Places hunsicker Wants to Go

Life in this isolated, hilltop lighthouse was lonely, but it sure was lovely.

For almost 100 years, this site of peace and spirituality has existed on the California coast.

This little valley along Highway 1 is engulfed by thousands of lilies during the spring season.

Lombard Street may be more famous, but this is the real “crookedest street in the world.”

The oldest alley in San Francisco is paved with a reminder of the city's original shoreline.

Depicting scenes of everyday life - and specific individuals - in Great Depression era San Francisco.

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).

The taxidermied remains of the "last wild grizzly bear in California" and of the symbol of the state of California.

An art supply shop holds the secrets of this quiet neighborhood's raucous Barbary Coast past.

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

A 1920s home transformed into an immersive art experience, where every room is a portal to another realm.

Russian history in San Francisco.

The grand, column-fronted, sculpture-adorned home of the ambitious digital library.

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

Tenacious mummies survived dental problems, eternal entombment, and more than their fair share of devastating fires.

A library and museum dedicated to typography.

Not merely a museum – but a whirring powerhouse that offers a subterranean peek into the heart and soul of cable car operations.

A collection of memorabilia from the Beat era in the back of a San Francisco bookstore.

The restored and active Victorian-era final resting place of San Francisco.

A historic hotel that made a cameo in Hitchcock's classic film has no intention of letting guests forget its fame.

This shop and studio is dedicated to the art of the book, from letterpress to bookbinding.

In this century-old literary safehouse, print is alive and well.

The randomness of this wall of lava lamps helps encrypt up to 10 percent of the internet.

The seawater playground of gilded-era San Francisco burned to the ground in 1966.