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Running from the waterfront to Montréal’s City Hall, at the opposite end of a gently sloping hill, Place Jacques-Cartier has been a center of the city’s street life for more than two centuries. It was laid out at the beginning of the 19th century after the Château Vaudreuil, which had stood on the site, burned down in 1803. Originally known as New Market Place, the square stays true to those roots with the many vendors who sell flowers here in the summer. You’ll find them on sunny days alongside the outdoor tables of the cafés that line the square. In December, Place Jacques-Cartier is dressed for the holidays with rows of Christmas trees. Given the name of the square, you might expect the column at its western end to be topped with a statue of the French explorer. Instead, the English admiral Lord Horatio Nelson looks over the city from the perch. Erected in 1809, it is Montréal’s oldest public monument and preceded London‘s column honoring Nelson by three decades. To this day, the choice of hero to honor still causes some resentment in this largely francophone city.

At first glance, this cookware emporium feels like a dusty relic. But dig a little deeper, especially in the basement, and you’ll find just about anything you could need for the kitchen, along with plenty of treasures you don’t—duck press, anyone?—but would love all the same. Knives, copper cookware, and ceramics are the selection’s biggest strengths.

Despite a name change from Mia’s Yunnan Kitchen to Julie’s, this inexpensive, cheerful restaurant in the French Concession continues to serve delicious cuisine from southern Yunnan province. Kunming, Yunnan’s capital, is 1,900 miles from Beijing, and the province’s cuisine has more in common with neighboring Burma, Thailand, Laos, and Vietnam than it does with other regional Chinese cuisines. The most unique dish on the menu is rubing—pan-fried goat’s-milk farmer cheese, simply seasoned with salt and pepper. It’s very simple but unusual: When have you seen dairy in Chinese cooking? Eat it with pickled mashed potatoes, spicy mint salad, and plenty of mushrooms—they’re native to Yunnan.

Set in a row of shophouses—traditional double-use structures with a storefront on the street level, the owner’s residence on the floors above—the New Majestic Hotel is a small gem in Chinatown filled with quirks and contrasts. Colonial design is plentiful, from the vintage Compton fans in the lobby to furniture from the 1920s–1960s throughout. The rooms are a little more free-form. They range from suites with their own urban gardens to attic-style spaces with loft beds and 20-foot ceilings. Then there are the five rooms in which Singapore artists were told to unleash their creativity (Work, one of these rooms, looks like temporary housing, with plywood sections everywhere). Pieces by local emerging artists include murals with hidden messages or displaying pop art influences. The bottom of the rooftop pool has small portholes that look down onto the Majestic Restaurant, one floor down.

While this complex for the Cao Dai religion—which was founded in Vietnam in 1926 and combines elements of a number of other faiths—includes offices and a clinic, the real draw for tourists is the great temple. The giant, bright, surreal building is located some 50 miles northwest of Ho Chi Minh City and it is the most important shrine for the religion’s 2 million followers. The temple has an eclectic design, with front towers that resemble those of a mosque coupled with pagoda-style roofs along the sides. More striking still are the interiors, with brightly colored dragons wrapping themselves around columns and the ubiquitous symbol of a giant eye (the movement’s emblem is an eye inside a triangle), including on the large, orblike main altar.

If Mandapa, “temple” in Sanskrit, feels more like a community than a hotel, that’s because it is. The resort occupies 24 green acres on a property previously owned by a group of neighboring families, who retain access to the land and its on-site temple. As a result, it maintains three acres of rice paddies and a traditional rice barn on stilts, and the villagers bring daily offerings to the temple, giving Mandapa a strong connection to local culture.




The hotel’s open-air lobby sits 300 feet above the Ayung River valley, overlooking 35 hillside suites with views of the jungle and rice paddies and 25 villas along the flowing river. The suites are furnished with traditional Balinese pieces and artwork and stand-alone soaking tubs, while the high-ceilinged villas, decorated with vividly colored botanical panels, have large pools and separate master suites.





Everywhere, local materials and design elements feature prominently, from the thatched roofs to the fringed umbrellas that shade the lounge chairs by the pool. The riverside spa is another place to discover Balinese products through deeply relaxing treatments and spiritual ones with a local healer, too. Five dining and drinking outlets include fine-dining restaurant Kubu, a spot for high tea, a cocktail and dinner venue called Ambar, and Sawah Terrace, where Sundays feature a Royal Brunch. Ubud’s center is only 10 minutes by car, but the guided vintage VW convertible tours on offer are arguably the best way to get around. From $1,250

Michael and I take the lead up a scree-choked stream draining from the Gangjam glacier. Two hours of climbing through talus brings us to ice-blue seracs rising like frozen waveforms from the mottled glacier. An hour further, in the cirque beneath the black wall of Kailash, we begin to sink up to our knees in sun-softened snow. Michael’s altimeter reads 17,500 feet, and above us, the mountain’s north face rises in a 4,000-foot vertical thrust of glazed rock, capped by a treacherous overhanging white cornice. Jaws gone slack, we lift our eyes in awe toward the Throne of Shiva. “How about it, bro? Break out the crampons?” “Jesus! I am not seeing a good route on that wall,” Michael replies, and we both laugh. Kailash remains one of the few legendary mountains on this planet left unclimbed—out of reverence. “And look at that freakin’ cornice!” Michael adds “Nevé ice for sure. Like frost on a windowpane. Won’t hold your points for shit.” There were rumors, nearly a decade ago, that the legendary Austrian mountaineer, Reinhold Messner had surreptitiously planned to bag Kailash, a task which he certainly had the skill and resources to accomplish. But when Messner saw the Precious Snow Mountain for himself, he realized what a desecration it would be to set crampons on its face or boots on its summit. He’s since become a vocal proponent of keeping Kailash off-limits to climbers in perpetuity.

