Blog · life

In Pursuit of a Paleontology Enthusiast Antiquarian Vampirologist, Part II

In case you missed the first part of our adventure, you can find it here!

We showed up promptly at 11:10 AM, still unsure of what we were getting into. Once we stepped out of the car, we were almost spoiled for choice — there was a small sculpture garden immediately in front of us, with some very lovely statuary.

A replica of Michelangelo's David, with a small image of a bird hanging in front of his junk.
Including a very modest David.

Signs directed us to the Dinosaur Park, which we eagerly followed. They led us past more statuary, into an area populated by large, brightly colored dinosaur statues. They were kept in their own pens made up of neatly trimmed hedges and garden fences, interspersed with large, bright mushrooms, a vintage carousel horse, and a spiraling labyrinth that ended in a gazebo at the center of it all.

Along the edges, the border between “Dinosaur Park” and “Sculpture Garden” got a bit blurry.

Outside of the Dinosaur Park, the grounds were immaculately kept and full of flowers. There were ponds covered in bright pink and white water lilies, and bushes spangled with flowers and butterflies.

A pair of small snail statues on a stone sphinx throne surrounded by bright purple flowers.
Also snail royalty.
A close-up of a similar throne. It features ornate arms supported by a pair of small sphinxes.
A closer look at a similar sphinx throne in a different material. I’ll be honest, I kind of want one to put under the maple tree in the back.
A bamboo forest with a pair of Imperial lion statues in front.

Everywhere we walked seem to have something new to look at, to an almost disorienting degree. I know the outdoor area wasn’t that big, but we did manage to get turned around here and there.

There was even a large stand of bamboo guarded by a pair of stone Imperial lions.

What was most interesting, however, was the mix of materials. Some of the more whimsical statuary was made of cast concrete or gaily-painted fiberglass, but many of the larger pieces were carved stone. Take a close look at the pair of busts in the image below — all of the armor, clothing, et cetera is made of carefully fitted-together stone. None of it is painted. There were pieces in alabaster, marble, quartz, and granite, all of them uniquely beautiful.

A dolphin fountain flanked by a pair of bronze horses and elaborate busts.

Once we were done getting lost in labyrinths and jumpscared by the occasional clown statue, we headed inside. The bulk of the antique shop was in a large barn, about half of which was taken up by a workshop.

The first floor was a dinner party set for invisible guests. The walls were hung with heavy curtains in silk and velvet, punctuated with carved stone statues. These, like the busts above, wore outfits of carefully selected and fitted-together stone, cut and carved so their graceful limbs could show through.

A pair of bronze eagles battle in front of a panel of frosted glass painted with ornate flowers and botanical motifs.

Of to the side, there was a selection of brass candelabras, smaller sculptures, and stained glass.

In the center, there was a large, broad staircase. The top was dark — dark enough that I wondered if it was actually off-limits. There didn’t really seem to be anyone there other than us and a handful of employees… did anyone even know we were there?

Eventually, our curiosity got the better of us. We quietly crept up the stairs, though there were no lights and the temperature seemed to grow more oppressive with every step.

I was very glad we had.

The top floor of the barn was absolutely full of treasures. Carved four-poster beds hung with silk brocade. Velvet chaises. Oil paintings the size of my bedroom, framed in gold leafed baroque style. Panels upon panels of stained glass.

A large oil painting, marble bust, velvet sofa pinned with a white lace antimaccasar, and heavily adorned cabinet.
Everything in this picture is about two hundred years old and worth more money than I will ever see.

The only light came from a large window at the front. The sunlight streamed down through it onto a grand piano, illuminating dust motes that sparkled like glitter. There was also a pair of life-sized sculptures holding massive, branching lamps of brass and crystal.

A photo of the description above -- ornate furniture in silhouette against a large window, flanked by sculptures supporting large light fixtures. Some of the chandeliers on the ceiling are adorned with faux butterflies.
This is probably my favorite picture I’ve ever taken of anything.

At one point, I think I saw the owner. He passed through the room swiftly, so I didn’t get a good look — just a glimpse of his back and a faint whiff of oakmoss and vetiver.

My Handsome Assistant attempted to track someone down, and did manage to talk to one of the employees for a bit. According to her, the Vampire and Paranormal Museum is in the process of reopening in one of the houses on the premises. The owner was very secretive about it, however — he was remodeling the whole interior, and hadn’t allowed even his closest friends to see it. It wouldn’t be open until later this year, most likely in October or November.

Even though we didn’t get to speak to the man himself, or see the actual museum, we were satisfied. To be honest, just browsing the antiques felt like looking at a clandestine immortal’s collection of stuff, so I left feeling like I’d been to a vampire museum anyhow.

When we went to leave, a peacock prevented me from getting in the car. It was both completely unexpected, yet entirely appropriate. I guess if you’re going to have a Dinosaur Park, you need one or two alive ones.

A large male peacock stands between the viewer (me) and a silver car.

All told, 10/10 experience. Would sidequest again.

