Introduction

How does one become a classical archaeologist? What goes into the training of such an individual? How does this vary between countries (e. g., United States versus United Kingdom) or between particular chronological interests (e. g., prehistoric Aegean versus historic archaeology)? What kinds of archaeological fieldwork are going on today in the classical lands, and how do they differ from past practice? This chapter is designed to present two perspectives on these issues, addressed through the personal experiences of the authors.

What also emerges from these accounts is the disparity between the experiences of the field archaeologist when compared to the stereotypical image of the library-bound academic. Setting off to do research bearing suitcases stuffed with cash may sound peculiar (or romantic), but such practicalities are frequently the norm for those who work in the field, be it in archaeology or other disciplines. Archaeological fieldwork is further complicated by the fact that it is almost never a solo operation; teams of people, endowed with various forms of expertise, must be gathered (usually from a number of countries), housed, fed, watered, and kept happy. Project directors can end up playing a variety of roles outside the intellectual sphere, including budget manager, labor arbitrator, psychologist, and cruise director.

Any impression that archaeological research is performed in a kind of sterile “bubble” is also dashed by the realities of working in what are, for many classical archaeologists, foreign countries. The past possesses paramount significance in the national identity of most Mediterranean lands, and in many nation states it is the “Classical past,” so attractive to classical archaeologists, that overshadows all other periods. Not surprisingly, local reactions to the sight of outsiders (however well funded and well meaning) investigating and in some way controlling that past

Are frequently equivocal; imperialist and colonialist legacies weigh heavily here. From the other side, frustrations arising from difficulties experienced in obtaining official permits to carry out fieldwork, or reverses in hoped-for research designs, are recounted in this chapter, as are more positive situations in which genuine collaboration and mutual trust have been achieved. How best to “do” archaeology in the Classical lands is very much still a work in progress; in many ways, things appear to have become more, rather than less, difficult. Cooperation across nationalist, linguistic, and disciplinary boundaries, working to resolve the political (and emotional) tensions that underlie the practice of archaeology, appears an increasingly key priority.