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In the Orange Walk district, in Northern Belize, lies one of the largest Maya ruins in the country: Lamanai. It is accessible by road but I arrived after a one-hour boat ride up the New River. The name “Lamanai” is roughly translated as “Submerged Crocodile.” Apparently, there was once a thriving population. The ruins may date back to 700 B.C. and estimates put the number of structures, which are part of the ruins, at around 700 buildings; however, less than 5% has actually been excavated. Thick jungle, filled with howler monkeys, birds and jaguars, conceal the remaining structures. The walk through the jungle from the landing dock is certainly evocative. Tall palm trees form a dense ceiling and thick underbrush conceals everything around the path, still littered with pottery shards and artifacts because excavation is still ongoing. The Mask Temple has the most well preserved details but the view from the top of N10-43 (or High Temple) is thrilling. I don’t recommend it for those who are afraid of heights because the climb down is steep and challenging. If you can make it, it’s worth every moment of struggle. I am no expert judge, but I would revisit Lamanai again in a heartbeat; of all the Maya historical places I have been, it was the most interesting and complete in terms of narrative and historical detail. A museum toward the entrance to the complex could easily take an entire afternoon to get through because of the volume of information it houses.

I discovered this Marin Headlands view of the Golden Gate Bridge on one of my very first trips to San Francisco. In my three-plus years living in the Bay Area, I still haven’t found a view to top it. My favorite time to visit is just after sunset, when most tourists are fleeing from the evening breeze and the lights from the Golden Gate are just beginning to glow. If you’re lucky, you might witness an illuminated container ship as it exits the Bay on its way to Asia. This vantage point is on the North side of the Golden Gate—for the active traveler it’s a lovely green hike after a stroll across the bridge but alternately you can dive up. There’s also a closer view at the base of the hill.

Balinese people have taken ritual baths in the waters of Tirta Empul since it was founded in 962. The waters are believed to have healing powers, both physically and spiritually, so people come from all over the island to purify themselves under spouts of cool water in the long stone pools. Worshipers place offerings or say a prayer at each of the spouts from west to east. Nonworshipers can bathe, too, and the experience can be very moving (be aware that the last of the spouts in the first pool are reserved for purification after funerary rites). As at any Balinese temple, you must be respectful of Hindu rules and traditions. Menstruating women should not go inside any temple, and all visitors must wear a sarong and sash while on temple grounds, even while bathing. Men can go shirtless in the pools. There are changing rooms, so don’t forget to bring an extra set of clothes. Tirta Empul, 25 minutes outside of Ubud, is very close to Gunung Kawi, another religious site worth a visit.

With the Spanish conquest of the Aztec empire, Iberian overlords set about imposing their customs on the subdued populace, eliminating traces of pre-Hispanic religions they deemed heretical by demolishing major temples and building churches and other structures atop their ruins. Centuries later, in 1978, workers laying electrical lines happened upon the remains of the Templo Mayor, the Aztecs’ most important ceremonial center (and, yes, the location of their notorious human sacrifices). Subsequent excavations have revealed superimposed pyramid foundations and priceless artworks, many now displayed at the on-site museum. Thrillingly, treasures keep turning up—including the spring 2017 discovery of a stone box containing some of the finest Aztec gold ever found, just off the Templo Mayor’s steps.

The most impressive ruins in the Old Town of Zadar can be found at the ancient forum, just steps from the seafront. Commissioned by the first Roman emperor, Augustus, and built between the 1st century B.C.E. and 3rd century C.E., the spectacular square offers a glimpse of life in early Zadar through its temples, porticoes, and colonnades. Walk around to find the remains of a temple dedicated to Minerva, Jupiter, and Juno; frescoes of mythological scenes; and an intact column that was repurposed as a pillory in medieval times.

Some say that The Chapel of the Holy Cross is located in the heart of a vortex. Others regard it as a place of contemplation and spirituality. The Chapel itself was actually built by a devout student of Frank Lloyd Wright named Marguerite Brunswig Staude in 1956. Staude wanted to create a lasting tribute to her religious beliefs, and was so taken with the beauty of Sedona that she began work on the Chapel. Nestled between massive red boulders, the Chapel is a must see in Sedona. And, if you look carefully enough in the red rocks next, you can still see an Rx carved into the rock as a tribute to Marguerite’s father, a pharmacist.

There’s only one thing better than driving or cycling through the drenched Siem Reap countryside after a month of monsoon rains and that’s seeing the sodden landscapes from the air. Sure, you’ll get a short glimpse on your plane’s descent into Siem Reap, however, there’s nothing quite like an exhilarating helicopter flight over Angkor Archaeological Park, and Angkor Wat in particular, and seeing the moat full and the lime-green manicured lawns (kept trim from the resident horses, not lawnmowers). You can do a 15-minute flight for as little as US$60 with Helistar. The pilot flies you over a handful of temples, including iconic Angkor Wat (not once, but twice!) as well as lesser visited temples that appear all the more alluring from the air. The experience has been one of my most memorable since moving to Siem Reap.

