Seven in the morning. The only things that should be up at this unholy hour are roosters and kindergarteners. Seriously. Unfortunately for us, however, 7AM is breakfast time, as decreed by the good doctor, for the rest of the trip. So, dawn in Chavín saw three special groups bustling about – chickens, children, and amateur archaeologists.
As previously mentioned, the permission to excavate hasn’t come through. A Peruvian bureaucrat somewhere is considering it. Slowly. Until the red tape is cut, however, we’ll be making do with a hodgepodge of non-digging activities. Read: theodoliting.
Robert and I spent our long, long day on top of Building A. The National Institute of Culture is jonesing for a very special sort of tarp – a geomembrane they want to drape over the monument to prevent further erosion due to water. Nevermind that there’s a tarp on the site; visitors should feel free to imagine its previous nudity. The catch: a really big tarp needs really big measurements. And because we’re here, and we have the magical theodolite, we are well-equipped. It doesn’t hurt that the data will be a gift to the National Institute, who should be sending that permission slip to dig our way… whenever. In the spirit of mutual back-scratching, then, we’ve taken it upon ourselves (in good cheer) to extensively map all six buildings, so the government can get set to shrinkwrap them.
There is one great thing about standing in the sun at high altitude for 4-6 hours at a time. No, not the dehydration, bug bites, or wicked farmer’s tan: those are all close seconds. Getting shot takes the cake. By that, of course, I mean using the prism pole to reflect the theo’s laser. The pole must be level, and this unreachable perfection is supposed to be achieved by making a small bubble in the handle sit dead-center. As not-fun as that sounds, there is a certain zen that comes after an hour or so. Pace a meter, sink the pole, chivvy the bubble into it’s circle. Don’t breathe, don’t twitch, don’t scratch that itch. Let it drift in, quivering, and for the love of god, just let it lie there. It’s satisfying like any well-done repetitive thing is. See: cleaning your room, petting a dog, flossing.
We pulled in 1800 data points, which sounds like a lot, but when you think about it, won’t make a hefty 3D map. It would be like mapping a human by freckles.
Dr. Rick, that smooth operator, had been keeping something on the DL (down low). The 7th marked his 31st year of matrimony with Rosa. In celebration, we had pudding, and the kids (Matt & Sara) hired a local singer to serenade them post-dessert. I don’t know if you’re familiar with highland serenades, but they are both extremely Chinese sounding and extremely sexual. The singer, dressed in an intense fuchsia / white bead-encrusted dress, sang next to a harpist, who played all of the sharps he could get his hand on. It sounded, no joke, like a song from Mulan.
The lyrics were pretty saucy: things like “If you are single, you may touch me once, but if you are married, touch me as often as you like. It will make your mother jealous.” Luckily, all of this was in either Spanish or Quechua (the old Incan language) and we were free to nod appreciatively without thinking too much about the circumstances of the singer’s molestation.
Dr. Rick loved it though – he did a bit of a goofy highland jig (youtube to follow) and joined the singer for a round of dancing. A bit off-rhythm, but with lots of spirit, Dr. Rick danced until the altitude made him wheeze back to his chair.
After the festivities were over, it was still only 9:30. Robert and I noted, a mote sadly, that there had been nothing to write home about regarding the day (so to speak). To enliven the waning evening, we made a trip the general store. On the off-chance that older people are reading this, I will summarize the rest of the evening thusly:
- I became remarkably well-hydrated
- Scandalous pictures were taken
- Music was played loudly
As innocent as that sounds, it made waking up at seven the next day quite a treat. By which, of course, I mean that I felt roughly as though someone had shot me. Charming.
3 comments:
estoy leyendo. beijos.
I have read every post, so you'd better not stop now
I've also enjoyed reading them all... Though perhaps I should have commented so you'd know this.
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