got home from dance practice at midnight? Why is my coffee all the way across the rain-soaked, hail-splattered patio? But more on this perhaps-unwise aspiration later.
I live in a little two-room apartment that is part of a larger structure owned by my compadres de rutucha (or the Aymara rite of the first haircut), and use a little kitchen across the courtyard. On an average day I put on my faux Uggs to guard against the cold, and start boiling water for coffee. Because water boils at a lower temperature at this altitude, I have to leave it on for a while to kill any bichos trying to infect me with giardia for a 5th time. Damn you giardia bichos! You are not welcome in my gut!
By 7:30 I need to be out the door if I am going to make it to the mediation center where I am currently working by 8:30am, though as Sohini and Stacey can attest, I am usually late. My home isn’t so far from my place of work -- as the Condor flies -- but rush hour in the Ceja (the main commercial district of El Alto, where all major arteries of El Alto connect) means it’s at least an hour-long bus ride to the higher, chillier neighborhood of Alto Lima.
Most mornings people in my neighborhood fight for seats on the inexplicably-infrequent mini-buses. But that’s why god gave us elbows. On my way to work, I awe at the Andes Mountains that surround the city, and dodge traffic as I change buses several times along the way. It’s then a 15-minute hike through the unpaved streets now gunked-up by the rainy season. On Wednesdays I get to trek through the weekly open-air market, past huge bags of potatoes and thick slabs of meat hanging from temporary butcher stands, piles of lettuce and tomatoes, and heaps of used clothing spread out on plastic sheets to keep them dry from the nearby open sewers. I love the bustle.
Mondays and Wednesdays I spend at the mediation center as a volunteer/researcher, doing intake for people seeking legal aid on a variety of issues, but most often spouse abuse, family conflict, and child support. Honestly, some of this work can be pretty brutal. Anyone think the National Science Foundation will pay for post-field therapy?
In addition to doing intake or sitting in on the intake sessions done by Center staff, I also help arrange mediation sessions and sit in on those conciliation appointments to observe how people think about and try to manage conflict – and how these aid programs try to intervene in those conflicts. I write-up all these experiences in my fieldnotes – the data we anthropologists later analyze as we write our dissertations, articles, and books.
Days I don’t work at the mediation center are often split between three main activities: catching up on fieldnotes, doing laundry, and conducting interviews with other institutions, aid workers, or government agents. Sometimes I attend workshops, conferences or training sessions on conflict resolution or current events.
While it’s time consuming to do my laundry by hand (in metal or plastic tubs out on our patio), I actually find it really cathartic, and it forces me to stay close to home some days as I alternate between scrubbing and writing. Those days I sip endless cups of Toddy h
ot chocolate mixed with instant coffee (I hear Sohini gasping in horror) and try to stay warm under my alpaca poncho while grasping my hot water bottle. Like my cohortmates, though, I often camp out at nice coffee shops down in the capital, La Paz, where faster speed WiFi lets me more efficiently check Facebo…I mean, download scholarly articles.
In these past weeks I have been devoting many of my evenings to Tinku dance rehearsal down in La Paz. I drop off my bags and change clothes at my friend Sarah’s apartment in the city center, where I can also catch a taxi ride back to El Alto after practice (it’s almost impossible to find a bus home after 11pm). I may not make the final cut for Carnival, but am kinda loving the catharsis of jumping, shouting, kicking, and punching that comes with our choreography, even if it leaves me breathless and I must limp through the next day. Also, I look like an Amazon next to the 4 foot 5” instructor. I know. I have seen video evidence. You, gentle reader, will never see that video. But here you may enjoy some of my Tinku colleagues (a very small group compared to the 100 or so who are part of the full troupe):
This is a clip of Paso "L" or the "L" sequence, one of about 16 different sequences. I have learned six thus far. There is one month until Carnival. Um. You can understand my doubt about making the cut. Paso "L" was the bane of my existence (it's just a lot of confusing repetition), until I started learning the "chicken" on Saturday (the day I passed my exam and became an official member of Fraternidad Tinkus Puros!). The Chicken is now my least understood paso. And like “L” before it, I now find myself having trouble falling asleep at night as visions of chicken steps dance through my head.
