Napoleonland: Theme Park with Attitude

Napoleonland. Kind of has a nice ring to it, like a place for where the famous general/statesman/emperor could go to let off some steam. He might have liked a place like that, especially in his later years, when so much else around him was going wrong.

But we're talking about the present and the future here, so let's progress on to that timeline. A former Cabinet Minister, Yves Jego, is pushing the construction of an amusement park that has Napoleon as the theme. The main attraction, it seems, would be re-enactments of famous events in Napoleon's life, such as big battles like Austerlitz and Waterloo. That would surely make a re-enactment guru's Top 10 list.

Jego, the 2008 Secretary of State for Overseas, is pushing the construction of the theme park near Montereau, site of Napoleon's last victory over the Austrian army. Estimated price tag is $280 million, and the park would open in 2017. Projections are for the creation of 3,000 jobs, which would certainly be a boost to the local and national economy, along with the undoubted increase in tourist income generated by the operation of the theme park.

Some elements of the park are a bit puzzling, however. I can certainly see how kids would be all over the opportunity to dress up like the Emperor and strike a definitive pose for a family photo; and re-enactment buffs would certainly jump at the chance to show up, don the uniform, and let their family see them "fight" the Battle of Waterloo. The option for history buffs to see a water show that creates the Battle of Trafalgar would be an added attraction, a step above the normal reenactment experience.

But you have to wonder how the theme park would market the guillotine attraction, a re-creation of the death of King Louis XVI. Napoleon was very much an agent of the Revolution and of the Republic that followed, and the story of the death of the king is very much part of that story. But having such an attraction at a theme park that would certainly attract a lot of kids and other people who would be offended by the lopping of someone's head, even if it's a puppet or an animation. (Come to think of it, some kids might find it funny because they would have seen similar things in video games. Still, not sure we want to encourage this kind of appreciation.)

Then there's the ski run. This is where I think the project might fall down. Skiing is certainly a worthy and popular pursuit, doubtless to attract lots and lots and lots of people. And the ski run would be popular, I predict, as long as people don't look at the ground to the sides as they go down the run, for the current plan is to populate the run with scenes of a battlefield — namely, shapes that look suspiciously like frozen bodies of soldiers and horses. Again, not for the faint of disposition.

This would certainly not be Disneyland Montereau, even though the plans also include a museum, shops, restaurants, and a hotel. User-friendly it might be; user-sensibility-sensitive is probably isn't.

That's the currently iteration, however. If it goes ahead as planned, then surely the warnings about contents will be enough to keep people well-informed. There's always the chance as well that the plans for the more disturbing attractions could be altered to make the proceedings more family-friendly. 

Flight or Fight? Ancient British 'Winged' Building Tantalizes

Those pesky Romano-British — always causing problems. First, they didn't want the Romans around; then, they couldn't get enough of the culture once the Romans picked up and went home.

One thing that was certainly true in the story of Roman Britain was that even though a large part of the Island was influenced by Roman culture as brought over by well armed Roman soldiers, it certainly didn't mean that all Roman settlements in Britain were the same. That is the sort of flavor behind the latest announcement out of Norfolk, where a team of archaeologists have announced the discovery of a truly unique structure near a stronghold of a onetime enemy of Ancient Rome.

Venta Icenorum had its fair share of problems, as seen by Roman eyes. To start with, it was very much in the realm of influence of the Iceni, a tribe that had quite a list of grievances against the Roman occupiers/settlers. They put up fierce resistance to the invading armies of Claudius but ended up a client kingdom under the historically not-quite-significant Prasutagus. Once he was out of the way, the Romans figured they didn't need another client king and tried to impose their will in full. The result was the revolt of Boudicca, a flashpoint and shining star in the British resistance to Roman occupation.

The determined Romans took care of Boudicca, of course, as they did with most insurgents and went about their business for another few hundred years before pulling out and trying (in vain, as it turned out) to keep Rome itself from falling under the hammer.

