We arrived at the world-renown British Museum at 1510. However, this WAS the last day of our trip, and have visited more than ten (thirteen, I think is the exact count) exhibits of varying originality and knowledge. Excuse us, then, of quickly lapsing into boredom. There were a couple of sections that managed to snag my interest, though.
The Egyptian mummies especially.
The 6th Sense jokes aside, the mummies were awe-inspiring, and just a little bit this side of creepy. Mom refused to go in, saying she got thoroughly freaked out the first time she went to London. Can’t say I blame her; we were looking at corpses, some more than 5,000 years old.
Seemed a tad disrespectful, if you ask me. Would YOU like to be gaped at from inside glass cages a hundred years from now? Anyway.
Mummies
Aside from the mummies, there were funerary texts (“Formula for Going Forth By Day”, a.k.a. The Book of the Dead), and tombs (the coffins of the priests of Amon were really funky). I got to see the Rosetta Stone, and geeker joy abounded.
Jean Francois Champollion, you rock.
Before we left the British Museum, we visited the Reading Room. And Holy Gamolee, I want to be its librarian. While not as large as the UP main library, the British Museum Reading Room had a scholarly beauty of its own. A domed room with light streaming down from the glass ceiling, books lining the circular walls, and unheard melodies playing in the quiet. I wasn’t able to browse very long, but I DID see a whole section on Rizal.
The Library
Way to go, national hero dude.
