Spoonbridge

As the leaves on the hills above the river begin to turn and Autumn approaches, I have just realized that it has been a year since I moved to Mankato. My first time living away from “the Cities” has been a good experience. A definitive college town, downtown Mankato has an atmosphere that is an interesting mix between old and new though it definitely has an arty, historical ambiance. The Minnesota River valley gives the town a nice, hilly definition. On top of the hills, Minnesota State University Mankato and modern malls predominate; it feels almost as if you are going forward in time as you go uphill. Autumn is the best season here, I think as new college students arrive and energize the town with art and music events (even with a little too much drinking), the wooded hills turn orange, and the temperature makes it perfect for sipping hot tea at the Coffee Hag. As I continue my studies Mankato I will relish the time I spend here.

After reading American Gods, I had wanted to see this place for awhile, especially since I am an avid fan of roadside attractions. Now that I have been there, I can certainly see how it can be both wonderful and horrible to different people. It has the definite feel of a love it or hate it place, one that evokes a variety of feelings. For me, its diversity of displays brought a sense of wonder but the cave like tunnels twittering with odd music made me feel anxious, overwhelmed. It is probably the closest thing to a dream that I have seen in the real world, in feelings evoking both wonder and fear.

I knew that it would be big, but I was shocked at just how HUGE the place is. Ramshackle warrens meander through the hilly Wisconsin woods, objects d’art scattered everywhere in the interior and exterior. The sheer creativity needed to construct the place was evident in the maze like paths and stairs going up to the House itself (pure kitschy glory) to the exhaustive collections of bizarre antiques, statues, weaponry, dolls, and just about anything else you could think of on display elsewhere in the complex. The marvelous, beautiful, bizarre, and downright creepy crowd for space in cramped corridors as madcap automatic music prances in the background, after families deposit tokens into these elaborate machines to bring them to life. The artifacts are displayed with little rhyme or reason, old Santa promotional items found side by side with antique guns, 19th century scrimshaw, or Asian statues (authentic or reproductions? In this collection, it does not matter).

One thing that I particularly noted was the darkness of the majority of the rooms, even those in the House itself. Little of the sun penetrates into the interior, which both increases it illusory, dreamlike vibe but also makes it feel like it could be deep underground, some kind of underworld as it were. In such an environment, dust and mildew prosper, making the air occasionally unpleasant to breath, especially for those with allergies. Photography can prove particularly difficult.

After wandering the winding maze of rooms, filled with more and more things (I won’t call it junk, because each item among the hundreds of thousands surely has its own history, even the 20th century kitsch statues) my feet began to hurt and I started to lose track of time. How long had I been in there? Was it still even light outside? What WAS that thing on the carousel? Where was the exit? Would I ever escape? Whoa, that’s a lot of dolls. Finally, I made it out and found the sun shining, the tourists thronging around the parking lot like any other day in reality. Inside, though, time stays still, only the bewildered and interested people moving through changing. Of course, new things are planned for the House on the Rock in the next couple years, so in a way things are always changing and each visit would bring new things.

I have to say that this is a very contradictory, strange place. I enjoyed it, though I think I would want some time to pass before I venture inside House on the Rock again (certainly not helped by the exorbitant price to tour it, $28 with no student discount). Despite everything, the main thing that I took out the experience was the power of creativity and wonder; the builder wanted to create something, his dream and he did, and it became a dream world as well as a nightmare for many other people as well.

I visited Charleston on my first major trip into the American South, and it was my favorite city that I stopped at during the vacation. It seemed laid back, yet crowded with a lot of very interesting architecture, the palmettos providing an atmosphere I hadn’t seen before in the US. I was particularly impressed, however, by the shear number of ghost walks and tours available in Charleston all year, at least a dozen offering gimmicks as diverse as candlelight to boat rides. Always interested in a good spooky walk, I chose “The Ghosts of Charleston” tour (based on a book) which included a tour of the wonderfully overgrown Unitarian cemetery, which I highly recommend. I definitely think I will visit again in the future.