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Despite its sobering focus, this museum that looks at the devastating effects of the Vietnam War—known locally as the American War—is very popular. Displays of military equipment and defused ordnance outside the main building are reminders of the huge number of weapons employed during the conflict; they also prime visitors for the powerful exhibits inside. The most disturbing of these are the many graphic photos displayed in galleries that highlight seminal moments of those years (including the infamous My Lai Massacre) and the catastrophic effects of the chemical weapons that were used against the Vietnamese.

At this unique formation, Navajo sandstone in shades of deep red to white was first eroded by water and then primarily by wind to create smooth, rolling terrain that resembles ocean waves. The differing densities of stone have caused the structure to erode at varying speeds, resulting in undulating fins of rock along the entire surface. Made up of two separate U-shaped troughs, the Wave is as narrow as seven feet, as wide as 60 feet, and more than 100 feet long. To preserve its serene nature, the Bureau of Land Management only issues 20 permits per day to visitors. If you’re lucky enough to secure one, you must then hike nearly three miles across the open desert from the trailhead closest to the site to reach it.

The name of this little-known Alfama gem means simply “Aunt Natércia,” and that’s exactly who will greet you if you manage to snag a seat. Here, you’ll find no-frills, home-cooked Portuguese dining, with classic dishes like bacalhau com natas (oven-baked salted cod with fried potatoes and cream), arroz de pato (duck rice), and folhado de bacalhau (salted cod in puff pastry) being upstaged only by Aunt Natércia herself. She’ll talk your ear off in Portuguese while she cooks and serves—it’s a one-woman show—but her food is so good you won’t even care. Reserve ahead.

I’m not one to skip breakfast, especially in Italy, where thoughts of cappuccino, pastries, and local ham tend to rouse me early from slumber. But on my first morning at the Hotel Sant’Angelo, in the old quarter of Matera, I was having a hard time dragging myself from the creature comforts of my cave. Staying in a cave, it turns out, can be surprisingly pleasant. There was just one small window high overhead, but the room and adjoining bath were in no way dank—a testament to the natural ventilation that keeps the caves cool and comfortable. The wavy contours of the white tufa-rock walls conjured a feeling of being enveloped in some primordial womb. Yet there were modern amenities: luxurious linens, Internet service, a telephone. Fred Flintstone never had it this good. I might have snoozed until noon, were it not for an impatient mate eager to see the sights. We had arrived in the village the previous night after a long drive across the treeless plains of the Basilicata region, located at the instep of Italy’s boot. Matera is an enchanted world of Stone Age splendor. Known as the sassi (Italian for stones), the bisque-colored hilltop cave homes comprise one of the oldest continuously inhabited places on earth, according to UNESCO. The caves have provided shelter for more than 7,000 years. A millennium ago, shepherds inhabited them and carved churches into the rock; during the Renaissance, the area prospered and elaborate buildings were carved out, the excess tufa sculpted into ornate facades. By the early 1900s, the sassi had fallen into neglect. Families and their animals crowded into the caves for warmth, and disease was rampant. When writer Carlo Levi brought this tragic state of affairs to light with his 1945 book Christ Stopped At Eboli, the Italian authorities moved residents en masse to modern housing—leaving the sassi abandoned, save for the occasional crew brought by film makers (Pier Paolo Pasolini and Mel Gibson among them) in search of a biblical-looking backdrop. It was only in the 1990s that the Italian government encouraged people to move back. Residents revamped the cave dwellings as homes, restaurants, and inns. When the Sant’Angelo opened in 2004, it was the area’s first luxury hotel. The 19 cave rooms are sparsely but tastefully appointed with rustic wooden furniture. Some carved decorations—crosses, hearts, an owl—date back hundreds of years. Fossilized shells embedded in the walls reveal that the region once lay underwater. Eventually, my fiancé and I did emerge from our cave to wander the town’s ancient alleys. A local guide named Dora Cappiello took us into some of the 150 chiese rupestri (rock churches), where she pointed out wine troughs and frescoes of San Nicola, the patron saint of local shepherds. We also visited a cave dwelling that had been restored to resemble its state when the caves were equal parts manger and living space.
Simple, delicious meals punctuated our explorations. The curvy walls of Baccanti, a cave restaurant, created a private nook where we feasted on silky pappardelle pasta with a cinghiale (wild boar) ragu, accompanied by a dry, fruity red aglianico from the nearby Vulture wine region. Tired and sated after a full day, we headed back to our cave—on moonless nights, a flashlight or trail of bread crumbs is advised for the stumble back to the hotel—where the promise of a deep, sound night’s sleep awaited. —Amy Cortese Hotel Sant’Angelo, 39/0835-314010, from $211 for a double. This appeared in the March/April 2010 issue.

