Ghosts in the Antalya Museum

Ok, I've never wandered through a museum exhibition as a paying tourist/guest while it was being put together. Usually, museum people are a bit fussy about keeping things tidy and under wraps until a renovation is complete.

Not in Turkey, however! No rules here.

We came in the front door of the Antalya museum a week ago last Friday, dodging small cement mixers, and granite floor polishing machines whirring away. The floor polisher dude kindly squeegeed away the water/slop/polishing liquid to let me go by. His bulging biceps rippled as he pulled the long handled tool across the tile and his dark eyes flickered toward me as I .. oh, good grief, what? 

What's that you're saying?

Scratch all that. 

Hell, where were we? 

Ummm, yes, there was scaffolding, and other equipment too. 

Right..... 

Equipment.... 

Wait. What? What were we talking about? 

No! Focus! Museums. 

Yes, that's it. 

Sheesh.

The smell of paint was overpowering, and here's why...

Sure! Just wander in. Of course you can grab a brush and help out if you like. Just don't paint a mustache on Pliny the Elder's head over there, okay?

Oh no! Watch out! Ghosts!

Oops, sorry, no. False alarm. Just Greek and Roman statuary under plastic drop-cloths. 

My stars and garters, they did give me a turn! Until I calmed down and remembered that they're naked under those drop-cloths. Mmmmm. 

Hey chop chop! Back to archaeological things now. Really. 

If you're still in the mood for some skeletons, check these babies out. Rather than being decorative vases or outdoor fire chimneys or beehives or something else, these pod-shaped vessels are burial chambers.

I think Mr D was quite interested in these models. Economical, rather, aren't they? All that sacrophagus-carving runs into money, you know? Not that he's cheap or anything. No. 

But one doesn't want to just throw one's money away, does one? Or bury it. 

Not that our post-world-financial-apocalypse two farthings are going to go very far.

And we ruled out the marble family crypt with his-n-hers headstones after our Polish cemetery walk on All Saints' Day, because after all, I flip around all night long whilst sleeping, and he snores. It would just be a big fat waste of money and no one would get any rest. We'd be up and around every night, wandering as haints until the end of time.

These burial pods, on the other hand, look cute and cozy. And for an eternity. 

Or until some 20-something archaeologist finds you and starts pissin' about with yer bones.