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Archive for the ‘Interpretation in For-Profit Tourism’ Category

A Trip Takes Us

20 Jun

by Jane Beattie

A journey is a person in itself, no two are alike, and all plans, safeguards, policies and coercion are fruitless. We find after years of struggles that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us.

—John Steinbeck

Small ships such as the Clipper Adventurer operated by Quark Expeditions provide berths for 120 people, lectures led by experts in their subject areas, and the opportunity for an intimate experience on the great white continent. Photo by Jane Beattie.

Small ships such as the Clipper Adventurer operated by Quark Expeditions provide berths for 120 people, lectures led by experts in their subject areas, and the opportunity for an intimate experience on the great white continent. Photo by Jane Beattie.

Standing on the deck of a small cruise ship in the middle of the Drake Passage somewhere between Cape Horn and the South Shetland Islands seemed like a strange place to be contemplating life—and interpretation. But there I was, no land to be seen for at least a day’s sail in any direction, ocean swells big enough to make the 11-foot wingspan of the wandering albatross flying nearby disappear like it was never there, and the anticipation of what was to come.

I was in the middle of my own once-in-a-lifetime experience and not a single adjective would stay in my mind long enough to stick, because the next one was tumbling out of my now over-stimulated brain faster than I could keep up with—and I wasn’t even in Antarctica yet!

Several people have asked why. Why Antarctica? Why a small ship? Why would I want to leave civilization and all of its modern conveniences behind to see more ice and snow? (I live in Alaska where it is winter for 7 months a year!) And why was I so bent on seeing penguins that I would want to spend four days crossing what is sometimes arguably the roughest stretch of ocean in the world? Those questions can be easily answered, but the more difficult question that I still struggle to put words to is, “What did it feel like to be in Antarctica?”

John Steinbeck summed it up well when he said, “We do not take a trip; a trip takes us.” This was most definitely the case for me. It was such an overwhelmingly emotional experience that I am not sure I will ever be able to put words to it for others.

But what it did do was give me pause to think about for-profit tourism operators and the interpretive experiences we provide, sometimes in places where no other options are available. Are we fully embracing interpretation? Can we and do we provide interpretive messaging throughout our operations that is compelling, provocative, and potentially life-changing? What other opportunities can we develop to support the visitor/guest experience and help the trip take them?

Whether hiking or on a land tour, the only way for many to access Denali National Park and Preserve is by bus. Driver naturalists versed in interpretation provide many opportunities for visitors to find their own meanings in the resource. Photo by Jane Beattie.

Whether hiking or on a land tour, the only way for many to access Denali National Park and Preserve is by bus. Driver naturalists versed in interpretation provide many opportunities for visitors to find their own meanings in the resource. Photo by Jane Beattie.

As tourism operators, we bring visitors to traditional interpretive sites to attend interpretive programs, peruse exhibits at visitor centers, and recreate. But in addition to that, many of us also stretch beyond the traditional in that we have facilities of our own. We are hotels, resorts, remote lodges, cruise ships, and bus tours to name a few. We operate or manage tour products, gift shops, food and beverage outlets, exhibit areas, rafting, and other adventure activities. That is, we have interpretive potential. I believe that not only does interpretation offer the for-profit tourism world a standard to provide meaningful products and messages to our guests, but also that we have the opportunity to provide interpretation with a mechanism to broaden its reach through unique and creative design of experiences across all levels of our operations.

Tourism operators who take guests looking for a unique experience to Antarctica give an easy stand-alone example of this. On a continent that does not per se have a managing agency or interpreters on the ground to provide an interface between the place and meanings, operators have filled that role by providing on-board naturalists who do interpretive programming and educational lectures, ensuring that guests take away more than just photos. They are the only interface between the visitor and the resource. A growing number of tour companies in this position provide specialist guides and more increasingly professionals who can provide more than just the facts by presenting a compelling interpretive message as well.

On a national scale, it is recognized that concessionaires interface with more visitors than park staff in a number of large parks, especially where mass transportation is used to provide a visitor experience. National parks such as Denali, Yellowstone, Yosemite, and Glacier provide market-driven interpretation to support and encourage stewardship of a park’s resources and mission to hundreds of thousands of park visitors each year. On a smaller scale, specific niche operators provide interpretive programming in a more intimate small-group setting—all the while aiming to connect the visitor to a place or event and supporting a larger mission.

