OK. It was pointed out to me that I erred in translation of the lettering on the back of the truck and, as much as it kills me to admit it, as soon as I read the correct translation, I gave the Marine Corps salute (palm smack to forehead).
The correct translation is: "If you hate me, why are you looking at me?"
So much for my dream job as a UN translator…
The week has been productive in terms of analysis. There still remains an enormous quantity of chert to complete, but I am methodically taking care of it. Long hours – I am arriving at the lab by 6 am – but for me, the early hours are very productive.
On the way to work on Tuesday, I stopped at the ATM to withdraw some cash for groceries, and decided to hit up the roadside vendor for a 6 am breakfast special. He does a brisk trade selling to people who are waiting on the bus at that corner, so I figured I could have some tasty street food instead of the two plain boiled eggs I had in my bag.
"What you got that's good?" I asked as I came around the corner.
"Orange juice," came the reply, "and it comes with a parlama egg. I also have hens' eggs, if you prefer."
"What kind of egg is that again?" I pointed at the rounded forms in a large Tupperware container (it was still dark at 6).
"Parlama."
Well, since that was all cleared up… "How much is it?" Answer: 12Q.
Now a dollar and a half is not a lot to pay for breakfast, but it is a lot to pay for a street breakfast of orange juice and an as yet unidentified egg. I have a taco lady who sells me tacos at 1Q each.
"Thanks, maybe tomorrow."
And I got back in my car and started to drive away, but just couldn't. When was the last time I walked away from something I didn't know without trying it? I had to go back. Car in park. Doors locked. Money placed on the counter, and I'm ready to try anything.
"What's a parlama?"
"It is a creature, about this size," arms rounded in front of him, fingers almost touching, "and you can find them in Escuintla." He turned back behind him.
I still was seeing no griddle, and was starting to worry a little, but when he reached behind him, I thought he was going to pull out the grill.
Wrong. He was getting the glass for my orange juice. A quick tug at the membrane, and the turtle egg plopped into the glass of OJ. "It's good with some salt," I was informed. After waiting on the nod, he added the salt, and then sat there expectantly, to see if the big smiling gringo likes the concoction.
What could I do? I drank it. The yolk felt like an oyster going down, and the dregs of the OJ were pretty salty. Not bad – very little is better than fresh-squeezed orange juice in any form - but the addition of a salty yolk made it definitely odd.
After finishing it, I asked "Are the parlama protected?"
"Oh, yes. Of course." Of course….
I had bought some to scramble as well, and the faunal analyst got in on the act at that point – she helped scramble and prepare the eggs (they were more tasty in the OJ) and took a bite. But only a bite. She really didn't like the texture at all (or the taste, for that matter). Wrigley's stock went up later that day, based on her purchases alone (see attached photos).
But I had it confirmed by two different Guatemalans that the OJ/turtle egg breakfast is very tasty - a local favorite / delicacy. So it was not just a case of 'let's see if we can get the gringo to try something nasty.' There is actually a brisk trade in parlama eggs, especially in the capital.
I have to admit, they were better in OJ than in our parlamelette.
The rest of the week was spent working until Saturday, when I took off to visit the site I'll be excavating starting next Wednesday. Yes, that is Wednesday, and not Monday, as I had thought before.
This time it was Adriana, my boss, who put me off. "I have to go to the capital Monday and Tuesday. Let's not start until I get back."
Arrgh. We have already given up the following Monday and Tuesday for another conference that she has to attend. Now I am put on hold again. Can I start without you. No. What is my alternative? I have only two weeks to do the project, and she (or maybe her boss) is convinced that I need to be monitored carefully. As though I could do more damage than the guys who are sacking the site for construction material.
Yep, that's right. The site that in October was not considered to be in danger of destruction (according to the institution that turned me down for funding) is now being sacked. They are likely using large ground moving equipment, and about half the site is gone. I will likely have problems finding places to put units in what little remains of the mound.
And the owner of the site works for the governmental archaeology agency, and he was told of our plans to excavate. So he sacked the site in deliberate disregard of the archaeology we had planned. I am tempted to push for him to either be fired from his job as excavator or to have the land taken away from him, just out of spite.
Sadly, I have no such influence. And what little remains of the site is not likely to convince Adriana that the owner has done anything wrong. A sad comment on the state of affairs in Guatemalan archaeology today.
So I sit in the lab, trying not to grow bitter about bureaucratic delays, and work hard to get much of my analysis done before I go to the field. And I get to hope that there is a site left by the time I can actually arrive to do some work.
A bright point was an interview with a volunteer. As part of their degree program, the university requires all archaeologists to volunteer on two field projects and one lab project. Aura is looking to complete her lab requirement, and we talked for a while about what I am doing. She has to talk to her adviser before making any commitment, but one additional person could provide a huge lift for me, in terms of completing the debitage analysis that remains.
The week ahead will be filled with lots of exciting possibilities. On Monday, Matt, Christina and I will be looking for a causeway connecting the two major sites in our area. Wednesday I will start excavations, and I have to get the car papers redone some time in the next two weeks. It would also be a good idea for me to visit the lithic site in Belize, but we will see how the time goes.
