Indiana Jones, Tikal, and Me

By Alli Sinclair

At school, history was a bore. I mean, really, what's so interesting about studying dead people? But then a man with a battered hat, bullwhip, and a lopsided smile swaggered into my life. OK, it was onscreen, but still, Indiana Jones impacted the way I viewed the ancient world and literally, changed my life.

History became exciting. The people who lived in ancient civilizations had invented cool stuff. They made me realize we owe a lot to our ancestors for what we have today. And from the first moment I saw Indy swinging with his bullwhip across a chasm, I decided to go on my own crusade and discover ancient cultures.

One of the first that fascinated me was Tikal, one of the largest archaeological sites of the pre-Columbian Mayan civilization. Located in the lush Petén Basin in Guatemala, this UNESCO World Heritage Site is one of the most impressive, mysterious places on earth. Thick jungle surrounds the ruins and howler monkeys chatter overhead, accompanied by the lyrical songs of 410 species of birds.

Bound by rivers, the park containing Tikal provides protection for ocelots, peccaries, toucans, and jaguars, just to name some of the exotic wildlife that live in the shadows of the jungle. So far, only 3,000 sites have been uncovered, and there’s a further 10,000 waiting for archaeologists to unearth. It’s been 50 years since the first dig at Tikal, and given the expanse of the area, it could take many lifetimes to fully discover the history and secrets beneath the soil. The Mayans believed in reincarnation, and I wonder if archaeologists wish it were true, so they could continue with their discoveries.

In its heyday, Tikal was home to 90,000 people and covered close to 75 square miles (120 square kilometers).  Because of its geographical location, the Mayans needed to conserve water, and management of this precious resource was vital for the survival of their city. Surrounded by wetlands, the Mayans devised reservoir systems for water diversion and storage, taking advantage of the seasonal rainfall. Roads were paved with lime-based cement, and flint was readily available, providing the Mayans with a valuable stone to make spear points, arrowheads, and knives.

In 700 B.C., Tikal was a commercial, cultural and religious centre but by the mid-4th century, Tikal had morphed into a city of people who’d adopted brutal methods in warfare under the rule of King Jaguar Paw. It is still not known exactly what killed off the Mayans but the latest report in National Geographic suspects climate may have had a lot to do with their demise. Yet another reason why learning about history is so important – we have the opportunity to change our ways based on what our ancestors did, or didn’t, do.

The most striking features at Tikal are the steep-sided temples rising above the jungle. The plazas have been cleared of trees and vines, and the temples are partially restored. At times, great distances exist between sites, and one can stroll under the dense canopy, take refuge from the sun, and enjoy the rich, earthy scents of the low-lying vegetation. Even at peak tourist season, it’s possible to escape the throngs, step back in time, and imagine what life may have been like.

Translated from Itzá Maya, Tikal means “place of voices”, and it’s easy to understand why. Whispers from the past echo through the deserted corridors and around corners. The skin prickles, and hair stands on end with the feeling of not being entirely alone.

It’s a long, hot climb to the top of the temples but the view is worth every rasping breath. Temples tower above the dense forest, dotting the vista, and the great height of the monuments can cause giddiness. Star Wars buffs will note Temple IV was used for a scene of the Massassi Outpost on the fourth moon of Yavin. Even 1970s Hollywood saw the allure of such a magical place.

Tikal is shrouded in mystery and magic. It begs to be explored and the mind wanders, trying to create theories of how people lived and died. Maybe all the questions will never be answered. But what I do know is Tikal will always be a place I treasure, thanks to an intrepid fictional adventurer named Indiana Jones.

My Top Five Archeological Sites (so far)

By Edith McClintock

I suppose my first encounter with archeology was searching for Native American arrowheads along Tennessee creek banks when I was young. As I got older, I loved books set on archeological digs or around archeological sites. I’ve never had any desire to work on a dig though. Recognizing that Indiana Jones was pure fiction (some people have a hard time with this, I know), the reality of a dig always seemed tedious and hot—particularly in a desert like Egypt.

