If there weren’t already enough reasons to visit Barcelona, Spain, now you have another one.  Casa Batllo is situated at 43 Passeig de Gracia in the Illa de la Discordia in Barcelona, and it is open for tours to the lucky traveler.

The structure itself was built in 1877, but remodeled and finished in 1906 by Antoni Gaudi and Josep Maria Jujol.  Gaudi, who was born in 1852 and died in 1926, was a very creative and unconventional architect who fought through the initial ridicule and judgment of his peers to create his own special visions.

Casa Batllo, also called “The House of Bones” or Casa dels Ossos, makes use of sculpted stone and mosaic to create a totally unique exterior.

The roof is arched like the ridged fin of some strange fish or dinosaur, and one legend says that the turret and cross on top stand for Saint George’s sword – which of course he used to kill the dragon.

The roofline of Casa Batllo

The man who commissioned the building was a rich aristocrat named Josep Batlo.

As for the interior of the structure, Batllo himself lived in the building for a while – the first floor apartment is included in the tour.  Batllo and his family lived on the first and second floors of the building, and they rented out the upper floors to residential tenants.

It only costs 17.80 Euros per person to tour this historic structure.  That includes an audio guided tour and can observe the grandeur and charm of this true work of art.

Francis Bannerman was obviously a pretty rich guy.  After all, he had enough money to buy 90% of the Spanish-American War’s army surplus (the US side, at least).  And then, because his Manhattan surplus store didn’t have the storage space (and because his neighbors weren’t wild about having a whole lot of ammunition on the block, Bannerman had a enough money to buy an entire island to store his goods upon.  In 1900, that was a lot of money.  Today, it would be astronomical.

The island Bannerman bought was called Pollepel Island.  During New York’s settlement by the Dutch, the island was a source of great fear for the American Indians in the area, who believed that evil spirits inhabited it.  That made it a great hiding place for rival tribes and settlers who wanted to avoid skirmishes with the natives.

The name of the island when Bannerman bought it, Pollepel, comes from a legend about a Dutch settler woman named Polly Pell. There are varying versions of the legend, but since I have some editorial control I will only tell you my favorite version.   Polly Pell was in love with one man, but promised to a preacher who was much older than her.  The fiance took Polly ice-skating on the frozen surface of the Hudson River and as they skated the ice began to crack.  Polly’s true love, who was watching from the woods, rushed out to help Polly and her fiance and let them to this island in the Hudson River.  The preacher was so grateful for their rescue, and seeing the obvious love between Polly and her secret sweetheart, let Polly off the hook and married the two lovebirds right on the spot.

Very unlikely, but oh well.  It is all true.  Or it isn’t.  It is.  It’s true.  Partially, I’m sure.

Other reports say that The Flying Dutchman crashed on the island, while others claim that the Dutch believed that goblins lived on the island.  The island was also a key strategic point during the Revolutionary War, and George Washington had plans to build a prison on the island, though nobody knows if that ever panned out.  None of this deterred Bannerman from purchasing the island and building his arsenal/warehouse on it, as well as a private residence on the other end of the 6.5 acre rocky island.

Bannerman’s design was inspired by his Scottish heritage.  He wanted a castle fit for a weapons king, and his warehouse and arsenal was large indeed, with several smaller side buildings that contained shells and live ammunition.  The residence Bannerman built on the other side of the island was, of course, another castle, though smaller than the “warehouse” and missing the large sign that adorned the larger structure.  It read “Bannerman’s Island Arsenal,” and served as an advertisement for his business in the city.

Unfortunately, the structure loses a little more of itself every day.  Construction stopped when Bannerman died in 1918.  His family continued to live on the island, but in 1920 one of the smaller structures which was home to hundreds of pounds of live ammunition, exploded violently, injuring Mrs. Bannerman, vaulting a wall of the structure all the way over to the mainland, and taking out a piece of the largest castle in the process.

I’m not sure if the family continued to live on the island after that, but in 1950, the ferryboat that carried passengers to and from the island sank in a big storm, and by then the family definitely didn’t live there.  After the ferry sank, the warehouse and residence were deserted.  The state bought the island in 1967 (not sure how much they paid for it), and they started allowing tours to take place in 1968.  This only lasted a few months, because a raging fire erupted in August of 1969, burning up the roof and floors of the warehouse and blowing out the windows of the  residence on the other end of the island.  The island was pretty much condemned until very recently, when different tour groups started taking groups over in a very “enter at your own risk” sort of capacity.  Hard hats are required on all visits.

Hudson Valley Outfitters and Storm King Adventure Tours run kayak tours of the island, whereas the less kayak-y types can take a tour with Hudson River Adventures and the Bannerman Castle Trust.  They run by boat.

Senator Charles Schumer is trying to save the castle by seeking out funding under the Save America’s Treasures program and other means.  Additionally, the Bannerman Castle Trust, Inc. accepts donations on their webpage, or you can send it to The Bannerman Castle Trust, Inc. at  P.O Box 843, Glenham, NY 12527-0843, call them at 845-831-6346, or email them at admin@bannermancastle.org.

