Sunday, August 14, 2005
Cubs
Recently, I had the opportunity to experience the true Chicago. Kristina, in her infinite awesomeness, took me to a Cubs game. I've never been a fan of baseball. I think it's boring. However, I can see why attending Cubs and Sox games is such an integral part of living in this city. It was a blast. We got there early and watched the warm up, during which I almost got pummeled by a ball whilst I was applying sunscreen. During the game I watched as fans proceeded to drink copious amounts of beer, only to complain that they were dehydrated and needed another one. A cute little group of old men in full Cubs uniforms had instruments and traveled the stadium playing between innings. They were quite good and very endearing. We left at after the 7th inning stretch (where everyone stands up and sings Take Me Out to the Ballgame) because the Cubs were getting pummeled themselves. In fact, I witnessed a grand slam...by the opposing team. While leaving Kristina remarked, "Well, you got to see another long-standing Chicago tradition-the Cubs losing."
Monday, July 25, 2005
Cup o Flan
In my many travels there has been one particular food product that I sorely miss upon returning to the US. That, my friends is individual cups of flan. So amazed was I that these little bites of heaven existed, it required two or three to convince me of their reality. When back in the States, Katie and I mourn the loss of our friend with the greatest of regret. "I wish I had had just one more for the road..." Well, those lamentations are over! I'd like to announce today that I, Noelle, have FOUND the elusive Cup O Flan, and it is beautiful. The angels sang when I happened to glance upon the dairy shelf at Berwyn Fruit Market. The clouds parted, the wind ceased, the sun beamed down on those golden cups of happiness...(all of which I would have seen had I not been inside a brick building at the time) *sigh... Now I can live contently and be buried with a Cup O Flan in one hand and a spoon in the other.
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Journey
Saturday night was jam-packed with mullets and music. I'm talking some serious rocking here...
I was privileged to attend a spectacular concert featuring.....JOURNEY!
I think everything can be summed up in two words: Journey rrrrrocked!
or perhaps: na na nana nana, nana nana na, na na nana nana, nana na nana
The new singer was just as good as Steve Perry...and the drummer was UBER talented. The played songs in chronological order, starting with their Classic Rock, Rush-esque, little-known music. I was QUITE impressed with early-Journey, and am looking into buying those albums. They even played some blues...but the highlight of the night was when the audience joined in on songs like Open Arms, Don't Stop Believin, and Faithfully.
Journey played from 7:30-11:00 PM. That 3.5 hours of rock n roll, and they never showed signs of slowing down, but got progressively energized.
Everyone in the audience got Journey's new CD "Generations" free.
The audience was an array of ages and backgrounds. Five guys behind me were wearing ridiculous blond mullets. A woman asked one of them if it was real. He looked at her with incredulity. "C'mon. *lifting the wig to reveal his bowling ball I don't have ANY hair."
PS: I hope I used the word "incredulity" correctly....I'm sure Shelece will correct me soon.....stupid GRE word list.
I was privileged to attend a spectacular concert featuring.....JOURNEY!
I think everything can be summed up in two words: Journey rrrrrocked!
or perhaps: na na nana nana, nana nana na, na na nana nana, nana na nana
The new singer was just as good as Steve Perry...and the drummer was UBER talented. The played songs in chronological order, starting with their Classic Rock, Rush-esque, little-known music. I was QUITE impressed with early-Journey, and am looking into buying those albums. They even played some blues...but the highlight of the night was when the audience joined in on songs like Open Arms, Don't Stop Believin, and Faithfully.
Journey played from 7:30-11:00 PM. That 3.5 hours of rock n roll, and they never showed signs of slowing down, but got progressively energized.
Everyone in the audience got Journey's new CD "Generations" free.
The audience was an array of ages and backgrounds. Five guys behind me were wearing ridiculous blond mullets. A woman asked one of them if it was real. He looked at her with incredulity. "C'mon. *lifting the wig to reveal his bowling ball I don't have ANY hair."
PS: I hope I used the word "incredulity" correctly....I'm sure Shelece will correct me soon.....stupid GRE word list.
Saturday, July 16, 2005
Harry Potter 6
So, college kid that I am, my Friday night was spent in Oak Park...at a Harry Potter party! This was a SUPER party. Multiple blocks were blocked off and they held events throughout the day: quidditch, wizard's chess, dramatic readings.... Oh yes. There was butterbeer, costuming, and (of course) the book! Yummm...butterbeer.... Anywho, I stood in line by this adorable pair of sisters and one's son named Rinaldo. Turns out Bernice is my age, and coincidentally live 4 blocks from each other. We exchanged numbers. At 11:30 I called Mazzillo because I knew she had gone to a similar party in Florida with her sister and mum. She had her book already and started reading the first 7 pages aloud while I was still in line. You should have seen the hungry faces of the women around me....they wanted to listen too! Luckily, no one got daring, so I made it safely through the night. Ahhhhhhh, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince....must....read....before someone gives the plot away.....
Friday, July 01, 2005
Explore the Field: Anthro
The Field Museum, being the educational institution that it is, sponsored a day in which all new interns got a back-stage pass to a few of the departments. Our particular tour consisted of visits to Anthropology, Zoology, Paleontology, and the library.
The Anthro tour was fun because it was led by a very funny, very sarcastic 28 yr. old collections manager named Will. He took us into the storage rooms and showed us some very cool artifacts. "I mean, we basically think we're the sh**, right, being all technologically advanced...with our iPods, PlayStations, and DVD players...all thanks to our manufacturing power of things like surgical steel. Well, here in my hand is a piece of obsidian, and when hit a certain way it breaks up into this-an obsidian blade. Now, our industrialized culture developed surgical steel through complicated processes. First there's the oh-so-attractive process of strip mining, which Nature loves. Then the ore must be smelted...and if you've ever been to Gary... (everyone laughs). There weren't any Garys back then. Here were our "primitive" ancestors with their two little rocks producing a blade 10 times sharper than any surgical steel we've been making. To me, that's cool."
We were shown a toy stone-wood chariot from Mesopotamia. "This was Hot Wheels 4,000 years ago."
Will picked up a Mexican-native ceramic chihuahua. "A question we get all the time is: how much is this stuff worth. The truth is, we don't know. There are irreplaceable items in this collection that are extremely hard to price. But, to give you an idea...This chihuahua I have in my hand is roughly worth $40,000. It is in excellent condition, but more importantly, it comes from a documented archaeological site so we know who made it, when and why. If I were to break this, there is absolutely no way the Museum could replace it. 1. It's illegal to take these things out of their native country anymore. 2. There aren't any others like it to replace it. So, you take a piece like this and multiply it by the 1.5 million items we have in our collection...well, you get the picture. Oh, and can any of you tell me why this ceramic chihuahua is so fat? ... No? Chihuahuas used to be raised for meat...which gives the phrase Yo quiero Taco Bell a whole other meaning."
The Anthro's collection is NOT INSURED. That's right-no insurance. Why? First off, the Museum couldn't afford the premium. Secondly, what would the Museum do with the money? These artifacts cannot be replaced. They are stored in 15 storage rooms that dedicate about 2 million cubic feet to their housing.
The Anthro tour was fun because it was led by a very funny, very sarcastic 28 yr. old collections manager named Will. He took us into the storage rooms and showed us some very cool artifacts. "I mean, we basically think we're the sh**, right, being all technologically advanced...with our iPods, PlayStations, and DVD players...all thanks to our manufacturing power of things like surgical steel. Well, here in my hand is a piece of obsidian, and when hit a certain way it breaks up into this-an obsidian blade. Now, our industrialized culture developed surgical steel through complicated processes. First there's the oh-so-attractive process of strip mining, which Nature loves. Then the ore must be smelted...and if you've ever been to Gary... (everyone laughs). There weren't any Garys back then. Here were our "primitive" ancestors with their two little rocks producing a blade 10 times sharper than any surgical steel we've been making. To me, that's cool."
We were shown a toy stone-wood chariot from Mesopotamia. "This was Hot Wheels 4,000 years ago."
Will picked up a Mexican-native ceramic chihuahua. "A question we get all the time is: how much is this stuff worth. The truth is, we don't know. There are irreplaceable items in this collection that are extremely hard to price. But, to give you an idea...This chihuahua I have in my hand is roughly worth $40,000. It is in excellent condition, but more importantly, it comes from a documented archaeological site so we know who made it, when and why. If I were to break this, there is absolutely no way the Museum could replace it. 1. It's illegal to take these things out of their native country anymore. 2. There aren't any others like it to replace it. So, you take a piece like this and multiply it by the 1.5 million items we have in our collection...well, you get the picture. Oh, and can any of you tell me why this ceramic chihuahua is so fat? ... No? Chihuahuas used to be raised for meat...which gives the phrase Yo quiero Taco Bell a whole other meaning."
The Anthro's collection is NOT INSURED. That's right-no insurance. Why? First off, the Museum couldn't afford the premium. Secondly, what would the Museum do with the money? These artifacts cannot be replaced. They are stored in 15 storage rooms that dedicate about 2 million cubic feet to their housing.
Taste of Chicago
It's the 25th Annual Taste of Chicago Festival!
(I know. At first, it meant nothing to me too.)
Every year, Chicagoans, and tourists alike partake in a very Chicagoan event. About 100 restaurants from around the city setup booths and sell the tastiest of their menu offerings. Some food items include: BBQ anything, Harey Carey fries, alligator pizza, steamed lobster tail, gyros, kelewele (plaintains roasted in garlic), chicken masala, crab-stuffed salmon, Bailey's ice cream, flan, frozen bananas...etc. The ethnic foods come out in force and make it worthwhile to fight the crowds and spend the money (which is quite a bit per food item). This weekend is the Taste's most busy. Three million people are expected to attend in three days. All those bodies sure don't help the thermometer.
In addition to the food, there are seven stages setup for various forms of entertainment, mostly musical. So far, I've seen a break-dancing troupe and some sort of mermaid/pirate diving show sponsored by a phone company.
Tomorrow, the Taste is hosting Santana at 4:30 PM! I'm so there.
(I know. At first, it meant nothing to me too.)
Every year, Chicagoans, and tourists alike partake in a very Chicagoan event. About 100 restaurants from around the city setup booths and sell the tastiest of their menu offerings. Some food items include: BBQ anything, Harey Carey fries, alligator pizza, steamed lobster tail, gyros, kelewele (plaintains roasted in garlic), chicken masala, crab-stuffed salmon, Bailey's ice cream, flan, frozen bananas...etc. The ethnic foods come out in force and make it worthwhile to fight the crowds and spend the money (which is quite a bit per food item). This weekend is the Taste's most busy. Three million people are expected to attend in three days. All those bodies sure don't help the thermometer.
In addition to the food, there are seven stages setup for various forms of entertainment, mostly musical. So far, I've seen a break-dancing troupe and some sort of mermaid/pirate diving show sponsored by a phone company.
Tomorrow, the Taste is hosting Santana at 4:30 PM! I'm so there.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Ruatepupuke II and the interpretation of "Marae"
In 1905, the Field Museum acquired an authentic Maori house. They had it shipped over from New Zealand to Chicago and had it reassembled in the Museum itself. It is one of the more impressive "artifacts" (if you can call it that) on display. Today, one can visit the beautifully carved structure on the upper floor in the Pacific Island ethnographic section.
This structure has been the source of controversy for quite a while. There is a disagreement, for example, whether it should be left "as-is" or to enhance the colors by repainting. It may sound like a silly matter, but the Museum wants to do right by the Maori people and the artifact. Of course there are other issues too (gatherings within the space, what the space is meant to evoke, etc.) According to the Maoris, it should be USED as proactive space (either for discussion, celebrations, etc.), for that is the intention of all Maori meeting houses.
A delegation from New Zealand has journeyed to the Field Museum this week to facilitate the dialogue necessary for the Museum's renegotiation of understanding and policy of this beautiful structure. I had the sublime privilege of attending one of the meetings regarding these issues...in Ruatepupuke II itself.
This link can much more clearly explain what the marae is.
The discussion began with a presentation on reinterpretations of the "marae." There were fantastic photos of different marae from all over New Zealand, including the presenter's home. His speech was New Zealand English interspersed with Maori words and phrases. The use of ancient Maori proverbs to explain better the feeling of a meeting house was a useful and effectice tool to promote understanding in a culturally-ignorant individual like myself.
He aha te nui mea o te ao? He tangata, he tangata, he tangata.
What is the most important thing in the world? It is the people, it is the people, it is the people.
A representative from the National Museum in Auckland, New Zealand discussed the marae built there to house an assortment of events, many of which included food which seems to be a big issue for the Field.
Thirdly, a tribe leader spoke about his experiences in the marae. He ended with a plea for the Field to repaint the Maori house and restore it to what it is meant to be.
The fascinating dialogue centered around the difference between rules and values. The Field didn't want to insult or disrespect the Maoris and consequently established rules regarding the treatment of the marae. (e.g. no shoes, no food, etc.) The Maoris insisted that respect isn't promoted through rules, but through sincere recognition and acknowledgement of Maori cultural values. The rest is trivial.
It was an amazing experience in which I learned quite a bit about museum policy and the moral dilemma facing curators and conservators. Most importantly, I think I gained an immeasureable insight into the depths of pragmatic and positive cultural dialogue and understanding.
PS: Perhaps we'll touch noses next time we meet.
