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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.

Chef Eduardo García (of Lalo and Máximo Bistrot fame) applies his exquisite taste to a more traditionally French bill of fare at Havre 77, a beautiful dining room on what may be the city’s hippest half-block. Just a smattering of tables (reservations are recommended) and a handsome old-style bar inhabit two rooms and a tiny terrace in a fabulous fin de siècle mansion whose feel is still contemporary; couples favor the restaurant for its romantic, indulgent atmosphere. A pared-down menu hints at the approach: quality over quantity in Gallic standards like onion soup, oysters, a buttery steak frites, duck confit; all ingredients are excellent, leveraging the best of Mexican farms and ranches. Near perfect yet never fussy.

A major driver in the city’s burgeoning food scene, Mercadoroma pays homage to Mexico’s beloved open markets, yet explodes the concept by renting stalls to a dizzying array of purveyors of fine food, beer, wine, and spirits, and other stuffs—all under the same roof. The experience combines picking up staples, hard-to-find cheeses, baked goods, and charcuterie with popping down here or there for a quick gourmet taco, torta, burger, or bit of barbecue. The sweet-tooth set does not leave disappointed, and a retro midcentury vibe makes the market’s shared tables particularly pleasant; the top-floor terrace is a perfect retreat on late afternoons for artisanal beers, mezcals, and a full range of cocktail options. (Check out the market’s sister spot in Coyoacán.)

A chic deli to be sure, Belmondo serves American-style sandwiches like Reubens, tuna melts, grilled cheeses, etc.—about which its young, fashionable adherents rave—but the menu holds some surprises as well, like a barbecued brisket or a chicken curry on peasant bread. The salad selection is varied and creative, in everything from an old-fashioned Cobb to exquisite local beets with goat cheese and avocado. Breakfast (weekends only before 1:45 p.m.) is also about greatest hits; think eggs Benedict and French toast or one of the very few bagels with gravlax you’ll ever see south of the Rio Grande. The place, in Roma Norte, is famed for celebrity sightings and generally crowded, yet the vibe is low-key, cool, and friendly.

A wildly colorful, cartoonish emoji mural sets the scene for fun, fabulous Lalo, the casual-chic outpost from chef Eduardo García (whose Máximo Bistrot is adjudged one of the finest spots in the city). Tables for two are the first to fill, so diners usually find themselves at a long shared table, choosing from a menu of small(ish) plates that pack real flavor and cleverly blend familiar comforts with more-unusual, yet equally tempting, combinations. Breakfast faves include a sinful French toast or less conventional choices like chilaquiles in salsa verde; fluffy omelettes contain amazing cheeses and surprising ingredients. And don’t be shy with pastries. Lunch swings to raved-about pastas and pizzas, or the salad whose ingredients all come fresh from nearby Xochimilco. Artisanal beers and homemade sodas are a sensation as well.

With almost 20 years at the helm of a dining room that’s jammed every afternoon, Gabriela Cámara at Contramar must be doing something right. For one, the seafood on offer—traditional, even homey recipes, impeccably prepared—is among the freshest available. Service is quick, yet warm and enjoyable. It brings in a well-dressed, deliberately coiffed crowd that loves table-hopping, seeing and being seen, and air-kissing; but most of all, they relish digging into house specialties like the fish carnitas, the legendary tuna tostadas, and the grilled pescado a la talla (ordered by weight, and served in a red adobo or a parsley rub). Some afternoons (especially Fridays) you can’t believe the waiters have actually squeezed one more person in, yet everyone is very glad they came. Desserts are especially recommended. Open for lunch only—which may explain the sense of urgency at the door.

Long the heart of the Condesa district (even during the dark days following Mexico City’s devastating 1985 earthquake), today’s Parque México is the quintessential urban park. Well-manicured with ample seating and a recently refurbished open-air forum that plays host to groovy neighborhood events as well as perennial skateboarders, the park’s venerable trees provide shade to the area’s easy-on-the-eyes crowd of joggers, dog walkers, cute old folks, and amorous teens. Along the garden’s perimeter, some of the city’s smartest apartment houses (often in flawless art deco style) share space with cool cafés, kicky boutiques, and crowded restaurants. Few city pleasures surpass Parque México’s people-watching (and pooch-watching) over coffee or cocktails, as golden sunlight streams through branches onto lively, see-and-be-seen sidewalk venues.