Good Evening, Godless Sodomites

The dynamic duo Stewart and Colbert won the Emmys.  Watch the joyness here.

 

Speaking of funny, Little Miss Sunshine is quite good.  Steve Carell does his Daily Show heritage proud, and the rest of the cast is pretty perfect as well.

 

I will say it one more time: Janelle kicks ass. 

Hee hee hee
Matt Yglesias tells us what we already knew: Princeton doesn't matter.

Notes from the Andes, Episode 2

It might seem strange to tell a story about how I left the small town of Huari before I talk much about how I got there, but the story is fairly representative of how transportation operates there.  

It was my last day in Huari before returning alone to Lima.  I had bought a bus ticket for 4 pm on Sunday, though everyone but me seemed to know we had a party planned for Sunday afternoon.  The director's parents, assorted townies who seemed to know the family, and the Italian crew of a nearby project poured into the house to help cooke the Pachamanca, a traditional meal which means "food cooked in the ground."  This included not only the rabbits and guinea pigs that had been living in the loft above our house, but also chicken, goat, pork, sweet potatoes, potatoes, and beans.  They made a big oven by building a fire beneath hot stones, then threw the potatoes on the rocks and covered them with a layer of plants.  Then came the meat, which was wrapped in paper, and more plants.  Then they shoveled dirt over the whole thing,  made a big mound to seal in all the heat, and let it cook for an hour.  I was extremely sketched out while we were doing this, and was happy when I heard lunch wouldn't be ready until 3:40.  Surely I'd have to be on my way to the bus station by then.  However. Bebel's family insisted I eat before I left, and as soon as the meat was unwrapped they loaded the very first plate for me with choice cuts while everyone else stood in a line and watched me chow down.  Despite my initial unease, the meat ended up being some of the best-tasting I'd had in a long time.  Who knew.

 However, I did have a bus to catch, and by the time I had said my goodbyes to my team I barely had 5 minutes 'til departure time.  I ran, with my 50-lb. backpack and awkward duffel, up the steep path leading to town.  The ensuing burning in my lungs was the closest thing to the aftermath of an 800-meter relay I had experienced in years.  When I did get to the station at 4:02, the bus was still there.  It was still there at 4:18, when I had been sitting in my own sweat, breathing heavily and looking ridiculous, for over 15 minutes.  This is called Peruvian time.

 Eventually the bus left the station.  The first few hours were gorgeous,  moving through cultivated valleys of green and gold, and I kicked myself for leaving my camera with my luggage.  I had plenty of legroom, having chosen a seat in the first row.  Once the sun went down, though, it was time for the en route entertainment, otherwise known as my own personal hell.  There was a tiny TV playing a DVD of what could only be described as music videos, though they were unlike any I hope to be subjected to again.  They consisted of women in pseudo-traditional Andean dress belting out pop ballads with pseudo-traditional melodies and rhythms, and lyrics about beer and being single.  The closest analogy I could think of was our country western music, just in terms of the folksy-cheesy-abrasive combination.  It didn't help that the DVD was 5 hours long or that the volume was piercing.  At first I could tune it out, but eventually it became unbearable.  I was tempted to get up and call for a vote as to who really wanted this music to keep playing, but I didn't want to be that weird gringo girl who was culturally insensitive.  Instead I opted for subtler methods, trying to shatter the screen with my Glare Of Doom™.  Failing in that, I tried to sleep, which proved equally futile. 

Around midnight the torture seemed to have come to an end.  I finally let myself settle in for sleep, and was about to drift off when, after 5 minutes of silence, I heard "MOOOOOOO!" from the direction of the TV.  It turned out the DVD had not ended, but had simply stopped working temporarily and skipped to some later part which included farm animals.  The music resumed for about 5 minutes, then stopped again, and the pattern continued for at least an hour more. 

 Finally, it ended.  I slept fitfully in my seat for the remainder of the 12-hour journey.  I arrived in Lima, groggily grabbed a taxi, and tried to find the project house  where I was planning to spend the next two days.  It turned out to be in a horrible, distant part of town on a street that mysteriously disappears and then reappears, and the poor driver was going berserk until we ran into a woman on the street who knew the family and gave us directions. 

 I was so relieved to find that house.  What I didn't know was that the next day I would end up locked in the house all morning with no e-mail, food, or escape of any kind.  But that is another story altogether.