This structure has been the source of controversy for quite a while. There is a disagreement, for example, whether it should be left "as-is" or to enhance the colors by repainting. It may sound like a silly matter, but the Museum wants to do right by the Maori people and the artifact. Of course there are other issues too (gatherings within the space, what the space is meant to evoke, etc.) According to the Maoris, it should be USED as proactive space (either for discussion, celebrations, etc.), for that is the intention of all Maori meeting houses.
A delegation from New Zealand has journeyed to the Field Museum this week to facilitate the dialogue necessary for the Museum's renegotiation of understanding and policy of this beautiful structure. I had the sublime privilege of attending one of the meetings regarding these issues...in Ruatepupuke II itself.
This link can much more clearly explain what the marae is.
The discussion began with a presentation on reinterpretations of the "marae." There were fantastic photos of different marae from all over New Zealand, including the presenter's home. His speech was New Zealand English interspersed with Maori words and phrases. The use of ancient Maori proverbs to explain better the feeling of a meeting house was a useful and effectice tool to promote understanding in a culturally-ignorant individual like myself.
He aha te nui mea o te ao? He tangata, he tangata, he tangata.
What is the most important thing in the world? It is the people, it is the people, it is the people.
A representative from the National Museum in Auckland, New Zealand discussed the marae built there to house an assortment of events, many of which included food which seems to be a big issue for the Field.
Thirdly, a tribe leader spoke about his experiences in the marae. He ended with a plea for the Field to repaint the Maori house and restore it to what it is meant to be.
The fascinating dialogue centered around the difference between rules and values. The Field didn't want to insult or disrespect the Maoris and consequently established rules regarding the treatment of the marae. (e.g. no shoes, no food, etc.) The Maoris insisted that respect isn't promoted through rules, but through sincere recognition and acknowledgement of Maori cultural values. The rest is trivial.
It was an amazing experience in which I learned quite a bit about museum policy and the moral dilemma facing curators and conservators. Most importantly, I think I gained an immeasureable insight into the depths of pragmatic and positive cultural dialogue and understanding.
PS: Perhaps we'll touch noses next time we meet.
Sunday, June 26, 2005
Unexpected Visitors
A funny thing happened yesterday. I was busily transcribing old correspondence between Lt. Emmons regarding accession file 807, when Brigitta came in an announced, "Noelle, security called and said you have visitors at the South Entrance." "What? But I don't know anyone in Chicago." "Well, they gave both your first and last name, so it must be legit." "Uh, ok...." So I took the south stair to the ticket lines and who should I find but The Gateses! Marie's family had taken a trip to Chicago for Mrs. Gates' birthday! They were so sweet to contact me. I remembered I had work to do, and couldn't show them around, but Mrs. Gates invited me to dinner with them later that evening.
After work, I slipped into the Field Museum Store and bought a cute little clay, three-legged pig, good-luck charm from Chile and a beautifully painted Chinese birthday card. We met up and headed over to Navy Pier. Dinner was at Riva's cafe, where I tried the crab cake sandwich. We strolled down to the end of the pier, stopping to read the historical plaques. Mrs. Gates decided she wanted to ride the Ferris Wheel, so Mr. & Mrs Gates, Thomas, Anne, and I all enjoyed the 7-minute ride and BEAUTIFUL view of Chicago. For dessert, we visited a great popcorn shop that I had seen featured in $40 a Day. The Gateses were nice enough to drive me to Union Station, and while in transit I presented Mrs. Gates with her charm. She was completely surprised and promised it would go on the ledge of her sink, with all her other trinkets. As I jumped out of their van and waved goodbye, I felt content with the fact that I can hold my own in a social situation (feeling comfortable talking to the adults as well as the kids), and happy that I contributed to a great birthday celebration for a family that has been so kind to me and made my day with a thoughtful visit.
After work, I slipped into the Field Museum Store and bought a cute little clay, three-legged pig, good-luck charm from Chile and a beautifully painted Chinese birthday card. We met up and headed over to Navy Pier. Dinner was at Riva's cafe, where I tried the crab cake sandwich. We strolled down to the end of the pier, stopping to read the historical plaques. Mrs. Gates decided she wanted to ride the Ferris Wheel, so Mr. & Mrs Gates, Thomas, Anne, and I all enjoyed the 7-minute ride and BEAUTIFUL view of Chicago. For dessert, we visited a great popcorn shop that I had seen featured in $40 a Day. The Gateses were nice enough to drive me to Union Station, and while in transit I presented Mrs. Gates with her charm. She was completely surprised and promised it would go on the ledge of her sink, with all her other trinkets. As I jumped out of their van and waved goodbye, I felt content with the fact that I can hold my own in a social situation (feeling comfortable talking to the adults as well as the kids), and happy that I contributed to a great birthday celebration for a family that has been so kind to me and made my day with a thoughtful visit.
Sunday, June 19, 2005
The Organic Rebellion
Chewbroccoli?
http://www.StoreWars.org
I haven't laughed so hard since a long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.
http://www.StoreWars.org
I haven't laughed so hard since a long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.
Friday, June 17, 2005
The second
Earlier this week, I had to opportunity to help Isabel "pull" objects from the storage rooms. We pulled a painting on linen, bow, arrows, digging stick, and a drum. Two of these tested positive for arsenic, so we were more careful with them. You see, in the early 2oth century human's infinite wisdom, collectors and curators decided to tackle their bug woes indefinitely. Many artifacts were teeming with critters, and the solution to this problem was dousing the objects with arsenic and other deadly chemicals. Of course, they didn't use enough to "harm" people, but when thousands of contaminated objects are placed in one room, it gets dicey. Anyway, the artifacts had a Blackfoot provenience and were going to be used by the Newberry Library for a temporary exhibit. They were beautiful! AND I managed NOT to break anything.
People Watching:
While on the train, I tend to slip into "people watching" mode. Yesterday I sat in front of two middle-aged women with Rhode Island accents. The conversation was absolutely hilarious. The first women mentioned her 16 year old son getting a job. He went around to the fast food places and submitted his application. Well, he was turned down everywhere. Both he and his mother couldn't figure out why he wasn't hired. Apparently, he's a really good, charismatic kid. After a while, he got up enough guts to apply again. He called his mom at work and said, "I know why they won't hire me. It's because I don't speak Spanish." "You mean Burger King and Wendy's doesn't have enough turnover to hire a kid like you JUST because you don't speak Spanish?!" "I guess so...but I got an interview at Taco Bell." ... Yeah. So the English-speaking kid that couldn't work at BK or Wendy's is now working at Taco Bell. If that isn't ironic, I don't know what is.
People Watching:
While on the train, I tend to slip into "people watching" mode. Yesterday I sat in front of two middle-aged women with Rhode Island accents. The conversation was absolutely hilarious. The first women mentioned her 16 year old son getting a job. He went around to the fast food places and submitted his application. Well, he was turned down everywhere. Both he and his mother couldn't figure out why he wasn't hired. Apparently, he's a really good, charismatic kid. After a while, he got up enough guts to apply again. He called his mom at work and said, "I know why they won't hire me. It's because I don't speak Spanish." "You mean Burger King and Wendy's doesn't have enough turnover to hire a kid like you JUST because you don't speak Spanish?!" "I guess so...but I got an interview at Taco Bell." ... Yeah. So the English-speaking kid that couldn't work at BK or Wendy's is now working at Taco Bell. If that isn't ironic, I don't know what is.
Monday, June 13, 2005
An intern's first week
First day:
It took me 3 HOURS to get to work. I had no idea what the Chicago Transit Authority was like, but now I know I was spoiled with Athenian public transportation. First, I took the "Metra" train into Union Station in downtown Chicago. The Chicago bus system was a culture shock in itself. I knew there was a bus directly to the Field Museum, but according to the sign it only runs from "mid-morning to late afternoon." Obviously 8:30 AM isn't mid-morning. So, I walked six blocks to another bust stop and waited again. The schedules may say "every ten minutes" but I was at the stop for 35 minutes without one stopping. It also didn't help that the airport information booth gave me a public tranportation map from 2003. Welcome to Chicago! So, I was late for my orientation, but after telling them I had bus trouble, everyone nodded in an understanding way.
I picked up my nifty ID badge and handy-dandy keys and was given a tour of the storage rooms. There are two main storage facilities on the 3rd floor, Anthro wing. Both contain Native American artifacts (in addition to other kinds). I cannot even begin to describe the feeling one gets when standing amidst the plethora of beautiful, significant, and in some cases sacred objects in those rooms. The vast majority of them will never be viewed by the public, and many won't be viewed by the staff either.
My supervisor, Isabel is AWESOME! She's 28, enthusiastic, and treats me not like a lowly minion, but as a valuable assistant to whom she can delegate unwanted work. As Collections Manager, she has one other intern. His name is Evan, and he'll also be a senior Anthro major (plus English major) next year. Evan has a sarcastic humor that livens up the records office. Friday some of the staff went out for a beer after work. We hurried over to a little place down Printer's Row. Apparently, there are few places in Chicago that sell beer by the pitcher, and "Kasey's" was one of them. After long conversations about nothing Anthro related, and finding out that one of the interns went to high school with Katie Hogan, we parted our separate ways for a nice, relaxing weekend.
Currently, I'm going through the records in the Anthro office to find out information on specific artifacts and collections. I've been privileged to read and touch handwritten inventories and correspondence between the collectors, ethnologists, museum curators, directors etc. such as Frank Boas and Paul J. Warner. The handwriting is difficult to read, and I realize how much more accustomed I am to reading type.
Though the accession files are full of monotonous invoices and contracts, there are gems too. I came across a correspondence from the very early 1900s. One letter was in response to an inquiry by the museum. His reply was basically: I'm sorry I didn't get back to you sooner. I was in the Bahamas, and then upon returning, I lost your letter for a while...but now I found it...so now I'm writing you back. Of course this was all in the typical polite, flower prose of the era. It's quite amusing to read the requests to be paid when they are written in this manner. Even when the person is owed money, he ends the letter with "I beg to remain, very truly yours, Director of Botany" and so on.
I remain, very truly yours,
Noelle
It took me 3 HOURS to get to work. I had no idea what the Chicago Transit Authority was like, but now I know I was spoiled with Athenian public transportation. First, I took the "Metra" train into Union Station in downtown Chicago. The Chicago bus system was a culture shock in itself. I knew there was a bus directly to the Field Museum, but according to the sign it only runs from "mid-morning to late afternoon." Obviously 8:30 AM isn't mid-morning. So, I walked six blocks to another bust stop and waited again. The schedules may say "every ten minutes" but I was at the stop for 35 minutes without one stopping. It also didn't help that the airport information booth gave me a public tranportation map from 2003. Welcome to Chicago! So, I was late for my orientation, but after telling them I had bus trouble, everyone nodded in an understanding way.
I picked up my nifty ID badge and handy-dandy keys and was given a tour of the storage rooms. There are two main storage facilities on the 3rd floor, Anthro wing. Both contain Native American artifacts (in addition to other kinds). I cannot even begin to describe the feeling one gets when standing amidst the plethora of beautiful, significant, and in some cases sacred objects in those rooms. The vast majority of them will never be viewed by the public, and many won't be viewed by the staff either.
My supervisor, Isabel is AWESOME! She's 28, enthusiastic, and treats me not like a lowly minion, but as a valuable assistant to whom she can delegate unwanted work. As Collections Manager, she has one other intern. His name is Evan, and he'll also be a senior Anthro major (plus English major) next year. Evan has a sarcastic humor that livens up the records office. Friday some of the staff went out for a beer after work. We hurried over to a little place down Printer's Row. Apparently, there are few places in Chicago that sell beer by the pitcher, and "Kasey's" was one of them. After long conversations about nothing Anthro related, and finding out that one of the interns went to high school with Katie Hogan, we parted our separate ways for a nice, relaxing weekend.
Currently, I'm going through the records in the Anthro office to find out information on specific artifacts and collections. I've been privileged to read and touch handwritten inventories and correspondence between the collectors, ethnologists, museum curators, directors etc. such as Frank Boas and Paul J. Warner. The handwriting is difficult to read, and I realize how much more accustomed I am to reading type.
Though the accession files are full of monotonous invoices and contracts, there are gems too. I came across a correspondence from the very early 1900s. One letter was in response to an inquiry by the museum. His reply was basically: I'm sorry I didn't get back to you sooner. I was in the Bahamas, and then upon returning, I lost your letter for a while...but now I found it...so now I'm writing you back. Of course this was all in the typical polite, flower prose of the era. It's quite amusing to read the requests to be paid when they are written in this manner. Even when the person is owed money, he ends the letter with "I beg to remain, very truly yours, Director of Botany" and so on.
I remain, very truly yours,
Noelle
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Kristina
Well, I've received multiple requests (which some would consider 'threats') to post.
My trip to Chicago was pretty uneventful...except for the Pasco airport. I was standing in line ready to go through security where the officer checks IDs to their corresponding boarding passes. Well, the woman looked at me in my jeans, sweatshirt, and tennis shoes and asked, "Are you under 18?" I cynically smiled and said, "No, but I look like it." She then received my driver's license that clearly stated my age...21. I wouldn't think twice about it, because I do indeed look younger than I am, but I was wearing a Notre Dame sweatshirt. I mean, chances are with that attire I'm ATTENDING ND. Hey, I'll love it when I'm 40 I suppose. I just better keep my ID on me for the time being...
...too bad I can't seem to find my license right now. I haven't unpacked yet, so I can't say I've lost it, but that's damn inconvenient when I'm carded everywhere. The Anthro Dept. is going out to a fun bar Friday after work, and I'd like to get in! There's always my passport...
