“The [American] Cheese Stands Alone”

Well, excavations began on Monday and went better than I anticipated. “Why do I say that,” you might be asking. The weekend was a bit rough for me after I arrived back in Châtillon. There were a bunch of people at the school when I returned, none of whom I knew. I put my stuff away and came back to introduce myself to German speaking folk (we have Germans, Austrians, and Swiss all staying at the school, so I had no idea where this group was from). It was pretty awkward even though they all spoke English easily. Turns out they were from the Swiss team and there was even a Vikings fan among them. After a short while, I saw a German I met from the week before return to the school with his son. I went to say ‘hello’ and ended up chatting with them most of the night since I sort of knew them and they are on my team. After they decided to turn in for the night, I returned to the Swiss who were still up. I’ll chalk it up to the excessive drinking they were doing, but they weren’t as welcoming as before and some decided to go off on a long tangent about American politics (as if I have any control over that) as well as the general stupidity and ignorance of many Americans (and yes, some points were valid). There was one member of their team who did have enough honor and kindness to defend me and my country (he was actually born in another country but grew up in Switzerland and his family is quite fond of the States I learned). After a short time I grew tired of hearing about NASCAR and Chuck Norris, so I went to bed and tried not to think about it anymore.

I woke up the next morning feeling quite enraged and wronged. I decided I’d try to focus my attention on my database, which worked for a few hours, but by 3PM I was still feeling quite annoyed. I resolved that I would tell the Swiss guys who bashed my country and its people that if they want to continue to believe America is made up of only the stereotypes presented in movies and TV that they were as ignorant as the Americans they complain about. I also had to tell myself to not seek out drama before the excavation even began, especially with people who work on a different team. I decided if it was brought up again, I would use my thoroughly planned comeback at an appropriate time. 

Just before dinner, the two French students I learned about arrived. I asked the girl if she would mind speaking French with me because I needed the practice. She was very welcoming and so we ate dinner together and chatted (as best I could) in French. The French boy came by shortly after we started eating and joined us. He asked where we were from in French (since we were already speaking it) and after I said I was from the States, he talked only to the French girl. I felt ignored for most of dinner so I excused myself immediately after I finished and went to my room where I proceeded to cry myself to sleep. I felt rejected by my peers, alone both linguistically and nationally, and like a victim of a great injustice – I know nobody did anything outright hostel to me, but I think after being on your own in a foreign country for three weeks, some things begin to feel a bit bigger than what they are. I was feeling frustrated by my lack of ability to communicate and therefore, even more isolated from all of these Europeans. I tried to tell myself that the excavation would start tomorrow and I would either meet new people who would be forced to speak in English since it is the language used by the French and Germans on the team, or I would take my rage out on the dirt.

My rational side proved to be right and the next day was better. The French boy, I came to realize within a day, is just shy and as with most of the French, he knows English well, but it afraid to speak it in front of a native English speaker. I also was reacquainted with two people I met last year – a girl from Austria who is very cool and friendly and a guy, who I shall refer to as ‘TSP’ that I taught to speak Minnesotan. They both remembered me which made me feel welcome and the French duo also continued to talk to me more and more throughout the day in both languages. I also met two other German boys who I shall refer to as ‘The Hobbit’ with whom I discuss movies and television, and the other as ‘Germany’. [These nicknames are intended to provide them with some confidentiality and have been acquired through the course of the week from various jokes which I will not even begin to try to explain here]. These are the people I wake up with, eat with, work with, eat with, work with, eat with, and socialize with in the evenings, usually over drinks or German-style ping pong. 

The latter is a most ridiculous and entertaining way of playing ping pong in which there are usually about six players to begin with who hit a ball and then run counter-clockwise to the other side of the table to hit again when it is their turn. It goes quite fast and if you miss a ball you are out until the next round. I was coerced into playing after they said I should play for the honor of America since I’m the only representative from my country. I agreed and immediately missed my first ball. TSP decided he wanted to represent Canada to inspire me to do better by beating my rival – it didn’t help, but it sure made the evening funny and others picked a country to represent as well. We ended up with America, Canada, France, Italy, Germany, Switzerland, and of course The Shire (for the Hobbit), all fighting for a win. I won once beating the Hobbit which was shocking to him because I am really seriously wretched at ping pong. 

Why have I been talking about ping pong for what seems like an hour? Well, its really the only thing there is to do around here in the evenings other than watching bad movies – its that or drinking which I cannot do every night of the week. We have also been rained out every single day this week except for Friday. Apparently this is really, really uncommon and super frustrating for all involved. I would definitely prefer excavating than waiting around to see if the rain will stop. It is also particularly difficult to excavate after it rains because the soil here is rock, rock that cracks every winter with the freeze-thaw or any vegetation growth. The soil falls between these cracks and it takes ages to clean, especially if it is wet because you can’t just brush it clean like I normally would do. 

For most of the week, the focus has been on cleaning this bedrock and for the Austrian girl and I, cleaning (making the borders more visible) post holes from a house. Tedious, yes. Pain in the back and knees, yes. Fairly boring, yes. Would I rather be doing something else with my day, no. It sounds a bit cheesy, but this is how I know I am doing what I should be doing with my life and that I am a good archaeologist. There is tedium, physical pain, and boring tasks in many jobs out there, but I wouldn’t put up with it and enjoy it in the long run like I do in archaeology. There are very few jobs that take you to far off places (everyone here can’t believe I came all the way from the States, though I think of Europe as being quite close now), give you a chance to meet wonderful people who are both so similar and so different from me, and let you play in the mud and make up songs about loving post holes. It just doesn’t happen. This American cheese who initially stood alone has bonded and melted into a giant fondue pot of diversity here in France and is now enjoying her time with new friends and colleagues.

P.S. Oh yes, here is the thing I mentioned before that I said would make you Iron Ages folks a bit jealous. I also think most of us don’t realize how gigantic the Vix Krater actually is, but this definitely illustrates its size quite well. That is the curator of the museum with me in the photos. The last one was our ‘politician’ photo!