Third post in one day...
Mood:  a-ok

I went to lunch in Newport with my mom and grandma today and we saw grandma's puppy, which has gotten enormous and is amazingly obedient. I went to Starbucks for the first time in almost two months (this is a big deal for me, folks), and I bought some makeup at Nieman Marcus (aka Needless Markup), which was about the only thing in the whole store I could afford.  I really enjoyed strutting around like the child of privilege that I am and realizing there's nothing wrong with it at all.  Spending time in Peru has made me really appreciate and enjoy how lucky I am to have everything I have, the least of which is toilet seat covers.  I can't wait to move into Davenport. 

 My family is watching Big Brother: All Stars.  At first I refused to participate, but I got hooked in somehow.  All I can say is that Janelle is awesome.  You've got to love a princess-type who will kick a man's ass if need be.  Also, Project Runway - but why is this season just not as good as last season?  Is it the lack of Santino's insanity?  Maybe I just need to watch more episodes.  And  (geeky dance!) Bleach is coming to Adult Swim in September!  Now I just have to (a) hope the  English dubbing doesn't kill the show (*cough* CartoonNetwork Naruto *cough*) and (b) somehow be in my room at 12:30 am on Saturdays.  Somewhat unlikely.

 Physically, I have regained a lot of strength in the past two days.  Maybe tomorrow I'll tell another story from Peru; it really was quite an adventure.  In fact, I have one in mind...

 

Priceless

This is an actual screencap from an Irish news channel.

I believe the intended point was that Bush called Hurricane Katrina one of the worst disasters to hit the U.S.  Ah, the importance of context.  I like it better this way.

 

By the way, I think my comment system is working again. 

 

Summertime, extended

My Peru pictures are online here .

Yes, I have been neglecting this blog.  I'm supposed to be leading a FOOT trip right now, but sadly my illness thwarted said plan.  I'm still hovering around 90% of my full strength.  I went for a walk today, which felt nice.  I hope I am back to running before my summer ends.

So with my newly acquired free time, I've been resting, planning the occasional social activity, reading a variety of random things, chatting, planning my year, watching Tivo, and eating wonderful food.  I've been trying to avoid too much news and politics, as it only makes me depressed, but it seems like Americans are slowly waking up to the the great fraudulent stupidity of the war and the administration behind it. 

My nails are infected again.   Ew.  I must paint them. Additionally, my index fingers got so badly sunburned that they're going to scar.  It's been three weeks, and they're still peeling.  Alas, archaeology is not the profession for those who want beautiful hands.  Mine have aged ten years.

I'm flying back to Yale September 2.  I'm pretty excited about senior year, which will include living in D'port for the first time, writing my senior essay, and applying to grad school.  Wow.  My brother went up to Pomona for the first time on Sunday.  That just makes me feel old.  In addition to my project, I'm taking Advanced Conversational Spanish, Archaeologies of Empire, and one of two Native American History classes.  The fact that it's my last year hasn't really hit me; perhaps I should take a closer look at those grad school apps. I have firmly decided that I would infinitely prefer to stay on the West Coast, even if it meant turning down the likes of Harvard.  I love the sun. 

 I also love the new layout of Tripod.  You can actually cross out text just like on LiveJournal.  You can even type in fancy colors like this!!

You can insert Greek letters and use sub/superscripts to make expressive faces!  

^∂_Δ^{∂       θ}_σ^Θ      ζ¤_{_}¤ζ      ^λ _Ü ^{λ      ρ}_∩^{ρ      φ}_•^φ

 Isn't summer wonderful?

  

 

 

 

Notes From the Andes, Part 1

I am, unfortunately, quite ill.  Fucking bacteria, what did I ever do to you?
Bacteria: You ate us.
Me: Oh yeah.
Bacteria: How would you feel if somebody ate you?
Me: I’d probably want to take revenge on them.
Bacteria: Then we have an understanding.
Me: Yeah well…*Magic CIPRO Blast*
Bacteria: Aaaghhh noooooo!!!

But anyway.  There is quite a lot to report about my little adventure south of the Equator, and I can’t possible recount it all here.  So I'll do it in segments.

Here is story number one.  The day we made the three-hour hike up to the site, we loaded up six donkeys to carry the inordinate amount of equipment the director insisted on bringing.  One of the donkeys took ten steps and promptly died.

 And so began the project. Good times!

Alive. Alive. Alive.