I took a cab from O'Hare to Berwyn, a suburb of Chicago. The trip cost $30, which is cheaper than I thought it would be. Kristina gave me detailed descriptions of where her house was and what it looked like, so I could immediately pick it out. It's right on the corner of 34th. Here's my address by the way:
6600 34th Street
Berwyn, IL 60402
And I need to introduce Kristina, whom I consider the nicest woman in the world.
Kristina is a friend of Maura's, who lives in, you guessed it, Berwyn. Maura, hearing my plea for a place to stay, emailed all her Chicago buddies on the off-chance that one would have an extra room, couch, or hammock. Kristina responded in full! She said to Maura, "any friend of yours is a friend of mine." She offered her extra bedroom for the whole ten weeks, to a stranger of whom she knew needed a break. Kristina is a Greek American, very in touch with her roots. According to Maura, she's "SOOOOO SWEET."
However, I have yet to meet her. Currently, Kristina is IN GREECE taking an intensive language course in Modern Greek. Knowing that she wouldn't be here when I arrived, she left me detailed instructions on where the house key was, how to overcome the tricky door, and how to water the sod, as well as giving me access to her computer and train pass, and offering the use of her car to go pick up groceries. PSHAW! [Upon hearing this, Greg Hart said, "Have you ever won the lottery? I think you just did."]
Kristina returns on the 19th of June. Until then, I'm watering the lawn and keeping the house spotless for when the real estate agents come by to show the house. (Kristina's in the market for a condo downtown...which means I can help her move out and have a short transit to work.) In all, I get a place to stay, a city guide, a social connection, and a Greek buddy for the price of splitting utilities. BONUS!
My trip to Chicago was pretty uneventful...except for the Pasco airport. I was standing in line ready to go through security where the officer checks IDs to their corresponding boarding passes. Well, the woman looked at me in my jeans, sweatshirt, and tennis shoes and asked, "Are you under 18?" I cynically smiled and said, "No, but I look like it." She then received my driver's license that clearly stated my age...21. I wouldn't think twice about it, because I do indeed look younger than I am, but I was wearing a Notre Dame sweatshirt. I mean, chances are with that attire I'm ATTENDING ND. Hey, I'll love it when I'm 40 I suppose. I just better keep my ID on me for the time being...
...too bad I can't seem to find my license right now. I haven't unpacked yet, so I can't say I've lost it, but that's damn inconvenient when I'm carded everywhere. The Anthro Dept. is going out to a fun bar Friday after work, and I'd like to get in! There's always my passport...
I took a cab from O'Hare to Berwyn, a suburb of Chicago. The trip cost $30, which is cheaper than I thought it would be. Kristina gave me detailed descriptions of where her house was and what it looked like, so I could immediately pick it out. It's right on the corner of 34th. Here's my address by the way:
6600 34th Street
Berwyn, IL 60402
And I need to introduce Kristina, whom I consider the nicest woman in the world.
Kristina is a friend of Maura's, who lives in, you guessed it, Berwyn. Maura, hearing my plea for a place to stay, emailed all her Chicago buddies on the off-chance that one would have an extra room, couch, or hammock. Kristina responded in full! She said to Maura, "any friend of yours is a friend of mine." She offered her extra bedroom for the whole ten weeks, to a stranger of whom she knew needed a break. Kristina is a Greek American, very in touch with her roots. According to Maura, she's "SOOOOO SWEET."
However, I have yet to meet her. Currently, Kristina is IN GREECE taking an intensive language course in Modern Greek. Knowing that she wouldn't be here when I arrived, she left me detailed instructions on where the house key was, how to overcome the tricky door, and how to water the sod, as well as giving me access to her computer and train pass, and offering the use of her car to go pick up groceries. PSHAW! [Upon hearing this, Greg Hart said, "Have you ever won the lottery? I think you just did."]
Kristina returns on the 19th of June. Until then, I'm watering the lawn and keeping the house spotless for when the real estate agents come by to show the house. (Kristina's in the market for a condo downtown...which means I can help her move out and have a short transit to work.) In all, I get a place to stay, a city guide, a social connection, and a Greek buddy for the price of splitting utilities. BONUS!
Monday, June 06, 2005
Back by popular demand...
A few readers have asked about me keeping a Chicago blog. Well, since I've already go this lovely web address, I've decided to continue updating all you family and friends here.
I'm welcome for any suggestions concerning content, format, etc.
I'm welcome for any suggestions concerning content, format, etc.
Updates
Now that I have time, I will continually update the blog by posting about other experiences in Greece not yet recorded, pictures included. That said, I will post them within the events' original timeframes, so the reader should scroll through the post titles and find the ones s/he hasn't read.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Eimai eva kalo paidi
So my final days in Athens drew to a close ten hours ago. Maura and Manos, in their infinite generosity, have tolerated my constant presence for about a week now. Not only was I welcomed into their home, but I was also fed in a very Greek fashion. mmmmm bugatsa
I said my goodbyes to the Family and received possibly one of the best comments ever. Katerina said, "Eisai eva kalo paidi." meaning "You are a good child." which Manos translated to "You're good peeps." Yiayia recognized me every time I stopped by. I gave her kisses on the cheeks, she shook my hand and smiled. As soon as I'm home, I'll hyperlink those photos to you.
I'll miss yiayia. She's a beautiful woman. I'll miss Rosa, who is the fastest worker I've ever encountered, only to be outdone by the speed of her Georgian (the language). I'll miss Katerina who never failed to make me feel welcome. I'll miss Adonis who practiced his English with the line, "Good morning girls" then reverted back to Greek for the rest of the day. He still owes me an autographed photo! I'll miss Maria who is one of the most independent Greek women I've met, dancing the zebekiko. I'll even miss Alex, especially because I never got to hear him yell, "Manolis! Manolis! (Get my hat)" to which Manos whispered to Maura, "Pretend you don't hear him." I'll miss Manos' endless supply of nicknames for me, two of which are: The Little One and Noelle Baggins. I'll miss Maura's advice and will always remember the look on her face when she burned rubber throughout Athens.
I was incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon the Kalaitzakis doorstep in January.
I said my goodbyes to the Family and received possibly one of the best comments ever. Katerina said, "Eisai eva kalo paidi." meaning "You are a good child." which Manos translated to "You're good peeps." Yiayia recognized me every time I stopped by. I gave her kisses on the cheeks, she shook my hand and smiled. As soon as I'm home, I'll hyperlink those photos to you.
I'll miss yiayia. She's a beautiful woman. I'll miss Rosa, who is the fastest worker I've ever encountered, only to be outdone by the speed of her Georgian (the language). I'll miss Katerina who never failed to make me feel welcome. I'll miss Adonis who practiced his English with the line, "Good morning girls" then reverted back to Greek for the rest of the day. He still owes me an autographed photo! I'll miss Maria who is one of the most independent Greek women I've met, dancing the zebekiko. I'll even miss Alex, especially because I never got to hear him yell, "Manolis! Manolis! (Get my hat)" to which Manos whispered to Maura, "Pretend you don't hear him." I'll miss Manos' endless supply of nicknames for me, two of which are: The Little One and Noelle Baggins. I'll miss Maura's advice and will always remember the look on her face when she burned rubber throughout Athens.
I was incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon the Kalaitzakis doorstep in January.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Thus ends another academic year
I am officially finished with classes. I must say that I quite enjoyed the course material even though the actual classes themselves could be a drag at times. I was most surprised by my Byzantine Art & Architecture class. Registering for this course, I had only the vaguest idea what I was signing up for. My knowledge of Byzantine history has improved exponentially (though still remedial at best) and my appreciation for the art of that period has as well. I not only learned about art, architecture, and history throughout this area of the world, but also acquired a better understanding of the Eastern Orthodox church.
1204 AD
That date is known universally in Greece. All orthodox members know this year and continue to carry a grudge against the "West" for sacking and looting Constantinople. It occurred after the Eastern patriarch hired mercenaries from Venice, yet failed to pay them. These Venetians took what was owed to them from The City in the form of relics, sacred objects, and anything portable. The Greek Orthodox have never forgiven the desecration of their beloved city. Even today, Istanbul is referred to as "Constantinople" on street signs, maps, and the monitors in the airport.
1204 AD
That date is known universally in Greece. All orthodox members know this year and continue to carry a grudge against the "West" for sacking and looting Constantinople. It occurred after the Eastern patriarch hired mercenaries from Venice, yet failed to pay them. These Venetians took what was owed to them from The City in the form of relics, sacred objects, and anything portable. The Greek Orthodox have never forgiven the desecration of their beloved city. Even today, Istanbul is referred to as "Constantinople" on street signs, maps, and the monitors in the airport.
Friday, May 06, 2005
...and I'm back!
So, after experiencing Greek Easter and the beauty of Santorini, I'm back. However, I'm also in-the middle of finals, so there won't be any in depth posting until after Tuesday.
Sunday, April 24, 2005
Thursday, April 21, 2005
...and we're off!
I'll be gone until Monday. Don't be offended if I don't immediately respond to your emails. I'll try to get back to you as soon as possible.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Field Museum Internship
I was selected as an intern at the Field Museum of Chicago!
Three cheers for income and education all wrapped up into one position!
Three cheers for income and education all wrapped up into one position!
War Museum
Yesterday, Maura and I met up for our weekly museum run. This week: the War Museum.
The War Museum is one of the most fascinating in Athens. One interesting aspect is the display of weapons from all over the world, from all different times. One wing of the first floor is devoted to an eclectic collection of swords, guns, and armor. I viewed a traditional Turkish sword from the 17th century in the same room as an 18th century Japanese sword. The display cases were labeled in typical Greek format. One case was titled, "Luxurious European Rifles." Another was titled, "European Armor." This made me laugh because Europe is definitely a big place and there was no attempt to distinguish the obvious cultural and functional differences in the weapons.
The next floor was devoted to WWII, Korea, and Cyprus. The photos were particularly fascinating because they were unlike typical ones you'd see in the States. Greece's history during that war is complicated and often known by few. I wish the statistics would have been translated into English, but from what Maura could gather 80,000 Germans occupied Greece and executed 100,000. The walls were labeled, "Navy 1941-1944" or "Liberation Movement" and contained corresponding photos. One photo showed young children who had been starved and was labeled, "Victims of the Famine." I suppose this implies the occupying forces starved the locals, not the failure of the land to support the people.
I had no idea that Greece was involved in the peace-keeping mission to Korea. I should read up on this.
The Cyprus exhibit was noteworthy because of the obvious propaganda used in the description plates on the walls. Cyprus remains a hot topic with Turkey and the bad blood runs quite deep. The plate said, "Even today the Turks continue to murder our unarmed, innocent eighteen-year-old boys in cold blood." When I consider the Greek cultural context in which this was written, it doesn't surprise me at all.
The War Museum continues to exhibit the material manifestations of human bitterness in the past and present.
The War Museum is one of the most fascinating in Athens. One interesting aspect is the display of weapons from all over the world, from all different times. One wing of the first floor is devoted to an eclectic collection of swords, guns, and armor. I viewed a traditional Turkish sword from the 17th century in the same room as an 18th century Japanese sword. The display cases were labeled in typical Greek format. One case was titled, "Luxurious European Rifles." Another was titled, "European Armor." This made me laugh because Europe is definitely a big place and there was no attempt to distinguish the obvious cultural and functional differences in the weapons.
The next floor was devoted to WWII, Korea, and Cyprus. The photos were particularly fascinating because they were unlike typical ones you'd see in the States. Greece's history during that war is complicated and often known by few. I wish the statistics would have been translated into English, but from what Maura could gather 80,000 Germans occupied Greece and executed 100,000. The walls were labeled, "Navy 1941-1944" or "Liberation Movement" and contained corresponding photos. One photo showed young children who had been starved and was labeled, "Victims of the Famine." I suppose this implies the occupying forces starved the locals, not the failure of the land to support the people.
I had no idea that Greece was involved in the peace-keeping mission to Korea. I should read up on this.
The Cyprus exhibit was noteworthy because of the obvious propaganda used in the description plates on the walls. Cyprus remains a hot topic with Turkey and the bad blood runs quite deep. The plate said, "Even today the Turks continue to murder our unarmed, innocent eighteen-year-old boys in cold blood." When I consider the Greek cultural context in which this was written, it doesn't surprise me at all.
The War Museum continues to exhibit the material manifestations of human bitterness in the past and present.
Monday, April 18, 2005
US Ambassador to Greece
The US Ambassador to Greece spoke at CYA today. He is a really interesting guy with a lot of interesting things to say about Greece (specifically Greece's policies toward the Balkans and Middle East). I had a question to ask him about immigration in the EU, but he ran out of time and his bodyguard whisked him away. It is important to note that I left with a good feeling toward the foreign service...at least this particular individual's service. He was totally candid and sincerely wanted to answer our questions. I wish I had the opportunity to ask mine!
Dust Storm
Yesterday was an odd day for weather. It was quite humid in Athens, and about mid-day, the sky turned a funny, yellow color. At first I thought, "The smog is terrible today!" but then realized that I've seen this kind of sky before...in Eastern Washington, after the potato fields have been dug up and a wind storm carries off all the topsoil. So here I was, in Athens, witnessing a dust storm...only this dust was carried all the way from the Sahara in Africa. Go figure!