And so, our Day in the Life of Susan Mash-up comes to a close. I will hobble my way through some variation on these themes the next day. Maybe this time having lunch with a friend, or taking one of my godkids to the movies. Maybe this time going to a book launch -- or attending a panel on Vivir Bien (“living well,” the stated indigenous philosophical basis for the Morales Administration’s political platform). Maybe I spend it interviewing someone who works in far-off Santa Cruz via Skype, or talking with former colleagues about how events are unfolding in the country. Or maybe just practicing my dance moves in the courtyard while my goddaughter laughs.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
A (not so busy) day in the life of...
So rather than regaling you all with the stories of my "busy" days, I'll share ways I keep myself occupied on those "not so busy" days.
1. Hit the snooze button until 8AM.
2. Come out of my room in a zombie-like state, put water on the electric kettle and make coffee in my french press. As much as I love coffee, I really dislike instant coffee, which is generally the favored form of coffee here--with lots of milk and sugar. So, I have to pack lots of ground coffee from home, and relatives from Bangalore have been wonderful in getting me coffee grown in South India.
3. Read my four newspapers: The Hindu, The Economic Times, The Times of India, and The Telegraph, while eating breakfast.
4. If I'm not doing anything else productive, I spend most of my day at my workspace (see below), alternating between fieldnotes, the interwebs, skype and general procrastination.
5. Some days I wander off to the nearby Cafe Coffee Day (conveniently located in a mall, where I can also spend some quality time shopping), for a change in environment. Though working in coffee shops is not nearly as common here, so I do get strange looks when I've been sitting around for too long.
6. In the early evening, I often spend some time reading and drinking tea up on our roof.
7. Evenings are pretty much a repeat of fieldnotes, interwebs and skype, before dinner, followed by important research activities in the form of media analysis (i.e. television).
1. Hit the snooze button until 8AM.
2. Come out of my room in a zombie-like state, put water on the electric kettle and make coffee in my french press. As much as I love coffee, I really dislike instant coffee, which is generally the favored form of coffee here--with lots of milk and sugar. So, I have to pack lots of ground coffee from home, and relatives from Bangalore have been wonderful in getting me coffee grown in South India.
3. Read my four newspapers: The Hindu, The Economic Times, The Times of India, and The Telegraph, while eating breakfast.
4. If I'm not doing anything else productive, I spend most of my day at my workspace (see below), alternating between fieldnotes, the interwebs, skype and general procrastination.
5. Some days I wander off to the nearby Cafe Coffee Day (conveniently located in a mall, where I can also spend some quality time shopping), for a change in environment. Though working in coffee shops is not nearly as common here, so I do get strange looks when I've been sitting around for too long.
6. In the early evening, I often spend some time reading and drinking tea up on our roof.
7. Evenings are pretty much a repeat of fieldnotes, interwebs and skype, before dinner, followed by important research activities in the form of media analysis (i.e. television).
Monday, January 31, 2011
A Day in the Life of... an Honorary Expat
Confession: I have been avoiding responding to this call for posts not really because I don't have a routine at the moment, but more because I don't have a routine that involves work.
See, I returned to Lagos the first week of January, only to find my primary fieldsite completely empty of research subjects. While I guess that's a good thing if no one is being trafficked at the moment (or at least no one is being subjected to the dubious rehabilitation process offered here), it makes my research a tad more difficult. Ok, I thought, I'll just pursue that long list of other options I've been meaning to get to! But after a few legitimate roadblocks there, I was stumped for things to do. After almost a month back, I've finally started to work some of that stuff out, but in the meantime, I kinda got into the routine of not doing much.
