A treasure trove of artifacts, books, and artwork from the "golden age" of exploration.

Amid the bustle and noise of the Financial District hides a secluded garden oasis above the city streets.

Dodge prohibitionists and slide through the telephone booth in Crif Dogs.

New York's oldest magic store.

The world’s oldest and biggest bookstore stocking only mystery, crime fiction, espionage, and thrillers.

These fantastically named natural pools look like something out of a Scottish myth.

This shop and gallery is a modern-day cabinet of curiosities, unassumingly positioned along an urban thoroughfare.

Fifty years after a “blast blasted blubber beyond all believable bounds,” this idyllic natural area commemorates the carnage.

Gold Rush-era tombstones line the park's paths.

This museum explores the history of the book, from scrolls to mass-produced objects through tools, stories, and massive cast-iron binding machinery (some of it operational).

Furniture tries to escape an abandoned building in San Francisco.

Appropriation-friendly collection of books, periodicals, and more.

Get a taste of Chamorro cuisine, family-style, at this popular restaurant.

This eatery transports diners to a place that no longer exists: East Germany.

Bring your own cardboard to the slippery slopes of concrete hidden in a neighborhood park.

The final resting place of the Emperor of the United States and Protector of Mexico.

The peaceful gravesite of a rugged wild west gunman echoes the touching story of his last days.

Abortion, prohibition, religion, war, and fear all play a part in the history of this idiosyncratic Pacifica castle.

Beneath a Virginia City bar is the entrance to an abandoned gold mine.

The only surviving prototype of Buckminster Fuller's revolutionary car.

This mother-daughter run curiosities shop is a beautifully odd mix of taxidermy and exotic plants.

Steinbeck's old stomping grounds, immortalized in Cannery Row.

This former Texas landfill is flush with 300 million-year-old fossils, all fit for the taking.

Thousands of Mexican Free-Tailed Bats soar around an abandoned storm drain at sunset each summer.