Located in the heart of Orlando’s Little Vietnam district, this casual eatery does Pan-Asian cuisine perfectly, with a spread of affordable, piping-hot dishes inspired by hawker-style street food. It’s hardly a new concept in a city known for great Asian restaurants, but Mamak does it exceptionally well with small plates like beef bulgogi, golden roti canai bread, Indonesian nasi goreng, and a spectacular version of Malaysian char kway teow noodles. Come with a group so you can order a little bit of everything—it’s the kind of place where sharing just two dishes is nothing short of sin.

Houston has an amazing amount of hidden art gems. One of my favorite is James Turrell’s Skyspace Twilight Epiphany, a beautiful temple to light and sound. Whether visiting for one of the concert series or just for fun, Twilight Epiphany is uplifting.

Classic-film buffs well know the pivotal scene on the Riesenrad, the giant Ferris wheel in Vienna’s Prater park which lies between the Danube and one of its side canals. In the film version of Graham Greene’s noir tale The Third Man, Orson Welles, as Harry Lime, relates his famous Swiss cuckoo clock analogy to Joseph Cotten while on the ride. Built in 1897 for Emperor Franz Joseph I’s golden jubilee, the Ferris wheel was for a long time the world’s tallest. After a period of scruffiness late last century, the Prater and its old-fashioned amusement park are again popular. The greenery alone makes for wonderful strolling or biking, with the Schweizerhaus restaurant’s beer garden the perfect place for schnitzel or succulent Schweinsstelze (pig’s feet).

There are a number of old neighborhoods in Xi’an that are lovely to explore on foot, especially between the Bell Tower and the Great Mosque, and west of the South Gate. Wandering around, you’ll see old houses and stumble upon amazing stonework and doorways—such as this one we found that leads into a temple.

The beloved Cambodian breakfast dish of nom banh chok is a love-it-or-hate-it dish for most foreigners, who would probably prefer to have this cold to luke-warm noodle dish served hot. The process of making these rice noodles is depicted in bas reliefs on Angkor temples, suggesting that the dish dates back to the Khmer Empire and traveled to Thailand at the end of the Angkorian era. In Thailand, there is a similar noodle dish called kanom jeen. In Siem Reap it’s typically served at street-side stalls and by roaming women vendors who carry baskets of ingredients on their shoulders. Like anything in Cambodia, you can expect to find an array of versions but a favorite comes with a yellow kroeung curry, a mound of thinly sliced banana blossoms, pickled cucumber, and fresh fragrant green herbs.

The second property in the Bulgari Hotels collection is an Italianate stunner perched on the cliffs of Uluwatu, a region at the southern tip of the Bukit peninsula. While the hotel’s vibe stays true to the brand’s roots, hand-hewn volcanic rock, Javanese mahogany, and exclusive fabrics banded and bordered by local artisans reflect the heritage of the archipelago. In fact, Asian-European duality is a prominent theme here: One restaurant focuses on Indonesian fare, while the other is a formal reflection of Italian culture. Watching over the resort at its highest point sits a temple, which employees use to perform daily rituals, as well as a traditional guardian—the Hindu elephant Ganesh. And at Bulgari’s base is a private stretch of sand accessible via an inclined elevator.

At over 1,000 years old, Hanoi is not exactly a spring chicken. For some truly ancient Vietnamese history, however, it is worth spending time at Co Loa, the country’s first fortified citadel and a onetime capital of the nation dating back to the third century. Only three of the original earthen ramparts are extant today, but a pretty temple underneath a banyan tree provides added diversion.

The belly button of the world lies eighty miles northwest of Athens, where the southern slope of Mount Parnassus, cut deeply by cascades feeding the River Pleistos, drops precipitously into the Gulf of Corinth. High above the ravine in a cleft between the Phaedriades, or “Shining Rocks,” a natural amphitheater was shaped by wind, erosion, and tectonic turbulence over the intersection of two underground faults. This is the omphalos—the spot believed by ancient Greeks to be Gaia’s own navel. Homer called it “Pytho,” because it was here that the Earth Mother gave birth to a female serpent. “Why is it the serpent is always a woman?” The goddess/serpent appears in everyone’s mythology, I remind KB as we approach six massive columns re-erected where the western pediment of Apollo’s temple once stood. “Yeah,” she replies, kicking a loose a chunk of limestone across the weathered foundation, “along with the ‘hero’ who kills her.” KB’s sinewy, suntanned legs straddle one of the pedestals at the entrance to the sekos—Apollo’s inner sanctum—and her belly button taunts me between the waistband of low-slung hiking shorts and the hem of her tank top. “Both Apollo and his twin sister, Artemis, whacked the serpent goddess,” I remind her. “Naturally, the locals erected a temple here to commemorate his bravery. It was named after a cult that worshiped the sun god in the form of a dolphin—Delphinios—Delphi for short.” “How do you remember all this stuff?” KB asks.