I blame that mostly on having an altogether too comfortable setup over here. See, what happened is, a little while ago, I took up a house-sitting gig for some expatriate American friends who were traveling back to the States for a couple weeks. Well, my friends got back, but I never really left. I'm looking for new accommodation now, but am meanwhile taking full advantage of all this place has to offer, and that's not exactly been a good thing for me in terms of productivity. I don't mean you have to be uncomfortable to do fieldwork. I just mean that never in my life, whether I am in the US or elsewhere, should I be given this latitude for laziness, because I will just never leave the house. Or, in this case, the compound. So, I'm just going to call this a day in the life of an honorary expat...thereby saving the juicy real Nigeria daily life stuff for other individual posts -- sneaky huh?
In the morning I wake up in my beautifully furnished and air-conditioned bedroom, one of two spare rooms in my friends' expansive expat flat. Usually I am woken up by my friends' German shorthair pointer Friday. Full name Thank God It's Friday, after the two very common Nigerian names Thank God and Friday, this six month old pup loves to curl up in bed under the covers, so when I'm the last person asleep in the house, he knows where to find me. I mean, I didn't go to grad school to wake up for a 9-5 right? Anyway, this is him, waiting patiently for the double tap invitation up to snuggle:
Friday
At this point I usually tell myself that I was just about to get up, but how could I refuse some puppy cuddles, so I drift off again for a bit. Finally, when the shame of sleeping in and/or my compulsive internet habit overtakes me, I wake up enough to check Facebook and email on my friends' nearly-US-fast wifi. Eventually I manage to drag myself out of the room and into the kitchen, often trying to pretend I've already been awake and productive for hours at the computer in my room, though I doubt this charade is ever successful. I make a cup of hot tea--another luxury of living in A/C--and eat a bowl of imported American cereal. Then I shower with hot water that actually has enough pressure to work like a real shower, while the steward makes my bed and washes my dishes. Seriously, it's ridiculous.
On good days, my friends' driver is available to take me around to run any errands I finally make myself do. Pretty much all people in the compound, and every other expat in the company for that matter, have the exact same car, with very minor variations. It's a Toyota Prado (basically a Land Cruiser), and they come in black, blue, or gray. Sometimes they have huge sparkly gold racing stripes, and sometimes not. These distinctions are very important when all 40 people in your compound drive the same car.
Prado round-up
When I get back from running errands, I usually go for a run. Of course, it's too hot and humid and dusty and polluted and smelly and sewage-y and exhuast-y and crowded and sidewalkless and you get the idea to go running outside, so, after over a decade of resistance, I have finally given into the treadmill. The compound here has a pretty well equipped little gym that is super air-conditioned and little used, so that's been great. Only problem is that the first time I used it, I totally thought the treadmill measured in miles, and I reported back to my friends how astonished I was at my own performance, running five miles after not running at all for months! Of course, it's actually in kilometers, but ever since then, I have been determined do five miles for real. So, for the past couple weeks, I have successfully worked up to a consistent 2K warm up, 5K run, and 1K cool down, and the new goal is to get it all in, including two stretching sessions, in the one hour it takes to listen to a This American Life episode. I'm still about 3 minutes over, but, as you might notice from my detailed account here, this is pretty much all I'm motivated about at the moment, so I expect to break that goal soon. As an aside, I can't say enough for how much I love a podcast workout; I was finding otherwise that I'd get bored before I'd get tired. Since I've only got a month or two of episodes left, though, other suggestions would be much appreciated!
Compound amenities: gym, tennis court, swimming pool,
outdoor kitchen and grill, lots of palm trees.
After the run, if it's still sunny out, and if the Harmattan winds manage to bring down the temperature without bringing up the dust too much, I might sneak in some time by the pool, but otherwise I come back upstairs and hang with my hosts. The lady of the house is a most excellent chef and has taken me in as the designated sous chef in what is honestly one of the best equipped kitchens I've ever cooked in, American or otherwise. Who do you know with a deli slicer, for example? Anyway, it's really incredible what they can put together. In the last week or so, I helped make ricotta cheese, Italian sausage, and four different home brews! Of course, it helps to have that annual shipping container of food and other consumables from the US, plus suitcases of meats, cheese, and produce from friends who regularly fly back and forth between here and the US and UK with luggage room to spare.
