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Situated roughly halfway between Da Nang and Nha Trang, Qui Nhon is a quiet coastal town with a curvy beach that is refreshingly low-key. It doesn’t get the hordes that visit Nha Trang to the south (the stretch of sand isn’t quite as alluring here), and certainly lacks the development that is a feature of Da Nang’s beaches, resulting in a city that is remarkably unaffected by the unstoppable reach of tourism—note the number of fishing boats that still dot the water here. There are some fine Cham ruins in the vicinity, including the Thap Doi (meaning Double Towers) and the Banh It Towers, as well as the Long Khanh Pagoda, constructed by a Chinese businessman in the 18th century.

Many patrons arrive by boat to this popular waterfront restaurant, overlooking the Intracoastal Waterway in Captiva. As much for the pretty scenery, they come for the delicious Florida seafood, which ranges from stone crabs and oysters to shrimp and conch chowder. Owned by a Swiss man, the restaurant invites guests to soak up the Pine Island Sound views while enjoying an ambience that’s all Florida—with a special European touch.

On Friday afternoons, this unassuming expanse of sand comes to life with music and athletes practicing the lively art of pehlwani, a South Asian wrestling tradition. Spectators sit on the ground to listen to the ringmaster and watch scantily clad wrestlers engage in a tight embrace until one is overpowered and falls to the sand. The winner then runs around in celebration, and some spectators give him money for his victory. Depending on how many wrestlers step up to fight, the matches usually end right before sundown.

Ready-to-wear and made-to-measure dresses, shirts, pants, and skirts are just some of the beautiful things you will find in this pretty store. Around the corner from the flashier names on the Via Camerelle and a short stroll down the hill, the family-owned Laboratorio Capri is where Michele and his mother design and sew for movie stars as well as Capri locals. Shop the sandals and bags, whisper-weight scarves printed with images of old Capri, and colorful jewelry that will remind you of the island.

The quintessential Florida sunset moment plays out night after night at this waterfront pub and restaurant in Captiva. Open since the 1970s, the British-style spot draws tourists and locals alike with sweeping views of the Gulf of Mexico and more than 16 different beers. To eat, there are seafood classics like clam chowder, fried calamari, and oysters Rockefeller. Go right before sunset and gather with everyone on the sand to catch the elusive green flash before settling in for your meal.

There’s a bit of the Wild West at this luxurious wine country inn. Vintner Fess Parker, of Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone TV fame, opened the inn in 1998. Today it’s still run by his family, and you can wade in the nostalgia by visiting the gallery off the lobby, which displays black-and-white images of Parker from his Hollywood days. Each of the 19 spacious rooms and suites is slightly different. Grand Garden rooms have cozy gas fireplaces and views of Los Olivos, while suites with living rooms are expansive enough to spread out and relax. At the Bear and Star restaurant, ingredients for the “refined ranch cuisine” are sourced from the Fess Parker Home Ranch, just seven miles from the inn. Wagyu specialties abound—from carpaccio to burgers, meatloaf to steaks—while the Fess Parker Winery supplies the restaurant with estate-grown rhône varietals. Lounge by the pool, or drop in at the spa for a massage or facial (a highlight: the Heaven on Earth package, which blends the Unwind massage with a customized Elemis facial). Pro tip: End the evening on a nostalgic note, borrowing a Fess Parker movie from the library for guests.

There’s something about a place being “secret” that makes it exponentially more exciting. Counter Reformation, the European-style wine bar hidden from sight inside the Parker hotel, lives up to that notion. Open from Thursday to Monday, 3 to 10 p.m., the pocket-sized shrine to great wine has no tables and takes no reservations (though leaning at the low-lit 14-seat bar is encouraged). But there is food, and fantastic food at that. Instead of trying to be everything to everybody, Counter Reformation’s tapas menu is short and original, including caviar served with crème fraîche and a quail egg, plus a layered summer tomato salad with melon. The wines are carefully curated from California, France, and Italy, with a few wild cards from places like Portugal and Oregon, and are all priced the same. While the spot has the feel of an insider’s club, it’s without pretense, with the experts behind the bar providing enthusiastic guidance. For dessert, order the foie gras macarons with sea salt, with a sip of champagne. If you overdo it, don’t worry: You can ask for forgiveness in the restaurant’s authentic confessional booth, shipped in from Italy.

The 72-lane Red Rock Lanes, at the Red Rock Casino Resort & Spa, is the largest luxury bowling center in Las Vegas. In addition to private meeting rooms and a lounge with bar-top games, there is a full-service restaurant, a VIP section with bottle service, a game room, a concourse area, and a pro shop. On weekend nights, Cosmic Bowling—with flashing neon lights and thumping music—transforms the place into a sort of disco. The scoring is computerized, so you don’t have to worry about math while you bowl.