Just for fun · life

Sometimes I have trouble following the plot of my own life. (Or: In Pursuit of a Paleontology Enthusiast Antiquarian Vampirologist.)

I’m not really big on the whole Manifestation thing, I’ll be honest.
That aside, I have noticed that, when I’m starting to feel like life is a little same-y, the universe is extremely willing to help. And by “help,” I mean send me on some very strange field trips.

I wasn’t the only one who’d been feeling like life was getting routine. My Handsome Assistant works very hard, and very long hours. It’s not a physically laborious job, but it’s the kind of work that’s both mentally demanding and continues to be a whole Thing around the clock. He even has trouble taking time off, so he finally said that enough was enough, blocked off some PTO, and we scheduled a small vacation.

I suggested New Hope, PA, because it’s the kind of thing that we both find fun and relaxing: No itinerary, lots of art and history, lovely architecture, ghosts, nature, and tasty food. It’s immediately adjacent to Lambertville, NJ, too, which is ludicrously packed with antique shops and art galleries. We could wake up whenever, go wherever, and no matter where we decided to walk, there was pretty much guaranteed to be something neat to do, see, or eat.

The vacation part is a lovely and relaxing story for another time.

While Handsome Assistant was in the shower, I was sitting on the floor of the hotel, charging my phone and idly tapping through a map of the area to see what looked like a fun destination for the following day.

That’s when I saw it.

A screenshot of Google Maps, prominently showing VAMPA Vampire & Paranormal Museum.

“VAMPA Vampire and Paranormal Museum.”

“Permanently Closed.”

"My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined."

I took a screenshot and sent it to him for shits and giggles. There’s always something darkly funny in simultaneously discovering something cool, and that it has ceased to exist.

He texted back. We laughed it off. I pointed out a neat antique shop we could look at, and my tiny disappointment was forgotten.

Little did I know that VAMPA had continued to live in his mind.

A corked glass bottle full of bones. A tag tied to the neck says, "Peacock Bones $45."

Unbeknownst to me, the antique shop that I’d wanted to go see was located in a very large building — large and filled enough to make Google Maps get a little complicated. Locations were hazy estimates, at best. I didn’t mind, though. Everything was in walking distance, and what was an extra block or two?

Inside was a veritable treasure house of weird. The air was filled with the vaguely vanilla scent of old books, naphthalene, leather, and straw. I looked through strings of antique snake vertebrae, preserved hornets’ nests, bottles of peacock bones, old containers of patent medicine (some still half-full of highly questionable powders and jellies), and hand-colored German anatomical prints. Handsome Assistant and I got separated at some point, but I wasn’t too worried.

A display of colorful parasols suspended upside-down from a ceiling.

The “shop” was less of a shop than it was a marketplace. Each floor had its own set of vendors, including one guy who’d collected a very varied and impressive selection of crystal specimens. There were lovely slices of amethyst geodes, palm stones of every description, fossil specimens, spheres of every color, and even a large piece of alabaster marked, “Great for sculptors!”

I came away with a polished freeform moss agate and a sunstone palm stone, while Handsome Assistant chose a small sphere of tiger’s and hawk’s eye. (The gold of the tiger’s eye and blue of the hawk’s eye swirl together like the atmosphere of some strange and distant planet, shifting in the light in a way that’s honestly kind of mesmerizing.)

As we left, he turned to me in excitement.

“So,” he began, both handsomely and assistantly, “The vampire museum used to be on the top floor of this place.”

“Really? Huh,” I replied, neither attractively nor helpfully.

“Apparently the guy who owned it closed the museum, sold some of his collection, and moved up the road. He has an antique shop with dinosaurs in the front. You know what that means.”

I did not know what that meant.

“It means,” he continued as we walked, “That there’s more of his collection that he didn’t sell yet.

After that, there was lunch and ice cream sandwiches. We got patio seating immediately next to a graveyard. I had a long and interesting conversation about veganism with our server. We were attacked by wasps. The whole afternoon got kind of hazy after a certain point.

Anyway, this is how we found ourselves in the car in the late afternoon, on the hunt for a large estate full of Dinosauria.
There was only one problem: We had literally nothing else to go on. No names, no street address, nothing.

“Just drive up the road. You’ll see the dinosaurs.”
That was basically it.

I think we drove on for about forty-five minutes with no luck. There was a museum, but it was neither vampiric, paranormal, nor paleontological, and thus of little interest to us at that moment. (There was also a really neat mossy green house with black trim. That was mostly interesting because we have to replace our siding soon and house exteriors are the kind of thing we’ve found ourselves starting to care about, largely against our collective will.)

I don’t know what compelled us to take a different route. It was probably just a desire to find a more scenic road back to the hotel. But that was when we saw it.

A very weathered wood sign near the road, simply marked “ANTIQUES.”

And an allosaurus.

A large statue of an allosaurus, in the midst of a garden.

We pulled into the gravel driveway cautiously. (I’m not sure why, it just seemed correct.)
The door was locked, its hours prominently posted.

“Wednesday, 11 AM.”

Handsome Assistant and I looked at each other. We knew now what we had to do.