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With well over a thousand lakes, Switzerland is blessed with its fair share of stunning bodies of water. The most extensive, however, is Lake Geneva (also known as Lac Léman), where you can bask in seductive views and amazing sunsets. It’s practically impossible to take your eyes off the shimmering water when driving down the mountainside or gazing out a train window, especially in the upper regions of Montreaux and Vevey. Other recommended viewing points include the banks of Lausanne, where bobbing swans and crystal-clear water calm the soul, and the Château de Chillon, a castle three miles from Montreux. Of course, you could also enjoy the views from the lake itself, where steam boats, ferries, and private yachts roam freely.

The Sunriver Resort is near Bend, Oregon, which is a rightfully famous, and incredibly beautiful, area for outdoor adventure. In the winter, there is skiing at nearby Mt. Bachelor (25 min away), but the summer has even more to do, including golfing, hiking, mountain bike riding, tennis, and of course, swimming in the resort’s amazing pool, which has a water slide, sand play area, hot tub, and amazing views of Mt. Bachelor and the golf course. The rooms are up to date and nicely appointed. The main lodge has a great bar area, a nice restaurant, and a large “back lawn” with live music and kid-friendly activities. Overall, a highly-recommended place for a family vacation.

Admit it; you’re curious. A ski hill in the middle of the desert, on the Persian Gulf, no less, is as wild an idea as humankind has ever concocted—but isn’t dreaming big what Dubai is all about? The slopes at Ski Dubai are no substitute for Jackson Hole or Vail, of course, but then again, they’re not supposed to be. You go simply for the experience of leaving a housewares shop, sauntering down the hall, and hitting the slopes. All the gear required can be rented at Ski Dubai: They even have long overcoats for women in abayas. You can ski or sled, roll down the hill in inflatable plastic balls, frolic with penguins, or even just ride the chairlifts back and forth. When you’re finished skiing, you can head back into the mall for a meal or a movie. You know, just another day in Dubai.

While many walked through the streets of the small town, I decided to head along the river and came across this beautiful view of Lake Brienz.

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.

Simplicity reigns at The Charter Oak, the gamechanging restaurant owned by Christopher Kostow (who also helms the kitchen at The Restaurant at Meadowood). The family-style menu by chef Katianna Hong features “elemental” cooking, with dishes that highlight only one or two ingredients at a time. The best representation of this is the crudités, raw vegetables from the restaurant’s farm, served on a bed of crushed ice with a side of fermented soy dip. Another example? Crudo of kanpachi with grilled Rangpur lime and herbs. Most of the menu’s larger dishes are seasonal and prepared in a hearth at the center of the restaurant. Highlights include roasted pork shoulder with spiced molasses and winter squash, and beef rib grilled over cabernet barrels and beets dried over the fire. The most Instagram-worthy part of the meal may be the moment the server explains where to find the silverware—forks, knives, spoons, and napkins are stored in hidden drawers on the side of each table. During warm summer evenings, precede your meal with a few rounds of handcrafted cocktails in the open-air courtyard out front. The happy hour of half-priced beers and $3 shots of Fernet-Branca can’t be beat.

Up until 2004, Switzerland’s iconic furry friends—St. Bernard dogs—were bred at this monastery and hospice. While the canines have been relocated, the Great St. Bernard Hospice, which sits on a barren, treeless plane at 8,100 feet, is still an active monastery run by Augustinian monks. The steep four-mile ascent from the valley is a killer on foot, but still doable—on groomed trails in summer and on snowshoes in winter. Inside, monks greet you and show you to communal tables in the stone dining hall where vegetable soups are served with hunks of Bagnes cheese, thick slices of brown bread, and honey-sweetened tea (or a carafe of red Dôle wine produced in the Valais region just below, which seems to be the more popular option). Don’t miss the odd museum, displaying local taxidermy, ancient coins, and maps once used for Alpine crossings; the 800-year-old crypt is allegedly stuffed with the bodies of ancient travelers who didn’t survive the journey. A register of “Les passants célèbres” includes Charlemagne, Napoleon, and Alexandré Dumas but omits Charles Dickens, who lived nearby for a summer.

Tucked away in the heart of downtown Seoul is the quaint Insadong district, where a Korea of yore comes to life in the form of traditional artists and musicians, shops selling Korean crafts and souvenirs, and street performers dressed in native costumes. This is the place to go if you’re set on buying the wooden masks, paper lanterns, and tea sets that the country is famous for. Two other stores also stand out from the crowd in Insadong: Gounjae Handcraft can be smelled before you even enter the door. This handmade soap shop, in the small brick courtyard of Ssamji Gil Center, offers sumptuously scented soaps, lotions, and bath products in scents like avocado, ginger, and almond. I love the tiny, traditional mask-shaped soaps that make inexpensive and lightweight souvenirs. The Ee Gee boutique is a veritable treasure chest bursting with glimmering necklaces, bracelets, and other one-of-a-kind baubles–it’s located on Insadong’s main drag.