After dinner we watch TV or movies and joke about how hard their "hardship" post is. And since I'm planning on moving soon (soon! I swear! or I hope. very soon) I mostly think about how I am going to be able to adjust to bucket baths and daily blackouts and an all-palm-oil-all-the-time diet again. But I'm also excited about getting back into the real world... especially when I know I might still be able to take mini weekend vacations back to expat land as needed.
Ikoyi: Land of expats and elites.
And yes, that would be an ocean view from my room!
Well, lagoon anyway. Close enough.
See, I returned to Lagos the first week of January, only to find my primary fieldsite completely empty of research subjects. While I guess that's a good thing if no one is being trafficked at the moment (or at least no one is being subjected to the dubious rehabilitation process offered here), it makes my research a tad more difficult. Ok, I thought, I'll just pursue that long list of other options I've been meaning to get to! But after a few legitimate roadblocks there, I was stumped for things to do. After almost a month back, I've finally started to work some of that stuff out, but in the meantime, I kinda got into the routine of not doing much.
I blame that mostly on having an altogether too comfortable setup over here. See, what happened is, a little while ago, I took up a house-sitting gig for some expatriate American friends who were traveling back to the States for a couple weeks. Well, my friends got back, but I never really left. I'm looking for new accommodation now, but am meanwhile taking full advantage of all this place has to offer, and that's not exactly been a good thing for me in terms of productivity. I don't mean you have to be uncomfortable to do fieldwork. I just mean that never in my life, whether I am in the US or elsewhere, should I be given this latitude for laziness, because I will just never leave the house. Or, in this case, the compound. So, I'm just going to call this a day in the life of an honorary expat...thereby saving the juicy real Nigeria daily life stuff for other individual posts -- sneaky huh?
***
In the morning I wake up in my beautifully furnished and air-conditioned bedroom, one of two spare rooms in my friends' expansive expat flat. Usually I am woken up by my friends' German shorthair pointer Friday. Full name Thank God It's Friday, after the two very common Nigerian names Thank God and Friday, this six month old pup loves to curl up in bed under the covers, so when I'm the last person asleep in the house, he knows where to find me. I mean, I didn't go to grad school to wake up for a 9-5 right? Anyway, this is him, waiting patiently for the double tap invitation up to snuggle:
FridayAt this point I usually tell myself that I was just about to get up, but how could I refuse some puppy cuddles, so I drift off again for a bit. Finally, when the shame of sleeping in and/or my compulsive internet habit overtakes me, I wake up enough to check Facebook and email on my friends' nearly-US-fast wifi. Eventually I manage to drag myself out of the room and into the kitchen, often trying to pretend I've already been awake and productive for hours at the computer in my room, though I doubt this charade is ever successful. I make a cup of hot tea--another luxury of living in A/C--and eat a bowl of imported American cereal. Then I shower with hot water that actually has enough pressure to work like a real shower, while the steward makes my bed and washes my dishes. Seriously, it's ridiculous.
On good days, my friends' driver is available to take me around to run any errands I finally make myself do. Pretty much all people in the compound, and every other expat in the company for that matter, have the exact same car, with very minor variations. It's a Toyota Prado (basically a Land Cruiser), and they come in black, blue, or gray. Sometimes they have huge sparkly gold racing stripes, and sometimes not. These distinctions are very important when all 40 people in your compound drive the same car.
Prado round-upWhen I get back from running errands, I usually go for a run. Of course, it's too hot and humid and dusty and polluted and smelly and sewage-y and exhuast-y and crowded and sidewalkless and you get the idea to go running outside, so, after over a decade of resistance, I have finally given into the treadmill. The compound here has a pretty well equipped little gym that is super air-conditioned and little used, so that's been great. Only problem is that the first time I used it, I totally thought the treadmill measured in miles, and I reported back to my friends how astonished I was at my own performance, running five miles after not running at all for months! Of course, it's actually in kilometers, but ever since then, I have been determined do five miles for real. So, for the past couple weeks, I have successfully worked up to a consistent 2K warm up, 5K run, and 1K cool down, and the new goal is to get it all in, including two stretching sessions, in the one hour it takes to listen to a This American Life episode. I'm still about 3 minutes over, but, as you might notice from my detailed account here, this is pretty much all I'm motivated about at the moment, so I expect to break that goal soon. As an aside, I can't say enough for how much I love a podcast workout; I was finding otherwise that I'd get bored before I'd get tired. Since I've only got a month or two of episodes left, though, other suggestions would be much appreciated!