I prefer my archeological sites excavated and appropriately recreated, with an informative guidebook or signage, maybe even a knowledgeable guide. Stir in a grandiose temple soaring above the jungle canopy, howler monkey moans drifting over misty mountains; maybe some draping liana vines entangling stone temples. Of course ruins don’t really have to be in a jungle, but a spectacular setting and minimal tourist throngs are nearly as important as the site itself.

It’s all about the history you say? True. But you can find that in a book. If I’m going to travel halfway around the world, it’s nice to have some scenic drama with my history. I admit I recently skipped the ruins of Troy in Turkey—just a field with some rubble I was told (don’t get mad, I didn’t go, it’s just what I heard).

And so, with those caveats, below are my top five archeological sites so far (it was meant to be ten but I ran out of time). And yes, I still have much to see, starting with Machu Picchu, which I have no doubt is well worth Alli’s 42 visits! I’ll try my best to go during low season and miss the swarming crowds. You’ll find this is key to many of my favorites.

1. Tikal (Guatemala)

A bit remote, at least when I visited nearly 15 years ago, the Tikal ruins are among the largest and most beautiful ancient Mayan ruins in the Maya forests of Belize, Guatemala, and Mexico. Archeologists, with the help of indentured student labor, have excavated a number of the temples, the tallest of which is 212 feet tall. But plenty remain unexcavated, which is also interesting as it demonstrates the tremendous feat in transforming a mound of dirt and rubble into a soaring temple, not to mention building it the first time around.

Tikal is first because it meets all of my key criteria mentioned above. Plus, it gets added geeky pop culture points as the rebel base in Star Wars. I visited on a daytrip from Belize, but sunset and sunrise are optimal times, so make sure to fit that in when you visit. And you should.

2. Petra (Jordan)

Petra is an ancient Nabataean city carved from “rock as if by magic grown, eternal, silent, beautiful, alone.”* The history is long, the excavations many. So spectacular it doesn’t need jungle, although I did meet several adorable baby goats, so I figure that counts as wildlife. So massive it takes only a short hike to find oneself alone, possibly lost, wandering over mountains, past Roman columns and Byzantine mosaics, through deep and twisting ravines. It gets pop culture points too, as the site of the Holy Grail in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. And don’t forget to visit nearby Little Petra, which also has beautiful tombs, ravines, and mountains, and was completely empty of tourists, save us, when I visited.

*John William Burgon's poem Petra. Lina wrote a blog about Petra last year.

3. Vardzia (Georgia)

For a true off the beaten track site, look no further than the dramatic cave monastery of Vardzia. Dug into the side of Mount Erusheli between 1184 and 1186 as a military base during the golden age of medieval Georgia, it was accessible only through hidden tunnels at the base of the hill. Due to mysterious circumstances, it soon became a religious site where Queen Tamar lived. (Never heard of Queen Tamar? She’s famous in Georgian history as the ruler of their golden age.) 

Vardzia originally had over six thousand apartments in a thirteen-story complex with an irrigation system that watered terraced farmlands. An earthquake destroyed two-thirds of the city in 1283, exposing the caves and collapsing the irrigation system.

Up close or from the distance it’s impressive, surrounded by windswept mountains, a pretty river snaking through the valley, and rock cut staircases straight out of an Escher print. And I bet you can guess what comes next. Yes, on the day I visited we were completely alone—except for a dog and a monk who lived in one of the caves.

4. Luxor Temple (Egypt)

Normally the Luxor Temple might not have made my list. But when I visited Luxor there were less than a hundred tourists in the entire city, and so we walked through the temple practically alone, just an archeologist sorting columns, a few local guides, and an Imam.

My first view was at sunrise from our hotel terrace across the street. The call to prayer echoed through warm, pink air; swaying palms and a sleepy Nile framed a giant obelisk and matching statues of Ramses II guarding the temple entrance. Wandering through the giant colonnades a few hours later, my first thought was, Ah, I understand—no, not the mysteries of Ancient Egypt, but why they’ve endured, why Egypt is a must visit.

