A great weekend went by touring Pylos and the tholos tombs of the surrounding area, swimming in the Aegean, and finally getting to tour the Mycenaean citadel, something that had been delayed due to the Greek elections. It was fun, and busy, and I learned a lot, but I spent a good portion of Sunday afternoon sitting on that Mycenaean bridge just outside of town and reflecting on what I'm doing in Greece.
Really, our efforts to understand the past should be comended. So little is left for us to try to interpret and rebuild our history and it's a rather daunting task. Going through the museum in Mycenae and looking at the information on trade networks, it's easy to see how much we know, but it is just as obvious to see how much we don't know.
For example, what were the names of the people buried in the tholoi (plural for tholos)? What did they take with them into their tombs? Only one tholos has ever been discovered that had not been looted in antiquity, and it was a rich find. Was that always the case? What were the decorations in the tombs?
Stemming out into the larger portions of society we get other questions. What was daily life like for the men and women of prehistoric Greece? Were the women secluded as they were during Homer's time? Did they participate in any battles, or was that a privilege reserved for the elite? How many acres would it take to consider yourself a well-to-do farmer? Or how many olive trees? What else did they put in their olive oil? How did the larger populace spend their evenings?
Some of these questions can most certainly be answered with common sense. Before the electric light bulb, people tended to work around the daylight as artificial light was expensive. Daily life for most people probably consisted of farming and scratching out an existence. Currently, at least at Pylos where the palace is better preserved, there does not seem to be much physical segregation between men and women, although it seems clear that each sex had different responsibilities.
But why is this important? Will it matter 500 years from now what we thought about the Mycenaean civilization, or for any ancient culture for that matter? What will our cities look like in 500 years, and how will they be interpreted? Even today sites that are that old have been reinterpreted as something done by ancient aliens or our European ancestors that somehow, someway made it across the Atlantic for the sole purpose of confusing their modern-day descendants. Just read about the Mysterious Megaliths of New England and you'll see what I mean. It is definitely not what Paul Angel thinks it is.
So while looking at the citadel from about a two miles away, all I could think about was what it was like for a merchant of the time traveling from nearby Tiryns to sell his wares in Mycenae, crossing the bridge and looking up to see the walls for the first time. Even after thousands of years, it is still an impressive sight, and it's humbling to see. I can only imagine the awe and the wonder of seeing something so impressive, seemingly perched on the edge of a cliff.
I came to the conclusion yesterday evening that trying to capture that feeling, that momentary glimpse of someone's life, is what makes archaeology important. Granted, that image may change. Indeed, it should, and that's a part of the scientific process. In fact, what we think of history now will help our descendants to define our parts in history. Any human connection with the past is what makes it interesting and worthwhile, and I think that's what we need to keep in mind in looking at history. It isn't just the big events that define our short time on earth. It's all of the people and their daily lives that are the sum of our existence here, and archaeology is the best way to get into touch with that. Or at least that's what it seemed like as the setting sun cast its warm glow on the stones of the Mycenaean citadel.
Really, our efforts to understand the past should be comended. So little is left for us to try to interpret and rebuild our history and it's a rather daunting task. Going through the museum in Mycenae and looking at the information on trade networks, it's easy to see how much we know, but it is just as obvious to see how much we don't know.
For example, what were the names of the people buried in the tholoi (plural for tholos)? What did they take with them into their tombs? Only one tholos has ever been discovered that had not been looted in antiquity, and it was a rich find. Was that always the case? What were the decorations in the tombs?
Stemming out into the larger portions of society we get other questions. What was daily life like for the men and women of prehistoric Greece? Were the women secluded as they were during Homer's time? Did they participate in any battles, or was that a privilege reserved for the elite? How many acres would it take to consider yourself a well-to-do farmer? Or how many olive trees? What else did they put in their olive oil? How did the larger populace spend their evenings?
Some of these questions can most certainly be answered with common sense. Before the electric light bulb, people tended to work around the daylight as artificial light was expensive. Daily life for most people probably consisted of farming and scratching out an existence. Currently, at least at Pylos where the palace is better preserved, there does not seem to be much physical segregation between men and women, although it seems clear that each sex had different responsibilities.
But why is this important? Will it matter 500 years from now what we thought about the Mycenaean civilization, or for any ancient culture for that matter? What will our cities look like in 500 years, and how will they be interpreted? Even today sites that are that old have been reinterpreted as something done by ancient aliens or our European ancestors that somehow, someway made it across the Atlantic for the sole purpose of confusing their modern-day descendants. Just read about the Mysterious Megaliths of New England and you'll see what I mean. It is definitely not what Paul Angel thinks it is.
So while looking at the citadel from about a two miles away, all I could think about was what it was like for a merchant of the time traveling from nearby Tiryns to sell his wares in Mycenae, crossing the bridge and looking up to see the walls for the first time. Even after thousands of years, it is still an impressive sight, and it's humbling to see. I can only imagine the awe and the wonder of seeing something so impressive, seemingly perched on the edge of a cliff.
I came to the conclusion yesterday evening that trying to capture that feeling, that momentary glimpse of someone's life, is what makes archaeology important. Granted, that image may change. Indeed, it should, and that's a part of the scientific process. In fact, what we think of history now will help our descendants to define our parts in history. Any human connection with the past is what makes it interesting and worthwhile, and I think that's what we need to keep in mind in looking at history. It isn't just the big events that define our short time on earth. It's all of the people and their daily lives that are the sum of our existence here, and archaeology is the best way to get into touch with that. Or at least that's what it seemed like as the setting sun cast its warm glow on the stones of the Mycenaean citadel.
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