From Trowel to Pen
August 17, 2013
A few days ago I boarded the plane I had been dreading all summer: the plane back home. It’s not that I don’t have a good life in Kansas, it’s just the opposite. I have plenty of friends, love school, and have a crazy cute little apartment, but it’s just not the same as traveling around Europe. Traveling and excavating are my two favorite things. Being at home in Kansas means I don’t get to do those things and instead am chained to a desk translating ancient Greek and Latin. I put down my trowel to pick up a pen and paper… and a huge stack of books. This is the life of an archaeologist. You live for those few short months abroad, digging up history and traveling pre- and post-excavation, visiting museums, eating delicious food, exploring new cities, and meeting new people. The rest of the year is spent indoors pouring over books and scrambling to figure out what the heck ancient authors are trying to say… Ugh, it makes me cringe. Maybe I’m experiencing a little reverse culture shock, maybe this is the calm before the thesis/PhD application/general schoolwork storm, or maybe I just feel like I left a little piece of my heart back in the EU. Either way, it’s been a difficult transition back to “real life,” especially when I feel like I left “real life.”
But in real life we don’t always get to do what we want to all the time. You have to wade through the junk to get to the good stuff. This year I’ll be wading through an endless sea of books and keeping my eyes set on my trowel and the time I can pick it back up again. I live for digging through dirt, finding objects that no one has touched in thousands of years, and excavating with new and old friends who share my passion. They understand me and I understand them. In my MA program I often feel like an outsider, because in a way, I am. Some of my classmates would prefer to be surrounded by books in a library than by Greek walls in a trench. I don’t understand this. Yes, it’s hot, sweaty, and you’re tired while you’re excavating, but finding things makes all that worth it, plus – ENDORPHINS! – the best drug. But alas, the next ten months will make the following two summer months all the more worth it. My high school cross-country coach said that anything worth having is worth working for. Archaeology is worth working for. So now I put down my trowel and pick up my pen, snazzy Italian leather book bag, and countless books and begin another adventure as a “normal” grad student, gracing the coffee shops of Lawrence with my butt print.
