Legacy Magazine

by Heidi Bailey

Here’s a twist on the typical interpretive program: Discover history by eating dinner, learn science by tasting wine, and study culture by going shopping. These interpretive experiences take place in geoparks, places devoted to celebrating earth heritage and sustaining local communities.

It’s September 2008, and I find myself on a plane to Greece, on my way to tour a geopark. I am on a quest to answer a question: Is a park a part of or apart from local communities?

The designation of a protected area implies the setting aside of land for preservation, conservation, or recreation purposes. What I want to know is whether parks can be integrated back into local communities. Can they become a part of people’s daily existence—a part of their families, their livelihoods, and their identities?

To answer this question, I attend a week-long conference at the Lesvos Petrified Forest Geopark, which floats on a Greek isle in the midst of the Aegean Sea. The primary goal of a geopark is to interpret and protect earth heritage areas by promoting local products and tourism experiences. Geoparks bring profits to small-town residents who are struggling to sustain their traditional ways of life.

The title of the conference is “Geoconservation and Geoparks: Interpretation and Communication.” The organizers are members of the European Geoparks Network, a federation of 33 geoparks scattered across the European Union. The participants come from Spain, Poland, Italy, Portugal, Germany, France, Greece, Turkey, and the United Kingdom. I am the only person from the U.S.

The seminar starts out like any other conference: presenters and students, podiums and desks, PowerPoint presentations and handouts. Listen, question, take notes, bathroom breaks. Day one is done. Go to bed. Get up. Day two. Field trip.

Our hotel is located on the eastern edge of Lesvos Island, snuggled in the outskirts of a city called Mytilene (might-ih-leany). The geopark is on the opposite side, spanning roughly one-third of the island.

However, our field trip does not take us directly to the Lesvos Petrified Forest. We don’t watch a film, listen to a program, or hike any trails. Long before we cast our eyes on a petrified tree or an interpretive panel, we discover a resource of a different type—the local people.

Our bus veers into a tiny town, a village where an elderly gentleman feeds a donkey, groups of men mill about talking and playing cards, and a woman peers from a doorway dressed all in black, looking exactly like the grandmother in My Big Fat Greek Wedding.

The stone street is clearly built to the specifications of the bus, for the road doesn’t waste any space that might be devoted to the walls of buildings, which slide by in alarming proximity to the bus’s windows.

In the village square, we stop and trundle off the bus, eager tourists snapping pictures of everything: the men at their cards, the trees spreading their arms protectively overhead, a Matchbox Fiat parked on the plaza.

We stream through the halls of an art museum, then back on the bus; sip our way through a winery, back on the bus; tip-toe through an 11th-century monastery, onto the bus; stroll along a volcanic beach—and so the day goes. I wonder when we are going to see the geopark.

It’s time for lunch. We sit in a row at long tables set outside near the beach. Waiters shuffle platters onto the table: a salad with slivers of cucumber, wedges of tomato, and cubes of creamy feta; skewered souvlaki with tender meats and veggies; plump stuffed grape leaves; sliced and battered eggplant; tzatziki sauce and pita triangles, a slightly sun-warmed wine.

An hour later, I am full. The plates and platters disappear. I stir from the table, thinking it is time to go. A waiter springs to my side and looks at me expectantly. It’s time to order the entrees.

Two hours later, I am still wondering when we are going to tour the geopark. Accustomed to the fast-paced American lifestyle, it takes a while for my slow mind to realize this is part of the learning experience. The art and wine, the food and beaches, the village and monastery walls are all interpreting a story. A place is not only important for what it once was, but also for what it is today.

At last we board the bus for the final leg of our trip. Our bus carries us along the western coast of the island and deposits us in front of the Lesvos Petrified Forest Museum. Rather than bolting towards the exhibit hall, we settle into circles of chairs in the museum cafe.

Several women hurry forward to serve us chilly frappes and “spoon sweets” ladled from jelly jars onto crisp white plates. The candied olives, fruits, and citrus peels challenge our taste buds with their tart and tangy tastes.

Around the room, an expanse of shelves displays products made on the island—not a single item is imported. One by one, we slip from our chairs to take a closer look.

On the acres of shelves, bottles of ouzo (a popular Greek liquor) are arranged in tiny battalions, the large bottles stationed like generals before the legions of sample-sized containers. Close by, bottles of olive oil congregate in a disorderly fashion. They are less regimented than the ouzo—some are curvy, others short and squat, others tall and willowy—the civilians of the bottle world.

Many of the jars, tins, bottles, and cellophane bags that line the shelves decide to come home with us to share their stories with our friends and families. We leave the museum in the dark, parcels and packets tucked under our arms. We set off on the long ride home without having seen the petrified trees or the interpretive exhibits. They will have to wait for another day.

Today’s lesson finally trickles into my mind on the way back to the hotel. I needn’t have worried when we were going to see the geopark—every place we visited and every person we met was the geopark.

It’s difficult for those of us living in the United States to wrap our minds around the idea of a park that stretches beyond a protected area to envelope towns and businesses and homes and farms. Our nearest equivalent is a themed tourist region like a scenic byway partnership. To understand a geopark, we need to toss aside our preconceptions about the work park.

A geopark is a land designation like no other.

The Geopark Initiative

A geopark is a partnership of people and land managers working to promote the natural and cultural heritage of an area through education and sustainable tourism. A geopark covers a large region, which may be home to a patchwork of parks, protected areas, and private lands. Geoparks link these places thematically to create a destination image that brings together interpretation and for-profit tourism.

