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Enter the former health foods store and you have moved back to the early ‘80s. This is a place where punk never died. Have a vegan sandwich and a beer with the Crippa label, and maybe—if you’re lucky—there will be an acoustic concert on the small stage. Acoustic punk, you say? Well, yes. And other music styles, if Crippa likes the band.

Just south of the historic center of Québec City, the Battlefields Park is one of the most important historic sites in Canada. Here, the dream of New France—a more than 200-year-long project by the French to colonize North America—was dealt a fatal blow. In 1759, during the Seven Years’ War, British forces under General Wolfe defeated the French troops led by General Montcalm. The battle on the Plains of Abraham lasted roughly 30 minutes. (The very biblical sounding name, by the way, comes from the fact that the land where the two armies clashed was owned by a farmer, Abraham Martin.) After defeating Montcalm (who died in the battle), the British took control of Québec City. By 1760, all of France’s territory in North America had fallen to the British, and in 1763, the French officially ceded their claims. History buffs make a beeline to this national historic site, but Québec residents mostly consider it a lovely urban oasis of 255 acres alongside the St. Lawrence River. In the summer, it’s the setting of outdoor concerts; in the winter, there’s an ice-skating rink (free of charge, and skates are available for rent) from mid-December to mid-March.

This might be the most photographed store in Florence—the charming but cluttered scene includes strings of dried garlic and chilies, baskets of fresh fruit, colorful ceramics, wooden serving utensils, wild-boar salami, Tuscan olive oil, and handmade copper pots—with displays inside the shop and spilling out onto the sidewalk. This historic establishment, on the ground floor of the old tower of Borgo Santi Apostoli, is so friendly that the owner will pour you wine and offer a few bites of pecorino cheese while you decide how much room is left in your suitcase.

The Milan Cathedral, or Duomo, occupies a site that’s been holy since the time of the Romans, but it wasn’t until the early 19th century when the finishing touches were finally placed on this massive building. The Duomo is the fifth largest cathedral in the world and one of the top tourist sites in the northern Italian city. Entrance is free, but a small fee is requested if you wish to take photos. Inside the church is even more magnificent then the outside, with scores of shrines and altars dedicated to saints and notable Milanese. During the Christmas holidays the city’s night market takes up residence next to the cathedral, adding one more reason to visit this central site.

A quintessential Alpine winter break wouldn’t be complete without scooping dripping molten cheese from a fondue pot after a day on the slopes. Few places offer this traditionally Savoyard experience quite like the warmly elegant La Calèche Restaurant. It’s not just the variety of fondues, raclettes, and tartiflettes which sets this place apart: The Savoyard dishes merge perfectly with the array of black-and-white photos of Mont Blanc hanging on the walls and the wooden sledges and skis hanging from the ceiling. The cozy terrace is ideal for watching skiers heading back home, while on a Tuesday evening a lively costumed folklore group induces singing, dancing, and mountain merriment.

Creamy gelato goodness is scooped from covered silver containers in this shop on the Piazza Passera. Scan the hand-lettered labels to see what is on offer—the kitchen behind the shop makes everything with the freshest seasonal ingredients. Try Fior di Latte alla Menta, the Italian version of mint chip ice cream, or any of the sorbets, which have a bright, pure fruit flavor. Carry your cone to a bench on the piazza and savor it as you people-watch.

When Mozart was a child, he performed here for Empress Maria Theresa; Franz Joseph I was born and died here, and his unhappy wife, Sisi, presumably sulked inside. Schönbrunn Palace, in the western Hietzing district, naturally invites comparisons to Versailles, as the Hapsburgs built it to rival the French palace. Today, the 1,441-room baroque masterpiece designed by Fischer von Erlach is a World Heritage site, with its Great Gallery and carriage museum among the draws. Its gardens are so vast that a small train takes you around to the palm house, an orangery, and a zoo. The recently renovated, columned Gloriette structure and its café look over the palace and, beyond, Vienna. Schönbrunn’s grandeur never ceases to impress—not bad considering that the palace was only a summer retreat for the Hapsburg rulers.

