Places cptnxanarchy Wants to Go

Inside this museum, visitors venture through ghost stories entrenched in Icelandic folklore.

This once sprawling resort now sits abandoned, filled with graffiti and vibrant colors from an era long passed.

Stop by, and you'll receive a map to two well-preserved ancient petroglyph sites.

Once a month, an Indonesian feast appears inside an Elmhurst church hall.

Seriously good slices of Sicilian pizza lurk at the back of the Bronx's oldest enclosed market.

Tools, pottery, and mummies showcase the history of La Palma's native people.

This tribute to the 16th-century composer is now an unusual shrine to Michael Jackson.

An everyday Jackson Heights bodega conceals a Mexican seafood paradise.

The abandoned club hides in the hills of Ibiza.

Thousands of glyphs created by an unknown culture decorate the rock formations of this canyon.

The abandoned tanks along this highway are all that remain of a deadly conflict.

This bar is home to what's likely the oldest living jazz band in the world.

Often mistaken for an office building, inside this venue is an amazing collection of Native Alaskan art.

You can explore the halls of tombs in the abandoned former capital of the Zapotecs.

A palace-fortress ruin in Indonesia complete with legends of two magical tigers, eight bathing angels, and a wish-granting cannon.

A B.Y.O.B. Mexican cantina lives inside one of the last tortilla factories in Brooklyn.

The graffiti-covered ruins of an abandoned trading post in the middle of the Navajo Nation.

Shop while you wait for a table in this tiny Indonesian eatery within a mini-mart.

The abandoned transportation hub hides within the Glasgow attraction it once served.

A gray market run by Burmese Indians offers a portal to a forgotten period in history.

The remains of one of the last mining camps developed on the New River.

The site of an atrocity that would be used to justify Britain’s conquest of India.

A classically trained chef makes beloved burritos inside a gas station.

This ruined quarry once produced the distinctive red sandstone used for construction projects in Washington, D.C.