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Forty miles from Zurich in the heart of central Switzerland, the Axenstrasse is a historic motorway that’s so achingly scenic it might even cure your vertigo. It winds for seven miles around the base of the Uri Alps hugging the verdant ridge of turquoise Lake Uri (a branch of the four-fingered Vierwaldstätter See—Four Forested Cantons Lake—more familiar to most tourists as Lake Lucerne). It occasionally careens through century-old mountain tunnels and past painted bell towers and Roman-era viaducts scattered around the region’s Alpine villages, where the legendary folk hero William Tell is supposed to have come from. There are numerous picnic areas along the older sections of the Axenstrasse, and the entire stretch of lake is swimmable in the summer. Hikers can find a variety of trails along the road that can take them to higher altitudes, where they can spot ibex, chamois, alpine orchids, purple gentian, and acrobatic alpine choughs, riding the thermals of the warm foehn winds, said by locals to cause madness.

The cornerstone of the Kensington Street Precinct, at the heart of the funky Chippendale neighborhood, the Old Clare is the storied pub she used to be and so much more. Tonkin Zulaikha Greer Architects built a glass-and-steel walkway between the former Clare Hotel and the neighboring Carlton United Brewery building, both dating to the early 20th century, to create a 62-room boutique hotel that simultaneously feels historic and edgy. Original wood panels and brick walls blend seamlessly into spotted gum floors and nude-colored walls, exemplifying the creative reuse that pervades the Chippendale suburb, an inner-city district of galleries and cafés situated at the crossroads of Glebe, Redfern, Surry Hills, Chinatown, and the Central Business District. The design echoes other landmark Sydney restorations by Tonkin Zulaikha Greer such as the Paddington Reservoir Gardens and Carriageworks, an arts complex located just down the road. The Old Clare also brings two more standout restaurants to Chippendale, including the first Australian venture by Michelin-starred British chef Jason Atherton. Whether guests soak in the egg-shaped tub in their loft room, take a sunrise yoga class on the rooftop pool deck, or sip a “Ginny Hendricks,” a watermelon-dill concoction with bitters and Hendrick’s gin, at the midcentury-modern bar, they’ll have a story to tell. The Old Clare is a tale that keeps getting better.

The Museum of Modern Art, one of the city’s—and the country’s—premier institutions for modern and contemporary art, first opened its doors in 1939. Its permanent collection of almost 200,000 works includes masterpieces by many of the 20th century’s leading artists: Duchamp, Matisse, Picasso, Warhol...the list truly could go on and on. In the permanent collection, van Gogh’s Starry Night and three panels of Monet’s series of paintings of water lilies are among the most famous works. The museum’s first director, Alfred Barr, was praised for taking the innovative step of expanding the role of the art museum to include genres beyond painting and sculpture, and to this day the institution dedicates exhibitions (and resources) to design, architecture, photography, and other creative fields. The museum also has a space in the Long Island City neighborhood of Queens, called MoMA PS 1, which focuses principally on younger, emerging artists and hosts Warm Up, a summer live music series.

If you had to choose one place to symbolize Rio’s Belle Époque, it would be this sumptuous café, a must-do for every downtown visitor. Built by a Portuguese family in 1894—when Rio still evinced the splendor of a former imperial capital—its art nouveau–inspired refinements like huge mirrors, imported from Europe, wood furnishings, immense chandeliers, and stained-glass transoms welcome patrons. Colombo is all so terribly majestic you could be at one of the Continent’s grand salons or even the Tortoni in Buenos Aires. Perfect for afternoons over a pastelzinho de Belém, Lisbon’s traditional sweet egg tart.

The woodblock prints from ukiyo-e artist Hokusai first introduced me to Japan’s most iconic volcano. Between 1826 and 1833, Hokusai traveled to many provinces in Japan to see Mount Fuji from different vantage points as represented in his works Great Wave off Kanagawa, Watermill at Onden, and Nihonbashi bridge in Edo in order to produce the famous “36 views of Mount Fuji” series. I have always loved these graphic prints and was determined to get at least one view of this magnetic mountain in my lifetime. During my stay at Hoshinoya Fuji, I was able to get the same view that Hokusai etched almost two centuries ago in print number #35 of the series: Mount Fuji reflected in Lake Kawaguchi.