The Iceni, then, according to the archaeologists, built a wing-shaped structure the likes of which hasn't been found in all the diggings in Britain since ancient times. The elevated building has a central room and another, rectangular, room out of which stretch two wing-shaped rooms. Convinced that the Romans built along lines that don't match this new discovery, the archaeologists insist that they're on to something entirely new.

For their part, the Iceni took their own sweet time accepting the Roman way of life, including the Roman way of worship. Iceni gods tended to be of the natural variety, and the building's likely wind-swept location might be a clue as to the possibly religious nature of the activities that might have taken place within. What the archaeologists do know is that the central room contained more support than the other rooms, based on what remains of the other rooms' supporting structures (not much). So was the building a small building that had add-ons, or did the people spend most of their time in the central room, or was it something else entirely? (Given the paucity of other clues, I would think that it was something else entirely.)

This likely wasn't an isolated building, either. Based on examinations of aerial photographs, the archaeologists are suggesting that the building was part of a small complex of at least four buildings in proximity. Given this data, we might conclude that the building was indeed a temple, on a sort of hill, looking over the other buildings and the surrounding countryside.

However, the archaeologists are quick to point out as well that Iceni buildings didn't look a whole lot like this "temple," either. They might have lived in it, but they might not have built it.

So if the Romans didn't build this thing and neither did the people who lived there, what are we to make of this information? Given that the Romans weren't very likely to deviate from their propensity to be creatures of habit, I would conclude that it was the Iceni who built the thing, probably under the influence of neighbors. More information is needed, however.

Ancient Popcorn Dates to 6,000 Years Ago

See, you have your assumptions based on evidence and then the ground shifts — literally.

Researchers digging along the coast of Peru have discovered evidence of people eating popcorn nearly 1,000 years earlier than we previously thought. That's quite a number of years back in time, any way you pop it.

We used to be convinced that popcorn originated in Mexico about 8,000 years ago and then traveled with migrants at a snail's pace to the rest of South America, showing up finally in what is now Peru about 3,000 years ago. (If that seems like a long time, remember that snails don't move very fast at the best of times.)

Now, however, after finding cobs, husks, stalks, and tassels at two mound sites on the northern coast of the country, archaeologists from Vanderbilt and the Peruvian National Academy of History are prepared to assert that the people there were making and eating popcorn as early as 6,700 years ago. (That would still be a slow transition from nearby Mexico, but remember that we don't always find everything that other people leave behind, especially when we as a species have a tendency to build right on top of previous settlements. Remember as well that snails don't move very fast at the best of times.)

Another intriguing element to this is that the dating to 6,700 years ago means that the consumption of this popcorn preceded the development of ceramic pottery in the region. How did the ancient people get their corn to pop all those years ago? Answering that question will undoubtedly lead to a heated debate, as will determining what the ancient people did while munching their popcorn. (This was long before even silent movies, after all.)

It should be noted as well that popcorn — or any kind of corn, for that matter — wasn't the big deal for Mexican and South American peoples that it was for the ancient folks further north on the North American continent. So it's not surprising that archaeologists haven't found huge numbers of shrines to the venerable husks in the middens and other mounds around the place.

Stars Look Down on Archaeologists in Ancient Ivory Find

It was a fortuitous time for the research team, as they announced the discovery of a 2,000-year-old astrologer's board in a Croatian cave. One might even say it was meant to be. It was also a bit of Indiana Jones-like spelunking that found the board in the first place.

Among the thousands of pieces of Hellenistic pottery that the team involving researchers from Croatia and the U.S. found in a cave along the Adriatic coast were 30 ivory fragments of a board that shows Cancer, Gemini, and Pisces. So the Crab, the Twins, and the Fish survive, but the others didn't quite make it. Surely there's no significance in that (he thought auspiciously).

After painstakingly putting the bits back together, the archaeologists had a working model of what they think they found, which is a board that has all the signs of the zodiac on it. Such things would have been used in Greco-Roman times, along the order of 2,200 years ago, which is the date pointed to by radiocarbon testing the team did on the fragments. But how did it get there? More importantly, how did the ivory get into the hands of the person who made the board? Ivory wasn't exactly a cheap commodity in those times.

