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The Key West Shipwreck Museum transports visitors back to 1856, when the young city’s port had more than 100 ships passing through daily. Because of the coral reefs, shipwrecks were common at the time and salvage became a thriving business. At the museum, visitors will meet an actor portraying Asa Tift, an actual Key West citizen whose family made a good living salvaging, or saving, crew, passengers, and cargo from ships that were wrecked on the reefs. He’ll tell the stories of the many wrecks and recoveries of Tift’s time. The museum’s immersive experience includes films and historic artifacts, including the wreckage of the Isaac Allerton, which sank off the coast in 1895.

Every book will tell you to have high tea at the Empress in Victoria, and you should. They welcomed our three-generation group, including 2 kids under 6, and had hot chocolate for those who didn’t want tea. They also had a full gluten-free option, which was a very welcome surprise. I recommend the Empress blend tea with milk and sugar, and the peppermint also got the stamp of approval from our group. The tri-level tray of treats is the fun part: chicken curry finger sandwiches and cake wrapped in marzipan were the faves. It’s actually fun and not stuffy at all, which was my fear.

About 20 minutes from the center of Guadalajara is the tiny town of Tlaquepaque, whose name translates to “hills of clay.” Fittingly, it’s known for its beautiful pottery and other handicrafts. Wander around Independencia, a pedestrian-only street where the Mercado de Artesanías and several boutiques are concentrated. While in town, you should also pay a visit to the Regional Ceramic Museum, founded to promote indigenous ceramics from Jalisco.

A string quartet used to serenade diners here at the restaurant inside what is arguably the most famous inn in the entire National Park Service (and one of the largest log structures in the world). A pianist in the lobby has replaced the quartet, but most of the other details that make dining at Old Faithful a rustically elegant experience remain: the fireplace made from 500 tons of locally quarried rhyolite; hickory chairs and chandeliers; the soaring 76-foot-tall ceiling in the lobby; and Robert C. Reamer’s asymmetrical design, which purposefully mimics the chaos of nature. Breakfast and lunch are served buffet-style, with filling fare like corn bread, roast beef, and baked beans. Reservations are required for dinner, which can include offerings such as smoked trout ravioli or locally raised lamb.

One of the first stops outside of Cusco was on the Anta plain at 12,375 ft. The 16th century ruin of Chinchero is rumored to be the birthplace of the rainbow. I would be hard pressed to argue those refractions of light could have a more beautiful beginning. A wonderful outdoor market overlooks the ruins and there are many weaving cooperatives to explore in the village. Locals work hard to preserve cultural customs speaking Quechua and wearing colorful traditional dress. By supporting the talented women and buying local you assist in making their lives more self sufficient through their craft. If you’re looking for colorful blankets, I thought this market had one of the best selections.

If you’re in Madrid and in the mood for tapas, you might not know exactly where to go or what to taste. The Mercado San Miguel (metro Sol) takes away all that decision-making by providing you with a taste experience all under one roof. The old, derelict market was renovated just a few years ago and turned into an upmarket culinary emporium of sorts. It has more than 30 food stalls, each selling something different. My favorite is the bellota ham sold at Carrasco, but there is plenty more. You can sample sherries and Rioja wines at the wine bar, or do as Spaniards do and pick away at tapas as you make your way through the market. I highly recommend the croquettes, or croquetas, in one of the outside alleys: they have ham, chicken, shrimp, cheese and a variety of others. The more standard tapas area easy to find, like tortilla, and seafood is beautifully laid out for you to pick and choose. Right in the middle is my top-rated tapa place. I couldn’t find a name for it but it’s the largest counter, shaped like a U, and has everything from potatoes aioli to steamed razor clams, with everything in-between.

After Toronto, Montréal is the Canadian city with the largest population of residents of Italian descent. For more than a century, the community has been centered in one of the city’s most charming neighborhoods, Little Italy. The way to the heart of this neighborhood is arguably through its stomach or, rather, the Jean-Talon Market, where residents have come to buy produce and stock their pantries since 1933. Even if you aren’t shopping for fresh vegetables or fruits, it’s a good place to come to sample Québecois products and buy gifts like local jams, jellies, and maple products to take back home.