Compound amenities: gym, tennis court, swimming pool,outdoor kitchen and grill, lots of palm trees.
After the run, if it's still sunny out, and if the Harmattan winds manage to bring down the temperature without bringing up the dust too much, I might sneak in some time by the pool, but otherwise I come back upstairs and hang with my hosts. The lady of the house is a most excellent chef and has taken me in as the designated sous chef in what is honestly one of the best equipped kitchens I've ever cooked in, American or otherwise. Who do you know with a deli slicer, for example? Anyway, it's really incredible what they can put together. In the last week or so, I helped make ricotta cheese, Italian sausage, and four different home brews! Of course, it helps to have that annual shipping container of food and other consumables from the US, plus suitcases of meats, cheese, and produce from friends who regularly fly back and forth between here and the US and UK with luggage room to spare.
After dinner we watch TV or movies and joke about how hard their "hardship" post is. And since I'm planning on moving soon (soon! I swear! or I hope. very soon) I mostly think about how I am going to be able to adjust to bucket baths and daily blackouts and an all-palm-oil-all-the-time diet again. But I'm also excited about getting back into the real world... especially when I know I might still be able to take mini weekend vacations back to expat land as needed.
Ikoyi: Land of expats and elites.And yes, that would be an ocean view from my room!
Well, lagoon anyway. Close enough.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
A Day in the Life of...
Dear blog,
I receive many questions about what I am doing here. This includes "here" in the world more broadly, my life, and my professional quest to reach doctordom, as well as the "here" in the lab in Antigua, Guatemala.
So in an attempt to clarify what I "do," I begin another scavenger hunt, Numero 4: A Day in the Life of...
1) Wake up, shower, be careful not to hit my head on the sloped ceiling. Also be careful not to break the toilet chain because it's a pain to fix. Get dressed and put on my llama slippers that look like this:
2) Eat breakfast. Either Quaker Squares or peanut butter toast. Caitlin Walker is responsible for my craving for Quaker Squares.
3) Get coffee either by making it, or splurging on a tasty latte from Refuge, which is 2 doors down from my lab/house.
4) Plug in speakers to my iPod touch that my lovely cohortmates and fellow bloggers gave me to start the day with soothing or energizing tunes, depending on the mood.
5) Set up my drawing table with fresh printer paper, ruler, pens, etc.
6) Choose my fresh victims, one of many, many bags of ceramic rims which are considered diagnostic for one reason or another. This could be because they are pretty, or are from a definite time period, or just plain weird.
7) Produce a pencil drawing of the cross-section of the sherds. For example:
8) Repeat steps 6-7 until I get hungry or twitchy.
9) Take photos of drawn sherds, such as:
10) Scoot over to the Casa Herrera, where I maintain a desk, in order to scan all the drawings from the day and upload photos. This, unfortunately, involves wearing actual shoes.
11) Basically, from the pencil drawings, I want to have dissertation figure-ready profiles, so I perform some Photoshop magic to trace all the rims. Then filling them in with black, I obtain:
12) Voila! Instant dissertation figures that can be copied, pasted, grouped, etc. by whatever I want to do. For instance, if I want to make a chronological chart of all the ceramics in one type, such as Aguila Naranja here, then I have all the rims already to mix and match.
13) Check on my Words With Friends games. Want to take me on? Get in touch.
14) Read news, check mail, Facebook, etc.
15) Watch movies to escape it all.