5. The Western and Southern Walls, Old Jerusalem

Yes, the walls are dramatically beautiful in sections, partly because of the backdrop of the Dome of the Rock, the Al-Aqsa Mosque, and Mount of Olives, but also for the layers of history both visible and symbolic—all of it still very much alive. The mosque entrance was closed to visitors, but we did take a tour of the tunnels under the Western wall and walked through the archeological site along the Southern Wall. Empires, religion, superstition, politics, hate, Armageddon, sexism, propaganda, cats, and kids playing basketball. It’s all there and it’s not history when you visit. And yes, I went off-season—rainy and a little cold, but no lines.

Disagree with me about Troy? What are your favorite archeological sites?

For more, visit my author website and/or personal blog, A Wandering Tale. Even better, order a copy of Monkey Love & Murder on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or the Book Depository (free shipping nearly anywhere in the world).

Persepolis: Blending Past and Present

By Heidi Noroozy

Heidi will be back from Iran next week, bursting with new stories to tell. In the meantime, here is a repeat of her Persepolis story from November 2010.

On a clear day, you can see the thirteen stone columns of the Apadana Audience Hall from across the vast plain, just an hour’s drive from the Southern Iranian city of Shiraz. They rise into the blue sky above the ruins of Persepolis, reminding me of lonely tree trunks after a forest fire. Solemn, bleak, and dead.

Built in the fifth century B.C. by Darius I and his son Xerxes, Persepolis was the residential palace of Persia’s Achaemenian kings, where Darius and his descendants staged ceremonies and received visiting heads of state. The actual business of the empire was conducted far away in Susa (modern-day Shush, Iran). The palace’s history is still visible today on its gray stone walls, which depict scenes of Persian New Year ceremonies, camels and carts laden with provisions, and delegates from empire’s far-flung territories bearing tribute to the king of kings.

Persepolis’s glory lasted for only two centuries and came to an end when Alexander the Great conquered and looted the palace complex, then burned it to the ground. Today, the ruins are a source of national pride for Iranians, a symbol of their long-ago Persian empire. So it’s no surprise that they shun the name the Greek conquerors gave the site (Persepolis – City of the Persians) and prefer to call it Takht-e Jamshid or Throne of Jamshid (a legendary Persian king, who probably never actually lived in the palace named after him).

Persepolis may have been abandoned many centuries ago, but it felt anything but dead on the sunny February day when I visited the site. Our expedition began early in the morning when Hassan, the guide my husband had hired for the day, picked us up for the drive from Shiraz to the ruins. A young man with bright eyes and a shiny new wedding ring on his finger, Hassan showed us a picture of his young wife of six months and chatted happily of the baby on the way. When we passed through green fields at the foot of Persepolis’s high plateau, he pointed out the meadows that had belonged to his family. According to local custom, he said, farms are divided up equally between sons, so by the time he came along, his share of the fertile land was too small to support a family. He headed for the city and better job prospects.

By the time we climbed the wide staircase leading to the Xerxes Gate, my mind was filled with images from Hassan’s stories, and all I could think of was how much life had continued here for millennia. How farmers had cultivated the green fields all around the site—and likely also over it during the centuries that the palace ruins lay buried in the ground.

With a blue sky and a light breeze blowing down from the hills, mingling the scents of ancient dust and freshly turned earth, I could practically see the spirits of ancient warriors, kings, and servants climbing the steps to the Apadana Hall, just like their images carved into the side of the staircase wall. We wandered along the boardwalk covering Procession Way, where stone griffins, now chipped and cracked, once looked down on delegations as they made their way to the Hundred Column Hall. Gazing down at round stone bases that used to support long-decayed wooden columns, it was harder to picture life as it had once existed here.

But farther along, after we passed through the Tripylon Gate to the private quarters beyond, I spotted a ginger cat sunning herself in a window of Darius’s Tachara Palace. It’s an image that comes back every time I think of Persepolis. A symbol of how death and life coexist and how history is never lost forever but blends with the present.

When we piled back into Hassan’s car for the drive back to Shiraz, I couldn’t help wondering whether some branch of his family had worked the land back in the days when Persepolis was a living city, and whether a long-ago ancestor had climbed the hill to the palace plateau with food for the royal kitchens. Maybe that ancestor’s spirit also still mounts the steps to the Apadana Hall.