When traveling, I love to spend Saturday morning at the farmers market. There’s no better way to meet the locals and get to know the town culture. What produce do they love? What coffee do they sip? What’s the overall mood? One of the best Saturday morning farmers markets I’ve been to was in a giant park in Portland, Maine. The stalls were packed with reasonably priced, locally grown produce (of course, Maine blueberries were abundant). Despite the chilly morning temperatures, children played in a splash park and adults sipped locally made apple cider while listening to the various jazz musicians who had set up around the farmers market. Despite the crowds, parking was abundant (such a rarity!) as was the “Maine nice” that we found around the entire state.

Built of mud and adobe, Chan Chan—the nine-square-mile former capital of the Chimú empire (850–1470)—was the most expansive city of its time. Wander along pathways with a guide to see wall reliefs that depict creatures from the nearby Pacific. You’ll learn where various community activities, including human sacrifices, took place.

With dark walls, natural wood accents, and red curtains in front of the elevators, the trend-setting Andaz hotel feels like more of a scene than any other property in downtown Napa. In the center of downtown Napa, the hotel is mere steps from restaurants, shops, and arguably Napa’s best pub: the Norman Rose Tavern.

On check-in, all guests over 21 receive a complimentary glass of red or white wine. The swanky vibe continues into the 141 guest rooms, where hardwood hickory floors complement white marble bathrooms and midcentury modern furniture. The most convivial space in the hotel is the Mercantile Terrace, a second-story roof deck with a full bar menu and fire pits, a favorite of couples and business travelers alike.

The lounge is operated by Mercantile Social, the restaurant in the lobby that serves small-plate food items and cocktails; it also books live acoustic music sets a few nights a week. (And Mercantile Social sponsors free wine tastings daily.) If you haven’t had enough wine, fear not—on site are two tasting rooms from the wine empire built by Napa native John Anthony Truchard: John Anthony and JaM Cellars.

When the hip Andaz hotel chain opened in downtown Napa in 2012 it brought a youthful energy to wine country. In addition to its affordable rooms and excellent locavore-minded small plates restaurant, Farmer’s Table, the Andaz also gives guests a dose of culture. The brand’s Andaz Salon program introduces art, photography, music, and readings throughout its different properties.

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.

This local favorite breakfast spot has quickly become Los Cabos’ worst-kept secret. Far removed from the main tourist zone, Restaurant Bar Campestre has for years catered to local businesspeople, families, and in-the-know visitors. Even after a renovation that upped seating capacity, it remains a no-frills flavor palace well worth the wait for a table and the effort to find it. Come early for a heaping serving of chilaquiles (strips of fried corn tortillas). They’re available with red or green sauce, and topped with chicken or steak. All the breakfasts pair perfectly with just-squeezed orange juice and cup after cup of fresh-brewed coffee.

Panama City’s seafood market stands near the halfway point along the Cinta Costera, so the goodies on offer can be your reward after a long walkabout. Since colonial times, fishermen who sold the city its seafood have anchored here; there’s now an up-to-date market home to nearly a score of open-air stalls where customers chow down on ceviche, fried corvina fish with patacones (fried plantain rounds), filete a lo macho (fish filet in a shellfish ragout), and those same patacones, now stuffed with shrimp or much-celebrated shellfish guacho (think a tropical risotto). Don’t expect anything ritzy: This is plastic-chair-and-table country, but the food is so delicious that you won’t be thinking about the ambience.

Since 1862, fresh flowers and plants have arrived by barge from the Dutch countryside to Amsterdam. While this assemblage of flora still shows up daily, it comes by van, not boat, to the Bloemenmarkt, the world’s only floating flower market. Here, you can browse 15 fragrant stalls on houseboats permanently moored on the Singel. Now the best-known flower market in Holland, this colorful attraction is packed with tourists on sunny weekends. Still, it’s a great place to pick up Dutch tulip bulbs in a plethora of shades and varieties, as well as many other types of bulbs, seeds, cut blooms, and houseplants. Ship a bag of bulbs home, or grab a souvenir at one of several shops hawking T-shirts, mugs, clogs, Dutch cheese, and other fun and inexpensive gifts.

In 1910, Argentina received a wave of Armenian immigrants fleeing genocide. Many of the new residents settled in Palermo Soho, and several good restaurants emerged. For something a little special on Friday and Saturday nights, the community hosts a cultural and culinary experience that includes dinner and a show, the proceeds of which allow Armenian teens to visit their historical homeland. Food is served in the school cafeteria, and students wait tables as moms and grandmothers send out delicious, authentic delights. Music and dance, courtesy of the young waitstaff, also lend a lively, festive atmosphere to the entire proceedings.