Places DBlock1001 Wants to Go

Parts of the civil rights movement unfolded in this historic eatery, helmed by the "Queen of Creole Cuisine."

A gorgeous mural outside a beloved D.C. restaurant pays homage to famous Black Americans.

A local dive where religious kitsch, Southern identity, and queer culture collide.

One of the oldest continuously-operated gay bars in the United States is allegedly haunted by Truman Capote and Tennessee Williams.

How a lunch counter in Chile became a shrine to the 42nd president of the United States

An underground nightclub helped spark a "Singing Revolution."

A small Wyoming town is home to the state's oldest-operating soda fountain.

Come for the fish sundae, stay for the collection of Studio Ghibli cat buses.

The Internet Age began with a transmission from this biker bar.

Once a 19th-century brasserie, this McDonald's exterior celebrates Alsatian design and the "King of Beer."

In the Hugging Tree Forest, lingonberry marshmallows, hot chocolates, and the best campfire lattes north of the Arctic Circle come to you.

This small shop walked so America could run on Dunkin'.

This roadside stand packs 300-plus varieties of tomatoes, from "Maiden's Fire" to "Kaleidoscopic Jewel."

This atmospheric spot in Pärnu's historic old town is located in a 17th-century almshouse.

Fiery-hot river rocks make soup sizzle at this restaurant showcasing indigenous Chinantec cuisine.

This frog-themed restaurant was frequented by Picasso, Saint-Exupéry, and more.

According to this bar, God gave an “11th commandment” to Antwerp: Thou shalt drink beer.

This historic pub is a hidden gem for fans of Lewis Carroll.

Some of the greatest minds in the history of Hungarian art and science converged in this café.

In a quiet residential neighborhood, one restaurant fights to preserve heirloom corn, one tortilla at a time.

A 200-year-old bar is all that remains of one Mississippi River town's rough-and-tumble past.

This restaurant offers a side of antiques, curios, and a bathroom chock full of owls.

One of the last remnants of the city's Chinese nightclub scene is now a dive bar selling killer mai tais.

Located off a bustling strip, a silent teahouse employs workers with hearing- or speech-related disabilities.