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Palermo, Sicily’s capital, is a marvelously jumbled, crumbling blend of old and new—a canvas upon which the region’s complex and ever-shifting history has been painted. Over the centuries, the port of Palermo was controlled by forces from the far corners—from Phoenicians, Greeks and Romans, to Arabs from North Africa, and then Normans from France, who oversaw a renaissance during which many of Palermo’s iconic landmarks and modern tourist attractions were built.

To see some of the vestiges of ancient empires, take a day trip from Palermo to the Valley of the Temples at Agrigento, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Its Greek and Roman ruins, including the Temple of Concordia, remain wonderfully intact. Within the city itself, explore the attractions in historic neighborhoods such as the Arab district of La Kalsa, home to the finery-filled Palazzo Mirto. The Quattro Canti (Four Corners) lies in the heart of the old city, with Piazza Pretoria on the corner. From there it’s only a short distance to Palermo’s Norman Palace, another UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of Palermo’s star attractions, which houses the Palatine Chapel, famous for its intricate mosaics.

Palermo is also a perfect jumping-off point for sightseeing excursions to the idyllic beaches of Mondello, the medieval coastal town of Cefalù and the mountain village of Monreale, which is known for its exceptional Norman cathedral.

Wandering Chef: Rob Zack in Poland

In Scotland, a writer disconnects from civilization and discovers something much more. . . civilized.

When I told friends I was going to Papua New Guinea eyebrows were raised; when I mentioned I was staying with a Highlands tribe, jaws dropped. I flew into Tari, a small dusty town with a small dusty airstrip and there I got my first sight of the Huli wigmen. The tribe’s Fortune Teller, traditionally dressed with “arse grass” covering his behind, an ornamental wig made of his own hair, and a cassowary quill through his nose, was in complete contrast to the plane that he’d come to meet. The following day I began my time with the tribe itself and was lucky enough to meet this Wigman preparing for a sing sing – a traditional celebratory dance. I sat down beside him as he prepared his face: an ‘undercoat’ of oily white, then a clay ochre base and finally earthly red highlights. Using hand signals he demonstrated what he was going to do next, before picking up a broken mirror and carefully applying the final strokes. He may not have fully realised how brilliant he looked in the afternoon Sun, but for me, watching him go through this ritual was more inspiring than the dance itself.

AFAR chose a destination at random—by literally spinning a globe—and sent Bob Guccione Jr. on a spontaneous journey to Las Vegas.

Wandering Chefs: Rice Paper Scissors Pop-up in Vietnam

Antiques, Organics, and French Pate: Diving into the Markets of Paris

A sweet obsession pulls a writer deep into the heart of Marrakech in search of a taste of the desert.

In stalls crowded with the freshest seafood, sweetest chilies, and spiciest tacos, one writer eats his way to the heart of the metropolis.

A traveler journeys to the heart of Grasse, where jasmine grows and memories linger.

AFAR sent writer Leslie Jamison to the Indian Ocean island nation with just 24 hours’ notice. Arriving with no preparation and no plan, she caught a ride to the war-torn north to find out what kind of traveler she truly is.

Tourism is down, prices are up, social services are disappearing, and the government is bankrupt. Which means it’s a good time to get to know Seychelles.

Beyond the Olympics in London’s East End

The front section of this small spot was crowded with locals having a quick drink and a plate of cicchetti. We had reserved one of the six tables in the back. The menu, written on a blackboard, was all almost all unknown to me. Thankfully my Milanese traveling partners were there to translate. We ordered plates of baccala manecato and polenta, a Venetian style fish lasagna, and a seafood pasta. All washed down with jugs of a cold local white.

AFAR chose a destination at random and sent the poet Beth Ann Fennelly with 24-hours’ notice to a Central American paradise.