Petén, Guatemala

tikal is an archaeological site about a 90-minute drive from the belizean border, and one of the most well-preserved and excavated of the mayan cities. getting there was an experience in and of itself, in that there wasn't much of a road to speak of most of the way, to say nothing of the strange helplessness one always feels when surrounded by third-world poverty.

View from the van

the thing about the mayan ruins is that of course you've seen them a million times in books and cartoons and whatnot, so you think you know what to expect in shape and form and size, but still, you get there and it's like: oh, they do exist, and here i am among temples that were built 16 centuries ago, and no amount of exposure to any kind of representation ever diminishes that.

Yea, they're big.

Chak, the rain god

Two curious things:
1) The temples all used to be red (they were painted with a dye made from hematite). Never knew that.
2) The courtyards were all stuccoed so that rain water could accumulate and drain into reservoirs. Never knew that either.

View from the top of tallest temple

anyway, in sum, i give you longfellow's the builders, which i've quoted a verse of before. i was blown away, and you have to have been there to really get why, so poetry i guess is the next best thing:

All are architects of Fate,
Working in these walls of Time;
Some with massive deeds and great,
Some with ornaments of rhyme.

Nothing useless is, or low;
Each thing in its place is best;
And what seems but idle show
Strengthens and supports the rest.

For the structure that we raise,
Time is with materials filled;
Our to-days and yesterdays
Are the blocks with which we build.

Truly shape and fashion these;
Leave no yawning gaps between;
Think not, because no man sees,
Such things will remain unseen.

In the elder days of Art,
Builders wrought with greatest care
Each minute and unseen part;
For the Gods see everywhere.

Let us do our work as well,
Both the unseen and the seen;
Make the house, where Gods may dwell,
Beautiful, entire, and clean.

Else our lives are incomplete,
Standing in these walls of Time,
Broken stairways, where the feet
Stumble as they seek to climb.

Build to-day, then, strong and sure,
With a firm and ample base;
And ascending and secure
Shall to-morrow find its place.

Thus alone can we attain
To those turrets, where the eye
Sees the world as one vast plain,
And one boundless reach of sky.