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Frolicking in a lavender field delivers that quintessential pinch-me-I’m-in-Provence sensation, and the next best thing may be browsing the area’s flower markets. Consider the stalls that pop up a few mornings a week in the Place de l’Hôtel de Ville in Aix-en-Provence, the town where Paul Cézanne painted and M.F.K. Fisher wrote. It’s a true pleasure—and reminder you’ve escaped your everyday routine—to slow down in admiration of the sunflowers, lilies, poppies, and other fresh flowers for sale.

In 1923, the artist Jacques Majorelle acquired a four-acre plot of land just outside the center of Marrakech. Inspired by numerous travels around the country to paint scenes of village life, and funded by painting more illustrious portraits such as that of Pasha Thami el Glaoui, Majorelle was able to build a small studio and house, with enough land to indulge his other passion: ethnobotany. As his career grew, he added a splendid villa, and the garden took on a life of its own, featuring innumerable exotic species from around the world; he added pools and fountains, and, of course, the now iconic, eye-popping Majorelle blue that was lavished on the architecture. The property became so expensive to maintain that the artist was forced to open it to the public until his death in Paris in 1962. The garden gradually fell into a state of disrepair and was slated for development by a hotel chain until French designer Yves Saint Laurent and his partner Pierre Bergé happened upon it during one of their many trips to the Red City. In 1980, they decided to buy it and restore it to its former glory, adding irrigation and doubling the number of plants and gardeners to look after it. They moved into the villa and set about transforming other buildings into what is now the legendary Berber Museum and a boutique. The latter is especially noteworthy for creative director Stephen di Renza’s commitment to reflecting Majorelle’s lesser-known passion for the decorative arts (which is manifest in the exquisite artisanal pieces, leather goods, and jewelry) and Saint Laurent’s inspired use of traditional Moroccan dress, such as the kaftan and djellaba, in haute couture fashion.

Atop St. Paul’s Hill sit the ruins of St. Paul’s Church, built by the Portuguese and consecrated in 1521. Malaysia’s oldest church was first Roman Catholic, then Dutch Reformed and ultimately used by the British to store gunpowder. Missionary St. Francis Xavier was briefly interred here (after three weeks his remains were sent to Goa, in India, where they can be found to this day); an open grave marks the spot where he was buried. Adjacent to the church is the Porta de Santiago, all that’s left of the Portuguese fortress A Famosa; built in the early 16th century after the Portuguese took control of Malacca, the fortress was used by both the Dutch and the British.

With its 26 suites, private beach, and two waterfront bars, Calabash Cove offers a boutique hotel alternative to the typical all-inclusive experience. Set a stone’s throw from the turquoise waves of Bonaire Bay, the sprawling, Balinese-inspired Water’s Edge cottages are the ones to book thanks to private plunge pools, outdoor rain showers, and patio hammocks positioned to highlight superb sunsets. The resort’s remote location ensures tranquility, as does the spa, which offers in-room treatments using ingredients sourced from St. Lucia’s floral and culinary bounty. That abundance is also on display in the Windsong restaurant, where local dishes get an elegant twist (octopus tempura, smoked coconut crème brûlée) in a terrace dining room with the ultimate ocean backdrop. Follow your meal with a brief walk down Calabash Cove’s small boardwalk and stop to spot shooting stars in the dark skies above.

Fragonard is among the best-known parfumeurs in France; its history dates back to 1926, when the company was founded by Eugène Fuchs who named it after the painter Jean-Honoré Fragonard. There are several locations across Paris, but the one near the Opera is the most fun to visit, as it’s actually a (free) museum showing the art of perfume-making, as well as a shop where you can buy Fragonard products. Be sure to check out the historic orgue à parfums, a multi-tiered collection of bottles resembling a church organ that were used to mix fragrances.

There’s a new wave of wine bars in Paris, ones that champion natural wine (a step beyond organic) and serve artful small plates. Camille Fremont’s La Buvette (not to be confused with Buvette restaurant) is considered one of the best; the place has won lavish praise and an award from Le Fooding. Like a cozy annex to Camille’s own home, the bar benefits from the inherent cool factor that a slightly out-there location in the 11th confers. Despite the compact space, it never seems to be much trouble to pack in throngs of wine fans and curious passersby. Guests must consume a little snack (or casse-croûte in local parlance) to be able to drink but your experience will be better for it. Put your trust in Camille for the wine—mostly natural and only from wine producers she personally appreciates—and choose any of the stellar bites on offer (aged Gouda, dry sausage from Aubrac, sardines, butter beans). Bottles are available for purchase.

Known as the “Jewel in the Crown” of the Southern Grenadines, Tobago Cays Marine Park comprises five picture-perfect, uninhabited islands surrounded by a clear lagoon. Here, you’ll find sea turtle nesting sites and feeding areas, small systems of mangroves, and the most well-developed coral reef complexes in St. Vincent. Swim with the resident turtles, snorkel around the almost 2.5-mile-long Horseshoe Reef, or simply relax on a magnificent white-sand beach—each island has at least one.

