I spell it Tiwanaku, you spell it Tiahuanacu
Two years ago I learned of a pre-Incan conquest civilazation spelled ¨Tiahuanacu¨. Soon after I saw the alternate spelling of ¨Tiwanaku¨. Capriciously and with all the haughtiness of a gringo foreigner with a residence card in a country where passing-through gringo tourists receive a plethora of smirks, I stroked my own ego by immediately writing off the alternate spelling as the anglicized version for the ¨less savvy¨. Karma stuck to the responsibilities outlined in her job-description, however, when soon after we were told both spellings emerged amognst the SPanish colonizers at the same time. In all my willingness to judge others based an assumption I knew the ¨right way¨ and others did not, I forgot that neither spelling has a native origin.
There is no way to spell ¨Tiahuanacu¨ that does not remind the word is one designed by colonizers, that either way spelled, the ancient ruins that the word ¨Tiahuanacu¨ designates, are there because of conquest and because of lack of resources to maintain or restore the ancient city. Not more than once have I in fact been told there is sufficient belief amongst archeologists and anthroplogists a fair amount of the original city remains unexcavated beneath the hard altiplano earth. The principal reason it remains unexcavated is lack of national resources to complete the project and lack of external interest in funding such a project. Bah-Humbug!
On a more serious note, I would like to share a deeper impact visiting the ruins had on me. After five hours absorbing the subtle complexities of the pre-Incan ruins at Tiahuanacu, my imaginations reached their apex with the realization as of yet, no build a Macchu-Picchu Theme Park exists. How has humanity come this far, created so many theme and water parks, and not even one Peak Picchu grand drop slide has been created?
On a Tuesday morning Eli and I hit the snooze button at 7:10 AM. Somehow I managed to get up and perhaps more impressively managed to also get Eli up and out the door by 7:40 am. The adventure started at the Cemetary where micro-buses leave to Tiahuanacu daily. Even knowing that much can save a gringo up to thirty dollars who might otherwise pay for transport through a tourist country. Thanks again, Lonely Planet Guides and local knowledge from giving me survival techniques to avoid tourist traps.
Even though the van ride is only an hour and fifteen minutes or so, several delays waiting for passangers, etc., made it a 2.5 hour trip. Now that I think about it, maybe for some travellers that is why they are willing to pay to go with a tourist company, to avoid the ordeal of transportation. For me, however, getting there I find as educational as being there.
By 11:30 AM Eli and I found ourselves in uneloquent protest of the foreigner-entrance-tax, a 700% increase on the entrance fee. Final word was the guards, since we had no proof of residence, we would get no reduction. Damn I want that resident card I had last time! Eventually mere frustration with cyclical communication inspired Eli and I to concede, pay, and enter. But we didn't let ourselves get completely shat on, we made sure to flash our class and tact by muttering mean things in English. Almost as honorable and classy as the Italian who entered the museum after us while smoking a cigarette.
To Be Continued. . .
Two years ago I learned of a pre-Incan conquest civilazation spelled ¨Tiahuanacu¨. Soon after I saw the alternate spelling of ¨Tiwanaku¨. Capriciously and with all the haughtiness of a gringo foreigner with a residence card in a country where passing-through gringo tourists receive a plethora of smirks, I stroked my own ego by immediately writing off the alternate spelling as the anglicized version for the ¨less savvy¨. Karma stuck to the responsibilities outlined in her job-description, however, when soon after we were told both spellings emerged amognst the SPanish colonizers at the same time. In all my willingness to judge others based an assumption I knew the ¨right way¨ and others did not, I forgot that neither spelling has a native origin.
There is no way to spell ¨Tiahuanacu¨ that does not remind the word is one designed by colonizers, that either way spelled, the ancient ruins that the word ¨Tiahuanacu¨ designates, are there because of conquest and because of lack of resources to maintain or restore the ancient city. Not more than once have I in fact been told there is sufficient belief amongst archeologists and anthroplogists a fair amount of the original city remains unexcavated beneath the hard altiplano earth. The principal reason it remains unexcavated is lack of national resources to complete the project and lack of external interest in funding such a project. Bah-Humbug!
On a more serious note, I would like to share a deeper impact visiting the ruins had on me. After five hours absorbing the subtle complexities of the pre-Incan ruins at Tiahuanacu, my imaginations reached their apex with the realization as of yet, no build a Macchu-Picchu Theme Park exists. How has humanity come this far, created so many theme and water parks, and not even one Peak Picchu grand drop slide has been created?
On a Tuesday morning Eli and I hit the snooze button at 7:10 AM. Somehow I managed to get up and perhaps more impressively managed to also get Eli up and out the door by 7:40 am. The adventure started at the Cemetary where micro-buses leave to Tiahuanacu daily. Even knowing that much can save a gringo up to thirty dollars who might otherwise pay for transport through a tourist country. Thanks again, Lonely Planet Guides and local knowledge from giving me survival techniques to avoid tourist traps.
Even though the van ride is only an hour and fifteen minutes or so, several delays waiting for passangers, etc., made it a 2.5 hour trip. Now that I think about it, maybe for some travellers that is why they are willing to pay to go with a tourist company, to avoid the ordeal of transportation. For me, however, getting there I find as educational as being there.
By 11:30 AM Eli and I found ourselves in uneloquent protest of the foreigner-entrance-tax, a 700% increase on the entrance fee. Final word was the guards, since we had no proof of residence, we would get no reduction. Damn I want that resident card I had last time! Eventually mere frustration with cyclical communication inspired Eli and I to concede, pay, and enter. But we didn't let ourselves get completely shat on, we made sure to flash our class and tact by muttering mean things in English. Almost as honorable and classy as the Italian who entered the museum after us while smoking a cigarette.
To Be Continued. . .
posted by Jojo at 4:41 PM
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