Something I Just Realized

Here's something I just realized. Travel is meant for only a very small fraction of the population. Travel means trying new things and also trying not to make a face when you realize that it's the worst thing you've ever tasted. Travel means you go out for a walk, even when you're tired, just for the simple sake of exploring and discovering new places. If you're going to travel, do it right. Push yourself in every single way possible. Don't take a vacation, take an exploration. Go places you never imagined you'd see. I mean, why not? You have this one life and it's really not very long. We have a limited time here on this little blue planet. Why wouldn't you see as much of it as possible? Put your worries aside, take everything as it comes, accept all that you see as just the way this beautiful world flows and things will fall into place. Travel to see the world, travel to feel the world but don't travel to understand the world. Because you never will. And you never want to. Why try to understand when you could simply marvel in its mystery? Some things truly are better off left misunderstood. One of those things is the world. For once, don't analyze what you see, just smile and realize that you are living in a unique moment in time. A time that can never be replaced or erased. Make the most of this moment. You don't get it again and you don't have too many after it. Do yourself and favor and see the world. See as much of it as you can, so much that when your time on Earth is about finished, you can honestly and proudly say that you've searched every corner of the world and still don't understand a damn thing about it. And you'll smile because there's nothing like the memories of exploration. There's really nothing like the feeling of looking around a corner and not having a clue as to what you'll see on the other side. You'll never forget how it feels to literally have your breath taken away by something more beautiful than words could express. And you'll always remember the faces of the people you encounter. Faces tell stories. A face in its most candid moment is the greatest of the storytellers. Look at someone's face when they're hard at work, when they're in agony, when they're in sheer elation. Look at a face in a candid moment and you'll never forget it. Travel so that you can do all these things but mostly travel for yourself. Give yourself the opportunity to have your breath taken away by a sunrise and to see someone's face in a private moment. Travel the world, explore all you can and savor every inch of the Earth you place your foot upon.

EC, 12 August 2010, 10:01 p.m.

I made it.

Thanks to Dad, Mom, Debbie and Dave. Thank-you for helping me get here. I'm extraordinarily lucky to have parents like you that help me realize my dreams of traveling the world and doing what makes me happy. I hope that someday the work I do will make you all proud.

View into one of very many alleyways in Cusco. Taken on my second day in the city.

First Night in Cusco

So after waking from a much-needed four hour nap, I'm still feeling the effects of Cusco's elevation. And while my body is a bit hesitant towards any type of movement, even just my hand scribbling across a page, my senses have been thrown for a tailspin. The first thing I noticed as soon as I woke from my slumber was that with the window open, it actually sounded like I was in a different country. Obviously locals going back and forth in a rapid slew of Spanish is a dead give-away but listening beyond the people speaking, there is a liveliness pouring through my window that can only belong to a life-loving culture. Car horns beep, but only as a gentle reminder to pedestrians to get themselves out of harm's way. Music, the kind that makes you want to get up and dance like no one is watching (and if it weren't for my altitude sickness, trust me, I'd be dancing all around my room) whirls it's way into my bedroom along with the occasional scents of diesel fumes and street food. All of these things combined have created a symphony for my senses and I can't help but smile.

My first view of the Andes Mountains from the plane. We were at about 33,000 feet a.s.l.

Flight From Lima to Cusco

Dense fog completely encapsulates the capital city Lima; literally everything is grey. We arrive at about 6:30 in the morning and we are quick to get on the next flight to our final destination, Cusco, Peru. The rapid ascent of our plane through the thick clouds eventually reveals an expanse of soft, white plains. But then, just as quickly as we broke out of the clouds, the jagged brown peaks of the Andes Mountains come into focus. It's strange to think that something as seemingly routine as a mountain range could be so breathtaking. No picture I take could ever properly portray the beauty of what I now look upon. Any word or combination of words would be a gross understatement. It is a world above the world. There's hardly a hint of life that could be seen from where I now sit at 33,000 feet above sea level (a.s.l.). And even more strangely, I find the visible lack of human involvement soothing. It's the largest expanse of land I've seen thus far in my life that has been largely untouched by the human hand and there's something immensely remarkable about that. I'm exhausted from the 16 hours worth of travel but the scene from my window has awakened me. It's awakened parts of my conciousness that I hardly knew existed. It's brought me to the beautiful realization that there quite literally is an entire other world to be seen and while we are alive we must, with imperative fervor, see this world and behold its marvels.
The announcement explains that we are about to land in Cusco. And out of nowhere, humanity becomes evident. Humble abodes dot the outskirts of the city and eventually they come closer and closer until one of the highest cities in the world comes together. I look out and see the city of Cusco beneath me and I realize that this is my kind of religious experience. It is a world vastly different from my own and I'm ready to explore and experience this ancient land. I've never before felt what I feel now; I am finally in my element.