Sunday, April 17, 2005
A message from Prof. Gaffney
I received this email from Prof. Gaffney (anthro faculty, academic advisor, Holy Cross priest) after tellling him of my trip to Rome:
Dear Noelle,
Thanks for the note. I hope all is well, and please know that I am delegating you as my personal representative at the Pope's funeral! I just heard on NPR this evening that the city officials in Rome have declared that the "city is now full" and they are advising others to stay away. Ha, Ha, fat chance! Rome is in for a super-duper crowd and there's nothing the mayor and his advisors are going to be able to do to stop it. Pope J-P is the man and we all want to pay our respects. So, deal with it, friends, Romans, and countrymen!
He's quite a guy.
Dear Noelle,
Thanks for the note. I hope all is well, and please know that I am delegating you as my personal representative at the Pope's funeral! I just heard on NPR this evening that the city officials in Rome have declared that the "city is now full" and they are advising others to stay away. Ha, Ha, fat chance! Rome is in for a super-duper crowd and there's nothing the mayor and his advisors are going to be able to do to stop it. Pope J-P is the man and we all want to pay our respects. So, deal with it, friends, Romans, and countrymen!
He's quite a guy.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Registration
Whew! I registered for next semester. Here are my classes:
Spanish 202
Anthro Theory (I took the very last spot)
Culture & Conflict in the Pacific
Native Peoples of North America
Advanced Human Evolution
WOOT!
Spanish 202
Anthro Theory (I took the very last spot)
Culture & Conflict in the Pacific
Native Peoples of North America
Advanced Human Evolution
WOOT!
Monday, April 11, 2005
Rome-Pope's Funeral
What words can describe the experience...
historic
amazing
beautiful
I was in St. Peter's Square for the Pope's funeral.
I can honestly say it was the most beautiful thing I've ever witnessed.
This is how it happened:
Wednesday:
I flew in at 9 AM. I jumped onto a train to the heart of the city. From there I took the metro to a stop near St. Peter's. This was the beginning of craziness. There was a line to board the metro, and when it was our turn, we were directed by volunteers in flourescent uniforms to "San Pietro, San Pietro, San Pietro" as they herded us like cattle into the cars. I knew I was headed in the right direction.
I got in line to see the Pope's body at 10 AM. At 6 PM, I took a 15 minute break. At 9 PM, I was told there were five more hours to go, admitted defeat, and left the line. Those eleven hours turned out to be one of the most trying times of my life. Firstly, I was by myself and everyone around me spoke either Italian or Polish, so I had no one to talk to. Have you ever tried to listen without comprehension for eleven hours straight? Secondly, the crowd was PACKED. There was absolutely NO personal space. People were packed so closely, I could feel their pulses. Thirdly, I had all my stuff. Many others would rest their arms and such on my backpack to the point where my shoulders began to ache from the extra weight. Fourth, the constant jolts from others bumping almost made me lose my mind. We would move ahead four feet, wait twenty minutes, move six feet, wait thirty minutes. There was one block that took two hours to pass. I felt myself on the verge of "flipping out" which is something I haven't experienced before. It was just too much for me. Yet, there were moments of brilliance during this trial. I witnessed several people praying the rosary...the entire way. There were little old nuns who proved themselves tougher than their twenty-one year old counterpart. People would get frustrated, but then remember why they were there and would encourage each other with jokes and anecdotes.
That night I stayed at a campground they had setup for World Youth Day 2000. It was free and I had a sleeping bag, so I was set. They put me in a tent with three other Polish girls. Luckily, all three spoke English. Maria and Agata had hitchhiked from Poland to Rome. They were expecting to arrive a day later but, "The luck with cars was good." Magdalene lives in Vienna with her "man" and her four year old daughter, Emmanuele. She told me that anytime I go to Vienna I can stay with her and she will show me the city. She also wants to practice her English with me, so we're going to stay in correspondence.
Thursday:
Because Katie flew in later that evening, I did the tourist thing. I tried to see St. Mary Maggiore, but it was closed. I'm still in awe of the building though. I visited the Roman forum, the prison where both Paul and Peter were supposedly held, and the Colosseum.
Arch of Titus
Arch of Constantine
House of Virgins
Temple of Zeus
Another tholos building resembling the one in Delphi
While I was waiting to meet Katie at the Colosseum, four police cars pulled up and out came...Pres. Yuschenko of the Ukraine! It was obvious who he was and many took the opportunity to shake his hand. I took a video of it: Rome-Pres. Yuschenko.AVI
(This may take a while to download.)
Rome was very good to its visitors. Free bottled water was stacked up everywhere. Volunteers were easy to find and were helpful...even when they didn't speak English, Spanish, or Greek. Huge televisions were set up all around the city so people could watch the funeral.
At this point I thought there was no way I was getting close to the Vatican. I thought it was already shut down for the foreign dignitaries and that people were already lined up for the funeral.
When Katie arrived, I told her how I'd narrowly gone insane. She replied with, "I didn't come here to watch the funeral on television." So, we hopped on the metro and tried our luck. [Katie managed to hop right into a tight spot when she didn't "mind the gap" between the train and the platform. She freaked out for a second because she thought her leg was going to be maimed, but pulled it out just in time.]
We arrived and were herded in the same direction I took the day before. However, when we asked around we were told that we could not see the Pope...ever again. BUT...if we waited in that spot, we would be in line to enter the funeral the following day. It was about 9 PM and they were going to open up the gates at 6 AM. So, Katie and I looked around, shrugged our shoulders and laid out our sleeping bags. I have slept in the middle of a Roman intersection. We were on the street with many, many other people and their sleeping bags.
That night was a very memorable one. We met a Frenchman named Vincent who asked us if we were American and if he could set his sleeping bag next to ours. He told us, "I like to speak English." We talked for a while, but he nodded off early. There were SO MANY Polish people there, most of which had flags or some other means of identification. They would spontaneously break out into their national anthem, and many would cry upon hearing it. Another song commonly sung was "Pescadores del hombres," the refrain of which goes:
Oh Lord, with your eyes set upon me
Gently smiling, you have spoken my name.
All I long for, I have found by the water,
At your side, I will seek other shores.
I was not aware that the song was so universal. Luckily I know the harmony to the song, so I joined in. Every so often groups of people would chant, "Giovanni Paolo" and clap successive beats. This was usually sparked by youth groups who had immense energy and charisma.
I have to say it was quite a comfortable place to be, on the street. It was warm because of everyone's body heat. I was sung to sleep by a neighboring group of Poles who sang hymns in four-part harmony.
At 4 AM, everyone packed up and was standing. I was a little aggravated because we had another two hours until we would be moving anywhere, but packed up before I got trampled. At 5:45 AM, some Italian volunteer got on a megaphone and told us to be patient and that we'd all have to go through metal detectors, one-by-one. I think he mentioned that we may not be a group that got in...to that the Italians reacted like Italians do and I predicted a riot. However, the megaphone guy started telling jokes and such, so it blew over...especially when we all realized that we WERE going to get in.
While in line, we had the pleasure of standing next to a very interesting group of guys. I have NO IDEA what their nationalities were. It was HILARIOUS. These guys spoke multi-lingually...all the time. They switched from French, to German, to Polish, to Italian, to American English...and they were damn funny. I will hazard a guess that they were probably all different nationalities and that during each one's travels they had met up and became friends. They were definitely the "backpacking in Europe for as long as we have food" kind of group. One guy had a dredlock goatee and rattail. It made me want to backpack in Europe, become multilingual, and dred my hair.
We stood in line until about 8:30 AM. We had to pass through several checkpoints of nicely dressed Italian guards. Before entering the square, we were required to go through a metal detector. Katie and I picked out a spot about midway to the front. We were on the right side of the obelisk, in front of the fountain. Here is the view from our spot. We could easily see the Papal apartments and a great part of the crowd.
Mass:
Beautiful.
Powerful.
Universal.
Taking part in a mass with 100,000 people within the Square, and millions of people lined up on streets in Rome is something I will never forget. You can see in this photo the television with a picture of the square filled to capacity.
When they brought out the coffin, all the emotions leading up to then were released in tears. Up until then I don't think I realized the enormity of what Pope John Paul accomplished. The Vatican guards led the way and the simple, cyprus coffin was laid in the center for all to see.
Mass was said in multiple languages: Latin and Italian for most (the homily was in Italian), the readings were in Spanish and English, the petitions were in French, Swahili, Filippino, Portugese, Polish, and German. The offering was taken up by representatives of all over the world in traditional costume. (I believe all the continents were represented)
The music consisted of an exceptional organist accompanied by a choir of priests and choir boys. I was in awe. Long have I appreciated the beauty of liturgical music, but this was the unreal.
Communion was given to all everyone who wanted to receive it. This was logistically difficult, but wonderfully executed. The sight of tens of thousands of people taking communion at once made me cry. It was yet another aspect that I can only describe as "beautiful."
View a video of one of the closing prayers: Rome-Mass.AVI
(This may take a while to download.)
After the Catholic rite was over, the Oriental Catholic and Orthodox representatives performed a short rite of their own. They chanted and incensed the coffin. It was an interesting contrasts to the Western chanting we're used to and their stoles and robes were very ornate.
Upon the conclusion of the ceremony, the crowd applauded the deceased...and applauded...and chanted his name...and applauded...until JPII's coffin was out of view. Again, I cried. I kept thinking, "God, grant me the strength and patience to do as many good things as this man did." There was a finality in this guesture of applause, quite unlike any other.
Throughout the square, hundreds of people waved flags. There were a great many Polish flags, but there were also flags from other nations, areas, and groups like Solidarity. It gave the viewer a sense of the universality of the church.
Two women from "Whode Ialand" happened to stand behind us. They were sweet, sweet older ladies. They asked why we didn't have our flag out, and winked. "I know. We're all afraid." is what one said. [Katie likes to compare it the situation to the US. "You know in the States there are Asian gangs and Black Pride. But did you ever hear of Caucasian Pride? No! I mean, they're called the KKK." Ok, maybe not a perfect analogy, but a funny one nonetheless.]
While people were filing out, Katie and I decided to wait in the square. In fact, we took a nap...in St. Peter's. Many Poles got together and gathered around the obelisk to sing their national anthem and hymns. Some were dressed in traditional costume as well. When we awoke, we found that we were in fact lying in garbage. There was so much left after the funeral that it started blowing around and resting in lower spots in the cobbles. So, we decided that we were going to take a walk around. I asked for a photo with some volunteers and was kindly lent a hat.
Also in attendance at the funeral were Bush, Rice, Chirac, Karzai, Anan, Yuschenko, and...Mini Maura. Because Maura couldn't make it in person, we made sure to document the spirit of her attendance. Katie was the talented artist, and I held her in my back pocket.
Friday night we slept in the Notre Dame Architecture program's studio. We finally met up with Meredith who, bless her heart, fed us Italian food.
Saturday:
We visited the Pantheon, which is still as amazing as it was the first time I saw it. We got a tour of St. Ignatius, let by Mer. Ate a wonderful lunch, at which the owner of the place sent us over free pasta and Fragolino (sweet, strawberry desert wine). Then, we ate wonderful gelato and I experienced a Dude Where's My Car moment. The guy serving the gelato said, "Cone?" I said, "Yes. Pistaccio, Baci...." He said, "And?" "And cream." "And?" "And cream." "Aaaannnddd?" "And anything.!" "Cherry?" "Ok, cherry." "Cream?" "Cream." It was hilarious...and delicious.
All in all, it was a wonderful experience. Although I used quite a few of them, words cannot describe...
Special thanks go out to:
my parents-who were generous enough to grant me this opportunity
Poland-for giving us such a wonderful pontiff
Italian volunteers-who were patient, not matter how many times I asked
the City of Rome-for all the free water
Meredith-for the Pantheon and St. Ignatius tour, plus lunch AND gelato
ND Studio (Rome)-for a dry place to sleep
historic
amazing
beautiful
I was in St. Peter's Square for the Pope's funeral.
I can honestly say it was the most beautiful thing I've ever witnessed.
This is how it happened:
Wednesday:
I flew in at 9 AM. I jumped onto a train to the heart of the city. From there I took the metro to a stop near St. Peter's. This was the beginning of craziness. There was a line to board the metro, and when it was our turn, we were directed by volunteers in flourescent uniforms to "San Pietro, San Pietro, San Pietro" as they herded us like cattle into the cars. I knew I was headed in the right direction.
I got in line to see the Pope's body at 10 AM. At 6 PM, I took a 15 minute break. At 9 PM, I was told there were five more hours to go, admitted defeat, and left the line. Those eleven hours turned out to be one of the most trying times of my life. Firstly, I was by myself and everyone around me spoke either Italian or Polish, so I had no one to talk to. Have you ever tried to listen without comprehension for eleven hours straight? Secondly, the crowd was PACKED. There was absolutely NO personal space. People were packed so closely, I could feel their pulses. Thirdly, I had all my stuff. Many others would rest their arms and such on my backpack to the point where my shoulders began to ache from the extra weight. Fourth, the constant jolts from others bumping almost made me lose my mind. We would move ahead four feet, wait twenty minutes, move six feet, wait thirty minutes. There was one block that took two hours to pass. I felt myself on the verge of "flipping out" which is something I haven't experienced before. It was just too much for me. Yet, there were moments of brilliance during this trial. I witnessed several people praying the rosary...the entire way. There were little old nuns who proved themselves tougher than their twenty-one year old counterpart. People would get frustrated, but then remember why they were there and would encourage each other with jokes and anecdotes.
That night I stayed at a campground they had setup for World Youth Day 2000. It was free and I had a sleeping bag, so I was set. They put me in a tent with three other Polish girls. Luckily, all three spoke English. Maria and Agata had hitchhiked from Poland to Rome. They were expecting to arrive a day later but, "The luck with cars was good." Magdalene lives in Vienna with her "man" and her four year old daughter, Emmanuele. She told me that anytime I go to Vienna I can stay with her and she will show me the city. She also wants to practice her English with me, so we're going to stay in correspondence.
