Turn right at the warship, turn right at the park with cannons

Pictures soon because basically the museum is full of WONDERFUL THINGS such as stuffed penguins, and airplanes, and did I mention the sprawling lawns of armaments and ships? Because there are also ships. Lots of ships. And guns. Many guns. The door to the museum education lair is from the USS Constitution. Yes. That one. It is our door. Also we have a pirate kite. I think you could probably lock small children up in there and use it as a babysitter for, I’m guessing, roughly 23 years.

THE NATIONAL MUSEUM OF THE UNITED STATES NAVY. New! With exclamation marks!

LASERS. Archaeologists with LASERS.

Well, okay, additional lasers.

From the NYTimes:

For the Caracol survey, the aircraft flew less than a half-mile above the terrain at the end of the dry season, when foliage is less dense. The Airborne Laser Terrain Mapper, as the specific advanced system is named, issued steady light pulses along 62 north-south flight lines and 60 east-west lines….Not all the laser pulses transmitted from the aircraft made it to the surface. Some were reflected by the tops of trees. But enough reached the ground and were reflected back to the airborne instruments. These signals, measured and triangulated by GPS receivers and processed by computers, produced images of the surface contours. This revealed distinct patterns of building ruins, causeways and other human modifications of the landscape.

Amazing! Magnetometry has been rocking my socks off this whole year:

But, you know, rainforest + plane + AIRBOURNE LASER (terrain mapper).

Archaeologist job postings, take one

The NFI is looking for an experienced forensic archaeologist. The main duties are:
- The search for, and excavation of, clandestinely buried human remains or objects; the recovery of fragmented (burned) human remains, and the exhumation of human remains routinely buried in regular cemeteries.
- Participation in scientific research, in particular the development of (new) forensically-applicable field methods concerning the taphonomy associated with partially and/or completely skeletonized human remains.

This also requires fun things like “willingness to learn the Dutch language” and “Bayesian statistics” but really, forensic archaeologists, I salute you about a million and four times. Wanted: a braver soul than me.

London-town

To appease the readers for the rambunctious retelling of the city of Paris, a few thousand words worth of London. Exhibits:

A knick-knackatory of curiosities

(Designed by a magician: a superlative gallery tag.)

Maybe tonight there will be more words, but the pseudo-science of pirouetting failed, as was, indeed, expected. But it was a bon voyage, and oh, what sights were seen, what streets.

Wait, wait, don’t tell me

I know, it’s the early hours of Halloween, that scary night when small children are princesses and ghouls and allowed to eat their body weight in delicious sugar.

But you, you somehow have avoided the lure of bedsheets and poorly placed spots. (Are you….a cow? Smallpox? Copy-editor’s discard bin of punctuation?) Perhaps you felt the need to celebrate that noble profession, the one who tells of kings and swords, who touches the stones of old.

That’s right. So you want to be an archaeologist?

Or a….lion tamer?

Let’s try that again. Show me the archaeologist, internet!

….somehow I do not think her life is in ruins, no.

Okay. Seriously.

I mean, that’s…hilarious. Ladies and gentlemen, Dr. Indiana Bones.

There is a cute guide out there for small children that includes the helpful advice to wear khakis and a shirt, which”should have a cute saying like “I Love Archaeology” or “I dig on Mummies.” This allows for the rather informal archaeologist look to be more solidified.” No! Down with solidity! Archaeologists thrive on grungy khakis and nonaffliated tshirts!

Although I suppose you shouldn’t give children exciting things like articles on “Fixed-point retail location in the major towns of Roman Britain” or pints of beer, so maybe the tee shirt is the way to go.

Stay safe, have fun, don’t let the sexy Spartan Gladiator Wenches in Togas bite!

If there’s somethin’ strange in your neighborhood, who ya gonna blame? JETLAG.

So, true story, I ended up across the globe again. I meant to tidy this up in the intervening months- maybe throw in some more homemade jetlag, bandy about words from that ol’ country called America.

But then I hit my thesis, or, more approximately, I was a frozen creampuff shivering in the tracks of an oncoming freight train laden with C-4 material.

You know. The usual difficulties of graduation and all that.

Anyway, a year later, I’m officially an M St. student at Oxford University, St Cross College, should it matter. There is a great deal of tea. Also brownies (?!). And marshmallows because the world has gone mad. Totally mad.

Educational:

A spot of education.

Forsooth.

En garde

Oh, world of wellies and flapjacks and tea and biscuits, by default. Everything seems normal. You know.

Because aliens invented the internet?

Just like this.

Best seat in town.

Oh, England. I don’t even have to lie back and think about you. You’re just so…British.

…or, whatever that is. Culture: because Ramen Noodles are a universal Bad Idea!

And so this is Oxford

I know, I know. It’s been, at this rate, nearly a month since I left the boulevards of D.C. A month since drinking a cup of coffee larger than my hands, since eating peanut butter that wasn’t rationed out a jar, since the last time I could say the word “pants” without fear.

You might think I’d have some kind of awesome, awe-inspiring list of images that capture the spires of Oxford, that the streets and the gowns in this town would be carefully archived and labeled and stowed.

Oh, that would be totally wrong. To be fair, there is this:

Peter Pan can't touch this.

Clad in the classic garb of sub fusc, well, at least the updated-for-the-ladies version, this is what happens when you make gowns a necessary part of a Saturday morning.

Also taking up prime Saturday real estate?

Danger, danger Will Robinson

3,000 to 4,000 word essays, due every Tuesday at four.

It is marvelous, this place. No one is here, I think, to study because they have to, or because they must- not as graduates, anyway. There are so many books! So many words, so many professors last seen as footnotes.

And so many cups of tea.

Anyway. I’m alive. There will be an update on the hilarious concept of sub fusc, and that when walking through the streets one can happen upon men in kilts, and women in full dress gowns. John Locke ate brunch in the same halls. William Penn. Oh, they’ll nickel and dime you; there’s no doubt that the number of Americanisms around here relates to international student fees as much as our fervor for acts of the mind, and all that. That, and Ivory Towers are expensive to dust. But there are few places that are Oxford, for better or worse.

(For the record: anassa kata kalo kale, mawrters, that will never be forgotten.)

I AM….SPART- ZAHI HAWASS!

No, seriously.

“  Many people make the mistake of thinking that dreams cannot come true,
 but they can. You have to believe, and know that they are more than
just imagination. “

Thanks, Dr. Hawass! Tell me more, Dr. Hawass!

“  People often ask me, ‘well, it’s not really as exciting as Indiana Jones, now is it?’
I reply, ‘to an archaeologist, yes, it certainly is!’  “

Okay, I really can’t fault you there. Personally I too am a fan of not battling zombies, poorly designed aliens or Harrison Ford’s grin. And you’ve done great things for the promotion of Egyptian excavations, the protection of sites, and the training of homebased archaeologists. But I’m kind of not joining your fan club. Seriously?

…a glamour shot?

Drhawass.com. For the one man with enough chutzpah to announce that he did not fear the pharaohs, because “I am one of them, why should they hurt me?” I know, you’ve discovered everything in Egypt. You stumbled on more pharaohs. You unwrapped a few more, called a press conference for a pyramid, called another press conference just because, wrote a few articles on your press conferences…Maybe archaeology needs this kind of zeal for the camera. Or maybe, just maybe, this is proof that all archaeologists are bonkers. Just a little.

To whom it may concern

So, about that whole future thing…

(Via productdose.com)

Can we just say that this is a viable option for employment and leave me humming happy, fudge-topping thoughts to sleep jingle-stuffed dreams? Bitte?