Success

I didn't exactly grow up living like Paris Hilton, which I am beyond ok with. My family provided more than enough to get by, with set backs of course. When I was 8 or 9 (I can't honestly give you an exact age because I I tried to block it out) much of our house was destroyed by a horrible flood. I know we lost a lot, but I was mainly concerned that my sand box had been washed away in the destruction. Granted we probably had three feet of water rushing through our living at one point, but I was pissed because my favorite plastic shark got washed away.

This huge life event was easily the catalyst in my urge to become some person who was wealthy and powerful. Probably because I felt so small and helpless at the time. All I wanted was to live in a big house. I wanted that damn Bentley. The prestige. All of those things. Graduating high school I was so determined to get out and become some high power lawyer who raked in millions. That's all I wanted. I didn't care about anything else, just that cash money or how I could grab as many material things as I could lay my hands on....

Now, here I am, nearly 25 (when the hell did that happen??) and working in a school district as a Teacher's Assistant. Not exactly what I imagined, but I'll take it all the same. My job is actually pretty great, tiny complaints aside. The shape of what I deemed as success has definitely (and thankfully) changed and is ever-evolving as I get older. As I get to experience the world in different ways I realize what I gauge as "success" is hardly a shell of what I started out with:

No longer is my "success" measured by how big a house I will have or how nice of car I will buy, but by how many stamps I can get into my passport? How many lives can I touch? How many lives can touch mine? How many adventures can these two legs take me on? What kinds of foods can I experience? What kind of cultural mishaps can I finagle my way out of? I may not have been able to buy a car by 25, nor will I probably be able to buy a house by 30, but I have got to dig up beads in the Philippines that were still just as bright and beautiful as the day they were buried. I almost died in Argentina during a freak rain storm that led us to traversing a mountainside and walking through knee-deep mud for nearly 5 (or more, who knows) hours. I've protested in Washington D.C. I got a stamp from Ireland in my passport dated March 17th. I got to watch a ritual pig slaughter. I've climbed to the top of the Eiffel Tower. I rambled around the catacombs of the Smithsonian and accidently wandered into classrooms during lessons. I almost died on a flight out of Santiago, Chile. I've explored ruins of the Great Wall of China with my best friend. I've gotten lost in Nice, France far too late at night. I've gawked a Sun Fish in the Milan, Italy Aquarium. I've swam in waters beneath mile long waterfalls that simultaneously touched 2 countries at once (Argentina and Brasil). I've walked across the Golden Gate Bridge. I've thrown a surprise party for my best friend's birthday on a hostel rooftop in Montevideo, Uruguay. I've taken shots of tequila in Mexico. I've met some of the most incredible people on this great Earth.

My memories are as priceless as they are endless and I wouldn't trade or change them for the any amount of money (well, maybe some more plane tickets) or material wealth.  Success is such a fickle, fleeting thing. Right now my six month image of success involves climbing up and down rice terraces, digging in the dirt and impacting the history of South East Asia. And that image of success makes my heart beat just a little bit faster and my smile just a little bit wider.

We live in such a beautiful world and it would be a damn shame and waste to miss out on any of it because of some outdated indoctrination that I need a two story house with two kids, a Labrador and a white picket fence. I can work for all of those things when I am ready and willing. For now though, I am going to have fun experiencing this planet we call home.

The Biggest Adventure

Last summer I spent in the Philippines, excavating a place known as Old Kiyyangan Village with some of the brightest and most caring individuals I have ever met. The entire experience was surreal.  Literally everything was out of my comfort zone. From arriving into Manila at three in the morning. To my first night in Kiangan, in my mosquito net fort, listening to a billion sounds that horrified me to the depths of my soul. The cockroaches (which are my biggest phobia) were bigger than I could imagine. The bugs. The long and disgusting days in the field. Tapeworms. The rain water showers. The lack of toilet seats. Forgetting what hot water felt like. Missing wine. Missing my family. Having no real connection to the outside world.

Even through all of those trials, I fell in love. I fell in love with everything the Philippines had to offer, down to the biggest and nastiest cockroach. I fell for the people, who accepted me with open and loving arms. The food- even though I haven't been able to look at Tilapia since I came home. All of it. I try to find one negative with spending all that time away in a place I could have never imagined visiting with no luck. Kiangan is, and always will be, my special paradise. My spot.

So, yesterday I work, I made the call. I am going back. I have to go back. Since I stepped foot off that island in July I haven't been the same. My husband has even told me he felt like I left a little part of my heart there. It is no secret by now that I most definitely did.

This summer I will be returning for a month to excavate the Hapao Rice Terrace cluster. Last summer I was blessed to watch a ritual pig sacrifice to question the spirits of the ancestors of our excavation and they happily told us yes. I can't wait to return. I can't wait to smell all the smells and eat salty fish in the morning.... and rice every day for every meal. This time I will definitely be more prepared for the adventure I am about to embark on, for we are staying in an even more rural locale that has almost a mile hike up uneven stairs. Every. Day. Back to subsisting on Sky Flakes and 86 cent rum.

I yearn to be back in the field. To go home dirty and hating myself. To get into bed and fall asleep instantly from exhaustion. To dig up priceless cultural artifact and expand knowledge of such a rural area. For the first time in my life I finally am a piece of something that is far greater than myself.

This is only a portion of my beautiful Archaeology family