With the advent of the Experience Economy, as described in Joseph Pine and James Gilmore’s 1999 book, for-profit businesses and tourism operations have found ways to be even more creative still with their products and services. Hotel, retail, and food and beverage operations at their most basic create a more themed experience supporting their location and its larger stories while a greater number now provide messaging to support the core interpretive themes, site significance, and mission of the parks and other public lands or organizations they operate on. Interpretive media and messaging is making its way into gift shop merchandising, onto table tops and walls in food areas, and into the design of common areas and rooms in hotels. Combining the skills of companies with the resources and ability to create unique experiences that impart an interpretive message with the organizations tasked with preserving and protecting nationally and globally valued resources has created a new evolution in non-traditional interpretation. The potential of this symbiotic relationship is one that is still being discovered but is intriguing to many.

It has been said that necessity is the mother of invention, and given the current economic, political, and global climate, it is perhaps time to become more inventive than ever. We need to use the skills, talents, and methodologies of interpretation to ride on the current wave of evolutionary growth in the field.

As a passenger on that cruise ship to Antarctica—not an interpreter, coach, or manager—the journey culminated in a dream realized, but that’s another story. I also came to believe that we as for-profit companies and businesses that operate in an interpretive arena have a rich opportunity to not only provide a journey to many, but have the journey take us. We, too, are becoming the messenger on a large scale, and while some are still in the curiosity stage on the interpretive continuum, others are proud to have reached the level of stewardship—not only for themselves but for their visitors and guests as well.

Jane Beattie is the director of interpretation for the Doyon/Aramark Joint Venture, the concessionaire in Denali National Park and Preserve. Jane is also the director of NAI’s Interpretation and Tourism Section. She can be reached at beattie-jane@aramark.com.

 

The Role of Interpretation in Protecting Desert Treasures

08 Jun

by Michael Peach

CIGs Dan Swan and Jesse Keenen offer archaeological insights at an ancestral puebloan site for students on Pink Jeep Tours’ R.O.C.K.S. program. Photo by Leslie McLean.

CIGs Dan Swan and Jesse Keenen offer archaeological insights at an ancestral puebloan site for students on Pink Jeep Tours’ R.O.C.K.S. program. Photo by Leslie McLean.

No one was there to save the tree, to plead for its life and prevent its execution. It was, after all, completely innocent, having done nothing but provide decades of oxygen in this forest while enduring vehicles passing, and often scraping, by it. For the better part of a century, this Arizona cypress had weathered droughts, lightning, hungry insects, and withering heat while its trunk and that of a larger cousin several feet away defined a hairpin turn on a 4×4 trail in the Coconino National Forest surrounding Sedona, Arizona. Efforts by unsupervised forest users to create short cuts at the expense of ecology had been thwarted by boulders ordered by Forest Service land managers and planted by Pink Jeep trail maintenance personnel.

Then one frigid January night in 2009 (the type of night on which this ice-age species thrives), an unknown, unseen, and uncaring forest user must have had difficulty negotiating a vehicle between the two trees and, using an axe, chopped through the smaller tree. Apparently they were then able to get by the two-foot stump they left. Who would do such a thing? The murder remains unsolved, the perpetrator is still at large, and the resource remains at risk. Will this killer strike again? Will another copy his deadly example? The motives of such perpetrators are cloaked in shadows of ignorance and arrogance. Connections and stewardship are our best tools in the prevention of future 2009.

In 24 years as an eco-cultural interpreter for Time Expeditions and Pink Jeep Tours, I have been both witness to and participant in my share of unpleasant encounters with inappropriate behavior at resource sites. In spite of appeals made to the “Authority of the Resource,” laws must sometimes be cited. Reason usually prevails. It may not be pretty, but sometimes it’s necessary for the protection of the resource.

During one rather tense confrontation, in which it had become necessary for me to identify myself as a site steward, a wife came to her husband’s defense saying, “We don’t have to pay any attention to him. He only pretends to care about this place because he makes money off of it.” This uninformed accusation has its roots in a long history of the plundering of America’s cultural and natural resources for profits personal and corporate, or for governmental prestige (see Mark Reisner’s Cadillac Desert). Many people are naturally suspicious of the motives of private sector managers, as government mismanagement or lack of oversight has provoked frequent outrage in recent years. The underlying fallacy here is that profit comes only at the expense of the resource. At Pink Jeep, our view is that profit can help not only to maintain and preserve, but can even improve the resource.

