Imagine playing a version of Legends of the Hidden Temple, but with a distinctly Southern Gothic flare.

Revel in the Victorian splendor of the world's oldest eating establishment inside a museum.

The unique collection of gifts includes braids of human hair, a spoon, and a Virgin made of bread.

A school used as a model for public education across the country.

This historic Boston building has gone from personal estate to porn theater and back again.

This "life-size" depiction of Mickey Mouse as a half-lobster is both whimsical and a bit creepy, standing guard over the Boston waterfront.

Shelves covered in dozens of coffee bean varieties fill this North End institution.

This massive tea kettle was once a promotional stunt for the Oriental Teashop.

A mysterious stone embedded at the base of a historic Boston building.

The bears may be gone, but their old cages can still be found.

Site of a famous 19th-century transcendentalist utopian community, now abandoned.

One of the oldest used bookstores in the U.S. has been selling antiquarian treasures since 1825.

This fascinating museum in an old water tower holds the world's largest collection of Vodou artifacts from western and central Africa.

Every autumn, this hillside is ablaze with red summer cypress.

The haunting "Hell House Altar" is one of the few remnants of an abandoned college that has been a magnet for local legends.

This gaping hole in the middle of a remote mountain lake looks like a portal to another dimension.

This Brazilian town built by Freemasons is full of colonial Masonic architecture and symbolic imagery.

Every color in the rainbow awaits.

A Belle Epoque bordello turned into a themed love hotel.

What looks like a normal building is really a hollow facade hiding a subway vent.

The celebrated eyesore created by starry-eyed sweethearts.

A Parisian boutique devoted to la Sape, the elegant Congolese fashion subculture rooted in European colonization.

Stripes of human ashes cover a back lawn in the most sought-after burial grounds in Paris.

A French artist's vague warning hangs over Belleville.