Costco

Second full day at the Museum. This time the plan was to systematically go into each gallery, scan the contents, and perhaps linger a while on some select pieces.

There is NO way someone can really SEE everything, let alone absorb the sheer magnitude of the collections. This is not so much a Museum as it is a dusty Costco warehouse specializing in Egyptian antiquities. Except that at Costco, items are better labeled and identified. I'd say that 2% of all the priceless antiquities here have an actual descriptive label, although the factual accuracy thereof is often fanciful, and written in French. Oxymoron if there ever was one...

My knowledge of many of these treasures comes from books - you know, the expensive coffee-table tomes I usually get on my birthday or Christmas mornings - and I am often surprised by what I see. Scale is one such challenge to my pre-conceptions. Many items are *much* smaller than I had envisioned, showing a level of exquisite detail that defies logic, whereas some are quite a bit larger. Monumental, really.

I spend some delightful moments scrutinizing the scale models of the middle-kingdom, miniature scenes carved out of wood that show the daily activities of a well-run country estate. Here women are weaving linen; here men are driving cattle, catching fish or doing carpentry work in a well-appointed workshop. Imbued with magic, these models insured their owners of a prosperous afterlife. Having spent much of my childhood building scale models of boats, homes and castles, I take great pleasure imagining how the craftsman created these, held this or that part while the glue dried, his choice of material or color. It all speaks to me.

I can't show you pictures of my favorite pieces. First, there are too many and, secondly, photography is not allowed inside the museum. Didn't used to be the case, but I can understand their policy. Some of the priceless artifacts are so fragile that one flash too many could turn them to crumbling dust.

We spend a good six hours at the museum, with an intermission for lunch at the Movenpick Hotel-operated cafe outside.

Again, I've turned into a babbling idiot. I cannot stand on my legs anymore, but am afraid to sit down for fear I'd never get up again.

My brain is beyond full, like a sponge that cannot possibly absorb one more droplet of artistic bliss. Total saturation. It will take months and years to process it all. After I tell Denny that I'm done for the day, we slowly stroll through some of the galleries, saying our goodbyes to our favorites.

I will be back.

Some day.

Soon.