Battle of the Gods

The head of an asura outside a
monastery entrance in Angkor,
Cambodia. (Photo by yarowind)

According to Indian lore, devas and asuras were divine entities, basically gods, but the kind that fought wars and spent precious time and energy keeping each other at bay. The devas were the good guys, and the asuras the baddies. 

But if you go back, way back, to the earliest Indo-Iranian texts, there was a time when the asuras were on par with the devas. The devas supposedly ruled the natural world, the asuras the moral and social one. Somewhere along the way, as the texts evolved and new ones sprung up, the asuras became the villains. According to Hindu myths, they were wicked and materialistic. In Buddhism, asuras were said to lack self control and let their passions (wrath, pride, aggression) get the best of them.

These aren’t easy myths to reconcile, for the asuras are still considered deities in the Hindu pantheon, highly revering certain ones, including Agni (god of fire) and Rudra (god of wind). While King Indra ruled the devas, Varuna, the god of water, presided over the asuras, and the two were powerful rivals. (Think of Indra as the Hindu counterpart to Zeus in Greek mythology.) Both Indra and Varuna were thought to rule the sky and earth, but they represented opposing interests.

Researchers over the past few hundred years, and as recently as a decade ago, have made some startling discoveries about these legends. The ancient epic Hindu poem, Rig Veda, refers to Indra carrying his people across many rivers and lands to reach what is now Punjab in Pakistan and India, eastern Afghanistan, and the Upper Indus Valley. In recent years, archaeologists discovered that the forefathers of Indo-Aryans hail from a place in Central Asia, specifically in Turkmenistan. Russian and Turkmen archaeologists have dug up impressive artifacts from a civilization the original Aryans, including the devas and asuras, hailed from. Among the important finds: horse-drawn chariots with spoked wheels, fire altars, sunken bowls with traces of an ancient drink known as soma that’s mentioned in the Vedas, as well as remnants of horse sacrifices.

Archaeologists believe the Indo-Iranians first arrived at this spot in Turkmenistan around 4,000 years ago, drawn there because of the existence of an oasis. They left some time later, as major climactic shifts began to take place and the fertile delta they relied on dried up. Presumably that's what the Vedas refer to, about some among them moving east (towards modern-day Pakistan and India) and others moving west (Afghanistan and Iran). Many different communities evolved out of these migrations, each one putting down roots in the rich, fertile valleys and lands between Central and South Asia.

It’s impossible to say which of the civilizations from the various groups that migrated away are still buried and waiting for us to discover. But we do know these original Indo-Iranians (Aryans), wherever they went, took the concepts of the fire god and the stories of the asuras and devas with them. 

 Ahura Mazda is often depicted in ancient art as
performing the crowning ceremonies of kings, to show
both the divine blessing of the ascension and god’s
protection of the king. In this relief at Taq-e-Bostan,
Ahura Mazda crowns Khosrow II (at center), with
the goddess Anahita at left. Anahita’s name derives from
the old Indo-Iranian word for the goddess Harahvati (Persian)
and Saraswati (Sanskrit). (Photo by Philippe Chavin)

Only thing is, the legend of the devas and the asuras evolved much differently among the Persians than the Hindus. 

In the Gathas, the earliest Zoroastrian hymns, ahuras were followers of asha (truth) and daevas of druj (falsehood). Ahura being the Persian form of the Sanskrit word asura, Varuna became Ahura Mazda. Curiously, while Ahura means "truth," Mazda means “other.” Both cultures still consider fire and water as the main ritual agents of purity.

According to the Persian texts, the two factions had vast differences of outlook and perspective right from the get-go, the chasm between them perhaps widening to such an extent that the two groups eventually went their separate ways. There’s no mention of any specific wars or battles as in the Vedic version, but eventually, the daevas came to be understood as malign creatures (not even deities).

The Indian and Persian legends share many similar concepts though--manu as man, Saraswati or Harahvati as both a river and a goddess, soma or haoma as a sacred plant, yajna or yasna as worship and sacrifice, and so on. Both scriptures, the Hindu Vedas and the Zoroastrian Avesta, retell a few of the same myths and legends, though from differing points of view. In the Vedic version, Varuna and Indra agree to cooperate at the dawn of each new year to reestablish order. In the Persian legend, daevas were originally not considered hostile (they are in later versions) but rather only following a false path and possibly the wrong gods.

