Let me start by saying that this class turns so much of what defines a typical college course on its head. Let me explain. Basically any given college course has an explicit, well-defined focus. If you decide to take an organic chemistry class, you know you’re going to read about (and hopefully remember) the variegated construction, destruction and function of carbon compounds. If you sign up for a course in Roman Satire, you’ve probably been told that you’ll be reading from and reading about Juvenal, Horace, and maybe Petronius or Persius (and cringe as much as chuckle at their “jokes”). If you go for a linear algebra class, it’s a sure bet that you’re going to have to read about most of the ways you can use (and abuse) matrices. Pretty much every class you take in college is going to have this in common: you know what you’re going to learn about when you sign up for it.
So how is this class any different? After all, it says right there in the syllabus that if you take it you’ll be exposed to “archaeological methodologies” alongside “the cultural heritage, the history, and field practices employed by ancient historians when studying ancient cultures.” This is far from untrue. For instance,
- As far as field practices go, I learned how to wield a pickaxe with precision and care (“like a machine” – and I’m proud of it, too); I learned to pick out individual pottery sherds scattered among hundreds of rock shards, largely by sight alone; I learned how to correctly wash those same sherds, and how to categorize them based on function and composition; and finally I learned, more or less, how to adequately document all of these things.
- As for cultural heritage, I learned why the field of archaeology has historically been so important to so many people in Turkey (West-East nationalist one-upmanship, as well as the economic boost afforded by tourism, to name a couple reasons); I learned where the people living all around our site first came from, and how their ancestors behaved (on both local and international levels) in a world largely overshadowed and dominated by the Roman Empire.
- Concerning history, I learned about how everyday people lived in the Roman empire: how they designed and used their houses on a structural level, how they obtained their water, how they hammered coins (and why they made them the way they did), how they made wine and oil (and why their methods changed over the centuries).
To some degree or another, I had vaguely expected an education in all of these areas. This, obviously, was a course that was supposed to teach me about the people who inhabited this region’s past, both intellectually (through journal articles) and experientially (through actual excavation). What I could not have understood was how this course would also teach me about people living here today, that it would teach me as much about myself as it would about the other Turkish students I worked with. For instance,
- I learned how to make friends in Turkey. It might sound odd when I put it this way, but friendship here is truely a quick and close affair. After just three weeks, I had friends among the Turkish students who in complete seriousness called me their brother. Although all I had done was treat them with as much respect and kindness as I did my American classmates (well, I’d also tried hard to speak their language, with a pathetic-bordering-on-nonexistent Turkish vocabulary), they still felt that close to me. This difference between American and Turkish cultures, the notion that you can become such goods friends with someone in so short an amount of time, struck me as equally flattering and disconcerting. There were people here who like me to the point of family, and who took only three-ish weeks to get there. It’s something that’s forced me to consider how I bond with the people I know, how I tend make decisions about relationships, and how other people can do these things so very differently from me.
- I learned how to say so much in Turkish that I never dreamed I could when I left the U.S. I can order food, buy groceries, count to nineteen, play soccer, organize chores, all using the twenty-odd words I’ve picked up in four weeks (though I still don’t know how to say goodbye).
- I learned that, when it comes down to it, I can live and work in an environment that keeps me far less clean than I’m used to. Sweating is really not that big a deal, after you’ve been doing it nonstop for about four and a half weeks.
- I learned that, to be honest, going for a run or walking around by myself in a small foreign town is not nearly as stressful or dangerous as it’s cracked up to be.
- Finally, among other things, I learned that archaeology is a many-headed beast. There are so many fields connected to what we do here, ranging from forensic science to art history to cultural resource management, that deciding where to go from here is more than a little daunting.
So that pretty much sums up my experience. I learned a whole lot of things that didn’t surprise me. I also learned a whole lot of things that did.
I understand that most of the people who read this blog post are not on the fence about taking this class. But for those of you who have yet to make that decision, I want you to know that this is an experience that you won’t find anywhere else. It will have at least as many low points as high ones, but I can honestly say that everything I’ve been through here has combined to offer me the most rewarding inter-cultural experience I’ve ever had. The friends I’ve made here (both American and Turkish, undergrads and graduate students alike) are good ones, the knowledge I’ve gained here is widely applicable, and the food I’ve eaten here is fantastic. What else could you ask for?
Now, for those of you who are reading this post and have decided that you want to take this class in the future, I want to offer you some advice.
- Packing
- Clothes: pack as many as you possibly can – treat whatever amount they tell you on the packing list as a minimum (extra shirts and a pair of non-hiking shoes are particularly nice)
- Bedclothes (It’s honestly not a bad idea to bring your own pillowcase and/or flat sheets – what is provided at the dig house may be sufficient, but not up to your standards, and I mean that in all seriousness)
- Miscellaneous ( a collapsible laundry hamper was something that came in handy for me, as well as several good/long books that you can read for fun)
- Coursework (all of this is stuff I’m saying because I screwed it up somehow and had to deal with it)
- Assigned Readings: you will feel pressed for time if you don’t do the readings before the course starts, but you will forget most of the important stuff if you do the readings a month or even two weeks before the class starts (solve this problem however you like, but just know that it’s something to keep in mind).
- Daily Documentation: don’t get behind, because your observations and quantitative analyses will tend to deteriorate as your memory of the relevant day fades.
- Overall
- Take this class with the expectation that you are going to get dirty, you are going to get tired, and you are occasionally going to be quite uncomfortable. But also have the expectation that you are going to learn a ton about the people who used to live here, the people who now live here, and the people that you’ll live and learn with here. Expect that the stress this course puts on your boundaries will strengthen you as a person and teach you as much about yourself as about the people around you. Most of all, expect a roaring good time. I can’t imagine a more hilarious (and yet eminently knowledgeable) professor to learn from, and he went to great lengths to make sure we enjoyed taking the course as much as he enjoyed offering it.