Thursday:
Because Katie flew in later that evening, I did the tourist thing. I tried to see St. Mary Maggiore, but it was closed. I'm still in awe of the building though. I visited the Roman forum, the prison where both Paul and Peter were supposedly held, and the Colosseum.
Arch of Titus
Arch of Constantine
House of Virgins
Temple of Zeus
Another tholos building resembling the one in Delphi
While I was waiting to meet Katie at the Colosseum, four police cars pulled up and out came...Pres. Yuschenko of the Ukraine! It was obvious who he was and many took the opportunity to shake his hand. I took a video of it: Rome-Pres. Yuschenko.AVI
(This may take a while to download.)
Rome was very good to its visitors. Free bottled water was stacked up everywhere. Volunteers were easy to find and were helpful...even when they didn't speak English, Spanish, or Greek. Huge televisions were set up all around the city so people could watch the funeral.
At this point I thought there was no way I was getting close to the Vatican. I thought it was already shut down for the foreign dignitaries and that people were already lined up for the funeral.
When Katie arrived, I told her how I'd narrowly gone insane. She replied with, "I didn't come here to watch the funeral on television." So, we hopped on the metro and tried our luck. [Katie managed to hop right into a tight spot when she didn't "mind the gap" between the train and the platform. She freaked out for a second because she thought her leg was going to be maimed, but pulled it out just in time.]
We arrived and were herded in the same direction I took the day before. However, when we asked around we were told that we could not see the Pope...ever again. BUT...if we waited in that spot, we would be in line to enter the funeral the following day. It was about 9 PM and they were going to open up the gates at 6 AM. So, Katie and I looked around, shrugged our shoulders and laid out our sleeping bags. I have slept in the middle of a Roman intersection. We were on the street with many, many other people and their sleeping bags.
That night was a very memorable one. We met a Frenchman named Vincent who asked us if we were American and if he could set his sleeping bag next to ours. He told us, "I like to speak English." We talked for a while, but he nodded off early. There were SO MANY Polish people there, most of which had flags or some other means of identification. They would spontaneously break out into their national anthem, and many would cry upon hearing it. Another song commonly sung was "Pescadores del hombres," the refrain of which goes:
Oh Lord, with your eyes set upon me
Gently smiling, you have spoken my name.
All I long for, I have found by the water,
At your side, I will seek other shores.
I was not aware that the song was so universal. Luckily I know the harmony to the song, so I joined in. Every so often groups of people would chant, "Giovanni Paolo" and clap successive beats. This was usually sparked by youth groups who had immense energy and charisma.
I have to say it was quite a comfortable place to be, on the street. It was warm because of everyone's body heat. I was sung to sleep by a neighboring group of Poles who sang hymns in four-part harmony.
At 4 AM, everyone packed up and was standing. I was a little aggravated because we had another two hours until we would be moving anywhere, but packed up before I got trampled. At 5:45 AM, some Italian volunteer got on a megaphone and told us to be patient and that we'd all have to go through metal detectors, one-by-one. I think he mentioned that we may not be a group that got in...to that the Italians reacted like Italians do and I predicted a riot. However, the megaphone guy started telling jokes and such, so it blew over...especially when we all realized that we WERE going to get in.
While in line, we had the pleasure of standing next to a very interesting group of guys. I have NO IDEA what their nationalities were. It was HILARIOUS. These guys spoke multi-lingually...all the time. They switched from French, to German, to Polish, to Italian, to American English...and they were damn funny. I will hazard a guess that they were probably all different nationalities and that during each one's travels they had met up and became friends. They were definitely the "backpacking in Europe for as long as we have food" kind of group. One guy had a dredlock goatee and rattail. It made me want to backpack in Europe, become multilingual, and dred my hair.
We stood in line until about 8:30 AM. We had to pass through several checkpoints of nicely dressed Italian guards. Before entering the square, we were required to go through a metal detector. Katie and I picked out a spot about midway to the front. We were on the right side of the obelisk, in front of the fountain. Here is the view from our spot. We could easily see the Papal apartments and a great part of the crowd.
Mass:
Beautiful.
Powerful.
Universal.
Taking part in a mass with 100,000 people within the Square, and millions of people lined up on streets in Rome is something I will never forget. You can see in this photo the television with a picture of the square filled to capacity.
When they brought out the coffin, all the emotions leading up to then were released in tears. Up until then I don't think I realized the enormity of what Pope John Paul accomplished. The Vatican guards led the way and the simple, cyprus coffin was laid in the center for all to see.
Mass was said in multiple languages: Latin and Italian for most (the homily was in Italian), the readings were in Spanish and English, the petitions were in French, Swahili, Filippino, Portugese, Polish, and German. The offering was taken up by representatives of all over the world in traditional costume. (I believe all the continents were represented)
The music consisted of an exceptional organist accompanied by a choir of priests and choir boys. I was in awe. Long have I appreciated the beauty of liturgical music, but this was the unreal.
Communion was given to all everyone who wanted to receive it. This was logistically difficult, but wonderfully executed. The sight of tens of thousands of people taking communion at once made me cry. It was yet another aspect that I can only describe as "beautiful."
View a video of one of the closing prayers: Rome-Mass.AVI
(This may take a while to download.)
After the Catholic rite was over, the Oriental Catholic and Orthodox representatives performed a short rite of their own. They chanted and incensed the coffin. It was an interesting contrasts to the Western chanting we're used to and their stoles and robes were very ornate.
Upon the conclusion of the ceremony, the crowd applauded the deceased...and applauded...and chanted his name...and applauded...until JPII's coffin was out of view. Again, I cried. I kept thinking, "God, grant me the strength and patience to do as many good things as this man did." There was a finality in this guesture of applause, quite unlike any other.
Throughout the square, hundreds of people waved flags. There were a great many Polish flags, but there were also flags from other nations, areas, and groups like Solidarity. It gave the viewer a sense of the universality of the church.
Two women from "Whode Ialand" happened to stand behind us. They were sweet, sweet older ladies. They asked why we didn't have our flag out, and winked. "I know. We're all afraid." is what one said. [Katie likes to compare it the situation to the US. "You know in the States there are Asian gangs and Black Pride. But did you ever hear of Caucasian Pride? No! I mean, they're called the KKK." Ok, maybe not a perfect analogy, but a funny one nonetheless.]
While people were filing out, Katie and I decided to wait in the square. In fact, we took a nap...in St. Peter's. Many Poles got together and gathered around the obelisk to sing their national anthem and hymns. Some were dressed in traditional costume as well. When we awoke, we found that we were in fact lying in garbage. There was so much left after the funeral that it started blowing around and resting in lower spots in the cobbles. So, we decided that we were going to take a walk around. I asked for a photo with some volunteers and was kindly lent a hat.
Also in attendance at the funeral were Bush, Rice, Chirac, Karzai, Anan, Yuschenko, and...Mini Maura. Because Maura couldn't make it in person, we made sure to document the spirit of her attendance. Katie was the talented artist, and I held her in my back pocket.
Friday night we slept in the Notre Dame Architecture program's studio. We finally met up with Meredith who, bless her heart, fed us Italian food.
Saturday:
We visited the Pantheon, which is still as amazing as it was the first time I saw it. We got a tour of St. Ignatius, let by Mer. Ate a wonderful lunch, at which the owner of the place sent us over free pasta and Fragolino (sweet, strawberry desert wine). Then, we ate wonderful gelato and I experienced a Dude Where's My Car moment. The guy serving the gelato said, "Cone?" I said, "Yes. Pistaccio, Baci...." He said, "And?" "And cream." "And?" "And cream." "Aaaannnddd?" "And anything.!" "Cherry?" "Ok, cherry." "Cream?" "Cream." It was hilarious...and delicious.
All in all, it was a wonderful experience. Although I used quite a few of them, words cannot describe...
Special thanks go out to:
my parents-who were generous enough to grant me this opportunity
Poland-for giving us such a wonderful pontiff
Italian volunteers-who were patient, not matter how many times I asked
the City of Rome-for all the free water
Meredith-for the Pantheon and St. Ignatius tour, plus lunch AND gelato
ND Studio (Rome)-for a dry place to sleep
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Rome
I'm back from a 10 day "vacation."
Firstly, Happy Easter to everyone on the "western" calendar. The Catholic church here has adapted to the "eastern" calendar, so my Easter will be celebrated five weeks later than all of yours.
Vacation included:
-a mock Easter dinner with The Family, Maura, Manos, Lucianna, and Katie's best friend Mercador (visiting)
-a day trip to Meteora
-a field trip to Thessaloniki and northern Greece
I leave for the Pope's funeral in Rome on Wednesday, so I will not be able to post about our vacationing adventures until next week.
I must say that I've found it very frustrating to be in this Orthodox country right now. Upon telling a staff member that I was planning on going to Rome, she replied, "You're going to spend all that money on just a funeral? Ah, well, you will find other things to do in Rome. You DO know it will be unbelievably crowded right?" ... I was completely insulted (I thought about telling her what I DID know) but bit my tongue to be polite. I was sent to Giocarinis, the director of studies, and he told me, "Look, I cannot excuse that. I mean, he was a wonderful person, an important figure in the world. I would like to go there too, but there are academic responsibilities to consider." ... Sigh, I think there's a bit of a difference in our situations. Can the guy understand the magnitude to which this would affect a Catholic? I would miss two days of class and a day-long field trip to a place I can visit on my own. So, not wanting to burn my bridges that cross the Aegean, I bit my tongue again. I immediately went online and booked my tickets. I don't deny my academic responsibilities (I haven't missed a single class this entire semester), but there exists also the religious responsibility of a religious person who cannot pass up the opportunity to witness an important event such as this one. I'm a two-hour flight away. For the record, I'm also an adult and can do whatever I damn well please, not matter how much money I want to spend on "just a funeral."
Firstly, Happy Easter to everyone on the "western" calendar. The Catholic church here has adapted to the "eastern" calendar, so my Easter will be celebrated five weeks later than all of yours.
Vacation included:
-a mock Easter dinner with The Family, Maura, Manos, Lucianna, and Katie's best friend Mercador (visiting)
-a day trip to Meteora
-a field trip to Thessaloniki and northern Greece
I leave for the Pope's funeral in Rome on Wednesday, so I will not be able to post about our vacationing adventures until next week.
I must say that I've found it very frustrating to be in this Orthodox country right now. Upon telling a staff member that I was planning on going to Rome, she replied, "You're going to spend all that money on just a funeral? Ah, well, you will find other things to do in Rome. You DO know it will be unbelievably crowded right?" ... I was completely insulted (I thought about telling her what I DID know) but bit my tongue to be polite. I was sent to Giocarinis, the director of studies, and he told me, "Look, I cannot excuse that. I mean, he was a wonderful person, an important figure in the world. I would like to go there too, but there are academic responsibilities to consider." ... Sigh, I think there's a bit of a difference in our situations. Can the guy understand the magnitude to which this would affect a Catholic? I would miss two days of class and a day-long field trip to a place I can visit on my own. So, not wanting to burn my bridges that cross the Aegean, I bit my tongue again. I immediately went online and booked my tickets. I don't deny my academic responsibilities (I haven't missed a single class this entire semester), but there exists also the religious responsibility of a religious person who cannot pass up the opportunity to witness an important event such as this one. I'm a two-hour flight away. For the record, I'm also an adult and can do whatever I damn well please, not matter how much money I want to spend on "just a funeral."
Sunday, April 03, 2005
Happy Birthday April
21, and still counting...
Here's to you and hoping that you'll still be able to count by the end of the night!
Here's to you and hoping that you'll still be able to count by the end of the night!
Friday, April 01, 2005
Happy Birthday Mazzillo
Arrr, tis Cap'n Bloody Nose Mazzillo's grog day!
Throw ye back tat yonder ouzo!
Throw ye back tat yonder ouzo!
Friday, March 18, 2005
Katie's Birthday
Celebrating Katie, we went out with Maura and a couple of friends from CYA. Katie chose a birthday restaurant: Applebee's. ... It was her birthday and she could chose whatever she wanted! I ordered the chicken fingers, which were very different from the ones in the States. Oh, and they don't have ranch dressing over here (Sorry Robert). Restaurants in Greece have service charges so you don't have to tip the waiter. Our waiter seemed very interested in Maura and looked a little dejected when she told him she'd married a Greek.
Katie opened her presents from Maura and I and couldn't contain her giddiness. There is an olive wood store in Monastiraki that sells cooking utensils. The wood is non-pourous and doesn't retain the taste and color of the food it handles. It's virtually indestructible, but must never go in the dishwasher. Katie now has a serving spoon, spatula, and small cutting board from that store. Next to the knives Matt Lafave gave her, I've never seen her so thrilled with presents.
Next, we walked over to Mike's Irish Pub for a pint. Katie had her first pint of Guiness! But before she could drink, we had to toast. I had printed out some Irish toasts and we all took turns toasting Katie.
May your glass be ever full.
May the roof over your head be always strong.
And may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead.
May those who love us love us.
And those that don’t love us, may God turn their hearts.
And if He doesn’t turn their hearts, may he turn their ankles,
So we’ll know them by their limping.
St. Patrick was a gentleman
Who through strategy and stealth
Drove all the snakes from Ireland.
Here’s toasting to his health.
But not too many toastings
Lest you lose yourself and then
Forget the good St. Patrick
And see all those snakes again.