Now I don't want you think that all my sherds are all eroded and un-fun as the ones I've shown here. Because sometimes I find gems, like this one:
Now, this beautiful Urita Gubiado-Inciso (Gouged-Incised) piece is cool for a special reason. Take a closer look at the difference in the weathering of the part on the far right:
The sherd to the left side of the break is from a stratigraphic level in the excavation that was deposited later in time, therefore closer to the surface, therefore more vulnerable to the elements. The sherd to the right is from a lower excavated level, which is why it looks a bit less worn.
So what does that mean, blog? It means that the deposit I excavated happened at one time, or over a very short period of time. This pot was broken and thrown down in a big pile of broken pottery as an event, a ritual deposit of some sort, rather than just in the trash.
When did this happen, you ask? Well, the folks over at Beta Analytic, Inc. tell me that this deposit occurred between a 2-sigma calibrated radiocarbon range of AD 230-410, which puts it in the early 4th Century, AD. This falls securely within the Early Classic Maya Period, which means that the people of El Palmar probably left around that time.
Yes, blog, I know what you're thinking. Did the Palmar folks take their show on up to El Diablo, which had a fantastic tomb that dated to shortly after this deposit?
Only time and science will tell!
Sincerely,
James
I receive many questions about what I am doing here. This includes "here" in the world more broadly, my life, and my professional quest to reach doctordom, as well as the "here" in the lab in Antigua, Guatemala.
So in an attempt to clarify what I "do," I begin another scavenger hunt, Numero 4: A Day in the Life of...
1) Wake up, shower, be careful not to hit my head on the sloped ceiling. Also be careful not to break the toilet chain because it's a pain to fix. Get dressed and put on my llama slippers that look like this:
2) Eat breakfast. Either Quaker Squares or peanut butter toast. Caitlin Walker is responsible for my craving for Quaker Squares.3) Get coffee either by making it, or splurging on a tasty latte from Refuge, which is 2 doors down from my lab/house.
4) Plug in speakers to my iPod touch that my lovely cohortmates and fellow bloggers gave me to start the day with soothing or energizing tunes, depending on the mood.
5) Set up my drawing table with fresh printer paper, ruler, pens, etc.
6) Choose my fresh victims, one of many, many bags of ceramic rims which are considered diagnostic for one reason or another. This could be because they are pretty, or are from a definite time period, or just plain weird.
7) Produce a pencil drawing of the cross-section of the sherds. For example:
8) Repeat steps 6-7 until I get hungry or twitchy.9) Take photos of drawn sherds, such as:
10) Scoot over to the Casa Herrera, where I maintain a desk, in order to scan all the drawings from the day and upload photos. This, unfortunately, involves wearing actual shoes.11) Basically, from the pencil drawings, I want to have dissertation figure-ready profiles, so I perform some Photoshop magic to trace all the rims. Then filling them in with black, I obtain:
12) Voila! Instant dissertation figures that can be copied, pasted, grouped, etc. by whatever I want to do. For instance, if I want to make a chronological chart of all the ceramics in one type, such as Aguila Naranja here, then I have all the rims already to mix and match.13) Check on my Words With Friends games. Want to take me on? Get in touch.
14) Read news, check mail, Facebook, etc.
15) Watch movies to escape it all.
Now I don't want you think that all my sherds are all eroded and un-fun as the ones I've shown here. Because sometimes I find gems, like this one:
Now, this beautiful Urita Gubiado-Inciso (Gouged-Incised) piece is cool for a special reason. Take a closer look at the difference in the weathering of the part on the far right:
The sherd to the left side of the break is from a stratigraphic level in the excavation that was deposited later in time, therefore closer to the surface, therefore more vulnerable to the elements. The sherd to the right is from a lower excavated level, which is why it looks a bit less worn.So what does that mean, blog? It means that the deposit I excavated happened at one time, or over a very short period of time. This pot was broken and thrown down in a big pile of broken pottery as an event, a ritual deposit of some sort, rather than just in the trash.
When did this happen, you ask? Well, the folks over at Beta Analytic, Inc. tell me that this deposit occurred between a 2-sigma calibrated radiocarbon range of AD 230-410, which puts it in the early 4th Century, AD. This falls securely within the Early Classic Maya Period, which means that the people of El Palmar probably left around that time.
