I didn't do it, nobody saw me do it, you can't prove anything
Steinbach Travel Blog› entry 14 of 32 › view all entries
The Mennonite Heritage Village had been anticipated from the start. For some reason, we knew it was going to be great. We had talked to the people who worked there. "You could spend all day here! We have a restaurant!" They had a restaurant. Our sightseeing in Winnipeg went a little longer than expected (even while cutting the Manitoba Museum short unfortunately) so we arrived at the heritage village in Steinbach with only an hour to explore. The woman at the desk was nice enough to let us in for free, since we didn't have to much time to walk around. Though we were a little rushed, it was a nice time to be at the Heritage Village because of the lack of people. It was actually kind of odd at first. All the houses were moved from the community into one area, and each of the buildings is open for visitors to walk around and explore. Without anyone around, the village seemed a bit like a ghost town, but that didn't stop us from wandering from building to building.
Now, if you leave Denise alone, she gets into trouble. She's really like a child. When you turn your back on a child in an automobile display...
"Look! They leave the keys in the car!" she exclaimed. There it was, the key in the ignition, just waiting for someone to turn it and take the vintage car for a spin. As I'm looking at the key, Denise wanders behind me.
"Denise... what did you do." I slowly turn around to see what disastrous thing had just happened.
"You can open the doors!" I hear faintly.
"Just because you can, doesn't mean you should" I explain. She continues to open the door one more time (knowing that there was no quiet way to close the door again without that slam), to take a picture of her getting in. Oh god. She turns her attention to the fire truck.
We went in to one of the houses. Now since our trip has started, we've noticed a similarity in all attractions and historical sites along the way - they've all been from the late 18th and early 19th century. Yes, that's about as far back as Canadian history goes. So after frequenting many historical houses and listening to many tours, we've become some what of an expert on the period. This house was from that era. Perfect. We practically knew how to use all the appliances in the house. And so we began to use them. Pounding floor, washing clothes, ironing, and just for the heck of it, opening any closet doors we could find. We entered the kitchen and found a similar waffle maker to one we had seen in the Dalnavert house in Winnipeg and got giddily excited at the genius idea. That's when we saw it. A mysterious trap door. Bound to house all the Mennonite gold in the village.
"Should we open it?"
Much to our disappointment, what we found was a dusty entrance to the ground below the house. Lame. We were expecting treasure, or at least a hidden dead body. I guess we'd have to find our adventure elsewhere.
It was not in the closet in the school house. It was not in the closet in the next door house.
We arrived at an intriguing house. Not because of it's structure or contents, but because of a mysterious yellow cupboard about our height standing in the background. Now I'll tell you right now, this cupboard was not roped off by any means. Some of the rooms were sealed with a glass divider, making it evident to the visitor that one should not enter. This cupboard had no such warnings. We just had to know what was inside. It was just standing there, in all it's yellow glory. Denise and I look at each other. Then we look back at the cupboard and slowly advance forward, licking our lips. We notice the doors to the cupboard are a little tight and take a little effort to open. What did we find? Dishes. Plain, old dishes. Nothing really fancy, just set up nicely. Severly disappointed at yet another lack of mystery, we close the doors. They get stuck as we try to close them, so we give the cupboard a little shove. Little did we know, the cupboard was not very stable. We froze, our arms still out in front of us from trying to close the cupboard, as the entire structure rocked back and forth, back and forth, in big threatening motions, almost in slow motion. Looks of horror were thrown onto our faces. Don't. Breathe.
The rocking slowly stopped, and the cupboard settled on it's base. I breathe a sigh of relief that none of those dishes had -
*clatter* *clatter* There was that feared echoing, low sound of dishes clattering as the fell from their displayed positions. Denise and I listened closely for any shattering and winced at every noise. The clattering and settling seemed to last forever as we held our breath again, waiting for the nightmare to end. Eventually it did, and we were able to breathe again, knowing that none of the dishes had broken. I took a step back. We both take a look around. No one else was in the house. In fact, no one else was around the house.
"No one.. saw.. anything" Denise stated slowly.
The humour of the situation began to sink in as we slowly emerged from the house. As we left, we visited the gift shop, and spent an exorbitant amount of money out of guilt at being invited in for free and having wreaked such exceptional havoc in such a short amount of time. Later we day, we discussed the possibility and probability of there being surveillance cameras in the houses, and the possibility of us having become the first people to have been kicked out of and banned from the Mennonite Heritage Village.