Bến Thành market has been around Saigon in one form or another for over 300 years. At some points it neighbored bodies of water including a small lake. It is a monster, overwhelming at first. If you come to Saigon and you love to shop, this is the one-stop shop you are looking for. Personally nothing is more thrilling at Bến Thành than the art of “The Barter.” It’s a strategic game of wits of where you pit product desire against pocketbook ability and the house always wins. It’s not always easy, in fact it’s never easy. Hot, stagnant air ripe with the smell of fish and squid always seems to hang in the air right over that gift you can’t live without. You’re constantly walking that fine line between feeling like you got ripped off or feeling you’re further oppressing the local population. Bến Thành is the stadium packed with hundreds of thousands of pieces of clothing, jewelry, and art- and they’re all yours to play for.

Minh’s jazz club is owned by one of Hanoi‘s most famous jazz musicians, Quyen Van Minh. Live jazz, performed by local and foreign musicians, including Minh’s son, is the big draw here.

Also known as the 36 Streets (though it’s made up of more than 36 streets), this neighborhood is a warren of alleys and lanes that was, according to some legends, home to 36 artisans’ guilds; streets here were named after the artisan items that were once sold on them (Hang Bo was the location for bamboo products; Hang Ma was where paper objects were sold). Each road today still specializes in a particular category, with some still related to the traditional item. Streets especially popular with tourists shopping for souvenirs, as well as those in search of photo opportunities, are Hang Bac (silver goods, now also filled with gift shops), Hang Ma (religious paper wares, then and now), and Hang Dau (oil products, though currently a center for shoe vendors). Among these timeworn businesses, visitors will also encounter outlet stores selling Gap, Banana Republic, and North Face clothing—some authentic and some fake. The quarter is also packed with hotels, hostels, restaurants, and bars, making it a busy destination at all hours.

Despite a name change from Mia’s Yunnan Kitchen to Julie’s, this inexpensive, cheerful restaurant in the French Concession continues to serve delicious cuisine from southern Yunnan province. Kunming, Yunnan’s capital, is 1,900 miles from Beijing, and the province’s cuisine has more in common with neighboring Burma, Thailand, Laos, and Vietnam than it does with other regional Chinese cuisines. The most unique dish on the menu is rubing—pan-fried goat’s-milk farmer cheese, simply seasoned with salt and pepper. It’s very simple but unusual: When have you seen dairy in Chinese cooking? Eat it with pickled mashed potatoes, spicy mint salad, and plenty of mushrooms—they’re native to Yunnan.

The tram gives Portland visitors stunning views of the city, river, and mountains beyond. Grab the streetcar from downtown out to the waterfront. You’re delivered to the lower terminal for the three-minute ride carrying you 3,300 feet at 20 MPH to the upper terminal at OHSU. Linger for photo ops then head back down to explore. If it’s nice, skip the streetcar and walk back along the river. Daily workout, check. Roundtrip cost: $4. At the lower terminal, the Daily Cafe is an easy find in the atrium of the OHSU Clinical building as you disembark the pill-shaped car, built with precision by the Swiss. Head for the river and stroll along the shore in any weather. Double back along SW Bond Ave and consider lunch at Bambuza Vietnamese Bistro. Check out the pricey high-rise condos on the market in the real estate office windows, then relax in one of the pocket parks to people watch. It snows in Portland. A couple of times a winter, even downtown gets dusted and it’s a huge mess. I’ve dreamed about getting my ski gear on, grabbing my boards and heading for the PDX Tram at the South Waterfront. I’d casually climb aboard with the patients and medical folks heading up to “Pill Hill” and blow their minds.

