Rachel Katz<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
It was hovering around 3\u00baC in Montreal. I had stupidly worn only a windbreaker and was dying<\/em> to go inside. The wind whipped around my face as I followed Rachel Katz It was hovering around 3\u00baC in Montreal. I had stupidly worn only a windbreaker and was dying to go inside. The wind whipped around my face as I followed my parents and brother up the steps to … Continue reading
\nmy parents and brother up the steps to the door. The four of us had a little
\nchuckle at the sign with a dinosaur on it and then I reached for the door
\nhandle. It did not budge. After a solid yank, it yielded and we stepped into
\nthe McGill campus\u2019s Redpath Museum. I looked around, astonished. It was the
\nkind of old, solid wood building only described in books. The space itself was
\nbeautiful, richly-coloured, and varnished, without being too extravagant;
\nhowever, the architecture could not compete with the specimens within the
\nmuseum. It was like visiting a turn-of-the-century gentlemen\u2019s curio club.
\nArranged around the three floors of exhibits were fossils and skeletons, geological
\nwonders, a slab of a 700-year-old tree that was wider than I am tall, an
\nEgyptian mummy, and even a shrunken head. It was as though my entire family had
\nbeen reduced to a state of child-like wonder. We wandered around the museum for
\nwell over two hours, peeking in every nook and cranny, taking in all the
\ndetails. In my mind, this was what going to the museum should be like: a cozy,
\nwarmly-lit space full of some of the world\u2019s most interesting wonders. As we
\nleft the museum at the end of our exploration, I couldn\u2019t help but feel a
\nlittle bit jealous of the Montrealers who get to go to the Redpath Museum
\nwhenever they want. Every once in a while, we come across a place where we
\nautomatically feel at home, and I think the Redpath Museum was such a place for
\nme.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"