Places WolfieWins Wants to Go

42nd story Pyramid shaped penthouse tops Seattle's oldest skyscraper.

Five varieties of trees with custom-designed grates around the trunk are planted along the route of the Seattle Transit Tunnel.

For over 75 years, this cute stone statue has warmed the hearts of San Antonio.

A group of college students hauled a desk up a mountain more than 40 years ago. The notebooks inside have become a makeshift time capsule.

This fog-enshrouded, antique corner store sells individual slices of wedding-fancy layer cakes from a window.

A 1,000 pound brass bell commemorates a time when this small maritime neighborhood was actually its own separate city.

The city's oldest Chinese restaurant offers local history and seriously good food.

The classic lawn figurine now claims this wooded area as home.

Deep into the lower floors of Pike Place, find a date with fowl fate.

This quiet neighborhood is also home to a 700-ton rock transported by the last Ice Age.

This beautiful landscape is the only Sichuan-style garden outside of China.

This Puget Sound military post has a long, turbulent history as a gateway to the Pacific.

What's that on the side of that building? Va Va Voom, it's Bettie!

One of the only cooperatively owned bars in the nation wears its eclectic history on its walls.

A busy cafe better known for board games than food.

An allegedly haunted mansion with a tragic, tawdry past.

This 22-acre botanical garden is home to the largest collection of rhododendrons in the world.

From a neon Rapunzel to a bike traffic meter to a street fair color scheme, the most opened drawbridge in the US is a veritable art gallery.

Every summer West Seattle experiences a housing bloom.

The historic bar where local ship captains, traders, and gold miners would come together to do business a century ago.

The tale of a strong-willed woman who stood her ground when the commercial world came rumbling in.

Where else would a linchpin of post-colonial Native American cuisine anchor the menu but a museum?

A rotting tree in the middle of Seattle doubles as an elaborately-controlled art piece.

Residents of Fremont in Seattle have considered it the center of the universe since the 1970s.