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Travelers incorrectly believe that the street food sold at stalls around Pub Street in the Old Market quarter is authentic. It’s not—not the fruit shake sellers, nor the Nutella pancakes. There is one exception and that’s the ubiquitous sugar cane juice sellers that you see here as well as at local markets, backstreets, and the riverside every afternoon and evening. Follow your ears. Expect to hear the sound of the long pieces of cane being crunched through the crusher or the sounds of swarms of bees buzzing around. The juice will be served in a plastic cup or plastic bag with a straw. If you struggle with the drink in a plastic bag idea, as many foreigners do, then point to a cup. It’s nearly always served over ice and the ice is nearly always safe, thanks to the French who established ice factories across the country during French colonial rule. However, if you’ve not been in the country long or have a weak stomach, skip the ice, just in case. Sometimes Cambodians will add extra sugar to their drinks. Watch carefully and say no if you see the vendor reaching for some, as it’s sweet enough. It’s a terrific thirst-quencher if you’ve been out in the blazing sun all day – and a fantastic pick-me-up if you’re starting to feel that heat.

Schwa is kind of a difficult place to describe; it’s such an eclectic bundle of everything, you just have to experience it for yourself. The exterior of the building makes it look like it should be condemned, but it’s actually structurally sound. Upon entering you’ll be greeted by the always hustling, yet always friendly staff, who will get you to one of the only 26 seats in the small but comfortable dining room. Music—usually heavy metal or rap—is played at a pretty high decibel level, and actually gets inside your brain at times, but for some odd reason it totally works in this place. Overhead the light fixtures are mini works of art that seem literally cobbled together, and to get to the bathroom you actually walk through the kitchen. But once you indulge in all that is unique and wonderful about the place, then you can settle in and indulge in the Michelin-starred food. Anything is fair game here, from Fruit Loop–inspired courses to a curried paste that came in a real-deal petri dish, to the crab that was perched on top of a glass of smoke (you removed the top to inhale the flavored scents—and then ate the crab). And we were told not to play with our food as children! Schwa’s chef Michael Carlson surely did not heed that advice growing up, and as a result we get to reap the benefit of his creative food fantasies coming to life.

What started as a hobby by Fred Koehler and his wife back in 1975, has turned into something that we all now reap the benefits of. Lynfred Winery was founded in 1979 in Illinois, of all places. Urged by some to take his talents to California, Fred refused to leave his roots and set up shop in Middle America. Over the years Lynfred has produced some award-winning vino, some of which you can sample in their tasting room in Wheeling. Grab a glass or a bottle and make yourself comfortable on the grassy lawn outside, or settle into a comfy chair in the tasting room/wine shop inside. Varietals range from Pinot Grigio to Viognier all the way to Syrah and Cabernet Sauvignon. Grapes are sourced from all over, with an abundance from California, and even a few from Washington and Chile as well. A visit to Lynfred Winery is the perfect way to while away a couple of hours over a nice glass (or two) of wine.

Launched in 1929 with a glamorous opening party attended by royalty, this grande dame has long been the most elegant hotel in the Cambodian capital, hosting everyone from Charlie Chaplin to foreign journalists covering the civil war. Part of the Raffles group since 1997, the meticulously restored building—a mix of Art Deco, French Colonial, and Khmer styles—is replete with artisan-crafted decorative touches. Outside, tropical gardens, courtyards, and striking sculptures surround two swimming pools. Hand-woven carpets, polished wood floors, claw-foot tubs, and silk accents—from the throws to the robes—set the scene in the 175 rooms, suites, and apartments.

Khmer culture comes alive at fine-dining restaurant Le Royal (serving Royal Khmer cuisine) and the Apsara dinner-dance show (offered weekly from November–March in the gardens), while international dishes are on the menu at the indoor-outdoor Café Monivong and poolside terrace. The retro-chic Elephant Bar—a city institution, like its counterpart at the Raffles in Siem Reap—is a favorite for afternoon tea and evening cocktails; don’t miss the “Femme Fatale,” created in honor of Jackie O’s visit in 1967. Signature massages using local herbs and traditional healing techniques can be enjoyed at the boutique spa.

Crowds may swarm upon it daily from sunrise onwards, but exposure hasn’t dulled the impact of the largest religious monument in the world. Commissioned by King Suryavarman II in the 12th century as the centerpiece of the mighty Khmer empire, the structure is inspired by Hindu sacred design and is estimated to have taken around 30 years to build. The biggest surprise upon visiting might be learning that the vast complex of spires, moats, frescoes, cloisters, and balustrades was constructed in such speedy fashion. You won’t be alone while witnessing it, but sunrise over the iconic temple remains one of the essential experiences in Southeast Asia. A return in the afternoon when the camera-toting hordes have dispersed is also advisable.

Built in the 1920s by a Croatian businessman, Palacio Astoreca underwent two years of refurbishment and restoration before opening its doors as a boutique hotel in 2012. The work was carried out to a meticulous degree, maintaining the original parquet floors, and adding splashes of color with art deco furniture and modern art, including one piece by Switzerland’s Frédéric Clot. The stucco-and-brick mansion rises up from the streets of Chile’s port city, Valparaíso, like a piece of red-and-white confectionary.

A statement staircase winds up to the 23 rooms, some of which have stand-alone bathtubs. And the basement level is home to a small spa with an open-air, wood-fueled hot tub set alongside a living wall. The reception level and entrance hall open out onto a terrace where lunch, tea, and cocktails are served, allowing guests prime views over the hilly city and Pacific Ocean. There are quiet corners for those seeking a solitary moment, including a library and a piano bar, which comes to life in the evenings with live music.

On sunny days, Parisians head for the Luxembourg Garden, built by Marie de’ Medici in 1611 and modeled after the Boboli Gardens in her native Florence. In addition to the magnificent Medici Fountain, there are more than 100 statues arranged around the garden’s 20 hectares (50 acres), which encompass both formal French and English gardens. Here you’ll find chess players, puppeteers, children sailing tiny boats on the octagonal pool and sometimes a free concert in the gazebo.

Kompong Phluk is a floating village located in the middle of Cambodia‘s largest lake, Tonle Sap. The term “floating” is a bit misleading: the houses are actually built on very tall stilts around 8 meters high. During the rainy season, the lake rises and covers the stilts, giving the illusion that the homes are floating in the water. We learned that these types of villages are built in the middle of the lake to make it easier for fishermen and rice farmers to gather during harvest season.

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.

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