How to experience France: A half-day sprint through the Louvre—lost countless times, but saw the four main treasures
Paris has many museums, but the one that truly gives you that "how is all of human civilization crammed in here" sense of awe is probably the Louvre.
I originally only set aside half a day for the Louvre. Once inside, I realized that decision was far too "naive."
Walking underground from the glass pyramid with a map in hand, I still kept getting lost. Denon, Sully, Richelieu—up and down the stairs, walking until I had no idea which floor I was on. Eventually, I just gave up on "understanding the Louvre" and settled for one simple goal: no matter what, find the "four main treasures" I'd been dreaming of.
As it turned out, I really did see them all: the *Mona Lisa*, the *Winged Victory of Samothrace*, the *Venus de Milo*, and the *Code of Hammurabi*.
By the end of the half-day, I was exhausted, but it was worth it. As I walked out of the Louvre, I silently made a plan for next time:
When I return to Paris, I'm definitely giving the Louvre a full three days.
🏛️ The Louvre is the first exhibit itself
One thing that's easy to forget about the Louvre we see today is that it wasn't originally a museum at all, but a French royal palace.
After centuries of expansion and renovation, the Louvre finally became a museum open to the public after the French Revolution, officially opening on August 10, 1793. In other words, the corridors, domes, and courtyards we walk through today are layered with the history of the French monarchy, empire, and republic.
So, the very thing that makes the Louvre most frustrating is exactly what makes it so charming:
It wasn't built as a structure designed for "efficient tourist visits."
Those corridors, corners, staircases, and palace suites are history themselves. Getting lost seems to have become part of the Louvre experience.
And the glass pyramid designed by I. M. Pei is like a modern crystal wedge driven into the ancient palace. Standing in the plaza, looking at the blue sky, stone walls, and glass-and-steel frame overlapping, hundreds of years of time suddenly appear in the same frame.
🖼️ The first: *Mona Lisa*—five hundred years later, she's still watching you
When you finally stand in front of the *Mona Lisa*, your first feeling might not be awe, but:
Wow, she's so small.
The painting itself is only about 79.4 × 53.4 cm, and it wasn't painted on canvas, but on a poplar wood panel. Today, she is housed behind climate-controlled protective glass in the Salle des États in the Denon Wing.
The woman in the painting is believed to be Lisa Gherardini, the wife of the Florentine merchant Francesco del Giocondo. Leonardo da Vinci began working on it around 1503 but kept the painting with him, continuing to refine it until the final stages of his life. King Francis I of France likely acquired it for the French royal collection in 1518.
What's truly magical is her gaze and the corners of her mouth.
Da Vinci used the famous *sfumato* technique to treat the edges, shadows, and expressions so that there are almost no clear boundaries. As a result, as you stand in different positions, her expression seems to change.
But there's a dramatic story behind how the *Mona Lisa* became a global superstar.
On August 21, 1911, she vanished from the Louvre.
Vincenzo Peruggia, an Italian who had worked at the Louvre, stole the painting and was only caught more than two years later when he tried to sell it to an Italian art dealer. The theft made headlines around the world, which actually pushed the *Mona Lisa*'s fame to unprecedented heights.
So, standing in the sea of people today, holding up my phone, I suddenly found it quite interesting:
Five hundred years ago, a Florentine woman sat down for Leonardo da Vinci to paint her portrait. She probably never imagined that five hundred years later, people from all over the world would still be lining up just to lock eyes with her for a few dozen seconds.
🪽 The second: *Winged Victory*—no head or arms, yet it looks like it's about to take flight any second
If the *Mona Lisa* requires quiet contemplation, the *Winged Victory of Samothrace* almost rushes at you.
Walking up the Daru Staircase in the Denon Wing, she stands at the very top.
No head.
No arms.
Yet she spreads her massive wings, standing on the prow of a warship.
Her clothes look as if they've just been soaked by the sea breeze, clinging to her body and billowing backward. In this moment, stone from over two thousand years ago suddenly has the speed of the wind.
She represents Nike, the goddess of victory in Greek mythology. The statue was originally located in the Sanctuary of the Great Gods on the Aegean island of Samothrace and is closely linked to the sea, navigation, and victory.