In the desert town of Boulder City, Nevada, there is a house that I think we’d all like to visit.  The Pirates Cove is a swashbuckling delight that is made up of pirate decor, several pools, a water slide, and more.

I think I heard about a similar house on HGTV’s “What’s With That House?” where the homeowner decorated their home with pirate-themed stuff, but these people in Nevada take it one step further – they created a pirate wonderland to rival any theme park attraction.  Best of all, it can be open to the public – you can rent it out, you can use it for corporate events, and in one case, you can walk right up to the door and ask to look around.

The blog I linked to above tells about some people who were hanging out at a house down the hill and just decided to walk up and see what was up with the pirate-themed house.  The owner or caretaker (not sure which) welcomed the people in and let them swim, use the water slide, and even invited them to stay for dinner.  I found a few other blogs where people had rented out the home for vacations – I’ve found varying information that says that the house rents for anywhere between $10,000.00 and $25,000.00 per night.  So it’s pricey.

It must have cost a fortune to build – it has two pirate ships, a bunch of fake skeletons, a life-size (if not bigger) Captain Morgan, and lots more.  Allegedly the house belongs to Craig Tillotson, a bigwig with NuSkin, who wanted to create a fun place for people to go.  And I guess he really likes pirates.

night view of Pirates Cove

birds eye view of Pirates Cove

Captain Morgan

Argh, Mateys.

The website for Pirates Cove contains a ton more images, and there is a phone number you can call for more information, if you are so inclined.  If anybody decides to take a trip there send me photos and I’ll post them!

Question – if you had a ton of money what kind of theme home would YOU build?

In 1979, Michael Kahn and Leda Livant moved to a rural three-acre plot of land in Cornville, Arizona.  Allowed to stay on the property rent-free, Kahn and Livant started building what would become Eliphante immediately, living in an 8′ x 10′ wooden shack that Michael had thrown up to keep them safe during the winter.    It had no plumbing, no electricity, and Leda says it was the best home she’d ever had – they called it their “Winter Palace.”

They lived in their “Winter Palace” for the next five years while they built the main building that would be Eliphante, and the surrounding buildings, one of which would be called Hippodome, named this because it looks like a hippopotamus rising out of a body of water.  Livant lives in the Hippodome now – Kahn died a few years ago from a form of dementia.  The Hippodome has a phone and running water and electricity, but no bathroom.  Livant showers in a shower house that is solar-powered (and is pretty much just a hose in a shack), and if she needs to use the restroom she does it in the outhouse, or sometimes right out in the open.  The property is fairly secluded, and is only accessible across a stream.  Sometimes the stream is low enough that a car can just drive across it.  Other times, you have to take a canoe.

Their story is one of magic and tragedy – romance and heartbreak.  Livant was a suburban mother of two, married to a a psychologist.  She dabbled in painting and drawing, but lived her suburban life and volunteered in the community.  When her kids were a little older (one in college, the other in high school), Livant and her husband went on vacation to Cape Cod.  That’s where Livant’s whole life turned upside down.

Michael Kahn was a painter, ten years younger than Livant, and she fell for him immediately.  She left her husband and her kids, and moved in with Kahn, taking housecleaning jobs to support them.  All he ever wanted to do was paint.  When they moved to Arizona they built and when he wasn’t building he was painting.  Livant blossomed as an artist, and learned to weave as well as developed her painting skills.   They were happy together.

The house that was born of their union is part madness, part magic.  It is made of found objects and driftwood and any other thing they could find to build it.  They have mosaic tile work that used salvaged tiles from someone’s kitchen remodel.  They’ve made interesting use of AstroTurf.

Though they started building in 1979, Eliphante &  Hippodome and everything around them was consistently a work-in-progress.  In 1987 Eliphante LTD was formed – a non-profit art company – and in 1994 the Smithsonian listed it with their Save Outdoor Sculpture movement.  The property is in a state of disarray – in need of about $30000 worth or repairs.  Livant doesn’t have the money, and Kahn wasn’t able to secure a grant before he died.  Let’s hope that someone comes in to do what needs to be done to preserve this artistic treasure.

Entrance - the central curved beam looks like an elephant's trunk

Interior shot of Eliphante

Ms. Livant

ceiling and ceiling fan - mylar decor

The World’s Tallest Log Cabin – The Wooden Skyscraper

photo by the constant skeptic

He is Nikolai Sutyagin.  He is a man who has seen it all.  Well, if not “all”, he’s seen quite a lot.  He was born and raised in a lowly communal flat in Arkhangelsk, Russia.  That’s in the northern part of European Russia, near the White Sea.  He got in some trouble at the tender age of 14 and got sent to a boy’s prison.  When he got out he worked in construction to support his single mom and his sister, and because of his insane work ethic he got referred into an “outside the box” type of working in Russia.  It’s called shabashing, and shabashniks work for the money they merit, instead of the general working system inside a socialist (read:  in this case communist) government.  He was earning way more than guys who were far more educated, and when Gorbachev came in and made Perestroyka happen (the restructuring of the government so that people could own stuff) he used his money to buy a lumber yard and start his very own contracting company.

