A church filled with the bones of hundreds of virgins martyrs—or so they say.

This TV tower once secretly housed a GDR intelligence team.

These jeweled relics have a scandalous and contested past.

Remnants of a cone-shaped Nazi bomb shelter.

A preserved college lock-up that recalls a clubhouse approach to discipline.

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

Böttcherstraße's bells, extolling Nordic virtues and the great conquerors of the world.

A monument to the three wars that led to German unification towers within a Berlin traffic circle.

Constantly maintained, this organ is playing a six-century long composition by John Cage.

Every hour the doors open to reenact the legend of the heroic mayor who saved his town by drinking a gallon of wine.

This enchanting mountain plateau celebrates spooky local folklore.

One of downtown Berlin's last reminders of its Communist past.

The world's first clock to use set theory as a measure of time required the invention of a new light bulb just to maintain its obtuse measurements.

Once the tallest building in the world, this abandoned church is now a monument to the destruction of WWII.

Slaughterhouse Five opens its dank doors to fans of Kurt Vonnegut.

A restaurant and observation deck built in a unique broadcasting antenna.

"The most colorful grottoes of the world.

The birthplace of an eccentric alchemist and possible inspiration for the fictional reanimator of monsters.