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.

Stirling Castle is one of Scotland’s most impressive castles, particularly for its role in Scottish history—several kings and queens were crowned here, including Mary Queen of Scots. Tour the Great Hall, the lavish Royal Palace, the elegant Chapel Royal, and the Great Kitchens, then check out Argyll’s Lodging (Scotland’s finest 17th-century town house, built just beyond the castle walls for a great nobleman serving the royal court). Also worth exploring are the peaceful Queen Anne Gardens and the Stirling Heads Gallery, which features 16th-century oak medallions carved with images of royalty, Roman emperors, and characters from the Bible. When you’re done roaming the interiors, head outdoors and walk the ramparts to appreciate the castle’s commanding position above the Royal Burgh of Stirling.

Aguas Calientes is packed with restaurants catering to tourists: the offerings are usually very similar, and the prices are often too high for the quality of the food. The Tree House, however, is worth a visit. This restaurant is known for using traditional and organic ingredients to fuse local flavors with an Asian and Italian influence. Imagine grilled alpaca served with a traditional Andean potato and regional cheese pie and organic salad, or a quinoa risotto topped with lamb meat in a reduction of Andean corn beer and cilantro. For around 40 PEN, you can buy a lunch box to take with you up to Machu Picchu.

This former royal palace is one of the largest museums in the world, and its art collection is considered one of the most comprehensive. It contains around 400,000 works, although—mercifully, perhaps—not all are on display at any one time. There are some pieces that never get taken off the walls. The Mona Lisa and her smile attract millions of visitors each year. Other must-see masterpieces include the sculptures Winged Victory of Samothrace and Michelangelo’s Rebellious Slave, and the Eugène Delacroix painting The Death of Sardanapalus. There’s no real trick to avoiding crowds at the always-packed museum. The best you can do is try to go in the off-season, early or late in the day, and on a weekday. Your chances of being alone with the Mona Lisa will still be slim to none, but you might be able to actually see that enigmatic smile behind the Plexiglas.

Adjacent to the restaurant is a cheery boutique filled with gourmet products from all over Tuscany. Thanks to the restaurant’s long-standing relationships with many of the region’s top purveyors, you’ll find high-quality olive oil (tastings can also be arranged), cheeses, cured meat, preserves, breads, and more. Not all of it will make it through customs, but you can savor any perishables on a picnic to the Tuscan countryside.

Finding a table with a view, friendly service, and menu prices that don’t make you gasp is a rare thing in Capri. Ristorante Villa Margherita offers all three. Sit under the pergola at lunchtime, and take in the blues and greens of Marina Piccola down below. After dark, the space twinkles with soft lights and candles. Island classics such as insalata caprese and spaghetti alla Nerano, made with zucchini and provolone, are featured on the menu. Finish on a cool refreshing note with paper-thin slices of pineapple carpaccio marinated in ginger.

What began in pre-war Italy as two small workshops in the Palazzo Spini Feroni on Via Tornabuoni has grown into a fashion empire and a brand synonymous with Hollywood glamour. A museum dedicated to the craftsmanship of Salvatore Ferragamo opened in this grand palazzo in 1995. The collection includes the wooden lasts, or forms, that Ferragamo used to shape shoes for stars like Marilyn Monroe, Audrey Hepburn, and Sophia Loren. Glass cases display some of the company’s colorful and iconic creations—many that seem more sculpture than shoe. There is also a small space that hosts contemporary art exhibitions.

This sheet-metal fever dream by architect Frank Gehry is like a rock-and-roll Guggenheim, home to interactive exhibits that span music, sci-fi, fantasy, animation, video games, and other scrambled bits of modern life. A hands-on studio lets kids and grown-ups mess with real instruments and studio hardware. Originally intended to honor Jimi Hendrix, the building’s design echoes one of the legend’s smashed guitars (most obviously when viewed from atop the Space Needle). Critic Herbert Muschamp once accused it of “looking like something that crawled out of the sea, rolled over and died,” but visitors often enjoy the jumble of color and distorted reflections—perfect for quirky selfies!