On fieldwork, the most tiring part of the week is actually the day off (once every 10 days). This involves trying to sleep through the horrendous noise of construction and seguridad walkie-talkies in the early morning, packing your bikini and stumbling into the truck headed for the beach with a cuba libre hangover from the night before. Once on the beach, the warm wind and the hot sun do not mitigate the symptoms - this is only achieved by a paddle and a fruit punch and a gentle game of beach petanque. After this you have to decide what on earth to do with the rest of the hours in the day, which may seem like an easy task after 10 days non-stop work, but after the regimented existence of fieldwork, in which every waking second is filled with a task - documenting, list-making, digging, driving, loading, unloading, labeling, sorting - all capacity for self determination is sapped. I think this is mainly my problem, as most of the others manage to successfully chill in a hammock and read a book.

The BBQ the other week was another Cabo style, sweaty, dancy, flamed chicken filled fiesta. This time, for the first time, we came fully armed with BBQ griddle and tongs (not to mention the case full of ice and beer which we never forget). The tongs, thoughtfully purchased from the Blokker in the Netherlands by Menno, and transported across the Atlantic to prevent us burning our flesh, snapped within seconds - fine for a dalliance with a few sausages on a gas BBQ in a Dutch backyard, but evidently not up to the job of a tropical 30 man feast. It was back to sticks and penknives again, only this time we had a Cabo fire stoker to hand - an old man who expertly raked the embers and fished fallen drumsticks from the flames.
The party was excellent - we bachata'ed till gone midnight. Only those of us who know El cabo form previous years noticed that there were far fewer people in the village, and a more staid atmosphere. It gets quieter every time we come, as people move away from an area which is soon to be transformed into another toursit zone.

The trucks have just left for the field, leaving me behind. I am going to Jamaica for 3 days to a conference. I feel like I have abandoned them all. I know the speed at which we are working will mean the site will be transformed when I return - more squares open, more spoil heaps undulating across the terrain, more finds bags and occurences... until the next time...

grubby and happy. the 1st group team photo.

The first thing I learnt on going into El Cabo the first day was that the village had been prey to malaria. This distressing news I dutifully conveyed back to my supervisers and we made plans to break the news to the students, lather ourselves in deet, cancel the village BBQ planned for the end of the week and go to the local hospital for up to the minute news on malaria precautions for the region. The next day Corinne closely questioned Manolo, our informant on the matter, who again dolefully confirmed that indeed, several villagers had a bad case of malaria. He then proceeded to describe the symptoms: lack of money, boredom, in short, a general feeling of malaria…not mosquito born then? Corinne enquired, not at all, he said, and besides, the symptoms had been relieved by our arrival…clearly in El Cabo Spanish, malaria means a general feeling of malaise. We were relieved, and prescribed a dose of collaborative excavation, flirting between villagers and Dutch students, village parties and more miscommunications! I resolved to improve my Spanish and not misinterpret the one word I think I understand in a sentence.

Apart from this initial excitement, the 2 days we have had onsite have proved very productive. The mixture of old team and new students makes for quick work. We are excavating squares on the coast, refreshed by a good breeze, and with some nice finds (beads and shell adornments). As usual, I am behind the drawing table, doling out finds labels and bags and watching other people hurt their knees and backs and get covered in fine goat pooh and sand powder from the sieves. Today we had a friendly drunk visiting the site. He lolled on the fence for a while with a bottle of rum and then decided we were interesting enough to visit, climbed on the fence, toppled over the other side onto his head and stumbled over to the pit edge, where he remained, rambling on incomprehensibly at anyone troweling near enough.

More soon...especially seeing as tomorrow night we run the gauntlet of another village party!