Swetsville Zoo: Metal Animals in Fort Collins, Colorado USA (2003)

And the band played on. 

The Swetsville Zoo may be the greatest roadside attraction in all of the United States. Maybe even greater than Carhenge. So what is it? Where is it? Why is it?

Where it is is just outside Fort Collins. What it is is a collection of metal sculptures made mostly from car parts.

Why it is is obvious. Because the world could always use another collection of whimsical metal animal sculptures.

I visited in June 2003. I remember hearing a few years later that it was closing and that the land was going to be used for condominiums or a strip mall or something less whimsical. I assumed it was closed. But it wasn't. In the summer of 2019, the land officially went on the market, so it could be sold to build condominiums or a strip mall or something far less whimsical.

But the Swetsville Zoo apparently still is open and inspiring awe.

For example: wow. That VW Bug has been transformed into a giant bug.

Sea serpent and turtles. Turning old tires into the body of a sea serpent may be obvious once you think about, but who thought of it before Mr. Swets constructed his Zoo.

In a world of digial photographhy, I would have taken about 1 million pictures. But film was expensive to develop and pictures were scarce. Hence that awesome skeletal dinosaur has to be merely background fodder for that awesome giant winged insect scuplture in the foreground. The skeletal dinosaur deserved a photo in its own right.

Snoopy and Woodstock, transformed:

There was a small "indoor" section of the Swetsville Zoo, which is where the really weird stuff was kept.

It gets weirder:

This one has a dinosaur/Star Wars stormtrooper/I've been working on the railroad vibe that somehow works perfectly fine in this environment.

Not all the zoo animals are friendly, of course:

But more are.

This was an absolutely amazing place.

Well worth the time spent. Enjoy it while it is still of this world, even though it may be other-wordly.

Pilgrimage to Carhenge (June 2003)

Somewhere in a field, not far from the town of Alliance in the high plains of Western Nebraska, is one of the most amazing, awe-inspiring, roadside attractions in all of the Americas: Carhenge.

Three and a half miles north of Alliance, Carhenge may be found. And what exactly is Carhenge? And what makes it so awesome?

Carhenge is a replica of the more famous Stonehenge. Unlike Stonehenge, however, which is made of stone, Carhenge is made of cars.

Hence the name.

These are all American automobiles from the 1960s and 1970s, repainted a flat monotone stoney gray. Each car in the "henge" was precisely placed in exact alignment with the stones of the English henge of stone.

Where the stones on the Plains of Salisbury have fallen, the Dodge or Chevy or AMC Gremlin (yes, there is a Gremlin, see it right there on the left, atop two cars) is placed at an angle that mimics what can be found at the original.

But where the stones are still standing where originally placed, the cars are standing tall, like soldiers. Well, soldiers with a car placed at a right angle on top of them and the next soldier in alignment.

It is a spiritual, mystical and, yes, whimsical, experience.

Those cars were adjacent to Carhenge, but they were not part of the "henge." They're the wrong color, for one thing. And none of the stones of the Stonehenge were placed directly above like the two yellow cars above.

And the Carhenge site attracted other whimsical art, such as ...

"Spawning salmon." I can see it. Abstract expressionism is dead in the fields of Western Nebraska. Whimsical realism reigns.

And finally, in the greater Carhenge art installation site, there was this ....

Just a metal dinosaur? Or a foreshadow of the next destination on the travel through multiple magical destinations in the summer of 2003?

Living In a Terracotta World

At the intersection of Gaudi Boulevard and Flintstone Way

About a mile outside of Villa de Leyva is the Casa Terracota, the Terracotta House, a house (allegedly) built entirely of unreinforced ceramic terracotta.  This was my priority for my visit to Villa de Leyva.

The house is equal parts Antoni Gaudi and Fred Flintstone.

With a few Joan Miró like touches thrown in for decoration.

The house was designed and built by Colombian architect Octavio Mendoza, built from clay that had been left to bake in the sun.  Other than metal and glass ornamentation, this place is ceramic (although a few decorative touches felt to my un-expert touch like plaster of Paris, rather than ceramics).

It was only a 20-minute walk, which included these two dogs barking at everyone from their second floor vantage point:

I walked past a real estate development with lots for sale.  Just like in the USA, the grand entryway was the first thing built for this real estate development:

Lots of these grand entryways in Las Vegas are still standing with no development behind them 10 years-plus after the real estate collapse.  Let's hope this one in Colombia fairs better.

Finding the dirt road, off the main road on which the Casa Terracota may be found, was tricky.  I ran into a German woman, whose English (and Spanish) were as good as my Spanish, who apparently had been wandering up and down the main road looking for the Terracotta House.  We decided to take this dirt road:

And after a couple of minutes walking, there it was:

How did I know this was the right dirt road when I am walking around sans GPS (like the Flintstone Age!)?  It was the dirt road that I saw a few people and cars heading down.

Even the neighbors got in on the "terracotta" theme action:

 It looks beautiful baking in the sun:

Let's have a look around, shall we?

Metal animal sculptures abound:

Refreshment stand:

I'm visible over the owl's right shoulder, so, technically, this qualifies as a selfie:

I don't know if this part of the house is supposed to remind one of a giant dinosaur tail -- there are major fossil excavation sites in the area -- but this part is definitely more Fred Flintstone than Antoni Gaudi:

And as we climb toward the roof, it becomes more Gaudi, which is fitting, because Gaudi loved to weird-up his roofs:

View from the top:

Phallus-like chimney, which is fitting as, again, there are local allusions.  The "El Infiernito," or "Little Hell" site is nearby filled with giant stone phalluses carved up by those porn-loving indigenouses from a thousand years ago, the Muiscas.

I'm guessing some turista knocked the head off this one awhile back:

View of the surrounding area from the roof.  (Those are pipes, not a solar panel, by the way.)

Do you want to see the kitchen?

And over the stove hangs a metal fish:

I like that.  I like that a lot.

The terracotta house even has terracotta toys:

And let's have a look at the giant insect chandelier:

Upstairs, shall we?

Here's a terracotta bedroom.  Fortunately, that is not a terracotta mattress:

I like forsaking the terracotta for some colorful decorative ceramic tile here, in the master bath:

Overview of the living room, although I guess this is technically more of a "family room" since it's off the kitchen.

Every bedroom should have weird metal sculptures:

Again, kind of Miró in my amateur estimation.

And here's something you don't see everyday:  a metal insect chair:

And here's an antique from the Fred Flintstone Era:

A 13-inch cathode-ray tube TV set!  Baa-dmmp, baa-dmmmp.

Getting terracotta-ed out?  Let's go outside again.

The pond here doesn't look like a healthy edition to the house:

Nor does this giant insect window covering, for that matter:

And what's this body doing on the lawn?

It's art!

As is this:

El fin.