Constructed by forced laborers, this submarine pen is now a museum and war memorial.

Once a year, at exactly 11:11 a.m., this monument comes to life.

Open since 1938, this diner has kept its fountain, malt machine, and all the gum that greasers left beneath its counter.

This dockworkers' lunch joint has been left leaning by a century of storm floods.

Remnants of an exploded schooner and wrecked submarines form a breakwater.

Golden cobblestones remember a time when this small alley was used to avoid having to give a Nazi salute.

These bronze pamphlets remember a remarkable group of Germans who fearlessly opposed the Nazis in the very center of their power.

This castle played host to the largest great hall found in medieval Central Europe.

According to a satirical conspiracy theory that persists today, this German city of 300,000 is a hoax invented by the CIA.