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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.

Statues of Communist ideologues once dotted every city behind the Iron Curtain, but in the world’s rush to forget the Cold War, such monuments are hard to find these days. Not in Budapest—once East and West came together in the early 1990s, the city decided not to destroy the evidence. It rather collected about 40 monuments of figures like Vladimir Lenin, valiant soldiers, and even a huge sets of boots from a statue of Stalin, and in 1993 put them all in a park about 25 minutes by bus from Budapest’s city center. History buffs, especially, will find it worth the trek.

The four huge red cubes set amid the verdant mountains around Medellín will seize your attention and pique your curiosity—they are pavilions that architect Alejandro Echeverri designed to house Parque Explora, a science museum that is rather a monumental toy itself. The goal was to strike a proper balance between wonder and learning—and to avoid at all costs the sort of place that quickly grows obsolete. The result offers a nice sort of carnival or market feeling in its wide-open spaces. Inside, the pavilions, aquarium, planetarium, and cool science and tech exhibits keep both wee ones and grown-ups entertained and awed.

Chef Ryan Ratino opened his first solo restaurant at age 27, riding a wave of momentum from stints at D.C.’s Ripple and New York’s Dovetail and WD-50. He’s made a big splash, racking up accolades including best new restaurant from the Washington City Paper in 2018. (Nonprofit Zero Food Print also recognized Bresca as the city’s first carbon neutral fine-dining restaurant.) Ratino’s surprising flavor combinations usually delight and always keep things interesting. Consider foie gras “black forest” with sour cherry, dark chocolate, and beets, or burrata and baby carrots with figs and chamomile. Much of the menu consists of these snacks and medium-size plates, and the decor has a similar vibrancy, from the wall of live moss in an electric shade of green to the brilliant blue velvet and tile work.

Sri Srinivasa Perumal Temple is a popular landmark in Little India, where much of Singapore’s sizable Tamil Hindu community works and worships. Originally a simple building on a plot of land, the temple became something entirely different in the mid-1960s with the addition of an elaborate five-layer gopura, or gatehouse tower. Each stepped level of the tower’s roof is crowded with vividly painted statues of royalty, dancers, and deities, as well as candy-colored architectural elements, all of which creates a remarkable celebratory effect. The temple has been granted protected status as a national monument by the government.

Bordered on the south by its eponymous deep-red cliffs, the national monument is home to broad plateaus, endangered California condors, and some of the oldest petroglyphs in the United States. But the area’s greatest hit is the Wave, a dramatic, undulant orange rock formation. There are trailheads, maps, and minimally marked checkpoints along the trail leading to the famous spot, but unless you opt to hire an authorized guide, you’ll have to pick your way carefully across relatively untouched desert—that is, if you manage to snag one of the 20 daily hiking permits. Apply online four months in advance or enter the daily lottery at the visitor center in Kenab, Utah. Didn’t make it? Grab a map, make sure you have a spare tire, and explore the monument’s lesser-known slot canyons and gulches, or head to the Grand Canyon or Zion National Park; both are within a two-to-three-hour drive. You can always try again the next day. Permits are $6 and $7.

I’m not sure at what age humans develop the skill to stand still and appreciate scenery, but based on a scientific survey of kids who live in my house, it’s not age seven. (On a trip to the Canadian Rockies, as my wife and I snapped photos of the relentlessly picturesque mountains, my son, Luke, investigated how quickly he could break his toy helicopter.) Luke expects Mother Nature to be his playmate. At Bandelier National Monument, about an hour’s drive from Santa Fe, New Mexico, she is. The visitor center offers kids a booklet of activities that, when completed, earn them a Junior Ranger patch. (You could call it a bribe. We prefer the term incentive.) The scavenger hunt sent us off on the Main Loop Trail in search of birds, trees, and bugs, as well as the feature that sets Bandelier apart and makes it perfect for kids: cave dwellings. Ladders of salvaged wood lead to rooms that the Pueblo people carved out of the cliffs here over 800 years ago. “I don’t want to go up, Daddy,” Luke said. “It’s too steep.” “You’ve got this, buddy,” I said. “Just take it slow.” There were no lines of impatient parents pushing their children to race up the ladder. (We saw no more than 20 people on the trail.) Luke could climb the rungs at his own pace. He paused in triumph at the top, then set off to wander the caves. While Mom and Dad squatted—“Watch out for your bald head, Daddy”—Luke could explore without even hunching. After about 45 minutes, we were walking back toward the visitor center. We crossed a nearly dry creek by hopping hand in hand from one downed log to another and were back in time for lunch, before hunger, fatigue, or boredom could set in. It was a parent’s—and child’s—dream hike. This appeared in the August/September 2014 issue.

