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I hadn’t been awake for longer than a minute. I peeled back the tarp door to my room, walked out onto my deck, and leapt. It was an abrupt but purifying way to start the day. The cool, brackish water instantly defogged my mind, and my eyes opened to see the surrounding Tatai River and dense Cambodian rain forest. A lone sampan, anchored along an islet, was the only man-made object to interrupt the natural scenery. My chic bungalow lightly swayed on the calm water behind me, an incongruous encampment against the wild jungle backdrop.

Located on the southern tip of the Cardamom Mountains, near the Gulf of Thailand, the 4 Rivers Floating Lodge lives up to its name. The retreat’s 12 landless suites all float on their own buoyant platforms, moored to the riverbank. Outfitted with a ceiling fan, armoire, and wood-paneled shower, each of the towering, safari-style tented rooms also provides a nearly 360-degree view of the tropical landscape. A boardwalk connects the rooms to a central lounge and dining area decorated in a muted variety of Miami Beach sleek.

At first blush, getting to this secluded outpost might seem daunting. Guests can arrive by boat, drive, come by cab or take a bus from Phnom Penh: I took a five-hour bus trip from Phnom Penh, followed by a half-hour longboat ride from the village of Tatai. But the journey is well worth the peaceful reward. The Cardamom Mountains contain the largest and most intact evergreen rain forest in mainland Southeast Asia. For decades, the region was largely off-limits to developers because of land mines and fighting between government forces and the Khmer Rouge militia. This very isolation protected the area’s natural habitat, which is now home to scores of endangered species, including Asian elephants, hairy-nosed otters, and Siamese crocodiles.

Mine-clearance efforts and the end of hostilities have made travel here safe for more than 10 years, but it remains a sparsely populated frontier. The area’s remoteness is remarkable in and of itself. In the afternoon, I took a boat ride to the Tatai waterfall with several other guests. Even our skipper, a young Cambodian man who leads visitors on these trips every day, was still in awe of the lush surroundings. “So quiet and beautiful,” he said, looking at the palm trees along the river’s edge. After we arrived at our destination, I spent the rest of the day sitting beneath the waterfall’s forceful but soothing cascades, letting nature’s masseuse relax my muscles.

I returned to the lodge for dinner beneath an orange and purple sunset. On the restaurant’s uncovered patio, the only sound accompanying the clang of my utensils was the soft splash of kingfishers swooping to pluck fish from the river. I was less delicate, digging into skewers of mozzarella, watermelon, and fresh shrimp and a plate of steamed river fish topped with a basil cream sauce. In the lingering twilight, I sipped a gin and tonic on my private terrace before easing under my bedsheets. As the gently undulating waters rocked me to sleep, any illusions I had about roughing it in the wilderness drifted away. —Brendan Brady

Crowds may swarm upon it daily from sunrise onwards, but exposure hasn’t dulled the impact of the largest religious monument in the world. Commissioned by King Suryavarman II in the 12th century as the centerpiece of the mighty Khmer empire, the structure is inspired by Hindu sacred design and is estimated to have taken around 30 years to build. The biggest surprise upon visiting might be learning that the vast complex of spires, moats, frescoes, cloisters, and balustrades was constructed in such speedy fashion. You won’t be alone while witnessing it, but sunrise over the iconic temple remains one of the essential experiences in Southeast Asia. A return in the afternoon when the camera-toting hordes have dispersed is also advisable.

Inspired by vibrant Southeast Asian night markets, D.C. chef Erik Bruner-Yang (of Toki Underground fame) and D.C. streetwear mogul Will Sharp created a sleek, two-story indoor/outdoor space that’s part menswear store, part café and restaurant. The first level is all about shopping, and the floor is lined with glass-encased displays featuring Sharp’s clothing line, Durkl, as well as a library full of designer sneakers. Upstairs, sip locally roasted Vigilante coffee while snacking on Frenchie’s pastries and desserts. The best part, though, is when you step onto the patio and take a seat at the open kitchen serving up Yang’s blazing hot and flavorful Cambodian and Taiwanese cuisine. Don’t miss out on the American Wagyu tartare, the Khmer tamarind salad, the steamed pork bao buns, and zha ji pai (Taiwanese fried chicken).

A UNESCO World Heritage site in a mountain valley about 40 miles west of Da Nang, My Son is a vestige of the Champa kingdom, a culture that was heavily shaped by Hindu beliefs and practices. Built between the 4th and 14th centuries, the temples pay homage to the god Shiva, though the deity is often referred to here by different names. While some of the shrines are partially restored, and others overgrown with greenery or showing their age (many were destroyed by American bombing during the Vietnam War), the sheer scope of the ruins are proof of the reach of Hinduism and the lofty ambitions of the Cham kings.

