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A trio of 1830s townhouses, Soniat House exudes an Old World elegance, from its wrought iron balconies to its white-jacketed porters. Rooms and suites have just the right amount of character so that they feel of an era without being precious or overly frilly. The hotel renovated all of its bathrooms and some guest rooms, and there are flat-screen televisions, Wi-Fi, and other modern conveniences—but the point here is really to take a step back, put your gadgets away, and enjoy the leafy courtyard. It’s the kind of place where you feel you ought to be wearing a frock and a fascinator (for ladies) or seersucker (for the gents), where time slows and an afternoon cocktail feels very appropriate. Luckily, there’s an honor bar on the first floor next to reception. Pour yourself a stiff drink and take it up to the veranda, where you might catch a ghost tour in progress or just take in the street scene.

The secret to having a good time in Bagan has nothing to do with getting there - all that takes is faith in a Burmese pilot and his ancient aircraft, or an unwavering belief that your 13-hour bus ride from Yangon will actually deliver you to the dusty plains before all your hair turns grey (update: travelers now have the options of new turboprop airplanes and the new highway means that drive time is now approximately seven hours). The secret is in finding a new way to look at the temples themselves, at just the right time of day, and in just the right light. I’ll never understand why most visitors cluster together to climb one pagoda when the plains are littered with thousands of others that afford anyone willing to visit a wholly new perspective on an oft-visited place. This is the way I look at every destination, whether new, old, untamed or untrammeled.

Snaking, cracking, shimmering a brilliant blue in places and covered by mystical frost in others, the Mer de Glace displays nature in all its powerful glory. France’s longest glacier stretches for 4.3 miles and is over 650 feet deep. Quite literally a sea of ice, it continues to move under its own weight; its surfaces break up, crevasses appear, and pointed columns of ice known as seracs burst from the surface. Though this glacier continues to amaze, it’s slowly being decimated by climate change—in 1988, you only had to climb down three steps to reach the ice grotto, which is carved out every spring; now, the ice has receded so much that you have to tackle 430 steps.

Expect to be transported back to medieval times during your visit to Château de Chillon. More than 1,000 years old, the beguiling castle has inspired many poetic greats, none more so than Lord Byron, whose poem The Prisoner of Chillon was based on François Bonivard’s imprisonment. Travel across Lake Geneva on a paddle steam boat to arrive at the castle and note that the Rivera Pass, offered by most hotels, grants you half-price admission. Once inside, pick up an audio guide (available in English) and explore everything from cobblestone courtyards and eerie dungeons to secret passageways and castle walls.

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.

Springs Preserve presents visitors with a sort of crash course in the story of the Las Vegas Valley. The facility is many attractions in one: the Origen Museum, which chronicles early geology and anthropology of the region; the Nevada State Museum, which covers the history, prehistory, and natural history of Nevada; DesertSol, a solar-powered home designed to showcase sustainable living; the NV Energy Foundation Sustainability Gallery, which teaches visitors about a more ecofriendly lifestyle; and Boomtown 1905, a re-created streetscape. There is also an enclosed butterfly habitat, a botanical garden, and 3.6 miles of trails that crisscross the preserve’s 110 acres, winding past rare plants, archaeology, artifacts, and more. This remarkable resource has been added to the National Register of Historic Places.

Most of the year, Punta Cana’s white, sandy stretches of sand are blessed with gently lapping surf, which means that night swimming isn’t as dangerous or daunting an exercise as it can be on other Caribbean islands. Slip into the water near the Westin’s covered pier, and have the ocean all to yourself. Under the bright light of a full moon, you might even catch a glimpse of a sea turtle inching its way along the beach.

It’s a sign of just how revered Carl Linnaeus is in Sweden that for many years many people had a picture of him, and his garden, in their pocket. That’s because the botanist, who is famed for creating the two-name system for classifying plants and animals, adorned the 100-krona banknote for many years. It’s easy to visit the garden where he did his research, as the town of Uppsala can be reached in less than 40 minutes by train. The garden was originally laid out in 1655, then redesigned by Linnaeus in 1745. You can also visit his former home, now the Linnaeus Museum. As for the banknotes: In 2017 Linnaeus was replaced by Greta Garbo.