Such things are still unknown, which might not be an augur of any future developments. (One never knows with these things.) What the archaeologists do know, however, is that the board was found among a veritable ton of shards of drinking cups, which were in the general vicinity of a giant stalagmite — suggesting a place of worship.

The team made the discoveries in 1999, which is really a blink of an eye in archaeology terms. They were digging in familiar territory, near the entrance to a well-known cave. One of the team discovered a low passageway that had been sealed off for ages.  Throwing caution to the wind (and not suspecting any ancient traps to spring forth to thwart them), the team walked right through into an inner cavern and made the discovery of the stalagmite and fragments, including the ivory bits that became the astrologer's board. (Sometimes archaeological excitement is all about the discovery.)

Later investigation led the team to conclude that the passageway had been sealed off since the 1st Century B.C., in response to a violent sortie perpetuated on the local Illyrians by some well-armed tribes from nearby Roman territory.

A little inspired research into the subject has convinced the archaeologists that their discovery could well be the oldest astrological device yet discovered. The Greeks, of course, took a keen interest in the heavens, as evidenced by the achievements of Aristarchus and all the rest of the keen Greek minds whose names and deeds have been passed down to us through the ages.

What's next for this intrepid team? The answer is in the stars.

Tomb of Non-royal Woman Found in Valley of Kings

We hear a lot about pharaohs and other royal personages dug out of the sands of time in Egypt, but now comes the story of the discovery of the tomb of a female singer in the Valley of the Kings. That should be music to someone's ears.

In the best archaeological tradition, a team from Switzerland were looking for something else when they found the tomb and a wooden plaque that, amazingly enough, had the woman's name: Nehmes Bastet, after the feline god Bastet. The team (and, by extension, all of the rest of us) know when she lived and performed as well: during the 22nd Dynasty (945-712 BC).

There is a bit of a royal connection, in that this woman was the daughter of the High Priest of Amon. So it's not as if she's just some singer being buried with the Tuts and the other high-and-mighty folks in the Valley of the Kings. After all, you don't see a whole lot of musical notes in those hieroglyphs of old, now do you?

But seriously, this is a very significant find because it is the first non-royal tomb found in this historic valley. For that honor alone, Nehmes Bastet deserves a song.

Presto Change-o: Royal Portrait Airbrushed to Switch Monarchs

That PhotoShop is so early 20th Century.

Yep, the royal family has been doing the airbrush thing a good while before today's model-photographing populace. The proof is in a "retouched" portrait of none other than King George VI, he of "The King's Speech." 

This portrait is identical in every way but one to the coronation portrait of George's predecessor, the short-serving King Edward VIII, who abdicated the throne in order to marry Wallis Simpson. Edward posed for the portrait in 1936, not long before his coronation. George's coronation would have been a couple of years later.

Why did they do it? To save money? Perhaps. War was in the air, of course, and good painting supplies would have been hard to find. But you have to wonder why the Royal Family, with its sense of history, would have done such a thing. The two options, it seems to me, were to redo the thing completely or to destroy the original. 

See, this is the trouble. People keep things lying around in dark closets or tucked away in vaults and then the people who thought it was a big deal forget about the things lying around in dark closets or tucked away in vaults and then modern people come alone and dredge them out to look at them, get all excited, and want to publish.

That's the world we live in these days: publish, publish, publish. Every second smartphone has a camera that is three clicks away from publication (shoot, log on to Facebook, click on Post). It's all about the publication. It's all about the sharing. It's all about getting anything and everything out there as quickly as possible so that the world can witness the brilliance of the person doing the posting.

In this case, those doing the posting were the Illustrated London News, with a special coronation issue. They found in the archives this lovely little portrait of Edward, whose marriage to Simpson ended so tragically, and they decided to publish it all these years later. Some smart-eyed readers wrote in to say that Edward's portrait looked a whole lot like George's, and the re-use was uncovered.