There are many more such fascinating intersections. According to author Michael Wood in his landmark documentary, The Story of India, and book by the same name: “The big picture…is that the ancestors of Aryans were part of a huge language group who spread out from the area between the Caspian and Aral seas 4,000 years ago, and whose language lies at the root of modern European languages, including English, Welsh, Gaelic, Latin and Greek, but also Persian and the main modern north Indian language.” (Check out Michael Wood’s work for many more such amazing discoveries.)

Wood makes a point about these remarkable legends that the following photo also illustrates.

In the Bangkok airport, a sculpture shows the asuras using Naga Vasuki,
the king of the serpents, to churn an ocean of milk along with the
devas (not shown) to extract ambrosia. According to Hindu mythology, and later Chinese and
Japanese mythology as well, Vasuki was one of eight great Naga kings.
(Photo by Sailko)

For generations, we may have considered these legends as merely old stories but as time goes on, we find that they are grounded in quite a bit of historical fact. And how powerful these two entirely separate belief systems are that they continue to thrive today, both rooted from ancient traditions that have influenced so many others. Doesn't it boggle the mind to see how interconnected we all are?

Crossing the Line

The Cessna putters along the stony runway, strong wind gusts pushing the tail off course. Just when I think the pilot will abandon the take-off, he guns the engine. I suck in my breath and grab the sides of the cracked leather seat I’m sitting on. With eyes squeezed shut, the flying tin can shudders beneath my feet and finally builds to a quaking crescendo. When we’re airborne, I pry one eye open and figure if I’m going to die, then it might as well be with a bird’s eye view of one of the ancient world’s unsolved mysteries-the Nazca Lines in Peru.

Luckily, the plane steadied and I made the journey safely, but I’d already forgotten my fear of dropping out of the sky like bird doo-doo once I got my first glimpse of the mysterious lines that can only be seen from the sky. Listed by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site, the Nazca lines are situated on an arid plateau 250 miles (400km) south of Lima and date back to between 400 and 650 AD. There are hundreds of geometric shapes, which include drawings of hummingbirds, spiders, monkeys, fish, sharks, and llamas.

No one knows for sure who made the shallow lines, but scientists agree the lines were made by removing the red rocks on the surface of the earth to expose white rocks beneath. From the ground, these lines appear to be a mish-mash with no apparent rhyme or reason. But from the air, these odd patterns take on a totally different meaning. The two most well-known lines are the 295 feet (90m) high monkey an extravagantly curving tail and a condor with a 426 feet (130m) wingspan.

Discovered in 1927 by passengers on a commercial flight taking a new route, the Nazca Lines have baffled anthropologists, archaeologists, and ethnologists, as well as lay men. Many have tried to discover the who the creators are for what reason the lines exist, but to date, but to date, no one has any concrete answers. Here are just a few of the theories that have been put forward:

Maria Reiche, a German mathematician, spent her life studying the lines and claimed the indigenous people of Nazca created them as a way of communicating with their gods in the sky and also as an astronomical calendar for agriculture.

In the 1970’s, American Jim Woodman tested out his theory that the creators of the lines used balloons made of fine Peruvian cotton and reed baskets. He asked the Aymara Indians to make a hot air balloon that could have been used by the Nazca people from that time period. From the sky, he could see the lines clearly but without using technology, he couldn’t signal those on the ground as to where to move the rocks. His theory literally blew sky high when the balloon caught fire and the two pilots made a narrow escape.  

Swiss author Erich von Däniken held a theory that a long time ago, aliens visited earth. After the aliens disappeared the Nazca people made the lines in the hope they would get the message and return. Many people like to poo-poo this theory, but those who believe it will very quickly point out the spaceman figure on a hill near the main lines.

Anthropologist William H. Isbell believes the kings of Nazca ordered the people to make these lines because if the commoners were working, then they couldn’t procreate. And if they couldn’t procreate then their inadequate stores of food would become strong enough to sustain a limited population. 

