Remember the old joke about the pessimistic little boy and the optimistic little boy? When the pessimistic little boy gets a pony for his birthday, he starts to cry and says “It’ll just shit everywhere!” And when the optimistic little boy is told that his birthday present is a huge pile of shit, he gleefully leaps in the pile and starts digging around, shouting “All this shit means that there’s got to be a pony in here somewhere!”
I am a museum optimist, happily digging through heaps of… whatever to find pony-equivalents. But today at the Sewer Museum, my optimism was tested to the limit. Here follows a record of my hopes and how they progressively shrank towards pessimism:
- Hope level 1: The Parisian sewer system must be really complex and interesting to deserve a whole museum! Reality: Waste water exits buildings via small sewer pipes which join up into medium sewer pipes which join up into large sewer tunnels – just like you would design with a crayon if you were five years old. The only complex part of the system are the waste water treatment plants, but their workings aren’t explained here. Different union and thus, theoretically, different museum.
- Hope level 2: Ok, so this museum is mostly about ways of cleaning out accumulated debris from the sewers. But hey - maybe that process is really cool – like, what it there’s a huge boat that sewer workers ride in the biggest tunnels, like sewer pirates, lords of the shit sea! Reality: Yeah, there is a huge boat, and, at my count, approximately two other interesting things in the entire museum. Not really enough, given the smell (for which, see below).
- Hope level 3: Well, fine. Even if the objects in the museum aren’t that cool, maybe the space itself is still awesome – after all, the galleries are in real, working sections of the Parisian sewer system! Reality: The smell. Oh, the smell. Try maintaining your interest in signage about developments in 18th century sewer technology while standing on a grate over a rushing river of waste water. Seriously. They threw some grating over 15-feet-wide sewer tunnels and called it an exhibition space. At last, someone more optimistic than me.
Actually, I didn’t think that the smell was that bad (optimism again – plus I grew up on a farm), but my friend was wrapping his scarf around his face and sprinted up the exit steps. So, in conclusion… I can’t decide whether this place is just terrible or if it’s so terrible that it’s worth a visit. Guess it depends on your odor tolerance…