So lesson learned for the Royal Family, right? Perhaps, except that they'e also admitted that they reused some other of Edward's coronation items for George. No wonder the poor guy had trouble speaking. He was walking around with a chip on his shoulder that would have made him permanently tilt to one side.

Trash in the Streets: What, Pompeii Worry?

The citizens of Pompeii were into trash. Well, at least they weren't averse to having it around.

That's a new hypothesis to explain why archaeologists have found so much rubbish in and around the tombs of Pompeii, the city that was hastily buried under a volcanic eruption in 79 A.D. 

The prevailing theory is that an earthquake 17 years earlier had left the city awash in rubble, but more recent findings have convinced one archaeologist of a new theory: that the city just didn't have a good waste management system. 

Evidence supporting this theory is found in the scads of rubbish found among the rubble alongside houses, businesses, and common areas — not just alongside tombs. So the Pompeiians had their trash just like everybody else, except that they didn't go to great lengths to get rid of it, at least not in the years immediately before the Vesuvian eruption.

Archaeologists have found a large trash heap outside the city walls. (That would seem to be the logical place for it.) But they have also made careful note of garbage pits — containing animal bones, food waste, and broken pottery — right alongside houses and even right alongside water storage cisterns. Clearly, these people didn't worry too much about scavenging animals or bacterial infections.

Moreso, these people didn't think of tombs as the kind of sacred places that we do today, judging by the presence of not only heaps of rubbish in and around the burial places but also the preponderance of graffiti right on the tomb outside walls. Respect for the dead indeed!

So if they didn't worry about it, why should we? Well, for starters, we today produce a lot more rubbish than the residents of Pompeii ever did — like every in the history of the city, even if its occupation stretches back a few thousand years. They didn't have plastic packaging, after all, which doesn't break down easily no matter how many pieces it is shattered into eventually. We also have slightly more knowledge of what happens if trash is left in homes or public places too long. 

Still, we today leave a lot of trash lying around. If one of our cities disappeared after a violent natural event (and some of them have, in recent times), what sort of clues to rubbish disposal would future archaeologists find? We today are shaping the middens of tomorrow. We might want to get our houses in order before criticizing those who lived before us.

Ancient Ramblings, Laws, and a Bar Tab

They're so old, yet we could learn so much.

That's the story with a collection of more than 100 cuneiform texts made available to the public by a Norway businessman who has owned them for many years but has not published them until now. Among the translations, which will soon appear in a book, are royal boastings, an ancient bar tab, and a discovery that should make legal scholars very happy.

Among the revelations discovered by the team of translators is an inscription in the words of the famous Babylonian ruler Nebuchadnezzar II, whose "instructions" resulted in the construction of a massive ziggurat dedicated to the god Marduk more than 2,500 years ago.

The inscription was on a stele, or stone slab, and included a drawing of the pyramid and of the king himself, wearing a cone-shaped crown, royal bracelet, and royal robe. Among the writings on the stele are also a description of a second ziggurat, at the city of Borsippa.

Among the boasts of Nebuchadnezzar, known for having a high opinion of himself and his accomplishments, is this one: "I completed them [the ziggurats], making them bright as the sun." This boast validated an earlier claim found on a similar tablet.

It's not just Nebuchadnezzar who is doing the boasting, though. The translations also reveal the self-important claims of another king, Tiglath-pileser I of Assyria, whose literary swagger also includes accounts of conquest and monument-building.

The item that should make legal scholars have a gleam in their eye is the oldest known copy of the laws of Ur-Nammu, a king who ruled Ur nearly 4,000 years ago, long before the more famous Hammurabi. Ur-Nammu's laws, for instance, prescribe a fine as punishment for taking out another person's eye, rather than the more barbaric "eye for an eye" that Hammurabi's code prescribed. Other parts of the Ur-Nammu code are more well-known from later versions.

Then there's the bar tab. The code of Ur-Nammu includes instructions for female tavern-keepers to collect taxes in winter on a jar of beer given on credit in summer.