Who is a friend but someone to toast,
Someone to gibe, someone to roast.
My friends are the best friends
Loyal, willing and able.
Now let’s get to drinking!
Glasses off the table!
Finally, I toasted with the Irishman's Philosophy:
There are only two things to worry about:
Either you are well or you are sick.
If you are well, then there is nothing to worry about.
But if you are sick, there are two things to worry about:
Either you will get well or you will die.
If you get well, then there is nothing to worry about.
But if you die, there are two things to worry about:
Either you will go to heaven or you will go to hell.
If you go to heaven, then you have nothing to worry about.
But if you go to hell, you'll be so damn busy shaking hands with all your friends, then you won't have time to worry!
Katie thoroughly enjoyed her "roasting" and called for a shot of Bailey's. I had a Woodpecker which is an awesome, sweet cider/beer, but refrained from ordering another because it was 7 Euro a bottle. I went into the bar hoping for a live Irish band, but it wasn't to be. Instead, a Greek cover band sang U2, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Nancy Sinatra songs. The lead singer sounded a whole lot like Cher, but was indeed not a robot. Imitation is never as good as the original, we learned, because the bar actually RAN OUT of Guiness. Shocking! There were quite a few Americans there, but we did happen to see some Brits and couple of Irishmen. The rest of the place was full of Greeks with mullets and stiletto space boots.
Last, we took a cab to the Psiri area of the city and went to a place called Club Spirit. The club had no cover charge, but we had to order something in order to stay-Heineckens all around! There was a dance floor that was deserted to begin with but very quickly was filled up with a variety of people. It was fascinating to watch those people dance. You could tell who were Greeks and who weren't. You could also tell that it is SO much more acceptable for people to dance however the hell they want to here. What I mean is that no one was self-conscious about their lack of rhythm or eccentric moves. There was a man (about 30) dancing the robot during 50cent and what looked like a banker playing air guitar during Prince. One man in particular was so in the moment that at times looked like that famous internet video kid who swung around a stick like Darth Maul. To top the night off, Cake's version of "I Will Survive" blasted through the speakers. THAT was pretty awesome.
When our celebration had been fulfilled, Katie and I walked home and promptly went to bed.
I leave you now with an Irish joke:
An Irishman, Englishman and Scottsman go into a pub and each order a pint of Guinness. Just as the bartender hands them over, three flies buzz down and one lands in eachof the pints. The Englishman looks disgusted, pushes his pint away and demands another pint. The Scottsman picks out the fly, shrugs, and takes a long swallow. The Irishman reaches in to the glass, pinches the fly between his fingers and shakes him while yelling, "Spit it out, ya bastard! Spit it out!"
Katie opened her presents from Maura and I and couldn't contain her giddiness. There is an olive wood store in Monastiraki that sells cooking utensils. The wood is non-pourous and doesn't retain the taste and color of the food it handles. It's virtually indestructible, but must never go in the dishwasher. Katie now has a serving spoon, spatula, and small cutting board from that store. Next to the knives Matt Lafave gave her, I've never seen her so thrilled with presents.
Next, we walked over to Mike's Irish Pub for a pint. Katie had her first pint of Guiness! But before she could drink, we had to toast. I had printed out some Irish toasts and we all took turns toasting Katie.
May your glass be ever full.
May the roof over your head be always strong.
And may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead.
May those who love us love us.
And those that don’t love us, may God turn their hearts.
And if He doesn’t turn their hearts, may he turn their ankles,
So we’ll know them by their limping.
St. Patrick was a gentleman
Who through strategy and stealth
Drove all the snakes from Ireland.
Here’s toasting to his health.
But not too many toastings
Lest you lose yourself and then
Forget the good St. Patrick
And see all those snakes again.
Who is a friend but someone to toast,
Someone to gibe, someone to roast.
My friends are the best friends
Loyal, willing and able.
Now let’s get to drinking!
Glasses off the table!
Finally, I toasted with the Irishman's Philosophy:
There are only two things to worry about:
Either you are well or you are sick.
If you are well, then there is nothing to worry about.
But if you are sick, there are two things to worry about:
Either you will get well or you will die.
If you get well, then there is nothing to worry about.
But if you die, there are two things to worry about:
Either you will go to heaven or you will go to hell.
If you go to heaven, then you have nothing to worry about.
But if you go to hell, you'll be so damn busy shaking hands with all your friends, then you won't have time to worry!
Katie thoroughly enjoyed her "roasting" and called for a shot of Bailey's. I had a Woodpecker which is an awesome, sweet cider/beer, but refrained from ordering another because it was 7 Euro a bottle. I went into the bar hoping for a live Irish band, but it wasn't to be. Instead, a Greek cover band sang U2, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Nancy Sinatra songs. The lead singer sounded a whole lot like Cher, but was indeed not a robot. Imitation is never as good as the original, we learned, because the bar actually RAN OUT of Guiness. Shocking! There were quite a few Americans there, but we did happen to see some Brits and couple of Irishmen. The rest of the place was full of Greeks with mullets and stiletto space boots.
Last, we took a cab to the Psiri area of the city and went to a place called Club Spirit. The club had no cover charge, but we had to order something in order to stay-Heineckens all around! There was a dance floor that was deserted to begin with but very quickly was filled up with a variety of people. It was fascinating to watch those people dance. You could tell who were Greeks and who weren't. You could also tell that it is SO much more acceptable for people to dance however the hell they want to here. What I mean is that no one was self-conscious about their lack of rhythm or eccentric moves. There was a man (about 30) dancing the robot during 50cent and what looked like a banker playing air guitar during Prince. One man in particular was so in the moment that at times looked like that famous internet video kid who swung around a stick like Darth Maul. To top the night off, Cake's version of "I Will Survive" blasted through the speakers. THAT was pretty awesome.
When our celebration had been fulfilled, Katie and I walked home and promptly went to bed.
I leave you now with an Irish joke:
An Irishman, Englishman and Scottsman go into a pub and each order a pint of Guinness. Just as the bartender hands them over, three flies buzz down and one lands in eachof the pints. The Englishman looks disgusted, pushes his pint away and demands another pint. The Scottsman picks out the fly, shrugs, and takes a long swallow. The Irishman reaches in to the glass, pinches the fly between his fingers and shakes him while yelling, "Spit it out, ya bastard! Spit it out!"
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Carnival Festivities (Part 2)
The parade:
I went to the biggest, most famous parade in all of Athens. This was a culturally fascinating experience. First of all, parades are quite different than their American counterparts. American parades are typically centered around floats. Although this Athenian parade lasted about three hours, there were only 3 "floats" throughout the entire thing. They were all pulled by worn-out pickups from the 80s, covered by tarps to conceal their ugliness. The floats themselves were...I'm trying to think of a word that doesn't put a value judgement on it...well, they were not the scale and complexity that American floats are. One was a bull, another a castle, the third a platform for Miss Athens to stand on and wave from.
You must be asking yourself, "If there were only three floats, what else was in the parade?"
Well, there were people...dressed up in silly costumes...dancing with no sense of shame.
Basically, groups of people dressed up as other "ethnicities" and danced down the street while throwing confetti and spraying foam from cans. The costumes were completely stereotypical and reminded me of costumes-in-a-bag that you can pick up at grocery stores back home. Some examples of "ethnicities" participating were: Chinese (including a dragon), Japanese, Mexican, Spanish, Viking, Egyptian, Arabian, Brazilian, Cowboy, and Indian (Native American). It was interesting to see different stereotypical impressions from the perspective of another culture. For example, it was VERY difficult for me to watch these people parade around as "Indians," closely followed by the cowboys. At one point, the "Indians" started dancing around their "Chief." They were apparently raising him from the dead by circling him with their spears and making the "Indian" noise by hitting their mouths repeatedly with their hands. Every inch of me cringed. Greeks are not known for their political correctness, so this obvious public display of stereotypes was relatively not surprising.
What I found endearing was the fact that all ages joined in the madness. Middle-aged adults were shaking their groove thing just as much as the pre-teens. All were enjoying themselves, and no one took themself seriously. That would never happen in the States.
The whole construction of the parade itself was typically Greek: tons of people, LOUD music, with little sense of personal space. The music was not Greek. Instead, it was a strange collection of Ricky Martin techno remixes, and everyone seemed to know the words. Shakira was another popular song selection and I recall singing along in English to the Greek version of "I Will Survive."
I went to the biggest, most famous parade in all of Athens. This was a culturally fascinating experience. First of all, parades are quite different than their American counterparts. American parades are typically centered around floats. Although this Athenian parade lasted about three hours, there were only 3 "floats" throughout the entire thing. They were all pulled by worn-out pickups from the 80s, covered by tarps to conceal their ugliness. The floats themselves were...I'm trying to think of a word that doesn't put a value judgement on it...well, they were not the scale and complexity that American floats are. One was a bull, another a castle, the third a platform for Miss Athens to stand on and wave from.
You must be asking yourself, "If there were only three floats, what else was in the parade?"
Well, there were people...dressed up in silly costumes...dancing with no sense of shame.
Basically, groups of people dressed up as other "ethnicities" and danced down the street while throwing confetti and spraying foam from cans. The costumes were completely stereotypical and reminded me of costumes-in-a-bag that you can pick up at grocery stores back home. Some examples of "ethnicities" participating were: Chinese (including a dragon), Japanese, Mexican, Spanish, Viking, Egyptian, Arabian, Brazilian, Cowboy, and Indian (Native American). It was interesting to see different stereotypical impressions from the perspective of another culture. For example, it was VERY difficult for me to watch these people parade around as "Indians," closely followed by the cowboys. At one point, the "Indians" started dancing around their "Chief." They were apparently raising him from the dead by circling him with their spears and making the "Indian" noise by hitting their mouths repeatedly with their hands. Every inch of me cringed. Greeks are not known for their political correctness, so this obvious public display of stereotypes was relatively not surprising.
What I found endearing was the fact that all ages joined in the madness. Middle-aged adults were shaking their groove thing just as much as the pre-teens. All were enjoying themselves, and no one took themself seriously. That would never happen in the States.
The whole construction of the parade itself was typically Greek: tons of people, LOUD music, with little sense of personal space. The music was not Greek. Instead, it was a strange collection of Ricky Martin techno remixes, and everyone seemed to know the words. Shakira was another popular song selection and I recall singing along in English to the Greek version of "I Will Survive."
Happy St. Patrick's Day!
Top o' the mornin to ye! Today is very much St. Patrick's Day, but it is also Katie Hogan's 21st birthday. Isn't it ironic that one of the most Irish/Catholic families in Kansas had their first-born on St. Patrick's Day? For those of you who don't know much about the Hogan household here's a list of the kids' names:
Kathleen
Patrick
Bridget
James
Maureen
Brenna
Michael
Sound Irish to you?
So, today we are celebrating TWO holidays at Mike's Irish Pub, which happens to be the only known Irish establishment in this city of 6 million. We've made reservations...sort of. Christina called and the owner said he'd kick somebody out of a table when we arrived.
Katie's bedecked in green today. She's even got the shamrock temporary tattoo on her face. Perhaps I'll follow suit.
I hope everyone's leprechaun traps were finished in time, but sincerely doubt that those clever little creatures have fallen for our silly little plots against them.
Eat some soda bread and raise a Guiness!
May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back,
May the sun shine warm on your face,
The rain fall softly on your fields;
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
Kathleen
Patrick
Bridget
James
Maureen
Brenna
Michael
Sound Irish to you?
So, today we are celebrating TWO holidays at Mike's Irish Pub, which happens to be the only known Irish establishment in this city of 6 million. We've made reservations...sort of. Christina called and the owner said he'd kick somebody out of a table when we arrived.
Katie's bedecked in green today. She's even got the shamrock temporary tattoo on her face. Perhaps I'll follow suit.
I hope everyone's leprechaun traps were finished in time, but sincerely doubt that those clever little creatures have fallen for our silly little plots against them.
Eat some soda bread and raise a Guiness!
May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back,
May the sun shine warm on your face,
The rain fall softly on your fields;
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
Happy Birthday Tyler!
A very special Happy Birthday goes out to Tyler Davis, who happens to turn 21 today!
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Carnival Festivities (Part 1)
In Greece, Carnival is three weeks of festivities leading up to "Clean Monday" and the beginning of Lent. Last weekend I experienced the Greek culture is multiple ways. First of all, in the main hall at CYA there was a poster that listed various Carnival events. There were events scheduled on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Feeling adventurous, and wanted to get a better taste of Greek life, Katie and I hopped on the metro to "Moschato" where all these events were supposed to take place.
Friday was a "huge outdoor concert featuring: HIP-HOP WITH ZN, NGC, DREAM PROSPECTORS, NEKRIKISIGI, INSANES IN THE POOL. HEAVY METAL WITH CRIMSON FIRE, STRIKELIGHT, WHIPANGEL, SELFRAGE". I was dying to witness what a Greek metalband sounded and looked like, but I never got to. It rained earlier that evening, and the Greeks being total wusses with rain decided to just not show up. That area of town was completely deserted when we stepped off the metro. Had tumbleweeds been indigenous flora to Athens, I believe one would have rolled by.