Pink Jeep Tours is dedicated to providing safe, informative, and entertaining eco-cultural experiences for guests. Our ability to do this is directly related to the health of the Coconino National Forest. Our permits are issued by the United States Forest Service (USFS) and our actions are monitored by their land managers and compliance officers. In recent years, combinations of cyclic drought, bark beetle infestation, and fire conditions have resulted in forest closures sometimes lasting several weeks.

Reintroducing natural drainage to the trailbed, the Pink Jeep trail crew works in cooperation with US Forest Service landscape architects. Photo by Rich Bowen.

Reintroducing natural drainage to the trailbed, the Pink Jeep trail crew works in cooperation with US Forest Service landscape architects. Photo by Rich Bowen.

And when it comes to wet weather, we are not permitted to impact forest roads or trails with a consistent tread depth of one inch or more. So in the event of heavy rainfall or snow, our trail maintenance team greets the dawn to check on whether various routes can be used, or whether we will wait for Forest Service notification regarding their availability. This team, consisting of trail specialists Rich Bowen and David Keesler, constantly grooms our trails, filling in displaced material, repairing damaged habitats, and saving American taxpayers thousands of dollars every year. Often this involves “planting” boulders to prevent unsupervised forest users from establishing unauthorized social trails, short cuts, or parking spaces.

Pink Jeep’s annual operating budget includes maintenance of our specially equipped dump truck and tractor and the purchase of tons of boulders, gravel, rock, and soil that is constantly being added to high-impact trail sections identified by USFS landscape architects. Sedona’s red rock country visitor numbers are among the highest in the nation, and not all of the local backcountry tour operators perform trail maintenance, so Rich and David are kept very busy. Pink Jeep guides have no shortage of opportunities to point out the unfortunate consequences of off-trail damage.

Our hope is that by fostering connections for our visitors and providing information about the balance necessary to maintain these ecosystems, these messages will find their way across America. The need for this is made painfully evident by visitor comments like, “The archaeologists just want to keep this place for themselves.” Or, “Back home they try to stop us with those boulders, but we just drive around them.”

One of our permits allows us the privilege of visiting Honanki Cliff Dwellings, a world-class archaeological site dating from the 12th century, and containing cultural affiliations claimed by present-day Hopi, Yavapai, Apache, Hispanic, and Anglo peoples. This tour, once described by author James Bishop as “the most illuminating tour in North America,” was created by anthropologist Warren Cremer in 1984. Since 1995, Pink Jeep Tours president and owner Shawn Wendell has continued and greatly expanded on Cremer’s Time Expeditions traditions of scholarship and stewardship. In 1996, a site host position was created to provide public contact, trail maintenance, and enhanced security for the site. The site host kiosk posts public safety information as well as serving as an orientation point for visitors.

In 2000, Honanki became the only archaeological site in America to be awarded one of the 62 Save America’s Treasures Fund grants given by the federal government. The awarding of this grant was based on a formula that included Time Expeditions’ history, partnerships with the Hopi and Yavapai Tribes, and Pink Jeep’s financial contributions in the form of permit fees, site host salaries, insurance, site host vehicle (with insurance, gas, and upkeep), the site host kiosk and signage, trail work, and a multi-thousand dollar cash donation that made a public rest room at the site possible. This grant also provided for the first modern scientific excavation of the site, allowing guides to share new, cutting-edge interpretive insights about the lives of its inhabitants. (The normal lag time for archaeological field discoveries to be available for public knowledge is several years.)

Pink Jeep site hosts Pat Gray and Janice Eckert greet Honanki’s visitors and acquaint them with site etiquette, some basic cultural information, and any necessary cautions, such as areas that may be temporarily closed due to ongoing excavations, studies, or trail maintenance. They are the visiting public’s emergency contact with civilization. Often, they render first aid or provide directions or water for injured or otherwise unprepared visitors. They keep company with those unable or otherwise disinclined to leave the parking area, even serving as dog sitters because pets are not allowed on the archaeological site. They actively patrol the site and fill out a daily report that lists information about visitor numbers and comments, any new graffiti (there has been a noticeable reduction since this position was created), other developments pro or con, weather, temperature, and even wildlife sightings. The Red Rock Ranger District draws on this data base in securing project funding from the federal government.

