The entire museum is like a maze. It's full of dead ends that you're herded into by other visitors, then you're forced to turn around and attempt to find the way you came in, all the while pushing your way through other tourists who are shoving you out of the way.
Once you get out of the maze-like hallways on the first floor, you head up crowded stairs to the second floor into large rooms. The rooms were pretty spacious, yet even the largest room can feel like a cramped closet when there are enough people squished together. These rooms are like one-way roads; you can't go backwards, or risk the wrath of angry tourists shoving you even more. You can hardly even stop to get a good view at a piece of artwork.
Today I felt more than a tourist; I felt like a scholar who was attempting to learn and appreciate what was around me, but couldn't because I was blocked by others rushing about. Because of this, I was forced to act like a tourist: push my way up to a piece, take a quick picture of it, and run away. I know I will look back at my pictures and not even remember taking pictures of half the statues, tapestries, and paintings that I saw.
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