Indiana Jones and the Mystery of Storage Space

Do you remember the last scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark?  You know, post wrath-of-God and Nazi face-melting, pre-final kiss with the lovely Miss Ravenwood?  We see the ark, packed into a wooden crate, and loaded into a storeroom the size of a football field - which we must assume to be filled with similar such sacred treasures from faraway lands.  That place exists - in the Smithsonian museum support center in Maryland.

As a brief introduction to my current stage of post-graduation adventures (which have led me to such an Indiana Jones-esque discovery): I am interning at the National Museum of the American Indian (NMAI), a very recent addition to the Smithsonian.  I work at the Cultural Resource Center (CRC) in Maryland, sorting through papers and computer files relating to repatriation.  Repatriation is, in the most basic sense, the return of Native American (and Native Hawaiian and Alaskan) human remains, funerary objects, sacred objects, and objects of cultural patrimony, to tribes.  With the passage of the NMAI Act in 1989 and the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA) in 1990, museums, as well as federal and academic institutions are required to work with federally recognized tribes in order to return objects in the above categories.  I'll go into more detail in a future entry.

Today the interns (most of whom work at the museum in DC proper) visited the CRC for a tour of collections and various labs.  The CRC is a pretty recent building - it was opened in 1999 - and it is built to house collections in a respectful, considerate way.  To many native peoples, objects are alive, so it is important for them to be stored in an appropriate environment.  When I walked into the room, my jaw quite literally dropped at the kind of items before my eyes.  Totem poles, some more than fifty feet high.  Canoes.  Sculptures.  And as we explored the collections further; buffalo robes from the plains, feathered baskets from California, and kachinas from the southwest.  I felt alive among all these beautiful and powerful objects.  They are alive.

I hear that the Natural History Museum's collections (just a stone's throw away at the aforementioned museum support center) are extraordinary.  A very different environment from the NMAI CRC, with objects from all over the world.  We're scheduled to go on a tour in a few weeks - I'll let you know if I see the ark.

The Journey Home

Last Wednesday morning (and by this I mean back during our road trip), it was still raining.  As a Virginian, and more importantly, as a William and Mary alum, I am quite used to pouring rain that continues for days on end.  However, Wednesday was epic.  Weather like this doesn't happen every day in the southwest.

Hail-covered road near Flagstaff, Arizona

Our projected route took us out the south entrance of the Grand Canyon, southeast to Flagstaff, Arizona, then further east to Santa Fe, New Mexico.  As we checked the weather report for Flagstaff, there were predictions of thunderstorms, a chance of hail, and even a few brief tornado warnings.  Being that I am incredibly impatient, I insisted that we leave as planned.  It started hailing as we arrived in the small town of Williams, about twenty-five miles west of Flagstaff.  A cop was directing traffic off of Route 40.  Thirty minutes later, we made it onto the highway - only to find out that there had been several accidents.  The chilly temperatures (42 degrees F) allowed hail to accumulate on the road.  It looked like the area had been blanketed by a dusting of snow!  About ten miles from Flagstaff, we saw demolition caused by a tornado, right by the side of the highway.  Thankfully we got through the storm safe and sound (without seeing Phoenix's tennis ball-sized hail), and did not stop until the dark stormclouds were far behind us.

Central Plaza in Santa Fe

It was pretty smooth driving for the rest of the day - blue skies and white fluffy clouds all the way to Santa Fe.  Once we arrived, Paul and I strolled around town and looked around the cathedral.  Santa Fe is a beautiful Spanish colonial town - its layout reminded me so much of Antigua!  Lots of shops, churches, and a few museums that I'd love to return to visit someday.

On Thursday, we drove through Texas.  There was not much in Texas except farm towns and dust, at least along our route.  We made it to Mesquite, an eastern suburb of Texas, for the night.

At Cafe du Monde!

Friday we drove through the rest of Texas, then made our way through the beautiful bayous of Louisiana.  The landscape was quite refreshing.  By late afternoon we arrived in New Orleans.  I must say that in all my traveling, I had never experienced real culture shock until this moment.  The streets and cars and buildings and people were just a little too much for me to deal with after several months in the wide open spaces of Colorado.  All the same, I enjoyed our time in the Big Easy.  First we visited Cafe du Monde to try some fresh beignets and coffee.  Both were, of course, delicious.  We walked around the French Quarter a bit, then slipped into a brewpub for some craft beers, after which we found a little hole-in-the-wall place for gumbo and more local brews.  The walk back up Bourbon street was not nearly as awkward on the way back to our hotel as it had been on the way towards the French Quarter.  Thank you, beer.

New Orleans at dusk

Saturday took us through Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and into Georgia, where Paul and I stayed with my Aunt Sharon.  It was nice to catch up - I hadn't visited her house since my family stayed with her during the 1996 Olympics in Atlanta.  And finally, on Sunday, after a very early morning Mass, we drove back up to Virginia (and a home cooked meal).  Finally.

It's funny how quickly I seem to have acclimated back to life in the east.   It's a whole different world - traffic lights and houses and highways and trees.  The sky isn't so big here - there's always something obstructing the clear blue (or gray and rainy) sky.