The site hosts also play an important role in our Pink Jeep R.O.C.K.S. program—Re-enforcing Our Children’s Knowledge of Sedona. This educational outreach program was created by Pink Jeep guides to coordinate with the native culture curriculums of local fourth-grade classes by taking the students on learning expeditions to Honanki. After we arrive, we utilize games like Bat and Moth, Web of Life, Wild Animal Scramble, and The Un-Nature Trail from Joseph Cornell’s Sharing Nature With Children. These introduce nature concepts and help focus the children’s energy before taking them to the archaeological site. Our site hosts help to supervise these games and they are responsible for setting up (and later packing up) the “Un-Nature Trail” that our students will walk on the way in.

To complement this experience, we want the students to reconnect with some of our local tree and plant species. We ask them to stand with their backs to us, with their hands held behind them. We then give them samples of different types of bark, seed pods, leaves, and plant fibers that they examine only by touch as they pass them from one to another. They then try to find examples of what they touched as they walk back from the site to the jeeps. Their identifications provide our guides with “teachable moments” along the trail. This activity has proved very popular with the students. We also note that many of our non-tour visitors become engaged in trying to spot the objects along the “Un-Nature Trail,” which often leads to “teachable moments” for our site hosts.

In the R.O.C.K.S. program, we try to impart messages with a “ripples in a pond” approach. Regarding matters of site etiquette, for example, one challenge we face is that our fourth graders are often quite hungry at the time of day at which they’re visiting Honanki. Even if he or she has not brought a lunch, your average fourth grader is often packing a granola bar or some candy or gum in a pocket or a backpack. Food items are not allowed on the archaeological site, but if we said no more than that, we probably wouldn’t get the level of cooperation we want on this visit, nor on their future visits to other sites and fragile areas. So we explain how even the small crumbs attract mice, which in turn attract snakes as well as leading to health problems and the destabilizing of the ancient walls by encouraging these rodents to build their homes in them. This very situation caused the collapse of a 15-foot-high wall at Honanki in 1978.

We describe our stewardship as trying to ensure that there will be something here for them to bring their children to see on future visits to this place. On the trail out, we teach the “small things do big things” theme by pointing out the importance of cryptobiotic soil in the healthy maintenance of our local ecosystems, further embellishing the site and trail etiquette concepts.

In 2008, Pink Jeep’s site host and trails programs were recognized with an award from the Arizona Governor’s Conference on Tourism, and the R.O.C.K.S. program received a 2009 award of excellence for exceptional community service from local advocacy group, Keep Sedona Beautiful. Sedona Magazine recently profiled several Pink Jeep guides, and a recent National Public Radio producer’s segment commented at length on the company’s emphasis on principles of safety and sustainability.

Pink Jeep is proud of its involvement in NAI. We’ve been certifying our guides since 2003. Our in-house Certified Interpretive Guide (CIG) classes are held twice a year. Pink Jeep was a Bronze Sponsor at last year’s NAI National Workshop in Portland and is a major underwriter of Region 8’s Traveling Mascot Jacket Project. The CIG curriculum influences our new hire process and our guide training regimen.

As guide manager and Certified Interpretive Guide and Certified Interpretive Trainer Chris Davis says, “With the current trend in government cutbacks, the future of heritage tourism will rely on partnerships with volunteer and commercial entities. The proliferation of both ATVs and nonmotorized forest users means that people will continue to discover and visit fragile and vulnerable sites on their own. Lack of funding equals inadequate ranger presence, while the urban interface encroaches ever more onto public lands. Getting the word out on best practices regarding our cultural and natural resources is more urgent than ever. Volunteers and for-profit tourism organizations, in the tradition of Enos Mills, can deliver that message.”

Michael Peach, CIT, is a senior guide and trainer for Pink Jeep Tours in Sedona and Las Vegas. He is the recipient of a citation for “Bravery in the Face of Vandalism” from the Arizona Site Steward Program and is a consultant for the Sedona Heritage Museum.

 

Of the Rocks, For the People: Journey to a Geopark

13 May

by Heidi Bailey

Geoparks bring profits to small-town residents who are struggling to sustain their traditional way of life. Photo by Katarzyna Kozina

Geoparks bring profits to small-town residents who are struggling to sustain their traditional way of life. Photo by Katarzyna Kozina

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

Geoparks view local people as an important natural resource. Photo by Katarzyna Kozina

Geoparks view local people as an important natural resource. Photo by Katarzyna Kozina

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

Wine tasting celebrates a connection between culture and nature; the flavor of wine is influenced by the composition of the land. Photo by Erdal Gumus

Wine tasting celebrates a connection between culture and nature; the flavor of wine is influenced by the composition of the land. Photo by Erdal Gumus

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.