Today we saw some old rocks ’n’ stuff.
That’s not even a lie. Plus, I was once assured that the oldest rocks in the world are in Newfoundland (that, I’m pretty sure, is a lie), so I don’t see what the big fuss is over the British Museum.
Then again, I kinda do.
Before I left St. John’s, myself and my brother spent a solid few hours at the Rooms, and actually found the provincial collection pretty cool. I should have been prepared to up the scale appropriately; whereas Newfoundland has a 500-year history, England stretches back thousands of years, nevermind the fact that at one point the sun never set on the English empire, which meant that the museum had all kind of colonial artifacts to borrow (read: politely steal) from classical antiquity to the present day, from pockets all over the world.
That thought should have at least crossed my mind. Instead, I was naively expecting something that was a cross between the gimmicky exhibits at the Ontario Science Centre (which, by the way, you should avoid on your next Toronto adventure. You’re welcome.) and the displays at the Mary March Museum in Grand Falls-Windsor (which, by the way, you should see on your next adventure through Scenic Green Bay. You’re welcome.)
We arrived at the museum around 3 o’clock, giving us only 2 hours before the exhibits closed for the day. Under a dull afternoon sky, the building, not too far from the northern bank of the Thames in the central part of London, looked a little like the Roman Pantheon (in my uncultured opinion, anyway).
Here are some specks that I only just found out – in some way though, it was better going into today unprepared, because the impact was that much more overwhelming. Anyway. The British Museum has about 7 million things in it: vases, gems, statues, clocks, books, currency . . . basically, a picture of global human civilization. It’s got 2 miles of exhibition space in 100 galleries. It was established in 1753, and it’s the second most visited museum in the world, after the Mary March Museum in Grand Falls-Windsor (although someone hacked Wikipedia to change that stat to the Louvre).
Once we entered the Great Court, a huge white room with the circular Reading Room in the centre, the size of the museum hit me. And you can only see a small sliver from that initial vantage point.
But you can definitely create a good echo
Still unimpressed, however, we took a chance and went to the exhibit on Ancient Egypt, right off the main hall. And there, first thing, was the Rosetta Stone.
Sweet Jesus.
Hey Rosetta [Stone]!
I’ve already confessed to being naive about the British Museum, and I admit that I had no idea the Rosetta Stone was even in England, let alone right in front of my face. History lesson: it’s a stone engraved with a decree from 196 BC. The age is cool – well, at that point; this was before seeing preserved items from Assyria and ancient Greece that made this chunk of rock look like a youngster – but the real deal with the Rosetta Stone is that, in the 19th century, it was responsible for finally understanding hieroglyphics from Ancient Egypt.
It’s also really damn significant in Western history, and there it was in front of me. And behind it, to the sides of it, above it, and beyond, were millions of other things from a time disjointed from our own, more than you could possibly see in an afternoon, let alone 2 hours.
I tried, and it ended up with me feeling incredibly overwhelmed. That, and realizing how small and fleeting our existences are, and how little a grasp I have of the depth of human history. Humbling, really.
I picked my was through sarcophaguses, a chunk of the Sphinx’s beard, armour and weapons, an actual preserved mummy, stone busts, carvings and statues retrieved from the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus (one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, look it up), a Moai (one of the stone dudes from Easter Island), gold medals from the 2012 London Olympics, and a hodgepodge of everything else.
It got to the point where I was completely jaded by the end of it. “Oh, what’s that? This intricate statue, carved by an actual human being, is 4,000 years old? Oh, and that bust of Socrates was carved from life . . . as in, he once stood in front of it while it was being chiselled out? Oh, and there are endless hallways of cooler things in every direction? Cool, I guess. I wonder what we’re having for supper?”
To add to it, admission was free. I just may have to return again one day before December, once the feeling of being overwhelmed leaves me; that way, I’ll have time to properly digest the place for what it is.
After the museum, we grabbed some takeout and a tube to Charring Cross Road (the same spot where Spirit of the West got drunk for a solid month in “Home for a Rest”), where we walked to the Royal Court Theatre on Sloane Square. Amongst other things, it was here that The Rocky Horror Show made its debut in 1973. The main theatre area has a similar, tiered layout to the other theatres that we’ve been to; back up in the balconies, with one of the worst views of the stage, but I’m good and nimble for leaning over the edge.
We were there to see a three-act play, The Faith Machine – the show was based around a troubled young couple, distracted by their past and their very different ethical code and world outlook. The dude was a shallow capitalist – and American, a strange British interpretation; meanwhile, the gal, the daughter of a Bishop who voluntarily left the church because he sympathized with homosexuals, was decidedly unreligious, but compassionate and wary of universal human suffering around the world. The clash between them, and the attempt to reconcile their relationship in light of outside forces, including the disintegration of the father character and the September 11 tragedy, was the stuff of compelling drama.
Plus, not only was the father played by an awesome random actor, but that random actor wasn’t random at it – it was Ian McDiarmid. Not familiar? I didn’t recognize him with a stubble beard either, but I can see the resemblance now to a dude from a galaxy far away:
He also looked a bit younger and less evil than Palpatine
Can’t say that the cute, picture-perfect, tied-up-with-a-ribbon-and-a-bow ending was as good as it should have been though, but for a show that ran nearly three hours, it was engaging and enjoyable.
After dragging my umbrella around all day, I finally got to use it on the way back to Harlow. The rain’s making a nice little drum beat outside my window now, which should be nice and soothing for getting some sleep now. Class has been postponed to 11 o’clock tomorrow morning, to recompense us for staying out late and suffering through both the British Museum and a professional theatrical performance in London.
Poor me.
Cheers,
rb
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