In 1863, French diplomat Charles Champoiseau discovered a large number of statue fragments there. When they were first transported to the Louvre and reassembled, they didn't even include the famous wings and ship-shaped base we see today, and the public response was lukewarm. Later, archaeologists realized that the massive gray marble pieces nearby actually formed a ship. After being restored, the goddess finally stood on the prow.
In 1883, she was placed at the top of the Daru Staircase, which has since become one of the most dramatic spaces in the Louvre.
I really love her incomplete state.
Because she has no face, we don't have to look for her expression.
We only need to look at those wings to know what victory means.
🏺 The third: *Venus de Milo*—after losing her arms, her beauty became an eternal mystery
The atmosphere is completely different when you arrive at the *Venus de Milo*.
The *Winged Victory* is wind, power, and rushing forward.
The *Venus* is quiet.
Her body is slightly twisted, the folds of her drapery resting at her waist, her weight naturally shifted to one side. Two-thousand-year-old marble somehow takes on an incredibly soft appearance.
She was discovered on the Greek island of Milos in 1820, then acquired by a French diplomat stationed there and presented to Louis XVIII; the King gifted her to the Louvre in 1821.
And her most famous question, of course, is:
Where did her arms go?
There is still no definitive answer.
The statue was already in fragments when it was discovered. A hand holding an apple was found nearby, leading some to speculate that she might have originally been holding an apple—which also aligns with the story of Aphrodite receiving the golden apple in the "Judgment of Paris."
But the Louvre also points out that, based on the position of her left leg, she might have also been holding a shield.
Thus, the two missing arms have left her with an eternal, unsolvable suspense.
Perhaps that's how art is sometimes:
Completeness gives us the answer, while incompleteness has let us imagine for two hundred years.
⚖️ The fourth: *Code of Hammurabi*—3,700 years ago, humanity had already begun to ask what fairness is
What surprised me most this time was actually the *Code of Hammurabi*.
Because after seeing it countless times in history books, standing in front of it, I realized it was actually so huge—about 2.25 meters tall.
The black basalt stele is densely carved with cuneiform script.
Around 1750 BC, the ancient Babylonian King Hammurabi had about 282 judicial precedents and rulings carved onto the stele, covering social life such as family, property, trade, and labor. Strictly speaking, it is not a complete "code" in the modern sense, but rather closer to a massive compilation of case law.
The relief at the very top of the stele is especially worth a close look.
Standing is Hammurabi, and sitting is Shamash, the god of the sun and justice. The god is granting the king the symbols of power—as if telling the people of 3,700 years ago:
**The law is not just the king's command; it also requires a legitimacy that comes from "justice."**
Its later fate was equally legendary.
The stele originally belonged to Mesopotamia but was taken to Susa as war booty by the King of Elam during ancient wars. It wasn't until around 1901–1902 that a French archaeological team rediscovered it in Susa, in present-day Iran; since 1904, it has been an important exhibit of Near Eastern antiquities at the Louvre.
So, what you see standing before the stele is not just "a famous ancient legal document."
It is the voice left behind by a civilization:
People 3,700 years ago were also arguing about marriage, property, debt, labor, injury, and compensation.
The times have completely changed, but the problems humanity faces are surprisingly familiar.
💙 The biggest takeaway from a half-day at the Louvre: really, don't try to "see it all"
My biggest mistake on this half-day trip was thinking at the beginning that I would "see a few more wings."
I realized later:
The Louvre isn't meant to be checked off a list.
From the 18th century BC Hammurabi, to the ancient Greek Venus and Winged Victory, to that elusive smile from Leonardo da Vinci's brush during the Renaissance—in just a few hours, over three thousand years of human civilization were compressed into turns, staircases, getting lost, and chance encounters.
By the end, my legs were completely unresponsive.
But seeing all "four main treasures" was a satisfying conclusion to my first Louvre visit.
It's just that the paintings I didn't have time to stop for, the sculptures I just hurried past, and the exhibition halls whose names I didn't even have time to read, have left me with countless reasons to return to Paris.