This being a former English colony, St. Kitts is centered around the Circus, a small roundabout modeled after London’s famed Piccadilly and set in the middle of buzzy Basseterre. Preserved Georgian-style buildings line its edges, while the Berkeley Memorial stands in the middle. Built in 1883 to honor a local legislator and landowner, the memorial features an imposing green clock with four faces, each looking out toward one of the city’s main streets.

The centerpiece of a vast resort, golf club, and residential community complex, Rosewood Bermuda sits on 240 acres of waterfront land overlooking Castle Harbour, Harrington Sound, and the Atlantic Ocean. The recently refurbished resort is anchored by the Manor House, where 88 guest rooms blend classic cottage-style architecture and modern interiors that continue to set the standard for today’s luxury seekers: think canopy and four-poster beds, plantation shutters, and colonial-era antiques, all set against a cool white backdrop. Spring for a deluxe poolside room, which also has access to a private poolside daybed. Just don’t expect too much down time. Three on-site restaurants and two bars are beyond selfie-worthy, treatments at the spa incorporate local ingredients like cedar and juniper, and hotel guests receive membership to the 18-hole Roger Rulewich–designed golf course, tennis courts, and a beach club that sits on an exclusive stretch of pink sand for the duration of their stay.

This club, housed in an old industrial warehouse, does not look unlike a mental ward and, inside, has as many fascinating levels as an Escher drawing. To dance with a sea of the coolest kids in Berlin (and Europe for that matter—it’s a landmark destination for partiers across Europe), stay on the ground floor. For a smaller scene, head to the top floor, which gradually attracts a more queer crowd as the weekend goes on. That’s the other thing: it’s only open from Friday until Monday morning. Wear plain clothes and no smile to get past the doorman. If at first you don’t succeed, come back on Sunday nights when the line is shorter and the bouncers are known to be less prickly.

Saline is the most beautiful and the most famous beach in St. Barths. From the shore, you cannot see any building: no fancy bar, no posh restaurant, nothing. Just the wild beach and you. Saline Beach never really gets crowded, as the island is too small to have actual crowds. But it is a true luxury, early morning, to come there for a nice swim. More than once, I’ve been able to be the only one there. This long, beautiful, renowned beach was just mine! It is okay to do nude sunbathing in Saline, but it’s better if you do it on the far sides of the beach. Indeed, the middle part is where the trail arrives from the parking lot and you do not want to make families feel uncomfortable. Even if nobody really cared. Again, early morning, it is just a couple of people here and nobody minds if you swim naked in this pure Caribbean blue water. Vive la liberté ! My tip: Bring a bottle of water if you are planning on staying for long, as there is no store on the beach. Nothing!

I took this image the first morning I woke up at the Karia Bel’ Hotel in Bozburun, Turkey (a small, quiet town of about 2000). The Aegean Sea was like glass, so still. There was a perfect reflection of the sailboat. It was a moment!

Bufalina owner Steven Dilley once lived in New York City, where he taught himself how to cook pizza in his subsequently overheated apartment. He was a good teacher and a good student. The University of Texas alumnus became one of the early movers in the Neapolitan pizza game in Austin and now operates two Bufalina locations. The igloo-shaped stoves that turn out charred and supple pizzas never would have fit in that old apartment, but they have become the centerpieces of his Austin restaurants. The menus celebrate local bounty with a couple of fresh salad options, and the daily pasta is always a must. Dilley has also put together one of the city’s most intriguing wine lists, an unexpected page-turner for restaurants the size of Bufalina.

The interior of the Catholic Church of the Assumption, in the heart of Soufrière town, will surprise with its decidedly Caribbean hues and French design: an ornate wood ceiling vaulted to resemble the ribs of a boat, baby blue pillars, and brightly colored stained-glass windows. Visitors are welcome to join in the Saturday evening mass at 6:30 or Sunday morning mass at 8:30, both with the sermon in English and Creole. A quick and respectful tour is also possible at other times to admire the architecture, including the partially blue-painted exterior. While there is no printed information on the church inside, it’s worth a stop.