The minute you walk into the Hotel St-Martin Montreal, you’ll know it’s something special. You’ll notice the warm welcome, the “at-your-service” attitude, and the gorgeous decor. The hotel, despite a successful recent history, began controversially. It’s built where a legendary smoked-meat restaurant once stood. Mind you, the restaurant had been closed for several months before it was destroyed and upgraded into a 4-star hotel, but many locals held on to the thought that it was intrinsic to the Montreal identity and shouldn’t have been replaced, even though the building was rapidly decaying. To those folks I would say: Spend a night at the St-Martin, and see for yourself. As a Montrealer, I say that it was good for the city. The hotel’s restaurant, L’Aromate, can get quite busy at lunch and during happy hour, which proves the menu is as delightful as the ambience. And the brunches are particularly tasty.

Place des Arts, the jewel of the Quartier des Spectacles in the center of town, is a cultural complex attached to the Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal that unites five performance spaces, including the Maison Symphonique de Montréal. It has two main performance arts spaces: Théâtre Maisonneuve, a nearly 1,500-seat modern-day rendition of a classical Italian theatre where dance organizations including Grands Ballets Canadiens regularly perform; Salle Wilfrid-Pelletier, which with just under 3,000 seats is better suited for big, boisterous Opéra de Montréal productions; and the smaller, 400-seat Cinquième Salle, home to series of shows by Danse Danse, among others. Photo: Susan Moss

Under 20 minutes by car from Québec City (or, if you are feeling ambitious, less than an hour by bike, with most of the ride on a well-maintained path), Chute-Montmorency (Montmorency Falls) is the area’s most impressive natural wonder. If you visit the Musée National des Beaux-Arts du Québec before you go, the sight will look familiar: Montmorency has long been a popular subject for local painters. Think Niagara is impressive? The cascade here is a full 99 feet higher—272 feet to the Horseshoe Falls’ 173 feet. In winter, spray from the falls freezes into a hill at its base, known as the Sugarloaf, and snowshoes are available for rent if you want to explore the nearby trails. In the summer, there’s a zip line for those in search of an adrenaline bump. Year-round, a cable car carries passengers to the top of the falls, providing bird’s-eye views en route.

Looming over one of central Berlin’s most vibrant intersections, this restored Bauhaus building with its distinctive 1920s curved facade was transformed in 2010 into the Berlin outpost of the glamorous Soho House hotel and private members brand. The building has heaps of history, having started as a Jewish-owned department store before being taken over by the Nazis and then occupied by the Communist regime for archival purposes.

Today, it’s one of Mitte’s foremost havens of hip, offering quirkily decorated rooms that mix vintage with contemporary design tropes—think Marshall speakers and old-school record players, floral armchairs, and art deco bathtubs. The lofts are even more astonishing, both for their capacious size and their industrial-chic aesthetic—some come with grand pianos and foosball tables. The hotel also has a rooftop pool and adjacent bar with views of Alexanderplatz, a concept retail area, a private cinema and library room with a bar that hosts occasional events open to the public, an in-house restaurant, and a Cowshed spa that’s a popular destination in its own right.

It’s hard to say what’s most appealing about the ultraluxurious Four Seasons Gresham Palace, a stately Art Nouveau hotel on the banks of the Danube. Perhaps it’s the central location, on the Pest side of the iconic Chain Bridge, or the swank accommodations, which range from lovely river-racing rooms with marble bathrooms and deep soaking tubs to sumptuous suites, the largest of which measures 1,464 square feet and features a dining room with crystal stemware and private butler service. With its top-floor infinity pool and picture windows overlooking the city, the spa alone makes a stay worthwhile—a coup in a city known for its thermal bath complexes—but for many travelers, it’s the hearty dishes served at Kollázs Brasserie & Bar (rotisserie lamb shoulder with eggplant and olives; octopus and scallops with potato paprikash) that seal the deal.

When it comes to beach bars, it doesn’t get much better than this open-air spot on picturesque Cockleshell Bay. During the day, guests can take advantage of lounge chairs, beach volleyball nets, and snorkeling gear rentals. Friday nights bring bonfire dinners, while Sunday afternoons feature live bands and dancing. The menu is heavy on seafood prepared in the traditional Caribbean way, with popular dishes ranging from corn chowder to coconut shrimp and conch fritters.

Expect to see Alexander Calder mobiles mixed into a Peter Fischli and David Weiss display, or pieces by Paul Klee and Claude Monet side by side with contemporary artworks from Wolfgang Tillmans. There’s no one set theme at the Fondation Beyeler, Basel’s glassy, Renzo Piano–designed temple to creativity, on grounds graced with bucolic trees and greenery and stuffed to the gills with blue-chip art. The foundation was established by Basel art dealers Hildy and Ernst Beyeler and is arguably one of the most important contemporary museums in Switzerland. The exhibitions timed to coincide with Art Basel (in mid-June) are often some of its best.

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.