Before leaving for Brazil, I read a book entitled “Surviving Fieldwork,’ which describes loneliness as the number-one problem for anthropologists in the field. I’ve been pretty good so far. Yes, the wallpaper on my computer is a picture of Jasper (for those who don’t know – he’s the Zeppelin-shaped, thorny, frequently-regurgitating cat who allows us to feed him designer cat food). Yes, I’m counting the days until my spouse comes to visit. And, yes, I feel alone when someone shouts to me, Oi!, so I will look and they can take a picture of me – the foreigner. Until now, nothing has brought me to tears (well, nothing that didn’t involve funding and/or dreams about my advisers failing my dissertation). Today, it happened. I opened up the Cook’s Illustrated website – just to change my address! – and when I saw the articles on grilled beef satay and how to tell if buttermilk is still fresh, I lost it. Even an hour later, I’m still teary.
Making research fun – though it doesn’t look it, with me and the equipment on this bike, it weighs 100 kilos. That’s “muito” in pounds . . .
As an anthropologist, whose job it is to study people, and as an anthropological researcher, whose goal is to systematically investigate said people, I should probably say the following about fieldwork. Only through meeting new people do you learn about yourself! A second language opens up an infinite new world! The only way to see one’s own culture clearly is through the lens of another culture! While these things are true, more or less (and you can probably buy some version of these ideas at Home Depot and stick them on your kitchen wall to look at while you eat your breakfast), hands down, my absolute, preferred, favorite, most-looked-forward-to (sorry, Dad and Ellen) part of fieldwork is this:
We stopped a fisherman to ask for directions – he told us to take the second turn on the right
That’s right! Boat rides!!!! (I’m excluding Bom Jesus here, which is more like a spending the night in a remote, smelly hotel that ran out of beer and happens to float.) I love taking trips in a boat. It’s pure joy. The water is clean and cool. There’s wind. I’m going too fast for mosquitoes, spiders, cockroaches, fungus, dengue, bacteria, etc. to catch hold. And because of the motor it’s too loud to talk, so I don’t need to say anything, and I don’t need to understand anything. I can sit and think and breathe and enjoy. Pure freedom.
Would I trade it for beef satay? Today, yes. Tomorrow? I’ll let you know.
A house on the river
Are you old enough to be operating this vehicle?
Life with Its Teeth Out 