The British Museum had lost its charm.

That subject line? Is a lie. The British Museum is fantastic.

Left the house by 11.15, caught the 11.34 train to Waterloo, took a bus that dropped me close to the British Museum and was in by 12.30 or so. Oh, it was even lovelier than I remembered! Time for bullet points.

+ There is an exhibition entitled Hajj: Journey to the Center of Islam or something to that effect and I almost went in, but it was a bit pricey. I'll look into if they have student discounts, because it sounded fascinating and right up my alley.

- The other side of that, however, is that the temporary exhibits (of which Hajj is one) have taken over the Reading Room. I couldn't find a way in to just see it again. Sigh. Hopefully it'll be open when they leave.

+ Took a stroll through, let's see: Ur/Assyria/Babylonia/Early Mesopotamia, Early Turkey, Nubia (in its relations with Egypt and Christianity), almost the entirety of the Egypt section where I spent most of my time (and no one is surprised), then one long room entitled Enlightenment, which was all 19th century exploration (cough, colonization) and the spoils of conquering.

+ Enlightenment was an amazing room, but it made me feel a lot of emotions. On the one hand, I would love to own a private collection like that; it was the stereotypical mid-1800s study--scientific odds and ends, china from...China of all places, Egyptian hieroglyphic texts, flint knives, shiny gold from India...everything you could think of. And oh, the books! I don't think the books in the cases along the edge of the wall were supposed to catch your eye so much as just be part of the scene, but I spent a good long while staring at the old, faded spines with the gold lettering that had cracked and flaked but was still legible and French.

But on the other hand, I was reminded constantly that my passions (old Egypt, archaeology, anthropology, the study of other cultures in the specific way we do it now) arose out of colonialism and the belief that the European White Man (TM) was the pinnacle of evolution. I still cringe when I think of the early anthropologists categorizing people into one of three boxes: savage, barbaric, and civilized.

So this huge room, the huge building, boasting of its successes in India and the Mid East and various and sundry wars in which they stole from the rest of the world (which, granted, had stolen a great number of the artifacts from other people) made me drool with its beauty but also made me uncomfortable.

+ I found the Centre for Anthropology, which, having a look through the doors, seems to be the archives. It didn't actually shake down this way, but just picture the comedic scene of me, pressed flat against the glass doors, mouth open and drooling at the old books and archives that were so close, but so very far away. Siiiiigh.

+ Near the Centre for Anthropology was a smallish gallery of Islamic Art. And I have to say, between that room and the giant Egyptian artifacts (I had to sit down and stare at a giant head of Ramses II, it was breathtaking) and some of the beautiful old texts, I literally had to bite my lip to keep the sighs and pathetic little sounds of the academic from actually being heard. It was gorgeous. I was in heaven...until my heeled Oxfords made my feet hurt after hours of standing in them. And so I had to leave.

+ But not before taking another stroll down the large room of giant Egyptian stone statues and proving myself to be a true museum girl. There was a giant red stone arm that had broken off of some statue or another (I put a bid in for Ramses II. When in doubt, it was Ramses II.) and at one end it said "please no touching" and the other had the sign explaining where it came from. This guy didn't see the no touching sign and so ran his hand up and down the red stone (red marble?) and, like, squeezed the bicep. I walked away and, legit, mumbled, "yes, that's brilliant, go ahead and caress the ancient artifacts" with a bite on the end of the last two words.

I don't think anyone heard me, but I am becoming That Person. Maybe it comes from working in a museum, maybe it comes from knowing that things that are thousands of years old shouldn't be touched by the masses (see: Stonehenge), who knows.

+ I'll be going back (and most likely visiting the gift shop again) so I don't feel too silly saying that, for 3 pounds 99, I bought a sparkly gold and purple masquerade mask. Why the British Museum was selling masquerade masks, I'll never know, but I took advantage of it. Hee!

And that was the end of my tour. Not much too exciting to say after that other than a creepy guy hit on me on the bus all the way back to Waterloo (I ignored him, but I was so close to just turning and saying STFU) and I got more Krispy Kreme right before hurrying to catch my train back just on time.

I would've liked to had a pub dinner, but didn't make plans soon enough and so had leftover spicy chicken. All in all, a good day.