Anthropologists Markus Reindel and David Johnson believe the lines are markers for subterranean water. The figures show the water stream, and zigzag lines show where they end. American Professor of Anthropology, Anthony Aveni has a similar belief but adds that the lines are connected with calendar, water, and mountain deities. It’s with this belief, he feels the Nazca people celebrated a water cult and used the figures and lines for ceremonial dances.

John D. Miller analyzes ancient buildings worldwide and has discovered they often hold a value of 177 feet. He bases his theories on several holy numbers and units of measurement and believes the Nazca Lines fit within the 177 feet model. 

The Code of Carl Munck believes ancient sites around the world are precise positions on a global, coordinated system in relation to the position of the Great Pyramid of Giza. An ancient system called Gematria or Gematrian numbers are found in ancient myths and religions, including the Bible, and according to Gematria experts, the Nazca Lines fall neatly into this patterning.

Phew! And this is just a short list of theories. It’s very easy to Google to your heart’s desire to find out more. For me, floating with the birds, staring wide-eyed at the lines below, wondering who, why, and how, was an experience I’ll never forget. Maybe one day, we’ll find discover the real reason behind the Nazca Lines, but for now, I’m happy to analyze the theories and come to my own conclusion. And in case you’re wondering, I did kiss the ground when we landed.

The Mystery of the Persian Mummy

An ancient mummy turns up in Pakistan in the hands of a corrupt antiquities dealer. As three countries quarrel over ownership of the find, speculation grows over who actually lies inside the gilded sarcophagus: a 2,000-year-old Persian princess or a modern Pakistani woman? Sounds like the premise for a Steven Spielberg movie.

But it’s not. This really happened.

In 2000, Pakistani police arrested a man in Quetta, a town near the Iranian and Afghan borders, for attempting to place an antiquity on the region’s thriving black market. The artifact in question was a carved wooden sarcophagus in which lay a gold-crowned mummy, complete with face mask and breastplate. The sarcophagus was carved with inscriptions in cuneiform, the writing system of the ancient Persians, and decorated with images of Ahura Mazda, the Zoroastrian deity. The Iranian antiquities dealer handling the sale claimed that the mummy had been found near Quetta following an earthquake.

When archeologists at the National Museum of Pakistan examined the mummy, they were thrilled. A preliminary examination showed that the embalmed woman was likely Rhodogune, the daughter of Xerxes I, who ruled Persia in the fifth century B.C. If proven authentic, the mummy would be an amazing find, since no Iranian mummies had ever been found before. Not surprising, since Persians of that time were Zoroastrians, who neither mummified nor buried their dead, but left the bodies out in the open to by consumed by vultures. The Egyptian-style mummification led to further speculation about the princess’s identity: had she been the Egyptian wife of a prince during the reign of the earlier Persian king, Cyrus I?

A few months after this announcement, Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Iran began to squabble over rights to Her Highness. Taliban officials in Afghanistan insisted that she’d actually been found across the border in their territory. The Iranians claimed that she’d been a member of the Persian royal family and therefore belonged to them. They threatened to turn the matter over to Interpol. The Pakistanis had possession of the mummy and were determined to keep her.

But the evidence didn’t hold up to further scrutiny. The cuneiform inscription stated that the princess was Rhodogune, a later Greek translation and not the Persian name used in her lifetime. A forgery expert concluded that the image of Ahura Mazda was not authentic. It had been carefully copied but was missing some essential elements. Carbon dating showed that the wooden sarcophagus was only 250 years old, while other tests revealed discrepancies in the Egyptian mummification practices. Some elements were correct—removal of internal organs hands crossed over the chest, bandages properly applied. But the heart was missing. The Egyptians believed that the heart was the repository of wisdom, a quality the deceased would likely need in the afterlife, and therefore they would have left it inside the body.

The plot thickened when scientists examined the princess herself. Far from being 2,000-year-old royalty, she turned out to have dyed blond hair, a broken neck, and the physical traits of a local Pakistani. An autopsy revealed that she had not been dead for more than a few years, likely the victim of a murder. So had the forgers killed her themselves when they needed a body for their fake mummy?