Wish me luck.
Crorey
The correct translation is: "If you hate me, why are you looking at me?"
So much for my dream job as a UN translator…
The week has been productive in terms of analysis. There still remains an enormous quantity of chert to complete, but I am methodically taking care of it. Long hours – I am arriving at the lab by 6 am – but for me, the early hours are very productive.
On the way to work on Tuesday, I stopped at the ATM to withdraw some cash for groceries, and decided to hit up the roadside vendor for a 6 am breakfast special. He does a brisk trade selling to people who are waiting on the bus at that corner, so I figured I could have some tasty street food instead of the two plain boiled eggs I had in my bag.
"What you got that's good?" I asked as I came around the corner.
"Orange juice," came the reply, "and it comes with a parlama egg. I also have hens' eggs, if you prefer."
"What kind of egg is that again?" I pointed at the rounded forms in a large Tupperware container (it was still dark at 6).
"Parlama."
Well, since that was all cleared up… "How much is it?" Answer: 12Q.
Now a dollar and a half is not a lot to pay for breakfast, but it is a lot to pay for a street breakfast of orange juice and an as yet unidentified egg. I have a taco lady who sells me tacos at 1Q each.
"Thanks, maybe tomorrow."
And I got back in my car and started to drive away, but just couldn't. When was the last time I walked away from something I didn't know without trying it? I had to go back. Car in park. Doors locked. Money placed on the counter, and I'm ready to try anything.
"What's a parlama?"
"It is a creature, about this size," arms rounded in front of him, fingers almost touching, "and you can find them in Escuintla." He turned back behind him.
I still was seeing no griddle, and was starting to worry a little, but when he reached behind him, I thought he was going to pull out the grill.
Wrong. He was getting the glass for my orange juice. A quick tug at the membrane, and the turtle egg plopped into the glass of OJ. "It's good with some salt," I was informed. After waiting on the nod, he added the salt, and then sat there expectantly, to see if the big smiling gringo likes the concoction.What could I do? I drank it. The yolk felt like an oyster going down, and the dregs of the OJ were pretty salty. Not bad – very little is better than fresh-squeezed orange juice in any form - but the addition of a salty yolk made it definitely odd.
After finishing it, I asked "Are the parlama protected?"
"Oh, yes. Of course." Of course….
I had bought some to scramble as well, and the faunal analyst got in on the act at that point – she helped scramble and prepare the eggs (they were more tasty in the OJ) and took a bite. But only a bite. She really didn't like the texture at all (or the taste, for that matter). Wrigley's stock went up later that day, based on her purchases alone (see attached photos).But I had it confirmed by two different Guatemalans that the OJ/turtle egg breakfast is very tasty - a local favorite / delicacy. So it was not just a case of 'let's see if we can get the gringo to try something nasty.' There is actually a brisk trade in parlama eggs, especially in the capital.
I have to admit, they were better in OJ than in our parlamelette.The rest of the week was spent working until Saturday, when I took off to visit the site I'll be excavating starting next Wednesday. Yes, that is Wednesday, and not Monday, as I had thought before.
This time it was Adriana, my boss, who put me off. "I have to go to the capital Monday and Tuesday. Let's not start until I get back."
Arrgh. We have already given up the following Monday and Tuesday for another conference that she has to attend. Now I am put on hold again. Can I start without you. No. What is my alternative? I have only two weeks to do the project, and she (or maybe her boss) is convinced that I need to be monitored carefully. As though I could do more damage than the guys who are sacking the site for construction material.
Yep, that's right. The site that in October was not considered to be in danger of destruction (according to the institution that turned me down for funding) is now being sacked. They are likely using large ground moving equipment, and about half the site is gone. I will likely have problems finding places to put units in what little remains of the mound.
And the owner of the site works for the governmental archaeology agency, and he was told of our plans to excavate. So he sacked the site in deliberate disregard of the archaeology we had planned. I am tempted to push for him to either be fired from his job as excavator or to have the land taken away from him, just out of spite.
Sadly, I have no such influence. And what little remains of the site is not likely to convince Adriana that the owner has done anything wrong. A sad comment on the state of affairs in Guatemalan archaeology today.
So I sit in the lab, trying not to grow bitter about bureaucratic delays, and work hard to get much of my analysis done before I go to the field. And I get to hope that there is a site left by the time I can actually arrive to do some work.
A bright point was an interview with a volunteer. As part of their degree program, the university requires all archaeologists to volunteer on two field projects and one lab project. Aura is looking to complete her lab requirement, and we talked for a while about what I am doing. She has to talk to her adviser before making any commitment, but one additional person could provide a huge lift for me, in terms of completing the debitage analysis that remains.
The week ahead will be filled with lots of exciting possibilities. On Monday, Matt, Christina and I will be looking for a causeway connecting the two major sites in our area. Wednesday I will start excavations, and I have to get the car papers redone some time in the next two weeks. It would also be a good idea for me to visit the lithic site in Belize, but we will see how the time goes.
Wish me luck.
Crorey
No comments:
Post a Comment