Yes, blog, I know what you're thinking. Did the Palmar folks take their show on up to El Diablo, which had a fantastic tomb that dated to shortly after this deposit?
Only time and science will tell!
Sincerely,
James
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Los Espots
The great challenge of scavenger hunt N. 3 for me? So few Bolivian companies produce television commercials of note -- or at least worthy of youtube posting -- that I have been scrounging to find something to post. The two main sources of television "espots" as they are known are Bolivia's beer and telephone industries. In particular, I love the Paceña beer commercial whose moral is that if you drink Paceña beer, you will TOTALLY bag a hot gringa (foreign girl).
But what struck me while working on this assignment is how many of the very few commercials available deal with the exact. same. theme.
And that theme? BOLIVIA, we are diverse, but UNITED.
Entel, the largest phone company, has particularly focused its campaigns around the issue of Unity in Diversity. These are nice aspirations, but the commercial must be understood against the backdrop of deepening racial, regional, and political rifts and a series of violent confrontations with racial overtones.
Take for example this Entel commercial, which is part of a series of ads featuring 3 dudes from 3 different parts of Bolivia (three regions known for their inter-departmental tensions) who go traveling across the country on a quest to deliver a wedding dress to a cousin. They encounter regional cuisine, natural beauty, and then, the three upper-middle class guys are saved by an indigenous woman with an Entel cell phone after their car breaks down on the desolate salt flats. In the below short, the longer storyline has been reworked into a series of images showing the wealth of Bolivian cultural diversity -- all united by the Entel slogan of "Entel, uniendo bolivia, desarollando futuro," or "Entel, Uniting Bolivia, Developing the Future."
Behold!! They hold aloft their Entel phones, beacons of light -- of progress -- in the darkness of racial and class division and underdevelopment. The title of the espot seems rather ironic to me. "Somos Milliones" or "we are millions" is intended to capture the notion of richness in diversity, and the song celebrates the millions of dreams or aspirations held by Bolivians. But it also evokes the last words said to be uttered by Tupac Katari-- the dying leader of an indigenous rebellion -- as he was drawn and quartered during the colonial era, and more recently invoked by indigenous movements: We will be back, and we will be millions. That cry has inspired people to seek to radically upend Bolivia's political and economic system. And it has inspired terrible fear in the hearts of those who would rather things stayed the same.
At least rival Viva! has the humility to suggest that Bolivia is united by Futbol (soccer), and not their magical phone lines. Of note here, Cholita soccer! Thick multi-tiered skirts make for more challenging goals.
Finally, a slew of ads preceded the Bicentenial of La Paz last year. Again, Entel.
But the fun of this ad is you get to see a little of the capital, a capital "Full of mysticism, character, and hope." Ahem. So join us on a journey to Our Lady of Peace:
Behold, Mt. Illimani! The Mystical Witches Market! That Cholita holding some gold necklaces! A grandmother instructing her grandchild in the ways of the Alasitas -- or, buying miniatures that represent the various things you hope to get in the coming year, from trucks to American Visas, to a boyfriend (ahem, not that I have ever bought one of those at alasitas...ahem)...all in miniature!... (adapted from Ekeko, the Andean god of abundance). Yikes! It's the notorious construction of the "Triplet Bridges" -- which are perched precariously on unstable soil.Gringo tourists gasping for breath as they walk around the city! Oooh! Our Weather patterns are so unpredictable (It's sunny outside, I should probably take an umbrella)! Arg! The lack of small change for all things (bus fare). Bread sellers who will yell at you. Market Cholas! Zebras teaching us to use crosswalks while being sassy! Look at our Big Modern Buildings!
Because "Celebrating 200 years of Freedom, a gift for La Paz -- full cell phone coverage...Because development is never extinguished. Entel: Uniting Bolivia, Developing the Future" (development "nunce se apague" -- a reference to the unquenchable flame that symbolizes La Paz's "cry of freedom," throwing off the shackles of Colonial domination. Which is like not dropping calls on your cell phone).