Saturday was a "Festive Street Fair and Dance Party with DJ Niko "Nino" Vourliotis". Once again, we took the metro, got off, and were confronted with a ghost town. We wandered the streets a bit, found another group of CYA students doing the same, and decided to eat some crepes. I had a chocolate and banana crepe...yummm. While walking back, we passed a video rental place that had movies playing the window display. To our chagrin, the video of choice that night was "Lord of the Dance featuring Michael Flatley." Of course we all immediately stopped and gawked. (Both Katie and Lucianna are Irish dancers at ND.) It was both absolute hilarity and utter horror. Now, I'm all for Irish Dance, but that specific production reminded me more of WWF Smackdown than Riverdance. Flatley himself is already a creepy individual, what with his tight pants, poofy shirts, and curly mullet. However, add to that an incredulous story: Flatley is obviously the Billy Elliot/MC Hammer of the galaxy (at least, the stage looked like a set from Star Trek: The Original Series). This other guy who wears a shimmery tank top with glittered gauntlets and a villain's mask obviously doesn't like being one-upped by "the Mullet" (as I like to call him). So, the bad guy (who I'll call Hans because he'd be comfortable in a German disco) orders his Irish dancing thugs to dance the Mullet into submission. There is a very dramatic scene where Hans rips away the flashy belt the Mullet had picked out in order to accentuate his ensemble. The belt is HUGE and could easily be mistaken for one of Hulk Hogan's, except for the "Lord of the Dance" etched into the front. Apparently, the Mullet is really Lord Mullet. Anyway, somehow Lord Mullet escapes and comes back as an even better dancer because this time he's got a glittered headband and black leather pants. We didn't stay for the ending, but I'm pretty sure Lord Mullet and Hans joined forces to launch their new clothing line.
Sunday we went to the "Big, Big Carnival Parade!" because it is "the best and most famous in Athens!!" It was FASCINATING! (More to come later, must rest fingers.)
Friday was a "huge outdoor concert featuring: HIP-HOP WITH ZN, NGC, DREAM PROSPECTORS, NEKRIKISIGI, INSANES IN THE POOL. HEAVY METAL WITH CRIMSON FIRE, STRIKELIGHT, WHIPANGEL, SELFRAGE". I was dying to witness what a Greek metalband sounded and looked like, but I never got to. It rained earlier that evening, and the Greeks being total wusses with rain decided to just not show up. That area of town was completely deserted when we stepped off the metro. Had tumbleweeds been indigenous flora to Athens, I believe one would have rolled by.
Saturday was a "Festive Street Fair and Dance Party with DJ Niko "Nino" Vourliotis". Once again, we took the metro, got off, and were confronted with a ghost town. We wandered the streets a bit, found another group of CYA students doing the same, and decided to eat some crepes. I had a chocolate and banana crepe...yummm. While walking back, we passed a video rental place that had movies playing the window display. To our chagrin, the video of choice that night was "Lord of the Dance featuring Michael Flatley." Of course we all immediately stopped and gawked. (Both Katie and Lucianna are Irish dancers at ND.) It was both absolute hilarity and utter horror. Now, I'm all for Irish Dance, but that specific production reminded me more of WWF Smackdown than Riverdance. Flatley himself is already a creepy individual, what with his tight pants, poofy shirts, and curly mullet. However, add to that an incredulous story: Flatley is obviously the Billy Elliot/MC Hammer of the galaxy (at least, the stage looked like a set from Star Trek: The Original Series). This other guy who wears a shimmery tank top with glittered gauntlets and a villain's mask obviously doesn't like being one-upped by "the Mullet" (as I like to call him). So, the bad guy (who I'll call Hans because he'd be comfortable in a German disco) orders his Irish dancing thugs to dance the Mullet into submission. There is a very dramatic scene where Hans rips away the flashy belt the Mullet had picked out in order to accentuate his ensemble. The belt is HUGE and could easily be mistaken for one of Hulk Hogan's, except for the "Lord of the Dance" etched into the front. Apparently, the Mullet is really Lord Mullet. Anyway, somehow Lord Mullet escapes and comes back as an even better dancer because this time he's got a glittered headband and black leather pants. We didn't stay for the ending, but I'm pretty sure Lord Mullet and Hans joined forces to launch their new clothing line.
Sunday we went to the "Big, Big Carnival Parade!" because it is "the best and most famous in Athens!!" It was FASCINATING! (More to come later, must rest fingers.)
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Midterms
This week is midterms at CYA. I believe the best way to express my day can be taken from that friendly ole chap Dickens: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."
Byzantine Art & Architecture exam: TERRIBLE! I studied all day yesterday and I left feeling like a gutted fish. It was like a chapter from Faulkner's AS I LAY DYING. I am a fish. Katie shared the same sentiment saying she felt "eviscerated." Damn her descriptive journalism mumbo-jumbo. The test was really difficult partly because the amount of information we had to know (~800 years of information) and because I am convinced I don't think like an art historian. I cannot connect the dots that others can in a seemingly easy logic. I am also convinced that I will NEVER be an architect, nor study classical architecture. There are simply too many terms.
The midterm consisted of three parts: comparing slides, a short answer, and an essay. There were 6 sets of two slides. We had five minutes per pair to write down what, when, where, why, and why they are important. The short answer question is as follows:
Draw a plan of a "typical" mid-Byzantine (10-11 cent.) church and label it with the appropriate terms from the list below. Define briefly the function of each area you label.
Terms: ambo, apse, arcade, arcosolia, cubicula, diakonikon, diptych, dodekaorton, enkolpion, iconoclast, nave, naos, narthex, orangs, paten, prothesis, psalter, solea, stylite, synthrono, tablion, templon, transept, typikon.
Yeah...
ambo-I'm pretty sure this was a mid 70s dance craze
apse-a term used when one drops something, "Apse!"
arcade-a place where males go to pump the money their mother gave them into a machine that inhibits any kind of "interaction" with other humans save the scary janitor.
arcosolia-this medieval/goth band had a number one hit ("We wish we lived a thousand years ago, but without the unpleasantness of no access to black nail polish.") in Germany where anyone can make "music."
cubicula-yet another bastardization of vampire mythology. This vampire worked for a box company and had to file TPS reports.
diakonikon-coming to an amusement park near you!
diptych-something my dad used to call us when we screwed up royally
dodekaorton-collective name for the 12 sons of a NASCAR driver
enkolpion-who invents a word like this?
iconoclast-phrase shouted by a late student in middle-school
nave-isn't this a body part?
naos-a colony founded by MENSA members
narthex-a colony visited by the Star Ship Enterprise
orans-not appropriate for children
paten-makes me think of a famous piccolo tune
prothesis-supporter of theses
psalter-usually placed in the middle of the table, next to the spepperer
solea-yet another emaciated model that goes by only her first name
stylite-Paris Hilton?
synthronon-a new comic book hero's hideout
tablion-fancy name for a fancy table setting
templon-place where one can handpick a temp with a nice selection of styles, sizes, and prices
transept-polite term for "hobo"
typikon-new annual convention for stenographers
I'm not positive what she was aiming at, but I'm pretty sure my definitions probably missed the mark.
The essay question was as follows: Citing specific examples, discuss the importance of Imperial patronage from Constantine the Great through Theodora (843) in determining the appearance and the role of art in Byzantine society. This question was worth 55 points. Usually I can bullshit my way to earn half the points, but there was NO WAY I even reached that in this case.
In a way I feel cheated because I actually studied really hard for this test. There should be a reciprocal relationship between studying and exams! If I study, I should know what to say on the exam. I SHAKE MY FIST AT YOU! (Well, not YOU, at the test...)
Attic Tragedy exam: PIECE OF CAKE! Before the teacher got there, Caleb announced that the challenge was to fit four specific words into the essay. These words were: hogwash, ragtag, ..., and buttery. It is my pleasure to inform you that no less than 5 people completed the task. I would have, except I didn't want to spend the time when I could have been studying for Greek.
Byzantine Art & Architecture exam: TERRIBLE! I studied all day yesterday and I left feeling like a gutted fish. It was like a chapter from Faulkner's AS I LAY DYING. I am a fish. Katie shared the same sentiment saying she felt "eviscerated." Damn her descriptive journalism mumbo-jumbo. The test was really difficult partly because the amount of information we had to know (~800 years of information) and because I am convinced I don't think like an art historian. I cannot connect the dots that others can in a seemingly easy logic. I am also convinced that I will NEVER be an architect, nor study classical architecture. There are simply too many terms.
The midterm consisted of three parts: comparing slides, a short answer, and an essay. There were 6 sets of two slides. We had five minutes per pair to write down what, when, where, why, and why they are important. The short answer question is as follows:
Draw a plan of a "typical" mid-Byzantine (10-11 cent.) church and label it with the appropriate terms from the list below. Define briefly the function of each area you label.
Terms: ambo, apse, arcade, arcosolia, cubicula, diakonikon, diptych, dodekaorton, enkolpion, iconoclast, nave, naos, narthex, orangs, paten, prothesis, psalter, solea, stylite, synthrono, tablion, templon, transept, typikon.
Yeah...
ambo-I'm pretty sure this was a mid 70s dance craze
apse-a term used when one drops something, "Apse!"
arcade-a place where males go to pump the money their mother gave them into a machine that inhibits any kind of "interaction" with other humans save the scary janitor.
arcosolia-this medieval/goth band had a number one hit ("We wish we lived a thousand years ago, but without the unpleasantness of no access to black nail polish.") in Germany where anyone can make "music."
cubicula-yet another bastardization of vampire mythology. This vampire worked for a box company and had to file TPS reports.
diakonikon-coming to an amusement park near you!
diptych-something my dad used to call us when we screwed up royally
dodekaorton-collective name for the 12 sons of a NASCAR driver
enkolpion-who invents a word like this?
iconoclast-phrase shouted by a late student in middle-school
nave-isn't this a body part?
naos-a colony founded by MENSA members
narthex-a colony visited by the Star Ship Enterprise
orans-not appropriate for children
paten-makes me think of a famous piccolo tune
prothesis-supporter of theses
psalter-usually placed in the middle of the table, next to the spepperer
solea-yet another emaciated model that goes by only her first name
stylite-Paris Hilton?
synthronon-a new comic book hero's hideout
tablion-fancy name for a fancy table setting
templon-place where one can handpick a temp with a nice selection of styles, sizes, and prices
transept-polite term for "hobo"
typikon-new annual convention for stenographers
I'm not positive what she was aiming at, but I'm pretty sure my definitions probably missed the mark.
The essay question was as follows: Citing specific examples, discuss the importance of Imperial patronage from Constantine the Great through Theodora (843) in determining the appearance and the role of art in Byzantine society. This question was worth 55 points. Usually I can bullshit my way to earn half the points, but there was NO WAY I even reached that in this case.
In a way I feel cheated because I actually studied really hard for this test. There should be a reciprocal relationship between studying and exams! If I study, I should know what to say on the exam. I SHAKE MY FIST AT YOU! (Well, not YOU, at the test...)
Attic Tragedy exam: PIECE OF CAKE! Before the teacher got there, Caleb announced that the challenge was to fit four specific words into the essay. These words were: hogwash, ragtag, ..., and buttery. It is my pleasure to inform you that no less than 5 people completed the task. I would have, except I didn't want to spend the time when I could have been studying for Greek.
Greek exam: LONG! Too...many...Greek...words...in my...head. The sad part is that my basic knowledge of this language is extremely remedial, even with over 500 words on flashcards.
Aegean & Ancient Greek Art & Archaeology paper: I FINALLY got it back. Prof. Diamant had lost it and I was afraid he was going to need another copy, thereby grading it separately, thereby knowing the specific author of the paper, thereby being very disappointed with my lack of intelligence. To my utter amazement, I GOT AN A-! There are very few paper grades that I've been surprised by, this probably tops them all. This guy is notoriously nitpicky and a little bit of an asshole. I think my grade was helped by the fact that my thesis agreed with his opinion on the matter. (Is Mycenae a city?-No.) Whatever, I'm still proud of it and may even send it back to ND to be put up on the fridge.
So, to sum up: I am not and will never be an art historian. My lit. test was buttery. Καταλαβαινω λιγο Ελληνικα. Finally, according to Prof. Diamant's atrocious handwriting, my paper was "mostly good thow more Myce evideure wuld be uide. A-"
Enkolpion, anyone?
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Happy International Women's Day!
Happy International Women's Day! For those of you who don't know, "International Women's Day (IWD) is a major day of global celebration for the economic, political and social achievements of women."
I'm celebrating by eating custard, which also happened to be served for lunch today. Shelece says, "Go out and buy yourselves some chocolate." Don't mind if I do...
There is a march scheduled at 4 PM at the Panepitismou Square. Hopefully I'll make it down there to witness Greek women, en masse. Wish me luck.
I'm celebrating by eating custard, which also happened to be served for lunch today. Shelece says, "Go out and buy yourselves some chocolate." Don't mind if I do...
There is a march scheduled at 4 PM at the Panepitismou Square. Hopefully I'll make it down there to witness Greek women, en masse. Wish me luck.
Friday, March 04, 2005
Happy Tsiknopempti
Carnival! It is amazing how many traditions the Greeks manage to pack into the pre-Lent holiday. Today is Tsiknopemti, which means literally, "smokey Thursday." It is one of the most celebrated days and is the last weekday of eating meat during Meat Fare week.
The origins of this tradition stem back to the good ole days of paganism. The ancient Greeks wanted to please the gods, so one of the ways they did it was to send up the smells of cooking meat.
By tradition, everyone, even the poorer members of the community, is supposed to grill pieces of meat with a little fat on it so that the smoke can fill the air and let others know that this day is being celebrated. This is how "Tsiknopempti" was named. Each family cooked its meat and took it to another home, or everyone gathered in one home to cook together, sending the smell of grilled meat throughout the neighborhood.