There is so much to write about.  I'll do it when I don't have to pay.  But first things first.  There is nothing better than washing your hair after three weeks in the mountains.  Nothing in the world.

 I had fun.  I'll be here another 10 days but the hard part is over.  Civilization has returned to me.

 Que felicidad.

 

Machu Picchu
Mood:  crushed out
Okay, so let's talk a little about Machu Picchu.

Don't get me wrong; I was quite excited to go there. But you have to understand that without ever having set foot at Machu Picchu I had, in some ways, been there, done that. For most people it is the only Peruvian archaeological site they know, so when I say I do archaeology in Peru, the typical response is, ¨Oh, like Machu Picchu!¨ I have heard Richard Burger recount the story of the site's rediscovery literally five or six times. I have written papers about the exhibit he put together at Yale and fielded endless questions regarding my views on the whole Peru-wants-its-artifacts-back debate. I answered a test question based on an architectural plan of the site. In Spanish class I did an oral presentation on it. Without having seen the place I could tell you where the Temple of the Sun was, where the emperor's quarters were, and why it was not really the ¨Lost City of the Incas.¨ I thought I knew Machu Picchu like the back of my hand.

I did. But I didn't know how it would feel to step off that bus and into a postcard. Postcards can't do this place justice. The sheer size of it impressed me. In pictures it is always dwarfed by Huayna Picchu, the sugarloaf mountain that always serves as the dramaic backdrop to the ruins themselves. Well, the ruins themselves are incredible. The quality of the stonework in the sacred and royal sectors, the mazelike quality of the place (I found rooms on my second day I totally missed the first time), the architectural genius of evoking a harmonious fusion of natural and artificial forms...woah.

What few people understand about Machu Picchu is how infinitely photographable it is. Nine out of ten photos will show the classic shot of the ruins framed by Huayna Picchu, and yeah, I took tons of pictures that looked just like that. But every time you move five feet, there are ten new gorgeous photographs to take. Every time the sun moves five degrees, you get the urge to take the same picture you just took all over again. I'm not kidding when I say I could take pictures of Machu Picchu all day long.

I'm glad I knew what I did about the site, and not just because I didn't have to shell out money for a guide. Rather than making me jaded, it made me really appreciate what I was seeing. I saw myself as Inca nobility, retreating from the cold Cuzco winters to this forest resort to rest and worship and party. Then I saw myself as Hiram Bingham stumbling across this place in 1911 with no idea what it had been or what it would become.

The train ride was long but beautiful, and climbing Huayna Picchu was worth the sweat, though not as fulfilling as the time I spent wandering the main site. The grazing llamas were a nice touch, too. I slept in too late to see the sunrise, but the quiet morning and late afternoon were worth the extra time and money for the overnight stay.

I'm sure I don't need to convince anyone to go to Machu Picchu. I believe it's quite famous. I just wanted to say how wrong I was for even imagining I'd be too jaded to fall in love with it all over again for the first time.

Cuzco is love.
Mood:  happy
I've been in Cuzco for 5 days already. Wow. It is a beautiful place, albeit extremely touristy. The people are nice, especially my darling host mother Yeny. There are tons of restaurants and coffee shops and even the nightlife looks good, though I wouldn't know, since I've mostly been eating with my family and going to bed early. I have a couple of British kids living with me and have met other friends through the school as well. My Spanish classes are helping me a lot and are throroughly enjoyable, and I've finally gotten used to the freezing nighttime temperatures. My house is quite nice and I can always get a hot (though brief!) shower before class.

I wish I had more time here to plan trips to Ollantaytambo, Urubamba, etc. I am really really excited to go to Machu Picchu this weekend, having already been blown away by Sacsayhuaman. I thought coming here might be a bit of a letdown after studying the Incas for so long, but in fact I have found my familiarity with the history of the city has enhanced the emotional impact of the trip. I almost cried at the Coricancha/Church of Santo Domingo. The Inca Museum was nice, but the Museo del Arte Precolombiano was phenomenal. There are so many places to buy souvenirs it is overwhelming.

I'm a bit apprehensive about Marcajirca, mostly because of the temperature factor. I hate transitions and really wish I had another week here. I'm sure when I get there it will be great though. Having hooked up with Bebel in Lima really helped, and my trowel is sitting in my backpack feeling anxious!

Still no word on who my co-leader for FOOT will be. Ahhhhh so many adventures!

I'll probably post again after Machu Picchu, providing I am still capable of writing in this language.