Locha is a hard word to translate. A literal English translation would be “a problem,” but that misses the mark. You could think of it as a “mess,” but that’s not really it either. Locha is more along the lines of “something funky is in the works.” And true to its name, Chemical Locha is all kinds of funky—and a very colorful kind of funky at that. This little store is set up right where N Main Road turns into Lane 5, and the bright green and purple logo is hard to miss if you are walking past. Duck in for all sorts of quirky, kitsch, and crazy swag. Items on sale include: A rib-tickling collection of t-shirts, including an Iron Man shirt with a turbaned laundrywala ironing a pile. Kooky bar accessories—look out for those with an Indian twist, like the “Horn OK Please” coasters. Bright stationery, including diaries, notebooks, and bookmarks you can plant (the bookmark is embedded with sunflower seeds; the idea is to read, sow, and reap). A set of funny mugs, key chains, and games. If you’re looking for offbeat souvenirs, this is definitely your place.

A room at S-21 where prisoners were systematically tortured for weeks on end by Khmer Rouge soldiers in order to ferret out false confessions that the victims had committed acts of treason against Pol Pot and the regime. When I look at these images I really do find myself at a loss for words--this is one of those pictures that really do convey more emotions that spoken vocabulary ever could. It reminds of the video game Silent Hill, except it’s real--the evils of man are deeper than the pits of his imagination.

Schwa is kind of a difficult place to describe; it’s such an eclectic bundle of everything, you just have to experience it for yourself. The exterior of the building makes it look like it should be condemned, but it’s actually structurally sound. Upon entering you’ll be greeted by the always hustling, yet always friendly staff, who will get you to one of the only 26 seats in the small but comfortable dining room. Music—usually heavy metal or rap—is played at a pretty high decibel level, and actually gets inside your brain at times, but for some odd reason it totally works in this place. Overhead the light fixtures are mini works of art that seem literally cobbled together, and to get to the bathroom you actually walk through the kitchen. But once you indulge in all that is unique and wonderful about the place, then you can settle in and indulge in the Michelin-starred food. Anything is fair game here, from Fruit Loop–inspired courses to a curried paste that came in a real-deal petri dish, to the crab that was perched on top of a glass of smoke (you removed the top to inhale the flavored scents—and then ate the crab). And we were told not to play with our food as children! Schwa’s chef Michael Carlson surely did not heed that advice growing up, and as a result we get to reap the benefit of his creative food fantasies coming to life.

Kompong Phluk is a floating village located in the middle of Cambodia‘s largest lake, Tonle Sap. The term “floating” is a bit misleading: the houses are actually built on very tall stilts around 8 meters high. During the rainy season, the lake rises and covers the stilts, giving the illusion that the homes are floating in the water. We learned that these types of villages are built in the middle of the lake to make it easier for fishermen and rice farmers to gather during harvest season.

What started as a hobby by Fred Koehler and his wife back in 1975, has turned into something that we all now reap the benefits of. Lynfred Winery was founded in 1979 in Illinois, of all places. Urged by some to take his talents to California, Fred refused to leave his roots and set up shop in Middle America. Over the years Lynfred has produced some award-winning vino, some of which you can sample in their tasting room in Wheeling. Grab a glass or a bottle and make yourself comfortable on the grassy lawn outside, or settle into a comfy chair in the tasting room/wine shop inside. Varietals range from Pinot Grigio to Viognier all the way to Syrah and Cabernet Sauvignon. Grapes are sourced from all over, with an abundance from California, and even a few from Washington and Chile as well. A visit to Lynfred Winery is the perfect way to while away a couple of hours over a nice glass (or two) of wine.

When I stepped into the grand lobby of Québec’s Le Château Montebello, I felt like I was entering Paul Bunyan’s living room. Giant timbers braced a three-story-high ceiling, and a massive fireplace in the center radiated warmth in all directions. After checking in, I joined the guests gathered around the six-sided hearth and sank into a leather club chair. I spent the rest of the day by the fire, sipping hot toddies and napping, as the comfort of the crackling flames sent me and the other fireside dozers snuggling deeper into our cushions. I had come to ski some of the 65,000 acres of wooded backcountry that neighbor the resort, but the château was so welcoming, I found it hard to leave.


Often described as the world’s largest log cabin, the lodge and two other main buildings were constructed in 1930 from 10,000 red cedar logs and 500,000 handmade wooden shingles. The houses and the vast surrounding forests were long owned by the politically prominent Papineau family, and until 1970, the estate remained a private nature retreat for Canada’s upper class. As I walked through the château’s halls, the intricately carved banisters and exposed beams reminded me of the great western lodges in the U.S. national parks—only without any grumpy tourists demanding to know where the animals are.

