Of prodigals and pyramids

Okay, so I believe I'm up to Sunday.

If Sunday was the day of Jesus' return from the dead, it was also the day of my suitcase's. I had resigned myself to prowling around for a couple of hours before heading over once again to the Ramos' to check on my suitcase. I was already in a distinctly grumpy mood. Christiane had assured me that the roommate who would be spending one night with me was a very nice woman. She was: amiable, kind, quiet.

That is, when she was awake. Asleep, it was a completely different story. I returned from the Ramos the night before completely exhausted. I was unable to sleep, however, on account of my roommate's unbelievable snoring! I swear, even Father Time himself would have awoken to tell this woman to invest in those infomercial products! After getting next to no sleep and breakfasting on the DEFAP's daily provision of bread, jam, and nutella, I came back to my room underneath a black cloud, made even more grumpy by the prospect of having to kill time before the arrival of my suitcase.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I heard a knock on my door. Opening it, I saw a strange man on my doorstep. It isn't a normal sight at the DEFAP to have young men prowling around girls' doors at 10 o'clock in the mroning; but then again, I would have forgiven any breach of normality or decorum when I saw what was by his side: ;y prodigal suitcase itself, complete with its American luggage tag and "Caution: Heavy" warning label!!! I wanted to kiss the man, but this probably would have been a bit much, even in France. The first thing I did upon bringing it into my room? Put on deodorant(sorry if that is perhaps a bit too much information for some of you, but I get very personal when talking of a subject so dear to my heart)!

Sundays in France are really interesting, because they are both more revered and more abused than in the US, as far as keeping the sabbath is concerned. Pretty much all stores, including grocery stores, are closed. Restaurants, though, are open, except perhaps for some of the boulangeries and patisseries. And the city that attracts more visitors than anywhere else in the world wouldn't of course want to miss out on any of that profit! So museums are all open and waiting for visitors (it reminds me of the Bible passage where Christ throws the moneylenders out of the temple for making His house a den of thieves). In fact, the first Sunday of every month is free for all of the major museums, so they are often some of the busiest days of the tourist season. As a poor college student, it was my duty, of course, on behalf of impoverished twenty-somethings everywhere to take advantage of this hole in the pocket of mercenary tourism.

So, I went to the Louvre. :)

When I came to Paris before, I had visited this paragon of antiquities. However, one is rather limited by one hour and fifteen minutes. Pretty much all I was able to see was La Jaconde (the Mona Lisa), Winged Victory, and the Venus de Milo. This time, however, my time was pretty much unlimited. So, armed with the multi-fold Louvre map (an absolute necessity; the Louvre is also one of the easiest museums in which to get lost, I think), I staked out the places I wanted to see. My childhood dreams of being an Egyptologist dictated a visit to that section, which is entered through a sphinx-guarded doorway. It was very well done, although there are so many artifacts that it is almost overwhelming. I sometimes get frustrated when I visit museums with my father, because he loves to read every single caption and it takes forever; well, if he had been with me this museum trip would probably have lost all of its luster because of its sheer length (just kidding, Dad. :) I would love to visit the Louvre with you if you so desire). I also wanted to see the Babylonian winged lions with the faces of some king (I'm sorry for all those Bablyonian-lovers who may be reading this; I forgot the king's name). Then, there were the apartments of Napoleon III. Talk about luxury! I thought that Versailles was impressive with all its gilded bedchambers, but the extended ceilings and lustrous tapestries here made rivaled even the palace of Louis XVI. I had to stand and gawk at the magnificent dining room, with its marble table capable of seating at least twenty people surrounded by gold-lined mirrors and embroidered wall panels.

The one thing, though, that really was on my mind for this trip to the Louvre was seeing the Code of Hammurabi. I had read about it since I was a child, and on my previous trip I didn't realize it was in the Louvre until we were walking out the doorway. So, I had made seeing it a priority. Nothing--man, woman, child, infant, docent, tourist, cafe vendor, stroller, drink stand, Italian painting, Roman statue, Greek vase, Asian idol, French table, or Egyptian mummy--was going to stand in my way.

Except, perhaps, for the Louvre itself.

You see, I arrived on the LAST DAY of a special Babyon exhibit. Being only a temporary exposition, it was not free, so I had decided to skip it. Imagine my disappointment, therefore, when, after searching in vain through several rooms in the Bablyonian section, I arrived at the long-expected pedestal--and it was empty!!! Instead of the famous artifact, there was a cute little sign that said: "The Code of Hammurabi has been moved temporarily as part of the special Babylon exhibit".

Argh!!!! At this point, I needed to get back to collect my things and move to La Vigie (the foyer where I would be staying for the month of June) before heading to meet the Ramos' and go to church. And my miserliness wouldn't let me justify paying 6 euros just for a quick scan of one piece of rock. Resigned to be deprived yet again of the sight of the world's first legal code (but with the promise of free visits to the Louvre for young people on Friday nights after 6 o'clock in my mind), I quitted the glass pyramid at last.