Places rbowptown Wants to Go

Baltimore's classic clock tower was once topped by a rotating, 20-ton medicine bottle.

A faded sign from the 1920s remembers Baltimore's resistance toward banning alcohol.

Ship skeletons haunt Baltimore's waterways.

A blank headstone topped with a pile of pennies marks the final resting place of the infamous assassin.

A museum dedicated to exhibiting remarkable outsider art.

This beloved Baltimore spot features caged dolls, a giant Pez collection, and many, many mannequins.

The man who first patented the Ouija board rests in peace beneath a headstone that playfully reflects that achievement.

Crammed into a Baltimore row house is an oddities shop that sells everything from skulls to dead insects.

It’s not hard to see why the historic Peabody Conservatory of Music’s library has been described as a “cathedral of books.”

Eighteen miniature death-scene dioramas.

This historic boathouse was constructed using salvaged lumber from burned barns.

This mysterious structure by the Washington Monument is a flood barrier designed to protect the White House against rising waters.

A secret greenspace hides atop a Capitol parking garage.

The most decorated dog of World War I is preserved in the Smithsonian.

These Benedictine nuns have been making artisanal cheeses since before it was cool.

This Connecticut chapel is a starkly modern, and surprisingly colorful, architectural rebel.

A wunderkammer hidden on the top floor of the Hartford statehouse.

An archival collection of over 2,200 case studies which includes human brain specimens and tumor specimens.

An Escher-inspired library dedicated to the wonders of the human mind, yet closed to the public.

Yale University's home for rare works, including the mysterious Voynich Manuscript.

This small-town Connecticut restaurant gives each diner a free book from its vast library.

The intriguing personal collection of a professional demon-chaser.

A cave 150 feet beneath Kansas City is the perfect climate for growing 10,000 delicate orchids.

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