He got rich.  Really, really rich.  He decided that he needed a house that reflected his status in the Arkhangelsk society (his status was the richest dude in a very poor town) but that he had all this lumber and labor, so why not build his own?  What resulted was the house you see in the image above.  It started out as a mere two-story building (two-story is the limit in those parts) but he didn’t like the look of it and made it taller.  And taller.  And taller.  It’s a tower of a ramshackle log cabin.  It’s a log cabin mansion.

Then he got put in prison for 4 years.  Some accounts say it was a racketeering charge, others say he kept a dude imprisoned in a shack.  Either way, his enemies took the opportunity to put all his vehicles into the river, and to steal all his stuff.  He came out of prison completely broke, but lives in the first two levels of the house with his wife.  In squalor.

The government and the townspeople are not impressed with the structure, and are lobbying to have it demolished.  Sutyagin has gone on record saying the top 12 or 13 stories of his house are “purely decorative”, thus making the building proper a mere two stories tall.  Who will win?  Who do you think should win?  Leave a comment below.

photo by Baron Moe

This palatial summer home was built by Amir al-Mumenin al-Mutawakkil ‘Ala Allah Rab ul-Alamin Imam Yahya bin al-Mansur Bi’llah Muhammad Hamidaddin, Imam and Commander of the Faithful.  Why don’t we call him Imam for short?

Imam was the King of Yemen from 1926 to 1948, when he was assassinated.  We don’t go too far into politics or anything here on YLW, but apparently he was a pretty fair and nice guy, and he had 14 sons, so they were probably pretty sad.

Back to Dar Al-Hajar, though, because is that a beautiful place or what?  Imam had the place constructed as a summer home, and it was constructed on an already-existing prehistoric structure.  This particular valley that Dar Al-Hajar overlooks is a fertile ancient land that is talked about in rock drawings, for Pete’s sake.  Scholars speculate that the old construction on top of the mountain where Dar Al-Hajar was built was older than recorded history.  That’s, needless to say, pretty darn cool.

The structure itself is 7 stories tall, with open courtyards and little pools everywhere.  It has 35 rooms and the stairs look like they were built into the rocks.  They probably were.  The entrance has a 700-year old tree in it.  Even though Imam had the place built in the 1930′s, it looks like a place completely out of time.  A place of beauty and wonder that I’m sure his 14 sons enjoyed – from ducking in and out of the courtyards to exploring the caves beneath (unless the caves were really used for corpses, as rumors say).

Dar Al-Hajar is open to the public now as a sort of museum, though the Yemen travel website says that its “only jewel is the building itself.”

photo by Yogi

Imagine having a contracting job that went on for almost 40 years.  That was the case with the Winchester mansion, a grand estate located in San Jose, California.

If the name Winchester sounds familiar it’s not a surprise.  William Wirt Manchester was the magnate of the Winchester Repeating Arms Company, maker of Winchester rifles.  William’s father, Oliver, was the first president of the company, and developed the famous “Henry” model of the Winchester rifle.  The famous “Gun That Won The West”, the model 1873, was developed a short time after.

Young William took over the company, but died soon after from tuberculosis.  His grief-stricken wife, Sarah, looked for ways to cope with the death of her husband and the earlier death of their only child, Annie.  She was sure that ill had befallen her family because the family was cursed.  She sought spiritual and occult guidance from The Boston Medium, who told her that her family was indeed cursed – by the souls of individuals who had been killed by Winchester rifles.

A medium with an anti-violence agenda, or truth?  Sarah believed it to be the truth, and took it to heart when the medium told her that to break the curse she must move to California and build a house – to keep building or Sarah, too, will die.  Perhaps it was a medium with anti-gun beliefs and a contractor brother in California?  We’ll never know, I guess.

Either way, Sarah purchased an 8-room farmhouse in San Jose, California and embarked on a 38-year construction project with absolutely no architectural plan or forward-thinking.  The construction went on every day, ALL day, for that entire time period.  The result is a house full of twists and turns, supposedly designed to confuse the many ghosts that were supposed to haunt it.

Sarah died in 1922, leaving an unfinished, sprawling mansion with 13 bathrooms, 40 bedrooms, 2 ballrooms, and a few quirks.  Sarah was obsessed with the number 13, so all the windows had 13 panes, and the number 13 carries through many of the details of the house.

The Winchester Mystery House was auctioned in the 1970′s and the owners turned it into a museum.  You can take tours there and in honor of Sarah they ring the bell  every Friday the 13th – 13 times.