This isn’t technically a Bigfoot museum, but it is dedicated to the history of the area, namely eastern Humboldt County and western Trinity County. It just so happens that the region is known as “Bigfoot Country,” so it’s understandable the Sasquatch exhibition has become the main attraction at this roadside stop. The display has casts, photos, maps, and other research pertaining to tracking down the mysterious creature. There’s so much research it’s actually contained in a separate study center building. It’s also updated regularly—as new materials come in.... We’re not saying he’s out there, but if he is anywhere, it would be here.

While not as large as other ancient Mayan cities in the region, Tulum draws in visitors for its stunning setting of centuries-old temples perched on a cliff by the Caribbean Sea. You’ll pass a large market with souvenirs, a casual Mexican restaurant, and even a Starbucks before reaching the entrance, where a train can take you to the site if you’re not up for the 10-minute walk. It’s advisable to hire a guide to fully understand each structure’s significance and the history behind the ruins; informative signage is all but nonexistent. Don’t forget to bring your swimsuit, as the site encompasses a white-sand beach with soothing waves and beautiful rock formations that’s reached by a long wooden staircase.

Swift streams and waterfalls continue to carve these vertiginous and rugged valleys as they pour into the sea. One of the most stunning wilderness areas on earth, it also contains ancient Hawaiian ruins of graves, temples, house platforms, and terraced fields. The fear factor increases past the initial two-mile path to Hanakāpīʻai Beach (best visited in summertime, as winter swells tend to wash it away). Only experienced hikers in good condition and with proper gear should venture further along the famous 11-mile Kalalau Trail. Check for path and park closures before making plans and don’t forget the $20/night permit to crash at a campsite. However long you trek, stay on the main path and pack out what you brought in.

Best seen in early afternoon, when the puja (worship) is going on, or at twilight, when the setting sun makes stones glitter, this temple shows the strong influence of Indian culture and religion in Fiji. Sri Krishna Kaliya is an important place of worship for the Hare Krishnas (there are more here per capita than anywhere else). Around the temple, gorgeous murals tell the story of Lord Krishna’s history.

Like Sean Bean in National Treasure, you won’t find the booty of the Knights Templar in the basement of the Old North Church, but there is a crypt here with thousands of bodies dating back to the 18th century. This prominent stop on the Freedom Trail is rich in colonial and Revolutionary War history, most notably because the 191-foot steeple was where patriots hung two lanterns on the night of April 18, 1775, warning that British troops were setting out by sea to their fateful encounter with local militias at Lexington and Concord. A walk around the church, constructed in 1723 (making it Boston’s oldest house of worship), is a revelation in irony: While the building played a role in the start of the Revolutionary War, most of its Episcopal congregants remained loyal to King George. Chimes from the steeple still announce Sunday services, thanks to the Bellringers Guild, which is comprised of MIT students.

A step through Tío Pepe’s swinging saloon doors is a walk back in time indeed, to a classic cantina (dating to the 19th century) that, while skewing divey, harbors no ill will toward thirsty people of all stripes. Some regulars prefer to just stare into beer mugs, but you’ll also see mixed groups of colleagues from nearby offices popping in for attitude adjustments. Leave the haute mixology for another venue; but do take in the long, elaborate bar and whimsical beer-barrel light fixtures—something you just don’t get much anymore. Note that unlike many traditional cantinas, you’ll find zero food here, so BYO peanuts or potato chips if you’re feeling peckish.

Known as The Blue City for its many homes painted to denote them as Brahmin residences, Jodhpur is a chaotic hodgepodge of blue blocks at the foot of mighty Mehrangarh Fort. Interspersed with the sacred color associated with Lord Shiva, the city projects a galaxy of shades ranging from the jewel-toned saris of traditional Rajasthani women to muted tones of the 16th-century wall that protected Jodhpur in medieval times. Long before Mark Zuckerberg used blue for its soothing effect on Facebook users, Jodhpur’s citizens apparently knew of its psychological impact on a city.

For a respite from the city’s noise and smog, head out to She Shan. The 100m hill is a blissful retreat and an interesting cultural destination as well. European missionaries set up a small chapel here in the 1850s which was transformed into the She Shan Basilica in 1935. You’ll also find a Jesuit Observatory on the hill, which, among other things, features the Han Dynasty’s earthquake monitoring device, made up of two dragon heads and a pendulum. If you get swept up in the peace and quiet of the area, simply stay the night at the luxurious Le Meridien: http://ow.ly/t7nCY The hotel is an oasis in Shanghai‘s summer heat with a man-made beach, a golf course, and a fantastic weekend brunch. How to get here: take line 9 to Sheshan station and from there, you can either walk ~30 minutes to the mountain or take a 14RMB taxi ride.