Painting by Maggie Putnum

In 1989, when Harold and Barbara Morgan opened the Museum of Exotic World in the front rooms of Harold’s commercial painting business in Vancouver, they had been travelling the world every winter for forty-five years and had accumulated many souvenirs from the hundred destinations listed on decorative signs in the museum, such as one near the door reading: “New Guinea, Borneo, Africa, Thailand, South America, archeological sites, Machu Picchu Peru, pagan Burma, the Nile Egypt, Abu Simbel.” The Morgans lived above the museum, which was housed in a modest storefront framed by shrubs and wrought-iron railings in the 31 block of Main Street, a quiet stretch occupied by makeshift shops and offices hunkered down out of range of developers and land speculators. The museum was their retirement project, and it was their intention to open to the public free of charge, every day from nine to eleven in the morning and one to five in the afternoon, as stated forthrightly on signs placed in the front window among a display of framed photographs of dark-skinned people in feather costumes and painted faces that looked as if they had been clipped from the pages of National Geographic:

FREE: NO ADMISSION OR DONATIONS
CANNIBAL TRIBES, BURMA PAGODAS
COVERED IN GOLD AND JEWELS,
TROPICAL INSECTS AND BUTTERFLIES,
ANCIENT RUINS, STRANGE
UNKNOWN TRIBESMEN.
ADULTS ONLY PLEASE
SPRAY YOUR OWN CAR AT HOME — WE
GIVE YOU A FREE LESSON

The window display was the full extent of advertising for the Museum of Exotic World, an establishment content to make itself known to passersby on the near side of the street. I had been living on the other side of the street for some weeks before crossing over and noticing the messages in the window, which I studied closely for some minutes before continuing on my way. The front door to the museum was set into a recess and up a step or two and it was always closed: merely to approach it one had to make a commitment. One day I stepped up to the door and opened it.

THIS IS A MUSEUM OF STRANGE FACTS,
AND EXOTIC PLACES
MUSEUM ENTRANCE — EXOTIC WORLD
COME IN → → →
EGYPT, BURMA, NEW GUINEA, INSECTS,
INSECT PEOPLE, MARRAKESH,
GUATEMALA, AFRICA

The air in the Museum of Exotic World was suffused with warm light and it was dead quiet in the tiny front room, the walls of which were hidden behind rows of framed photographs and more handmade signs. The effect was instantly claustrophobic: beyond were more small rooms containing trees, plants on the floor, an aquarium, stone urns, spears on the walls, shields, bows, arrows, carved wooden masks and bowls, a stuffed alligator and hundreds of photographs in frames lining the walls from floor to ceiling, and the ceiling too was covered with artifacts (and another stuffed alligator, upside down). A wall panel in the back held butterflies and moths as big as Frisbees. It was impossible in those first moments to achieve any kind of focus: every inch of space seemed to be calling out for attention. Maps, postcards, wreaths, sea shells, more wooden masks: on one of them, beautifully carved, a label that said: “placed in native’s hut to protect from evil spirits.” I recall a walking stick, a wooden cane hung on a wall or a doorknob, and a label next to it: “This cane was a gift from famed San Francisco artist David Joseph.” In a glass case nearby, a few pieces of white coral lay on a dark cloth. The label said: “In a million years or so this coral could produce a white sand beach—note sand forming below!” I looked again at the coral and noted the few grains of white sand that had indeed “formed below.” Among an intimidating display of desiccated insects lay one resembling a dried twig about six inches long. “This is the Walking Stick insect,” read the label. “Extra legs are on the back wall.” Another twig-like creature was identified as “a Flying Leaf Insect—note leaf covering his head”; an unnamed creature eight inches long and covered in spines remained unabashably unnamed: “Your guess is as good as mine,” read the label. I moved