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Located on the north coast of Isla Robinson Crusoe, Cumberland Bay sits in the shadow of the volcanic peaks that form the spine of the island. Along the bay is the island’s only settlement, San Juan Bautista, a quiet town of fishermen living in modest homes. Below the sea here is an artifact of a moment when the island played a brief part on the global stage. The German SMS Dresden was launched in 1908 and took part in the Battle of the Falkland Islands in December 1914, during World War I. The ship then sought a safe harbor on Isla Robinson Crusoe, as Chile was neutral in the war. British ships, ignoring Chile’s neutrality, attacked the Dresden and its captain intentionally sunk the ship. It remains to this day resting on the bottom of Cumberland Bay.

This restaurant feels like you stepped back in time - think Mexico in the 70s. The story goes - it all began in the VW van in Playa del Carmen. Tacombi used to sell tacos out of the van, and now he has a nice, cozy spot in Soho where the van is parked. It’s a garage with lights strung in the air. It just feels cool to be in. The design is great, but the food is even better. Virtually any tacos you order are wonderful. I also recommend the guacamole appetizer - yum! And don’t leave without ordering a drink.

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.

A shared love for southern Italian comfort food and a chance encounter in the supermarket drew chefs Antonio d’Alaimo and Ciro Genova into this gastronomic venture. The Italian duo, known to everyone as Ciro and Tony, personally welcome every guest to their small dining room. The menu features, among other things, veal marsala, snapper in wine sauce with fresh tomato and laurel, and tortellini Alessandro (pasta stuffed with chopped ham and cream). A wide-ranging wine list and tempting dessert menu help round out the evening.

Inspired by a former Ford car dealership that once sat on the site in upscale Mission Hills, Fort Oak’s interior mixes old and new; hexagonal tiles and brass accents give the space a vintage feel, while a black oak communal table and plank flooring bring a modern industrial vibe. Executive Chef Brad Wise excels at wood-fired cuisine—the exhibition kitchen has a 7,000-pound grill and range where he fires up 45-day dry-aged ribeye and Australian wagyu beef—but what really sets Fort Oak apart is a raw bar serving seafood towers and buttery hamachi poke. For a decadent night out, slide into Fort Oak’s chef’s counter for a six-course tasting menu cooked by Wise (offered Wednesday and Thursday nights every other week; reserve ahead).

There are few places where you can better learn about the beauty and complexity of desert ecology than the Desert Botanical Garden, not far from downtown Phoenix. Check out the Desert Discovery Loop Trail for a look at local flora, go for a flashlight tour or cooking class (using plants found in the region, of course), or catch one of the musical performances that are part of the garden’s concert series. Make a point to visit the Desert Terrace Garden for the best views of the surrounding buttes and desert.

Magical, mysterious, magnificent—the ancient madrassas, or Koranic schools, of Morocco are unlike any other, and nowhere are they more extraordinary than in the Fes medina.

These architectural gems are home to students who come from all over the Arabic world to study their religion. The serene environment of the schools provides a welcome balm from the frenetic activity of life in the medina. Several of the oldest in Fes, while no longer in use, are open to the public, which allows a fascinating insight into the almost monastic existence of the former residents. A visit can also reveal layer upon layer of exquisite Islamic architectural details such as carved and filigreed plaster, delicate hand-cut zellij (glazed tiles), elaborate ironwork, and painted wood inlaid with gold leaf.

Among those you shouldn’t miss are the 14th-century al-Attarine, for its extraordinary plaster- and stuccowork that is said to have been inspired by the Nasrid Palaces in Granada’s Alhambra; the Bou Inania, near the Bab Boujloud (Blue Gate) and built around the same time, for its spacious, arcaded courtyard; and the 17th-century Cherratine in the Andalous Quarter, a fine example of Islamic architecture, with ornate carved-cedarwood balconies that go up and up and up, as if ascending to heaven.

When it comes to Kindred, you can forget your preconceived notions of vegan restaurants. The South Park spot features killer cocktails, filling food, and an edgy design, complete with a coffered ceiling, a white-marble bar, and a demon-wolf-head sculpture mounted on the wall. Pair the refreshing Place of Certainty (vodka, elderflower, Aperol, lemon, Thai basil, winter melon bitters, and cucumber) with Kindred’s take on the charcuterie board (smoked golden beets, kale pesto, and red-chili-and-orange-fennel seitan), or order something more substantial, like the beet risotto or the seared cauliflower steak with squash puree and steak sauce. The restaurant also offers an excellent weekend brunch with everything from cinnamon rolls and banana bread French toast to pancakes with bourbon butterscotch.

