Why Do I Even Bother?

Berlin is a pretty artsy fartsy city and I was quite pleased to learn that every Thursday night, the major museums in the city are free from 6 until 10pm. This includes all the biggies of Museum Island in Mitte: the Bode, the Altes Museum, the Neues Museum, the Alte Nationalgalerie, and the Pergamonmuseum (which I will never, ever be able to say).

Now I'm no fan of art museums, classical or modern (let the stoning begin) but I do appreciate most anything that's been dug up out of the ground, be it a dinosaur skeleton or a pot from ancient Greece.

Usually.

Considering my propensity to be flighty in any museum unless it is steeped in natural phenomenon or compelling, historical fact, I thought the whole freebie night was perfect for me. I could wander in and out versus feeling compelled to stare at everything whether I wanted to or not, simply because I paid 10 euros to get into the place.

But man, did I feel stupid. All of those Europeans, eagerly taking advantage of this free evening, examining busts of Augustus at the Altes Museum or the 897,325th painting of the Last Supper at the Bode while I strolled through every room at a moderate pace, barely stopping to look at anything. I think the security guards were unnerved by me. Who was this chick who wasn't stopping to read anything? Was she casing the place, trying to find a good little spot to plant that microscopic explosive device of hers?

And here's the other thing. I wasn't wearing my glasses (stupid me) which meant that if I did want to read about anything, I had to get very close to it. This scares the absolute bejesus out of me, considering that these ANCIENT ARTIFACTS were sitting VERY precariously on these ridiculously skinny, surely unstable (come on, Germany, where is that good ole' engineering?!?) pillar things. To this day, any time I walk into a store or museum that is stocked full of glass, porcelain, or ancient handicraft of plenty, I hear my mother's even voice as plainly as I did when I was about 7 years old. "Do...NOT...touch...ANYTHING."

It's not that she was overly strict either. She just knew who she was talking to. I'm the girl who spilled her glass of milk at the dinner table every single night for about two years straight, I swear. This is the girl who to this day, cannot seem to walk a straight line down the street, instead always bumping into my companions. (God help me if I ever get asked to complete a sobriety test). This is a girl who broke about three coffee carafes in a six month period before deciding it was wise to move onto a stainless steel model. Translation: I am a first class klutz.

So you can imagine my anxiety as I walked past a gorgeous sculpture of Aphrodite, screaming to myself, "WHY ISN'T EVERYTHING CONTAINED IN SOME SORT OF PROTECTIVE GLASS BOX ON A STURDY STONE TEN FOOT WIDE PLATFORM?!" I mean, really, I could've tripped and fallen into any one of these things, creating a very unfortunate domino effect of all the emperors and gods of Rome.

It really would've given "the fall of Rome" a whole different meaning. Hardy har har...

So although I envisioned spending a good three to four hours, meandering throughout the museums, I lasted about an hour and a half, popping into only two. Although I'd like to blame my flightiness on my poor eye sight or my fear of destroying an entire exhibit or even my general disinterest in art, I know it had more to do with my mind being elsewhere. Yes, I am in an amazing city with a whole lot at my disposal but what's the point if my mind constantly wanders to the things that are more important to me? I mean, ancient artifacts are fantastic but I think they'd be even more fantastic if the people you adored most were staring at them right next to you.

Plus, they'd probably stop you from falling into Ceasar.