So what's next? you might ask.  I'm in the second week of an internship at the National Museum of the American Indian.  I work in the Repatriation department at the Cultural Resource Center in Suitland, Maryland - and I'll be there until right before Christmas.  I'll be sure to update soon (what is repatriation, anyway?)

Kegs and Kivas (and a big canyon)

Wild horses at Mesa Verde

Paul flew in Sunday morning, and thus began the great adventure of our return home.  After breakfast and Mass in Durango, we visited Steamworks brewpub, a local favorite.  I’d been meaning to visit this place since my first week in Colorado – there was an hour and a half wait during our first intern night out.  The beer was delicious.  Paul tried their gold-medal-winning stout (he let me have a few sips) and it was excellent.  After our beer adventure, we drove to Mesa Verde National Park and spent a couple hours touring Spruce Tree House, making friendly conversation with park rangers, and getting stuck behind people in SUVs who stopped in the road to take pictures of wild horses.  We had to stop, so Paul snapped a picture of the first pair of horses we saw.  We ended our evening in Dolores – an old railroad town just northeast of Cortez.  Our hotel was right across the street from the “pub” (Dolores River Brewery), so we walked over for a couple beers and a pizza.

Spruce Tree House!

We had a slow morning on Monday – Dolores is the kind of town where people gather at a restaurant every morning to shoot the breeze over breakfast.  As such, we didn’t make it out to the site (Goodman Point Pueblo) until after nine.  I gave Paul the quick tour of my “workplace,” then we took a short walk around Crow Canyon’s campus.  By noon we reached the tourist trap that is the Four Corners monument (hey, you kind of have to do it) and took appropriately silly photos before hitting the road again.  The afternoon drive through stormy monument valley/Navajo and Hopi reservations was beautiful.  When we were about half an hour from the Grand Canyon entrance, we ran into a pretty strong storm.  It was pouring by the time we could see the canyon, so of course I had to run around and take a look.  After a few more miles of driving, the rain had stopped and the canyon was full of white, cloudy mist.  Just a few more minutes later, the mist was completely gone.  I’ve seen a very different side of the canyon than in July of 2004 when I was here with my family.

Misty Grand Canyon

Today we had planned to spend the day hiking – but awoke to the sound of rain on the roof.  Thankfully it let up and after a hearty breakfast, we started hiking into the Canyon.  It rained on-and-off, which made for some wet, muddy hiking.  We made it to the first stopping point a mile and a half down, and figured we should head back before the weather got worse (which it did).  By the time we got back to the top, visibility was very poor – at times all you could see was the trail!  We kept ourselves occupied this afternoon, visiting some 13^th century ruins and a small museum near the east entrance to the park.  It was interesting to see the differences in kiva structure and size – smaller and with some different architectural features than Mesa Verde or Chacoan kivas.  On the way back we got a glimpse of a rainbow in the misty canyon – then saw the mist blow away over the course of about five minutes.  Crazy!

As I write this, the rain falls yet again on the roof of our lodge.  I’m pretty sure the rain is supposed to stop tomorrow afternoon – and we’ll be well on our way to the next stop on our journey – Santa Fe!

Saying Goodbye

It is the nine o'clock hour; I'm sitting in my basement "office," gathering my things and crossing a few last to-dos off the list.  Campus is quiet, but for the sprinklers and the other interns, in a slightly modified version of our Saturday night routines.  My car is packed, my phone is charged, and I made my last several-minute commute to the "super hogan" bathroom for a shower.  Those of you who are well acquainted with my usual before-I-leave routine know that I am usually up all hours of the night packing.  I can't tell you how strange this calm, peaceful night feels.  Paul's plane lands in Durango in about twelve hours.  I may not sleep tonight after all.

Around noon today, I drove up to Dolores.  I rolled the windows down, opened the sunroof, and let the wind blow through my hair as I drove down the country road, accompanied by mesas and mountains in the distance.  I will miss this, I thought.  I will miss the sunrise and the purple mountains in the morning; the late evening sun shining on Mesa Verde to the east, clouds every color of the rainbow.  I will even miss hot afternoons in the field, baking under the dry sun, looking to the southwest in hopes of a few clouds for shade.  This country is a wonderful, peaceful place.  But it's time to leave.  Virginia is home.

We took a midweek field trip to "Big Point"

I finished up work in the field on Friday - I did paperwork on several units, backfilled, and drew a profile map of a kiva.  Now Steve and Grant (my supervisors) will be racing against time to get all the units finished up before the snows come in a month or so.  We had a party last night - it was a good way to say goodbye to the staff, and enjoy a few more local brews.  Crow Canyon, and Cortez for that matter, is an awesome community.  People are so friendly out here - I will miss the random conversations with townies and cashiers in little shops.  Perhaps I just need to look a little harder to find these things at home.

Kiva unit - look at that huge hearth!

Paul and I will be making our way home over the course of eight days and about three thousand miles, including visits to Mesa Verde, Four Corners, the Grand Canyon, Santa Fe, Dallas, New Orleans, and Atlanta - and as many brew pubs as we can find!