For me it was:
-
The brand-new town of Faro, Yukon Territory from1969-71, 230 miles from Whitehorse, Y.T.
-
Tombstone, Arizona from 1984- 1989
I lived in Al Capone’s house in Ocean Springs, MS, for about six months.
A tent in winter in the military of 1962.
The attic of the Maria Mitchell Natural Science Museum on Nantucket.
In a van down by the river…
Seriously, in a Volkswagon van on the Gila River in New Mexico. I also lived in the parking lot of Sacramento State in California for several weeks in the same van.
Training ship at Cal Maritime.
Can you say what was strange about it? Otherwise it’s just listing places and times that may mean a lot to the poster but nothing to those who read the posts.
As for me, I’ll be the first semi-clever cunt to answer this: http://images2.fanpop.com/image/photos/10800000/Brain-human-anatomy-10857807-562-800.jpg
That picture isn’t the actual place but it’s quite similar in how it looks from outside. I’m not willing to provide any picture of the actual place right now.
As for why: Well, there’s stuff in there that’s not even real!
The most out-of-the-ordinary place was a split-level house on a sloping street in Hermosa Beach, CA. The worst part was that it had no sewer hookup, but a cesspool and septic tank; the cesspool never drained properly and we had to pay a dozen times to have it cleared. We moved out in less than a year; we could have sued the people who sold it to us.
Aside from my home town, which was (often) a literal backwater and peculiar in the many ways such places often are, I can’t say that I’ve had any particularly strange residences. However, when I was traveling for work, I frequently stayed in a location long enough to stake a claim (admittedly arguable) to living there. Even so, I didn’t stay in that many really odd places.
Except, perhaps, for the nearly five months I spent living in a hotel in a tiny little town in Georgia. I was the only guest for pretty much the entire time–I think a trucker stayed there one night, but that was it. Within a week or two, I was a friend of the family to the people that ran it. They invited me to dinner at least once a week, I played video games with the kids and helped them with their homework. All nice and friendly, but…a little surreal. All around us was this huge, empty building–a couple hundred rooms that never got used. It sometimes made me think of a haunted mansion, with visitors huddling around a fireplace in the entry hall.
I never figured out how they were staying in business, but they didn’t seem to be in any financial trouble.
Florida. For thirty years.
As a kid, my family lived in Kakadu National Park for a number of years. We had a little house in the grounds on a resort, near the ranger station. My dad was a tour guide, and my mum was a vet; we ran a wildlife rehab in the backyard.
As a young adult I lived and worked on a cruise ship for 7 months. I sincerely regret it, and am now horrified by the cruise industry, perhaps the most environmentally unfriendly vacation one could possibly take.
That’s it, everywhere else has been normal houses and flats.
I grew up on a farm on the Gila River in New Mexico back in the 40’s. Small world eh!
Spent a summer sharing a bed with a (female) Indian grad student in the spare bedroom of a South African village chief.
um, what? ?
ETA - nowhere I have lived was particularly strange
It’s such a beautiful area. 
San Francisco in the 60s.
Carmel, California, in the 90s. Clint Eastwood was the mayor, and moseyed along on the sidewalks of the little downtown area, looking just like he looks in the movies.
Doris Day and Regis Philbin both shopped at my grocery store. Marsha Mason and Dihanne Carroll drank in the bars. And I could list dozens more of these little “quaint’ances.”
There was no mail delivery because there were no street names or numbers. When I called about how to get a P.O. Box, the postmaster joked that I had to be “born into one.”
Quite a place, that Carmel…
Strange for me: 8th floor of a apartment building in a big Brazilian city.
A ‘warehouse/barn’ on the former grounds of a 1920s mob run distillery and speakeasy.
Artesia, NM. Strange little place. Ugly, oil refinery dominated, oddly tempered people. Less than and hour away from Carlsbad, Cloudcroft, and Roswell. A desert town dominated by high rent shacks, 5th wheel trailers, and lovely ranch homes with green lawns.
Some of the best skies on the planet, day or night. Amazing views of thunderstorms seen from scores of miles away. Panoramic vistas of extreme desolation. Quite beautiful at times.
Aside from the extreme and aggravating attitudes of many there, a person could also find some amazingly detailed, interesting, and giving people.
Living there was difficult. Remembering the pluses along with the harshness now is easier some days than others.