The town of Stromboli, the main settlement on the island, sits at the foot of the volcano overlooking Strombolicchio. Its gleaming white buildings surround the dome of a small church, Chiesa di San Vincenzo. The town is fronted by a stretch of volcanic beach where local fishermen haul out their boats on the coarse black sand.

After a day spent exploring Montjuïc’s gardens and museums, this cozy corner restaurant in nearby El Poble-Sec makes for an ideal dinner stop. Simply decorated, with bright green walls, a long wood bar, and a handful of tables, La Platilleria doesn’t have a fixed menu; rather, the kitchen offers a daily selection of seasonal, locally sourced small plates. There are Spanish stalwarts like patatas bravas, pan con tomate, and Ibérico ham, but it’s worth trying the specials, which might include a rich dish of braised oxtail atop polenta, or osso buco with sweet potatoes. A small but well-curated selection of Spanish wine, cava, and craft beer is available—if you’re feeling daring (or thrifty), order a 3 euro ($3.35) pinguino, a penguin-shaped carafe of rustic local wine.

Latin America’s largest jewelry market, this four-level spot in the heart of Guadalajara features more than 700 jewelry stores, labs, and repair shops. Precious and semiprecious stones sparkle alongside gold, silver, costume jewelry, and watches, making it nearly impossible to leave with just one thing.

When in Marrakech it’s very difficult to resist the urge to shop, especially when it comes to carpets and textiles; the city probably has the best selection in all of Morocco. If you have nerves of steel, then the carpet souk on the Rahba Lakdima is a good place to start, but be warned that the traders in these parts are rapacious. If you prefer a rather less intense experience, head for Soufiane’s flagship store near Dar el Bacha, where you can view your carpets in the serene environment of a tranquil riad and then retire to the very sexy green-tiled rooftop for a glass of mint tea. For increasingly popular supersize Tuareg reed-and-leather mats, go to Kulchi (by appointment only), which has an extraordinary collection from the owner’s travels through the south. For gorgeous cotton bed linens and towels trimmed with delicate Marrakchi embroidery in muted shades—think aubergine, dove gray, and charcoal—Valerie Barkowsi’s (next door to Mustapha Blaoui) is the place to head.

Though from Guadalajara (he never let friends forget), Pritzker Prize–winning architect Luis Barragán lived much of his life in Mexico City, where he designed and constructed this, his last residence, completed in 1948. A UNESCO World Heritage site, the home is open to be toured by small groups—by appointment only; English-language guides are available upon request—who want a chance to tap into Barragán’s brand of minimalism, which involved bold monochromism and a masterful use of light; striking horizontality and framing applied to windows, gardens, and views; a highly sui generis Catholic spirituality; and, not least of all, the architect’s bizarre need for control, in everything from what staircases guests might use to what records got played in different rooms.

With its historic pueblo-inspired architecture and Spanish Revival style, this landmark Santa Fe hotel looks like it dates back much earlier than 1922, when it was designed by two of the area’s top architects: Mary Elizabeth Jane Coulter and John Gaw Meem. And, in fact, despite the imposing building’s relative youth, the legacy of La Fonda dates back to the 1600s. An inn or hotel has stood on this site since the city’s founding at the end of the Santa Fe Trail.

Now, as one of the city’s most iconic luxury hotels, it presides over the historic Plaza and boasts some of the best views of the city and surrounding mountains and desert. Thanks to a complete (and completely faithful) renovation in 2013, rooms are now bright and airy, outfitted with handcrafted furnishings, local artwork and textiles, energy-efficient casement windows, and all the luxuries expected of a modern grande dame. The fine-dining courtyard restaurant is one of the most romantic dining destinations in town—trumped only by the rooftop Bell Tower Bar, whose sunset views and margarita menu draw locals and in-the-know visitors alike. Throw in a heated outdoor pool (open year-round, a rarity in Santa Fe) and a decadent spa, and it’s no wonder that La Fonda has maintained its reputation for superlative hospitality for so long.

Nearly 1,000 years after the once-powerful central Mexican city of Cacaxtla was abandoned, would-be looters of the hilltop palace ruins came across fantastically well-preserved and still colorful murals painted in a somewhat puzzling Mayan style. Excavation continues today under an enormous protective shed roof. The Mural del Templo Rojo, pictured, adjoins a stairway leading to the Governor’s Room. The huge nearby Mural de la Batalla, dating from 700 CE or earlier, is a grisly blood-and-guts depiction of a fierce battle between “jaguar” and “bird” warriors. The relatively un-touristed site is a short drive from Tlaxcala, slighting longer from Puebla. You come away from a slow stroll through the labyrinthine ruins with the feeling that centuries of mysterious history have seeped into your heart and bones.