Standing its ground between a cypress grove and the Pacific Ocean, the Point Pinos Lighthouse is the oldest lighthouse in continuous operation on the U.S. West Coast—and one of seven lighthouses for which Congress appropriated funding shortly after California statehood was ratified. But this lighthouse wasn’t just an aid to navigation; it was also a social hub in early Pacific Grove. Robert Louis Stevenson wrote about lighthouse keeper Allen Luce and his piano playing, while a fondness for entertaining inspired locals to call keeper Emily Fish the Socialite Keeper. The lighthouse beacon, a third-order Fresnel lens, has flashed nightly since 1855 and is still used in the tower today—the light is visible up to 17 nautical miles out to sea. Docents are on duty to answer questions as you tour the lighthouse, from the 1890s-style parlor to the 1920s-style kitchen, and up to the Emily Fish bedroom and lookout. Right behind the lighthouse is the El Carmelo Cemetery, one of the most peaceful seaside cemeteries, with deer wandering through to nibble on the grass.

With the Spanish conquest of the Aztec empire, Iberian overlords set about imposing their customs on the subdued populace, eliminating traces of pre-Hispanic religions they deemed heretical by demolishing major temples and building churches and other structures atop their ruins. Centuries later, in 1978, workers laying electrical lines happened upon the remains of the Templo Mayor, the Aztecs’ most important ceremonial center (and, yes, the location of their notorious human sacrifices). Subsequent excavations have revealed superimposed pyramid foundations and priceless artworks, many now displayed at the on-site museum. Thrillingly, treasures keep turning up—including the spring 2017 discovery of a stone box containing some of the finest Aztec gold ever found, just off the Templo Mayor’s steps.

Mexico City’s mammoth cathedral was built across three centuries (1573–1813)—starting soon after Cortés and his allies vanquished the Aztec Empire—using stones taken from a destroyed indigenous temple. Today’s sanctuary serves up contrasts between unadorned neoclassical walls alongside exuberant gilt chapels and altarpieces as well as a massive pipe organ, with some baroque elements, that’s still dusted off and played from time to time. Be sure not to miss the high altar, and consider shelling out for a visit to the sacristy, with its glistening dome, grand canvases, and massive cabinets, fit to hold an archbishop’s entire stock of holy utensils. And for a queasy view of how much the ground beneath the city is sinking, note how chandeliers appear to list in comparison to the chapel’s vertical lines.

Fans of real-deal sushi-bar Nipponese are united in huzzahs for Rokai, a sliver of a restaurant in a low-key, high-end section of the Cuauhtémoc quarter, north of the Reforma. Japanese-born chefs Hiroshi Kawahito and Daisuke Maeda change up the menu daily, depending on what’s available at markets (they make great use of some of the best fish that comes in from Baja California); regulars like to nosh omakase-style for a multiple-course tasting at the chef’s discretion. Quality sakes add a rosy glow to the precision with which every creation comes over the bar in this spare but fashionable setting. Reservations are recommended.

Is this polished industrial space, in an odd corner of the Centro, the thinking man’s disco? Organizers prefer to speak in terms of a cultural center, and the installation’s multiple spaces are venues for everything from literary events and screenings to a dynamic agenda of live-music performances. But it’s the DJs and dancing that are bringing in crowds, crowds that are alternative and low-key, creative, sex-pref-neutral, and seemingly little impressed that their hangout has become so fabulous. Priced-to-move libations and overall edginess keep the crowd skewing young; the space’s various environments add variety to your night out—and sometimes there’s even a place where you can chat (or canoodle) without screaming.

A sliver of a boutique, with several levels, and discreetly tucked into a quiet street in the Juarez neighborhood, Loose Blues artfully serves up a clever selection of accessories and apparel for its deliberately insouciant, hipster clientele. Its curatorial strategy starts with staples like vinyl LPs and midcentury barware, then drills down to men’s and women’s clothes and footwear that walks a line between Bettie Page, lumberjack, and future shock. Once you’ve loaded up on Hawaiian shirts and skinny-girl jumpsuits, as well as tattoo-inspired and other Mexi-kitsch artworks, retreat to the upstairs café and restaurant, whose airy industrial vibe complements a menu of delights like herbal teas, artisanal brews, and light Japanese fare.

Upstairs from her flagship Delirio boutique (also worth a duck-in), a beautiful town house is home to chef Mónica Patiño’s Casa Virginia, featuring a changing seasonal menu that takes creative advantage of Mexico’s wide-ranging culinary variety. Its sunny dining room and nostalgic “shabby chic” details cannot fail to delight; its family-style servings are great for sharing. Recent specials included an endive salad and two artichoke preparations, a squash soup, a Mexican-style osso buco, and a rack of lamb. All ingredients are locally sourced and most of the herbs—a key element in everything Patiño does—are grown on the roof. There can be few more civilized meals anywhere in Mexico City.