Milan is a different city at night, when the inky blue skies and warm orange street lights reflect on the grey facades of the city’s buildings. The architecture- bombastic, monumental and sometimes even modern- is like a page out of Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead.

Taking a trip to Fort Sumter gives visitors a chance to explore a little Civil War history (the first shot of that long bloody war was fired here in 1861) through an orientation in town at the education center, followed by a ferry ride out to the fort itself, built on an island at the mouth of the harbor, for a brief park ranger introduction and a self-guided tour. In addition to being a fascinating experience for the site’s historical significance, the excursion offers water views of Rainbow Row, the homes along The Battery, and the Holy City’s many steeples.

This pretty green building, with its intricate white trim, is an architectural jewel in central Oranjestad. Constructed from 1922 to 1925, it was designed by Merardo “Dada” Picus for Aruba’s first general practitioner, Dr. Eloy Arends, who presented it to his bride, Maria Monica, upon return from their honeymoon. Over time, it became something of an open house—the design included folding walls that made the space very flexible, allowing the Arendses to host many social gatherings and guests. After falling into disrepair in the 1980s, the home was eventually restored and now functions as a civic building.

In the heart of D.C.'s Penn Quarter, Zaytinya serves up a variety of tapas inspired by traditional dishes from Greece, Lebanon, and Turkey. It also has a selection of wines from such Eastern Mediterranean countries and seasonally serves a hot tea with a blooming jasmine flower. Falafel, hummus, and roasted cauliflower are among my favorite menu items. Try the Turkish coffee at weekend brunch.

Don’t go looking for Casa Grande, the national monument of pre-Columbian ruins, in Casa Grande, the sprawling exurb of a town about halfway between Phoenix and Tucson. You have to drive about 20 miles away to the small town of Coolidge to find the site. This may not be the most scenic stretch of desert, it must be said, but the destination is worth the detour. The Hohokam culture built this complex of dwellings and irrigation canals—one of many—late in their tenure here. Erected in the 1300s, this particular site was abandoned by the mid-1400s—the end of perhaps a thousand years of irrigated agriculture in the Sonoran Desert. The network of villages and canals continue to fascinate archaeologists and urban planners. The “big house” (Casa Grande was named by the first Spanish explorers in the area) stands about four stories tall. In the 1930s, the current shelter was built to protect it from further erosion. (Look carefully: you might catch a glimpse of the resident horned owls.) The timbers needed for construction came from the mountains about 50 miles away; at the time there were no pack animals, and thus no wheeled vehicles in this desert—makes you think... The surrounding ballgame-courts show influence from Mesoamerica. Desert civilization in North America is often thought of as a recent phenomenon—take the 20th-century explosions of Las Vegas, Phoenix, etc. Dig deeper, and get off the interstate. The past is not remote, and this is an easy day trip from Tucson.

Torre Velasca is modern Milan‘s homage to its medieval prominence. The tower was built in the late 1940s/50s on the site of a neighborhood bombed out during World War II and is a testament to monument construction. It towers over the city with an omnipotent vibe harking back to days past.

Marjorie Merriweather Post was a wealthy American socialite and heiress to the Postum Cereal fortune. Her Washington home is now a museum, and the home’s original furnishings have been maintained alongside all the near-priceless collectibles that Marjorie amassed during her lifetime. Thanks to a curator friend who trained her eye to identify pieces worthy of collecting, Marjorie filled Hillwood with museum-quality pieces of furniture, works of art, Russian icons, rugs, and tapestries as well as fine porcelains, glassware, and jade carvings. The collection also includes two rare diamond-studded Fabergé eggs. Every inch of wall is decorated, and luxurious fabrics drape the windows. Some visitors might find it all a bit too ostentatious; others will think it simply exquisite. To say that Marjorie was an obsessive collector is an understatement, and the best way to take it all in is to go on the Mansion Tour. The gardens are as well dressed as the interiors; there are several interconnected garden “rooms,” and each is of a different style, such as French Parterre or Rose Garden. On nice days, you’ll see people picnicking on the grounds.

The Roman Forum is where ancient Rome began. The sprawling archaeological park gives us just a hint of what the Roman Empire once was—a dominant and diverse society. The Forum itself was the political, social, religious, and commercial focal point for the Roman Republic and eventually the whole Empire—for the most elite members of society as well as the common plebs. Walking through the Forum is a walk through history, from its beginning as a valley with small hilltop communities (8th century B.C.E.) to its rise as the capital of an empire. The ruins of basilicas, temples, public forum spaces, and shops can be explored, and the adventure leads to Palatine Hill, an area of high-society patrician homes including the house of Caesar Augustus.