In the guest rooms, deluxe amenities such as flat-screen TVs and rain-dome showerheads upstaged anything found in Yellowstone or Yosemite. Despite the modern perks, rawhide lampshades and other rustic details helped my suite retain its frontier appeal. When I got up to pull the plaid drapes closed that night, I watched a horse-drawn sleigh pass by, glowing in the moonlight against the dark ribbon of the frozen Ottawa River.

Without fresh snow to ski the next morning, I was left to explore the lodge’s other activities. I opted out of getting scrubbed with maple sugar at the spa or unsuccessfully flirting with French-Canadian women by the fire, and instead devoted the day to learning the inscrutable rules of curling. The château has an indoor ice rink dedicated to the sport, a national favorite that’s best described as a combination of shuffleboard and falling down a lot. My instructor was Henri, a kindly sexagenarian who, like many in Québec’s western Outaouais region, seemed more comfortable speaking French than English. As it turns out, kindly reassurance sounds the same in either language. But as my backside repeatedly hit the ice, Henri’s patient polyglot insistence that I was doing “une belle job” grew progressively less convincing.

After my rough-and-tumble day, I dined in the white-tablecloth Aux Chantignoles restaurant. Québecois cuisine dominates the menu, and I followed a dinner of tender venison osso buco with a slice of Québec’s famously sweet and jiggly sugar pie—think pecan pie sans pecans. Snow fell just in time for me to ski through the nearby forest on my last day. I spent a long afternoon there, gliding among stands of birch, pine, and spruce in the rolling Laurentian Highlands. Now and again, I paused to admire one of the countless frozen lakes, their smooth surfaces dotted with tracks left by moose and white-tailed deer. I skied in the silent wilderness until just after sunset. As the scent of a wood fire began to tickle my nose, I grew eager to cozy up by the hearth again. I turned back toward the château’s stone chimney, its rising plume of smoke signaling for my return.
This appeared in the November/December 2010 issue.

Situated closer to Cambodia than Vietnam in the Gulf of Thailand, Phu Quoc has arguably the best beaches in the country. An international airport opened in 2012, raising the island’s profile and bringing in droves of visitors. Despite this, the island retains a laid-back, underdeveloped charm, and its coast is still dotted with small fishing villages with brightly painted boats. The interior of the island includes plenty of forest, while some of the land is earmarked for growing black pepper—pepper from here is famous throughout Vietnam. The best beach lies to the west of the town of Phu Quoc; it’s a 13-mile long straight stretch with golden sands, coconut palms, and clear turquoise waters. The An Thoi Islands, south of Phu Quoc but still part of its marine park, offer excellent snorkeling and diving during the dry season from December through May.

The first Smithsonian affiliate in the Northwest, this superb museum chronicles the Asian Pacific American Experience. Among its most poignant exhibits is the Letter Cloud installation: old hotel walls frame tales of aging far away from home. It also offers walking tours of the surrounding International District, including Touch Of Chinatown, which visits the elegant Kobo gallery and Uwajimaya, one of America’s largest Asian grocery and gift stores. Stop into the nearby Panama Hotel, home to a teahouse and the nation’s only intact sentō (Japanese public bathhouse). Lockers and marble baths still stand in the basement, which harbored the belongings of Seattle’s 7,050 Japanese-American residents imprisoned in WWII internment camps—the basis for Jamie Ford’s best-selling novel Hotel On The Corner Of Bitter And Sweet.

An ethnic minority living in the Central Highlands provinces, the Bahnar are as renowned for their musical prowess, achieved with bamboo instruments that include the fiddle and xylophone, as their soaring, thatched-roof rongs (meetinghouses used for community activities), some of which climb as high as 50 feet. The quiet town of Kon Tum, located a couple of hours from the point where the borders of Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam connect—and the border-crossing station into Laos at Bo Y—is a good base from which to explore the numerous Bahnar villages nearby. For the less adventurous, there are a few villages within Kon Tum itself. The nearest airport to Kon Tum is in Pleiku, about 25 miles away.

To explore this national park, visitors travel on foot and by boat along estuaries through thick mangrove forests and over plank bridges in dense stretches of jungle. The park’s freshwater wetlands and evergreen forests provide a healthy habitat for hundreds of species of animals, but there are pristine beaches here, too.

Sicily has a long tradition of puppet shows, and they’re not intended merely to amuse the kids. These are elaborate theatrical works that tell complex stories through beautifully crafted marionettes. Palermo’s International Museum of Marionettes Antonio Pasqualino (its full name) honors the art as it’s performed in Sicily and in other cultures around the world. The 3,500 puppets on display come from Sicily, Japan, Indonesia, Cambodia and parts of Africa. You can even watch marionettes in action in a theater on the top floor; check the schedule to see what’s playing during your visit.