The most appealing aspect of the geopark model is the inclusion of local people. The program not only protects and manages natural resources, but also spurs sustainable economic development in surrounding areas. To qualify as a geopark, a site must work closely with the local people to improve their living conditions and the quality of their environment.

By comparison, the U.S. requires land management agencies to seek public input during decision-making processes, but the economic development of surrounding communities is not part of their mission statements. For the European Geoparks Network, this is a fundamental part of their charter.

The idea of using earth heritage to address economic problems was first developed by Dr. Nickolas Zouros of Greece and Dr. Guy Martini of France. In June 2000, they brought together representatives of four European sites to form a partnership in the spirit of collaboration and international goodwill. From these modest beginnings, the geopark concept blossomed into a global phenomenon.

The geopark initiative addresses several issues. First, people in rural areas suffer from economic losses when traditional industries decline. This creates a need for alternative economic development strategies. Second, locals and visitors alike do not recognize the impact of earth science on the existence of ecosystems and the development of cultures. This creates a need for education and interpretation.

As the geopark initiative expanded, it triggered the launch of the UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization) Global Geoparks Network in 2004. Current global regions and nations include Europe, Asia, South America, Australia, and Iran.

Numerous other countries, including the U.S., are considering applying for membership. In December 2008, representatives of the U.S. Geological Survey, Geological Society of America, U.S. National Park Service, and Bureau of Land Management met in Washington, D.C., to discuss the possibility of a U.S. system of geoparks.

In March 2009, the George Wright Society hosted a panel discussion about geoparks at its annual conference. The panel was composed of representatives from the UNESCO Earth Sciences Division, the World Conservation Union (IUCN), the Geological Society of America (GSA), and the U.S. National Park Service.

“The discussion centered on outlining logistics and goals of the geoparks program, mostly to U.S. Park Service managers,” says Wesley Hill of the GSA. “Participants in the discussion had questions regarding what type of lands would qualify for geopark status and application procedures. Participants had an overall positive response to the program and are waiting to hear back on how their park may join. The next step will be to draft a set of U.S. Geopark Guidelines to propose to Washington for consideration. We will take this feedback from the panel discussion to Washington in order to continue the discussion.”

The geopark initiative has the potential to benefit earth heritage sites in the U.S. that are not major tourist destinations. Once a geopark is designated, people living within the boundaries can profit from the type of interpretive experience that is the hallmark of a geopark.

The Geopark Experience

Although interpretive programs and exhibits are typically informal and interactive, they are still a type of educational activity. Like a class, most programs and exhibits require visitors to listen to talks and read through text.

Experiences that are thought of as tourism activities—eating dinner, tasting wine, and going shopping—are not often used as interpretive opportunities. The sharing of food is primarily a social activity, wine tasting is a cultural activity, and going shopping is an economic activity. At first glance, these do not appear to have an educational component.

Yet if used properly, social, cultural, and economic activities can be an extraordinary mechanism for discovery. These experiences offer a window into the lives of local people and a tangible connection to the spirit of a place.

“Sharing food is a universal that…is powerful when used well,” writes Tim Merriman in Personal Interpretation. “When we share food, we share a special part of our cultural story, and it connects with smell, taste, touch, and visual pleasure.”

In European cultures, meals are an important means of communicating with others. At the conference in Lesvos, many of the guest speakers—the mayor of a small town, a local journalist, and members of a women’s cooperative—join us for a meal rather than standing behind a podium.

Enjoying food and wine is also a celebratory activity, and the motto of the European geoparks is “Celebrating earth heritage, sustaining local communities.” Wine is important because it celebrates a connection between culture and nature. The flavors and varieties of wine are directly related to the shape and composition of the land.

“Never forget that geo means earth, not geology,” says Guy Martini, one of the founders of the geopark initiative. “Geoparks are not just about rocks, they are mainly about people.”

Geoparks should really be called EarthParks, for the word earth possesses a meaning that is at once tangible and intangible. Earth refers to the physical terra firma of our planet, but it also conveys a feeling of home—the realm of humankind. Cultural activities like wine tasting provide a link between these tangible and intangible meanings.

Shopping is a similar activity that enables guests to discover the tastes, fashions, and products that are representative of a place. Local food producers, craftspeople, and trade workers are all interpreters. They use their knowledge and skills to reveal the spirit of a place through the creation of tangible products.

“I’ve never felt that parks and recreation settings were the only places interpretation should or could be practiced,” writes Sam Ham in Environmental Interpretation. “The best teachers, salespeople, lawyers, and cab drivers I know are interpreters.”

Always remember that people are a natural resource. The for-profit tourism services they provide can be a powerful tool for deepening the interpretive experience.

I set forth on this journey to find out if a park can become part of a local community. Instead, I discovered that a local community can become part of a park. We only need to broaden our minds and reach beyond park boundaries to turn this possibility into a reality.

The 2009 International Intensive Course on Geoparks will be Sep 29 – Oct 3 at the Lesvos Petrified Forest Geopark in Greece.  For information, visit www.globalgeopark.org > News & Events > Coming Events.

Heidi Bailey, Certified Interpretive Guide, is a volunteer interpreter at Florissant Fossil Beds National Monument in Colorado. Contact her at geointerpretation@yahoo.com.