Places cait7911 Wants to Go

Three hundred years of preserved Spanish colonial history in San Antonio.

A geological oddity formed by two rivers carving out a mass of limestone on both sides.

Self-built house and sculpture park where the creator can still be seen in a glass coffin.

It was once the base for a series of domestic terror attacks.

The oddly shaped, steam-spewing building is now an art studio and gallery.

In Tucson a giant metal snake helps pedestrians cross a busy highway.

Where serial killer Aileen Wuornos drank her last beer.

A famous alternative culture epicenter and where Joplin serenaded young hippies.

A mine fire has been burning under the deserted town since 1962, but this church is still going strong.

A posh members-only club with a literally dramatic history.

Home to secret Eastern Bloc spy equipment and the largest stretch of the original Berlin Wall outside of Germany.

World's largest porcine hairball sits in a collection maintained by Benedictine monks.

The state's oldest continuously operating museum houses more than 5,000 Civil War artifacts.

A pair of giant legs paying homage to a poem, a king, and it would seem, socks.

The pop art icon's gravesite is broadcast 24 hours a day on his museum's website.

A dwindling menagerie of anthropomorphic oil derrick animals still dot the barren California landscape.

Seasonal, Pacific Northwest cuisine served in a 101 year old firehouse.

This popular pilgrimage site offers a hole filled with holy healing dirt.

A massive forgotten storehouse from 1913 on the Brooklyn Waterfront has a spectacular view of Brooklyn.

This lesser known Hearst estate is a fairytale village built from the stolen bones of historic European buildings.

Former utopian colony based on the belief that the universe exists in a hollow sphere.

A 70,000-square-foot institution dedicated to a very literal, creationist perspective on the Book of Genesis.

Home of Philip Johnson, one of the 20th century's most influential architects.

This grave in a ghost town cemetery marks the death of a witch on a day that never happened.