They

Imagine yourself 1,000 years from now. You, like every other warm-blooded human being of the day will be long dead (unless modern medicine takes one hell of a leap forward, but still, I'm not sure you'd want to live that long anyway). So 1,000 years from now, in the year 3010, you'll be dead and the only evidence of your existence will be the pile of your bones decomposition decided to leave alone for awhile. That's all. Just your bones. And now let's imagine that your burial spot ends up becoming an archaeological site in the year 3010. A team of archaeologists begins to excavate and lo and behold, they find a human burial (you). Now, things can go one of two ways: the first option involves the lead archaeologist looking down at the exposed portion of your right maxilla and saying "Eh, just another pile of bones; won't tell us much. Cover it back up and move on." While this may be a generalization, most people would like to think of themselves as a bit more than a pile of bones. If you find yourself in that category, the second option may be more appealing. The alternate ending to your discovery would entail the lead archaeologist seeing the exposed right maxilla, understanding the wealth of information your burial would bring in interpreting the site, and calling in the bioarchaeologist for specialized excavation.

Now, think of all the times you've opened up a history book. You see the big names like Napoleon, Genghis Khan, Hatshepsut, Lao Tzu, Martin Luther, Maimonides, Mohandas Gandhi; the list goes on, but you get the idea. Now think of the nameless individuals who followed these extraordinary people. The average men and women who hung on the words of great leaders and those who fought against tyrannical figures. The young men in the armies, the average people who performed the laborious tasks which built the empires and cities of our past. Were they not extraordinary too? Were they not the numbers that made the movements possible? And yet, we don't know their names. We know they existed, but we don't know who they were.

The point is, many people go through their lives thinking about themselves and those that come into contact with them. What is most striking to me however, is the fact that most of these people are completely unaware of the past; they don't see how our lives are essentially mirror images of our ancestor's lives. And too often we forget about the people that came before us. Go back 300 years, go back 3,000 years. It doesn't matter how long ago these individuals lived, they were still human. They loved the way we love. They hurt the way we hurt. They laughed the way we laugh. They became angry and agitated. They discovered. They made love. They created, they pondered, they wrote, and they spoke. They believed, they hoped and they aspired. They saw the beauty of nature and they felt the heat of the sun upon their skin. They worried about life. They wondered about death. They were once in the middle of their lives just as we are now.

Now think about the pile of bones.

It is human nature to preserve and protect our lives at all costs. Our capacity for emotion and our ability to consider the future has enabled us to regard our lives as more than the biological cycles they are. And because of this unique ability, we also possess an eminent fear of being forgotten and disolved into the creeping nature of time. But it's important to realize, that whether we like it or not, bones is how we end up. Once we come to terms with our mortality and our own impending situation of disarticulation it becomes a little easier to understand why the work of bioarchaeologists is so crucial. The bioarchaeologist gives the average individual of the past another chance to live and chance to help change the world. My decision to go into bioarchaeology then is centered around the belief that I will be able to give a voice to the forgotten. With my work, I can re-create the story of an individual whose existence has been lost in the annals of history. And while we tell the stories of these people, they will reciprocate by aiding us in our endeavor to piece together the history of our species.

So this blog will be an account of the beginning years of my career as a bioarchaeologist. But it will also tell a tale. A tale where I help piece together the stories of lost ancestors and in the midst of my work, they help me find myself and piece together my own story.