Today most people celebrate this Thursday in local taverns with friends and family. Apparently, the younsters dress up in masks and throw confetti at others. I'm told they even hit people with plastic bats. So tonight I'm off to a taverna with Maura, Manos, and family! Kalinixta! (Goodnight!)
By the way, Happy Birthday Mom!
The origins of this tradition stem back to the good ole days of paganism. The ancient Greeks wanted to please the gods, so one of the ways they did it was to send up the smells of cooking meat.
By tradition, everyone, even the poorer members of the community, is supposed to grill pieces of meat with a little fat on it so that the smoke can fill the air and let others know that this day is being celebrated. This is how "Tsiknopempti" was named. Each family cooked its meat and took it to another home, or everyone gathered in one home to cook together, sending the smell of grilled meat throughout the neighborhood.
Today most people celebrate this Thursday in local taverns with friends and family. Apparently, the younsters dress up in masks and throw confetti at others. I'm told they even hit people with plastic bats. So tonight I'm off to a taverna with Maura, Manos, and family! Kalinixta! (Goodnight!)
By the way, Happy Birthday Mom!
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Photos-Epidavros, Franchthi Cave, the Mediterranean, and Corinth!
Epidavros-
Noelle and Katie at the Theater in Epidavros. Katie taking the stage.
Franchthi Cave-
Here's the collapsed roof.
Katie climbing down. (Has anyone seen her happier?)
Noelle climbing down.
Here's what we climbed down from.
Mediterranean-
Before trekking up the cave, our group had a fantastic lunchbreak. Here's the view from where we ate. And Katie is once again, very happy. The island in the background is dubbed, "Rich Man's Island." This guy is a VERY successful Greek boat man, probably richer than Onassis. He owns this island and uses a helicopter to attend meetings. He loved the beautiful view his island home provided, so he bought the land on the other side of the water so that no development could be built there...and uglify his picturesque view. The only structure in the area we stopped at was a small Orthodox chapel.
The site is sitting right alongside the Mediterranean. I'm very proud of this photo. It will make a great computer background image.
So for all you who are asking yourself, "Now, where in the world was Noelle on February 12, 2005?" .... here's the answer.... I was HERE! IN the Mediterranean. [Katie didn't go in because she "doesn't like sand in her shoes." Pft!]
Argolid-
On the way back, I snapped some shots of the unique Argolid countryside. As you can see, the terrain is nothing like good old South Bend's. [This picture of a sinkhole is specifically meant for Mazzillo, and any other geology buffs there are out there.]
Corinth-
Oh and Mom, I just thought you might want a photo of what Katie and I will be doing next. *wink
Noelle and Katie at the Theater in Epidavros. Katie taking the stage.
Franchthi Cave-
Here's the collapsed roof.
Katie climbing down. (Has anyone seen her happier?)
Noelle climbing down.
Here's what we climbed down from.
Mediterranean-
Before trekking up the cave, our group had a fantastic lunchbreak. Here's the view from where we ate. And Katie is once again, very happy. The island in the background is dubbed, "Rich Man's Island." This guy is a VERY successful Greek boat man, probably richer than Onassis. He owns this island and uses a helicopter to attend meetings. He loved the beautiful view his island home provided, so he bought the land on the other side of the water so that no development could be built there...and uglify his picturesque view. The only structure in the area we stopped at was a small Orthodox chapel.
The site is sitting right alongside the Mediterranean. I'm very proud of this photo. It will make a great computer background image.
So for all you who are asking yourself, "Now, where in the world was Noelle on February 12, 2005?" .... here's the answer.... I was HERE! IN the Mediterranean. [Katie didn't go in because she "doesn't like sand in her shoes." Pft!]
Argolid-
On the way back, I snapped some shots of the unique Argolid countryside. As you can see, the terrain is nothing like good old South Bend's. [This picture of a sinkhole is specifically meant for Mazzillo, and any other geology buffs there are out there.]
Corinth-
Here's a photo of the Corinth Acropolis. This one fortress has made a distinct impact on Aegean history.
We made a pitstop at the Corinth Canal. After thousands of years of trying to be an island, the Peloponnese FINALLY got what they wanted. ;)
Oh and Mom, I just thought you might want a photo of what Katie and I will be doing next. *wink
Franchthi Cave
Franchthi Cave is another site visited on our Argolid field trip.
In the afternoon, we hiked out to an archaeological site called Franchthi Cave. [N: It was a beautiful hike on a gorgeous day.] I know I’m a nerd, but this was seriously awesome, even for people who don't really care about archaeology. Digging in a cave is logistically tricksy because you’re generally not dealing with a lot of wide open space AND because caves that have been inhabited once have often been inhabited many, many times over, which means that there are lots and lots of layers of STUFF. So we got to see the remains of vertical archaeology, which is basically painstakingly precise digging of really deep shafts.
This cave had been occupied off and onfrom around 30,000 BC (BCE for you politically correct ones) to 3,000 BC. Since it was excavated back in the late 1960s and early ‘70s, there wasn’t any man-influenced stuff to look at, but seeing the effects of 32,000 years’ worth of geological change was pretty neat. It was also kind of weird to realize that people had lived in this place back when there was no such thing as agriculture.
"In the Early Neolithic period (ca. 6000 B.C.) the area of human occupation extended outside of the cave for the first time. The roughly built walls visible in this photo probably served as retaining walls on the uphill side of a settlement which extended further to the west and is now submerged." (Indiana U.)
N: At the back of the cave is a amazingly clear pool of water. When the archaeologists finally got the equipment to send divers down into it, they were greeted by two, very angry eels. Both divers admitted to wetting their wet suits, but managed to dispose of the creatures with some fishing spears. Upon entering the water, it was quickly apparent that the pool was mostly salt water with a thin layer of fresh water on top. It used to be completely fresh water, but the sea level has since risen dramatically in this area. "Today the cave is only ca. 75 meters from the shore and ca. 15 meters above sea level. When human beings first began using the cave in the Paleolithic period, the sea level was much lower and the coast was perhaps 5-6 kilometers farther away." (I. U.) The divers picked up artifacts resting on the bottom. These appear to be cult materials thrown in at a much later date than the cave was occupied.
"In order to "maximize" the amount of evidence recovered from the excavations, all of the soil was carefully saved for either dry-sieving (shown here) or wet-sieving. Samples of soil were regularly saved for "wet-sieving" (also called "water-sieving" or "flotation"). As the soil is put into water, some organic materials float to the surface and are collected ("flot") while heavier materials (small fragments of stone, bone, shell, carbonized seeds, etc.) are collected into "heavy" and "light" fractions. These samples are then dried, sorted by hand, and analyzed under a microscope. The wet-sieving at Franchthi took place right at the shore using two "custom-built" machines and water pumped from the bay." (I.U.)
"Student volunteers carefully sorting through the "heavy fraction" from the wet-sieving -- using highly scientific tools & techniques (small paint brushes, music, coca-cola). Although this is one of the LEAST exciting jobs on an excavation, it is also one of the MOST important. Careful sampling, sorting, and analysis of the floral and faunal remains from Franchthi Cave have allowed archaeologists to develop important theories about ancient diet, husbandry practices, economy, and even about changes in the environment over the long span of human habitation at the site." (I.U.)
"The earliest human burial found at Franchthi dates from the Mesolithic period. The inhumation burial is of a 25 year-old male buried in a shallow pit near the mouth of the cave. He was buried in a contracted position and covered with fist-sized stones (visible in the photo). Forensic analysis indicates that he died from severe blows to the head and that he had suffered from malaria. There were no "grave goods" buried with him, an observation which has led some archaeologists to conclude that the Mesolithic people who used Franchthi cave may have had no developed sense of personal property and/or no significant concerns about life-after-death." (I.U.)
"The burial of an infant from the Early Neolithic period. The infant was only a few weeks old and was buried along with a small marble vessel and one half of a clay vase. This was the only one of 8 Neolithic child burials which contained "grave goods." The presence of such offerings in an infant's burial is unusual and has led some archaeologists to conclude that status may have been hereditary in this Early Neolithic community." (I.U.)
MY favorite part of the cave was that at the end, we got to scale a bunch of rocks that had collapsed at the back of the cave at least several hundred years ago. The climb was probably only 30 or 40 feet, but it made my heart happy. When we got to the top, we could see over the ledge of a chasm that dropped down to where the original ground level of the cave would have been back when people actually lived there. I had to lean over the edge a bit just to be able to see the bottom (which was about 60 or 70 feet down). Since I am actually quite terrified of heights, I don’t really know what possessed me to lean over the edge (No, I did NOT fall into the chasm, if that’s what you were expecting. It was almost anticlimactic in that I was NOT even utterly terrified). Nonetheless, I felt like Indiana Jones (minus the bad guys, and the snakes,etc.) Seriously, it was incredible.
-Katie
N: For the record, I am NOT terrified of heights, yet was thankful I never had to "Indiana Jones" myself across that chasm. Plus, I didn't have the whip and fedora.
In the afternoon, we hiked out to an archaeological site called Franchthi Cave. [N: It was a beautiful hike on a gorgeous day.] I know I’m a nerd, but this was seriously awesome, even for people who don't really care about archaeology. Digging in a cave is logistically tricksy because you’re generally not dealing with a lot of wide open space AND because caves that have been inhabited once have often been inhabited many, many times over, which means that there are lots and lots of layers of STUFF. So we got to see the remains of vertical archaeology, which is basically painstakingly precise digging of really deep shafts.
This cave had been occupied off and onfrom around 30,000 BC (BCE for you politically correct ones) to 3,000 BC. Since it was excavated back in the late 1960s and early ‘70s, there wasn’t any man-influenced stuff to look at, but seeing the effects of 32,000 years’ worth of geological change was pretty neat. It was also kind of weird to realize that people had lived in this place back when there was no such thing as agriculture.
"In the Early Neolithic period (ca. 6000 B.C.) the area of human occupation extended outside of the cave for the first time. The roughly built walls visible in this photo probably served as retaining walls on the uphill side of a settlement which extended further to the west and is now submerged." (Indiana U.)
N: At the back of the cave is a amazingly clear pool of water. When the archaeologists finally got the equipment to send divers down into it, they were greeted by two, very angry eels. Both divers admitted to wetting their wet suits, but managed to dispose of the creatures with some fishing spears. Upon entering the water, it was quickly apparent that the pool was mostly salt water with a thin layer of fresh water on top. It used to be completely fresh water, but the sea level has since risen dramatically in this area. "Today the cave is only ca. 75 meters from the shore and ca. 15 meters above sea level. When human beings first began using the cave in the Paleolithic period, the sea level was much lower and the coast was perhaps 5-6 kilometers farther away." (I. U.) The divers picked up artifacts resting on the bottom. These appear to be cult materials thrown in at a much later date than the cave was occupied.
"In order to "maximize" the amount of evidence recovered from the excavations, all of the soil was carefully saved for either dry-sieving (shown here) or wet-sieving. Samples of soil were regularly saved for "wet-sieving" (also called "water-sieving" or "flotation"). As the soil is put into water, some organic materials float to the surface and are collected ("flot") while heavier materials (small fragments of stone, bone, shell, carbonized seeds, etc.) are collected into "heavy" and "light" fractions. These samples are then dried, sorted by hand, and analyzed under a microscope. The wet-sieving at Franchthi took place right at the shore using two "custom-built" machines and water pumped from the bay." (I.U.)
"Student volunteers carefully sorting through the "heavy fraction" from the wet-sieving -- using highly scientific tools & techniques (small paint brushes, music, coca-cola). Although this is one of the LEAST exciting jobs on an excavation, it is also one of the MOST important. Careful sampling, sorting, and analysis of the floral and faunal remains from Franchthi Cave have allowed archaeologists to develop important theories about ancient diet, husbandry practices, economy, and even about changes in the environment over the long span of human habitation at the site." (I.U.)
"The earliest human burial found at Franchthi dates from the Mesolithic period. The inhumation burial is of a 25 year-old male buried in a shallow pit near the mouth of the cave. He was buried in a contracted position and covered with fist-sized stones (visible in the photo). Forensic analysis indicates that he died from severe blows to the head and that he had suffered from malaria. There were no "grave goods" buried with him, an observation which has led some archaeologists to conclude that the Mesolithic people who used Franchthi cave may have had no developed sense of personal property and/or no significant concerns about life-after-death." (I.U.)
"The burial of an infant from the Early Neolithic period. The infant was only a few weeks old and was buried along with a small marble vessel and one half of a clay vase. This was the only one of 8 Neolithic child burials which contained "grave goods." The presence of such offerings in an infant's burial is unusual and has led some archaeologists to conclude that status may have been hereditary in this Early Neolithic community." (I.U.)
MY favorite part of the cave was that at the end, we got to scale a bunch of rocks that had collapsed at the back of the cave at least several hundred years ago. The climb was probably only 30 or 40 feet, but it made my heart happy. When we got to the top, we could see over the ledge of a chasm that dropped down to where the original ground level of the cave would have been back when people actually lived there. I had to lean over the edge a bit just to be able to see the bottom (which was about 60 or 70 feet down). Since I am actually quite terrified of heights, I don’t really know what possessed me to lean over the edge (No, I did NOT fall into the chasm, if that’s what you were expecting. It was almost anticlimactic in that I was NOT even utterly terrified). Nonetheless, I felt like Indiana Jones (minus the bad guys, and the snakes,etc.) Seriously, it was incredible.
-Katie
N: For the record, I am NOT terrified of heights, yet was thankful I never had to "Indiana Jones" myself across that chasm. Plus, I didn't have the whip and fedora.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)