They were asking for it. It is not my fault. They made me do it. Numerous signs and staff inform visitors that no photography is allowed—this is in a museum that has extensive exhibits of secret photography methods and equipment. There was no way I could pass up that challenge. Particularly when I have a tiny camera I purchased just for discreet photography as I travel. There are many places I do not feel comfortable to wave my big camera around and yet I want to take pictures. In this case, it was verboten! Nein! Perfect!
So maybe I wasn’t risking incarceration, torture, or death, but I could very easily have gotten a stern warning from the cherubic twentyish guard. I know what you are thinking; I was really living on the edge, pushing the envelope. You know, sometimes you have to take risks to truly live life. In exchange for a little danger I was able to smuggle out a few blurry pictures of Eric and a lipstick gun, and some decent video of the automated spy car exhibit. I could have served my country well.
Eric was dying to see the spy museum. It was my third time because I had first gone by myself, then with Patrícia, and now with Eric. The museum is very slick and has an impressive collection of actual historical spy gear and info as well as pop culture exhibits. The difference between the two is striking. The popular media glorification of the profession is completely opposite of the terrifying and occasionally mundane reality. The last thing a spy wants is to stand out and end up getting caught. There have been a few spies that did it for ego, but even they knew well enough not to cruise around Monte Carlo in a tricked out Aston Martin, throwing their reputation and libido around like craps dice. Also, I think being a spy was generally dangerous, scary, and difficult enough of work that people avoided things like fake volcanoes equipped with huge laser cannons and/or moon rockets, but that is the evil doctor department anyway.
I think the best part of the whole thing for Eric was the gift shop afterward. It is good to end the often somber museum experience with some joyful, unbridled consumerism. Spy toys! And nothing says that you are a spy like branded plastic gear from the International Spy Museum does. They do have a lot of cool stuff. It is too bad that the little bit of really cool gear is priced accordingly.
I picked up a t-shirt with a Chinese cultural revolution design that I thought was really cool. Under a picture of some people looking nobly forward, it said, “Working toward a glorious future.” I assumed that the Chinese writing said the same. Once again my assumption was wrong. A few days later at breakfast in the guesthouse, a fellow traveler, Jasmine (Chou Fei (spelling?)) told me what it actually said: “We criticize the honor of the criminals that came before us.” Or something equally non-glorious. It was kind of like someone telling you that your favorite jeans make your butt look fat. I still like wearing the blatant propaganda but I feel self-conscious in front of Chinese people.
Luckily, Jasmine did not hold it against me and went with me (in the shirt) to watch congress debate a bill for tracking where our money in Iraq goes. The Republicans opposed it for a reason that escaped me. Why would we want to know how our tax dollars were spent? Hmmmn…. Then we had lunch in one of the House of Representatives office buildings with some of our elected leaders and half a billion lobbyists. I didn’t see “freedom fries” on the menu, thank God.
Before Eric went back home, we squeezed in a visit to the Bureau of Engraving, also known as the Mint, where we saw them print millions of dollars of our beloved greenbacks. The process is complicated and very controlled. They keep track of every tiny bit of paper to keep people from taking their work home with them. It was weird to pull out a bill from my wallet and know that those guys behind the glass printed it. It wasn’t a long tour, but as always, it ended in the gift shop. Eric couldn’t resist the big bag of shredded money. I wonder if anyone has ever tried to paste it back together; for $4 you can get a bag of $500 worth of shredded bills. I am sure someone has tried.