A 600-suite hotel within a hotel, The Cove is the most luxurious of the room towers at the Atlantis Paradise Island Resort. Kids aren’t banned, but the vibe is definitely grown-up—witness the adults-only Cove Pool, with its DJ-driven party scene, outdoor gaming tables, and mating-ritual pool wear. But there’s a sense of sophistication in the two-story lobby, which soars above ponds of water lilies, as well as the suites, which have balconies with ocean views, sunken living rooms, and marble-floored bathrooms. All the activities of Atlantis, including those that make adults feel young again—such as the Abyss and Leap of Faith waterslides, or the dolphin encounters—are only steps or a free shuttle ride away. Also available is immersive programming that connects guests to the rich history, art, people, food, and festivities of the islands, from exhibits showcasing regional artists and a weekly Junkanoo Fest & Feast (honoring a more than 500-year-old tradition) to five new outposts of beloved local Bahamian restaurants.

After Toronto, Montréal is the Canadian city with the largest population of residents of Italian descent. For more than a century, the community has been centered in one of the city’s most charming neighborhoods, Little Italy. The way to the heart of this neighborhood is arguably through its stomach or, rather, the Jean-Talon Market, where residents have come to buy produce and stock their pantries since 1933. Even if you aren’t shopping for fresh vegetables or fruits, it’s a good place to come to sample Québecois products and buy gifts like local jams, jellies, and maple products to take back home.

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.

The mysterious rooftop of Casa Mila both charms and haunts visitors. The glorious October sky above frames the organic forms, each sculpted face watching as I creep up and down the rolling ramps. Children can’t resist playing here, and fortunately there are now fences all around. In my mind, I erase all of those pesky safety features to envision the smooth sculptures growing towards the sky from a scrolling sandy field. Once a site for a scene from Star Wars, the rooftop is now a destination for lovers of Barcelona and Antoni Guadi’s “Modernisma” style. When you visit, you’ll learn the secret behind those long vertical faces rising up above the mystical rooftop.

The Willcox has been an institution for more than a hundred years—so much so that it dropped the “hotel” designation from its name. Located just steps from the sprawling urban forest of Hitchcock Woods, The Willcox caters to the horsey set, with an equestrian theme throughout the rooms and even a horse concierge. Old-fashioned keys open the doors to the 22 rooms, each with with four-poster beds warmed by cashmere-covered hot water bottles, and pets are welcomed with their own “Guest of Willcox” tag. It’s not uncommon to see horses prancing down the streets of Aiken, once the headquarters for the wealthy Winter Colony riders of the 19th century, and the hotel is happy to indulge your passion to gallop, trot, or just enjoy a carriage ride. A saltwater pool and a range of spa services soothe tired muscles after a day in the saddle or tooling around the small-town center. The lobby bar and restaurant are favorites with locals, serving an American menu with a few Kiwi touches from the New Zealand–born chef.

Valley of Fire is the oldest state park in Nevada, and a great place to see 3,000-year-old Indian petroglyphs and explore the red sandstone formations created during the age of the dinosaurs. Bring your camera to photograph the landscape while hiking this rocky landscape formed over 150 million years ago. The red sandstone gives off an incredible light, which makes the grey rocks nearby appear turquoise. Great place to camp while watching incredible sunrises and sunsets! Photographers will go crazy for this place, especially in spring, when a variety of wild flowers bloom. Skip the Las Vegas strip and head straight to this magical place!

I’m not sure at what age humans develop the skill to stand still and appreciate scenery, but based on a scientific survey of kids who live in my house, it’s not age seven. (On a trip to the Canadian Rockies, as my wife and I snapped photos of the relentlessly picturesque mountains, my son, Luke, investigated how quickly he could break his toy helicopter.) Luke expects Mother Nature to be his playmate. At Bandelier National Monument, about an hour’s drive from Santa Fe, New Mexico, she is. The visitor center offers kids a booklet of activities that, when completed, earn them a Junior Ranger patch. (You could call it a bribe. We prefer the term incentive.) The scavenger hunt sent us off on the Main Loop Trail in search of birds, trees, and bugs, as well as the feature that sets Bandelier apart and makes it perfect for kids: cave dwellings. Ladders of salvaged wood lead to rooms that the Pueblo people carved out of the cliffs here over 800 years ago. “I don’t want to go up, Daddy,” Luke said. “It’s too steep.” “You’ve got this, buddy,” I said. “Just take it slow.” There were no lines of impatient parents pushing their children to race up the ladder. (We saw no more than 20 people on the trail.) Luke could climb the rungs at his own pace. He paused in triumph at the top, then set off to wander the caves. While Mom and Dad squatted—“Watch out for your bald head, Daddy”—Luke could explore without even hunching. After about 45 minutes, we were walking back toward the visitor center. We crossed a nearly dry creek by hopping hand in hand from one downed log to another and were back in time for lunch, before hunger, fatigue, or boredom could set in. It was a parent’s—and child’s—dream hike. This appeared in the August/September 2014 issue.