And, if at the end of all this you do wanna see that commercial about how Bolivian beer will get you a gringa, click here.
Finally, we are now on a brief blog haitus during the holidays, but Stacey has encouraged me to shake my fist at everyone and remind the cohort that things will recommence with earnestness in 2011. Dammit.
But what struck me while working on this assignment is how many of the very few commercials available deal with the exact. same. theme.
And that theme? BOLIVIA, we are diverse, but UNITED.
Entel, the largest phone company, has particularly focused its campaigns around the issue of Unity in Diversity. These are nice aspirations, but the commercial must be understood against the backdrop of deepening racial, regional, and political rifts and a series of violent confrontations with racial overtones.
Take for example this Entel commercial, which is part of a series of ads featuring 3 dudes from 3 different parts of Bolivia (three regions known for their inter-departmental tensions) who go traveling across the country on a quest to deliver a wedding dress to a cousin. They encounter regional cuisine, natural beauty, and then, the three upper-middle class guys are saved by an indigenous woman with an Entel cell phone after their car breaks down on the desolate salt flats. In the below short, the longer storyline has been reworked into a series of images showing the wealth of Bolivian cultural diversity -- all united by the Entel slogan of "Entel, uniendo bolivia, desarollando futuro," or "Entel, Uniting Bolivia, Developing the Future."
Behold!! They hold aloft their Entel phones, beacons of light -- of progress -- in the darkness of racial and class division and underdevelopment. The title of the espot seems rather ironic to me. "Somos Milliones" or "we are millions" is intended to capture the notion of richness in diversity, and the song celebrates the millions of dreams or aspirations held by Bolivians. But it also evokes the last words said to be uttered by Tupac Katari-- the dying leader of an indigenous rebellion -- as he was drawn and quartered during the colonial era, and more recently invoked by indigenous movements: We will be back, and we will be millions. That cry has inspired people to seek to radically upend Bolivia's political and economic system. And it has inspired terrible fear in the hearts of those who would rather things stayed the same.
At least rival Viva! has the humility to suggest that Bolivia is united by Futbol (soccer), and not their magical phone lines. Of note here, Cholita soccer! Thick multi-tiered skirts make for more challenging goals.
Finally, a slew of ads preceded the Bicentenial of La Paz last year. Again, Entel.
But the fun of this ad is you get to see a little of the capital, a capital "Full of mysticism, character, and hope." Ahem. So join us on a journey to Our Lady of Peace:
Behold, Mt. Illimani! The Mystical Witches Market! That Cholita holding some gold necklaces! A grandmother instructing her grandchild in the ways of the Alasitas -- or, buying miniatures that represent the various things you hope to get in the coming year, from trucks to American Visas, to a boyfriend (ahem, not that I have ever bought one of those at alasitas...ahem)...all in miniature!... (adapted from Ekeko, the Andean god of abundance). Yikes! It's the notorious construction of the "Triplet Bridges" -- which are perched precariously on unstable soil.Gringo tourists gasping for breath as they walk around the city! Oooh! Our Weather patterns are so unpredictable (It's sunny outside, I should probably take an umbrella)! Arg! The lack of small change for all things (bus fare). Bread sellers who will yell at you. Market Cholas! Zebras teaching us to use crosswalks while being sassy! Look at our Big Modern Buildings!
Because "Celebrating 200 years of Freedom, a gift for La Paz -- full cell phone coverage...Because development is never extinguished. Entel: Uniting Bolivia, Developing the Future" (development "nunce se apague" -- a reference to the unquenchable flame that symbolizes La Paz's "cry of freedom," throwing off the shackles of Colonial domination. Which is like not dropping calls on your cell phone).
And, if at the end of all this you do wanna see that commercial about how Bolivian beer will get you a gringa, click here.
Finally, we are now on a brief blog haitus during the holidays, but Stacey has encouraged me to shake my fist at everyone and remind the cohort that things will recommence with earnestness in 2011. Dammit.
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