A fake town founded by Western movie stars is now becoming a hip desert community.

The "world's biggest dinosaur" once housed a creationist museum in its abdomen.

Located on 420 acres in the high desert, this spiritual center is dedicated to the "science of the future."

An eclectic trailer park retreat in the middle of the California desert.

On the Spree bank, discover one of the last reminders of a symbolic wall that divided, and was torn down by the people.

The library houses an incredible collection of some of the world's most impressive books and manuscripts.

The curios of pharmacist and collector Henry Wellcome.

"X" marks the spot of an echo chamber in the middle of a plaza.

Undone by Prohibition, this abandoned brewery-turned-flour mill is now ready for its third act.

Legend tells how a Spanish soldier disappeared from this isolated sentry box without a trace.

This tiny home was originally a narrow alleyway.

This bleach-white graveyard overlooking the ocean is accessed through a tunnel.

"the sweltering inhabitants of Charleston and New Orleans, of Madras and Bombay and Calcutta, drink at my well . . . The pure Walden water is mingled with the sacred water of the Ganges."

The site where Charles Dickens gave his first public reading of "A Christmas Carol" in the US.

A former waterfront market is now in the center of town due to some interesting Boston engineering.

Historic Hull Street was actually the first street with a proper name in the Boston area.

This private residence was the template for one of the most beloved television homes of all time.

Austin’s nonprofit-run graffiti park where street art is meant to be painted over.

Locals dubbed it the "Owl Building" because of its bird-like appearance.

Home to the largest urban bat colony in North America, estimated at 1.5 million bats.

One part antique store, one part curiosities hodge-podge.

This unique structure in suburban Austin is made up entirely of other people's castaways, and constantly changing.

Tucked away between two 19th-century buildings, this small shop specializes in the macabre.

Four, 18-foot-tall badminton shuttlecocks lie scattered about the lawn of a Kansas City museum.