A Japanese man making Neapolitan pizza in Vietnam’s business hub might seem like an unlikely scenario, but it perfectly describes Pizza 4P’s. The restaurant now has multiple outlets, including one in Hanoi, but the original spot discreetly tucked away in an alley just off Le Thanh Ton Street is still the most atmospheric. The name is a nod to the owner’s wish in life—for peace—and informs his drive to deliver a pleasurable experience to diners. The pies, as popular with tourists as they are with Saigon residents and the Japanese expat wives who frequent the place on weekday afternoons, are ideal: charred, chewy, pliable crusts; tart tomato sauce; and creamy, homemade mozzarella, crafted by hand outside the city of Da Lat (for an unforgettable meal, order a pizza topped with a whole, unsliced burrata).

From its striking colonial-inspired exterior and elegant marble lobby to the uninterrupted views of the Hanoi Opera House, the Hotel de l’Opera evokes the spirit of an old world performance hall. The Old Quarter hotel’s cynosure is the nine-story atrium where velvet jewel-toned sofas, tasseled curtains, and an emerald tufted-silk wall behind the marble concierge counter have the dramatic effect of a theater foyer. The theme continues in the guest rooms: Moody walls, Hollywood-style vanity mirrors, and metallic accents nod to performers’ dressing rooms. Take in the sights from the third-floor pool terrace, which looks straight down Trang Tien Street to the iconic landmark, then head to the Fée Verte bar for cocktails before dinner at Café Lautrec, honoring the 19th-century painter and Hanoi’s ubiquitous French influences.

One of the most beloved Vietnamese eateries in Saigon, SH Garden has lovely views of a pretty part of the city, but it has earned its following with dishes that celebrate the flavors of all the country’s regions, from north to south. Situated on the rooftop of an old colonial edifice at the intersection of Nguyen Hue and Le Loi streets, around the corner from the Opera House, it surveys a pretty part of the city with plenty of other colonial buildings nearby. Named for its owners Son and Ha, the restaurant doesn’t compete with the higher-price-point options in the city and instead serves good old mom-style cooking.

Vietnam is not the most obvious surfing destination in the world, but the swell near Danang is actually excellent -- especially during the monsoon season. The centre of the surf scene is Tam’s Pub in Danang, which is a good spot to rent a board and get advice on conditions and choice surf spots.

Coco frios are sold on every corner during the high season (fall and winter) in Puerto Rico. Cold, fresh coconut water is the lifeblood of island living. Literally, if you were ever stranded on an island, you could sustain yourself on what’s inside a coconut (just ask Les Stroud). There is a difference between coconut water and coconut milk. Coconut water is clear to translucent and not as sweet—you harvest this from a fresh green coconut that has just fallen, or is ready to fall from the tree. It might taste unusual at first if you have never tried it, but this is actually the best form of natural electrolytes to replenish yourself after a workout or surf session. Watch the roadsides for the carts and folks with machetes—because this is your hint that coco frios await you!

Blueberry Boy Bait may sound like a B-side song from an alternative band, but it’s actually just an ice cream flavor offered by Humphry Slocombe, a small shop in the Mission District. Owner and former pastry chef Jake Godby has made the name Humphry Slocombe synonymous with flavors and ingredients not often found in ice cream or sorbet. Case in point: best-seller Secret Breakfast, the flavor that launched a thousand Humphry Slocombe fans, a combo of homemade cornflakes and bourbon. Traditionalists will be happy to find “normal” flavors, too, but it’s Godby’s “march to your own drum” ethos that brings out his best work and keeps people lining up for creative scoops. Pick up a copy of The Humphry Slocombe Ice Cream Book, with 40 recipes you can re-create at home.