A hotel and restaurant serving as the mecca of kitsch.

Staves, storm-calling, and of course, necropants.

The macabre collection of Jacques Sirgent, an expert scholar on the undead and all of their trappings.

Bring your own cardboard to the slippery slopes of concrete hidden in a neighborhood park.

This monster fiberglass crustacean stands watch over the self-proclaimed "lobster capital of the world."

This Buddhist temple is home to the graves of the Japanese national legends, the 47 Ronin.

In one Chicago park, a trio of werewolves are waiting to devour their fallen brethren.

This sensational Chinese temple walks visitors through the 76 weird departments of the afterlife.

When a medieval fire claimed the original St. Stephen’s Cathedral, it sparked a pattern of unquenchable organ building.

A bronze plaque marks the site of the only show the "King of the Soul Singers" ever missed.

The world is full of swimming holes, but few compare to Samoa’s idyllic To Sua ocean trench.

This small Estonian hill is covered in hand-made twig crosses that are said to bring good luck.

This Oregon farm is dedicated to teaching people the professional art of tree climbing.

This secret gem of a toy store houses a rideable carousel populated with fantasy animals.

The mysterious remains of a martyred teenage saint are venerated inside a small country chapel.

This trio of neolithic stone monuments are fabled to be a king and his knights that were petrified by a witch.

This otherworldly palace-mausoleum complex is the stuff eternal dreams are made of.

A full-size replica of this well-preserved temple lets you take a walk through the Mayan age.

One man’s vision of living among dinosaurs credits Jesus Christ as the engine of biological evolution.

These tombs were built into the side of a mountain so that ancient angels could reach the dead.

This little Vancouver shack is a temple to all things Hendrix.

A small Japanese village claims to be the final resting place of the son of God (and God's other son's ear).

Skulls from the plague of 1656 and World War II bombings are united by a cult dedicated to caring for the ancient dead.

This studio was home to David Bowie's first single, even if it did turn away the Beatles.