When I first read about this story, I found the whole thing bizarre and intriguing. To pull off such a fraud would require a great deal of planning, equipment, and secrecy – and possibly someone willing to commit murder. You’d need experts in archeology, mummification, and people with the skill to do the job properly. But the whole fraud unraveled due to sloppy attention to historical detail. Did the forgers think that no one would notice?

Perhaps not. Maybe they’d intended to sell Her Highness to an unsuspecting millionaire wanting a unique artifact for his collection and not caring enough to put authenticity to the test. If they’d intended the princess to be the Archeological Find of the Century, you’d think they’d have paid closer attention to archeological accuracy.

Still, it makes for a good story. Maybe someone should call Spielberg.

Indiana Jones, Tikal, and Me

Temple V - Photo by Chris Chafer

At school, history was a bore. I mean, really, what's so interesting about studying dead people? But then a man with a battered hat, bullwhip, and a lopsided smile swaggered into my life. OK, it was onscreen, but still, Indiana Jones impacted the way I viewed the ancient world and literally, changed my life.

History became exciting. The people who lived in ancient civilizations had invented cool stuff. They made me realize we owe a lot to our ancestors for what we have today. And from the first moment I saw Indy swinging with his bullwhip across a chasm, I decided to go on my own crusade and discover ancient cultures.

One of the first that fascinated me was Tikal, one of the largest archaeological sites of the pre-Columbian Mayan civilization. Located in the lush Petén Basin in Guatemala, this UNESCO World Heritage Site is one of the most impressive, mysterious places on earth. Thick jungle surrounds the ruins and howler monkeys chatter overhead, accompanied by the lyrical songs of 410 species of birds.

Bound by rivers, the park containing Tikal provides protection for ocelots, peccaries, toucans, and jaguars, just to name some of the exotic wildlife that live in the shadows of the jungle. So far, only 3,000 sites have been uncovered, and there’s a further 10,000 waiting for archaeologists to unearth. It’s been 50 years since the first dig at Tikal, and given the expanse of the area, it could take many lifetimes to fully discover the history and secrets beneath the soil. The Mayans believed in reincarnation, and I wonder if archaeologists wish it were true, so they could continue with their discoveries.

In its heyday, Tikal was home to 90,000 people and covered close to 75 square miles (120 square kilometers).  Because of its geographical location, the Mayans needed to conserve water, and management of this precious resource was vital for the survival of their city. Surrounded by wetlands, the Mayans devised reservoir systems for water diversion and storage, taking advantage of the seasonal rainfall. Roads were paved with lime-based cement, and flint was readily available, providing the Mayans with a valuable stone to make spear points, arrowheads, and knives.

In 700 B.C., Tikal was a commercial, cultural and religious centre but by the mid-4th century, Tikal had morphed into a city of people who’d adopted brutal methods in warfare under the rule of King Jaguar Paw. It is still not known exactly what killed off the Mayans but the latest report in National Geographic suspects climate may have had a lot to do with their demise. Yet another reason why learning about history is so important – we have the opportunity to change our ways based on what our ancestors did, or didn’t, do.

The most striking features at Tikal are the steep-sided temples rising above the jungle. The plazas have been cleared of trees and vines, and the temples are partially restored. At times, great distances exist between sites, and one can stroll under the dense canopy, take refuge from the sun, and enjoy the rich, earthy scents of the low-lying vegetation. Even at peak tourist season, it’s possible to escape the throngs, step back in time, and imagine what life may have been like.

Translated from Itzá Maya, Tikal means “place of voices”, and it’s easy to understand why. Whispers from the past echo through the deserted corridors and around corners. The skin prickles, and hair stands on end with the feeling of not being entirely alone.

It’s a long, hot climb to the top of the temples but the view is worth every rasping breath. Temples tower above the dense forest, dotting the vista, and the great height of the monuments can cause giddiness. Star Wars buffs will note Temple IV was used for a scene of the Massassi Outpost on the fourth moon of Yavin. Even 1970s Hollywood saw the allure of such a magical place.

Tikal is shrouded in mystery and magic. It begs to be explored and the mind wanders, trying to create theories of how people lived and died. Maybe all the questions will never be answered. But what I do know is Tikal will always be a place I treasure, thanks to an intrepid fictional adventurer named Indiana Jones.