A few months ago, I travelled half-way around the world. It had been a life-long dream come true, and I would now see the ancient sites of the lost civilizations that had once fascinated me. I assumed that once I had arrived in Turkey, I would be in awe and amazement of the grande ancient architecture, instead I found myself to be ashamed of the long term effects my presence in this country.
On a day trip in Cappadocia, our group headed to an underground city that had been used against the Persians many many centuries ago. I was very excited at first to crawl through the various kilometres of ancient tunnels. As the bus drove down the long rural roads, I began to lose interest in all that had once fascinated me and led me to majoring in Classical Studies. Abandoned houses scattered the landscape, and some homes were so decrepit and fallen apart that it would have been easy to assume that they were condemned. However, when looking closer, I realized that a lot of these homes were still inhabited by the rural Turkish population. Roofs were held down by rocks and walls were crumbling down.
After visiting the underground city in Cappadocia, I bought a few handmade dolls from some local women. Each were about 1 lira, which with the exchange rate, was very inexpensive. The dolls were a great novelty purchase, but once I was back on the bus, examining the dolls, I realized that selling souvenirs to tourists like myself was probably one of the only sources of income for these women.
Throughout the trip, our bus would pull off to tourist shopping spots and our tour guide would encourage us to "help the economy." Naively, never having had travelled before, and being from a well developed country, I assumed that the money I had spent to get to Turkey and while in Turkey would trickle down to the rest of the population. I was supposed to be focusing on and critically thinking about ancient sites, but eventually my mind was primarily concerned with the people living in Turkey today. As a tourist, what was my obligation to them? Was it to visit these beautiful sites which have been standing for thousands of years? Or was it to purchase goods at the end of each visit? I decided, in the end, that my reason for visiting Turkey was not to learn about the past. After visiting a local school in central Turkey and seeing the conditions that the youth had to study in, as well as their ethusasium to learn, I had decided that I was living my life selfishly and had taken for granted everything I had been given. I was to travel back to Canada with the lesson that not expected to learn. Lessons that weren't available in a text book or on-site pamphlet. I had learned much more about the world today, the effects of poverty, and the differences in values and economics between borders.
As I had mentioned earlier, I visited many ancient sites in Turkey, and afterwards, in Greece. Many of these sites, like Ephesus, Olympia, and the Acropolis I had learned about in school so I was very excited to actually set foot there. However, I wondered what effect my being there would have. By walking through, touching, and even sitting in these ancient theatres, buildings, etc. was I inadvertently destroying what was meant to be preserved? I never truly will know the answer to this question. What I do know is that these sites provide the state with which its in economical benefits as well as serve as national symbols. Closing these sites from the public would not only taken away the monetary benefits, but also the symbolism and pride that they hold. Moreover, the sites themselves promote archaeology. Everyday people, most of whom do not have any background knowledge of the sites of archaeology itself, marvel still at the beauty of the architecture and landscape as well as applaud the archaeologists that have spent their lives reconstructing and learning from these sites. It seems that archaeology and tourism cannot exist without the other.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
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