Set northeast of Lake Kawaguchi, Hoshino Fuji is the destination for those interested in “glamping” and exploring Japan’s natural side. Barely a year old, the resort rises like concrete tree houses among the red pine forest. Upon check-in you’ll be given a backpack with headlight, water bottle, snacks and portable blanket to urge you on for nearby adventures. Around the resort, camping elements are incorporated with hammocks between the pines, open camp-fires at the Cloud Terrace, and portable in-room coffee kit. Each cabin has a plush bed, minimal furniture and a balcony for panoramic views of the lake and Mount Fuji.

You can “rough it” with nature outside, but I couldn’t resist pampering myself with the amenities provided by the resort. My perfect morning started with a bath scented with hinoki and flowers before a wholesome breakfast with fresh baked bread on my private balcony. During the day you can go out for a hike or kayak or learn how to smoke food from one of the members of staff. In the evening, learn how to cook over an open fire from the chefs before you enjoy the best dinner with local meat and vegetables. The staff at Hoshinoya Fuji thought of all the details that would create a great camping trip and combined it with the attentiveness of a luxury hotel to create a truly unforgettable experience. A work of art led me here and I can’t wait to return and experience this level of hospitality again.

Gottfried Semper and Karl von Hasenauer may not be household names abroad, but in the Vienna of Franz Joseph’s time they were towering architects. The duo was responsible for the soaring cupolas and sweeping staircases of two stunning mirror-image cultural institutions on the Ringstrasse. In the Kunsthistorisches (Art History) Museum, famous stairwell-roof frescoes are by Gustav Klimt, and the rich assemblage of works includes Pieter Brueghel’s Tower of Babel, Caravaggio’s David with the Head of Goliath, and works by Dürer, Raphael, and Velázquez. The sister Naturhistorisches (Natural History) Museum is home to one of Europe’s oldest pieces of art: the famous Paleolithic goddess figure known as Venus of Willendorf. There are also displays that range from insects to dinosaurs and flora and fauna collected worldwide.

The MacRitchie Reservoir is one of four reservoirs in the heart of Singapore at the Central Catchment Nature Reserve, where the surrounding forests are protected as national parks to ensure the quality of the water. Though unfortunately not accessible to the public, the ruins of a once-massive Shinto shrine built by the Japanese during their World War II occupation of Singapore are hidden in the overgrown, off-trail jungle near the northwestern corner of the reservoir. There is more to Singapore than meets the eye.

Mount Royal Park starts at the edge of the city just beyond the McGill campus and runs alongside neighborhoods like Plateau before rising to the top of 764-foot-tall Mount Royal (Mont Réal), the hill that gives the city its name. The twisting roads and paths of this crown jewel of Montréal’s park system were initially laid out by Frederick Law Olmsted, who also designed New York’s Central Park. While Olmsted’s plan was not followed in all its details, the final result was true to his vision of a woody park that takes advantage of the site’s hilly topography. There are two belvederes with views of the city skyline and the St. Lawrence River, and one of Montréal’s iconic landmarks, a 103-foot-high cross, sits at its northern end. The park is most popular in summer, but residents flock here in every season, to enjoy the colorful foliage in the fall and the cross-country ski trails and toboggan runs in the winter.

A trip to the original Magic Kingdom Park in Orlando is a theme park rite of passage. This is the mouse’s original outpost. And if you hit only one theme park among Orlando’s vast amusement offerings, you won’t go wrong here. Home to such iconic attractions as the original Cinderella’s Castle, the Space Mountain roller coaster ride, the nightly parade down Main Street, It’s a Small World kids’ ride, Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, and much, much more, you can easily occupy two days taking it all in. And while many of the rides and character meet and greets (every princess and her cousin is in attendance here) are clearly oriented toward younger visitors, there’s enough to keep adults smiling, too. Favorite tamer rides for younger kids include Adventure Land’s Pirates of the Caribbean and the Jungle Cruise. And if you’ve still got some staying power after a whole day of rides and shows, stick around for the park’s nightly grand finale—a fireworks display on par with anything you’d see in a big city on the Fourth of July.

The Trift Bridge is the longest pedestrian-only suspension bridge in the Swiss Alps, spanning 170 meters (560 ft) at a height of 100 meters (330 ft) but when we got to it somehow it looked longer and higher. As afraid as I was I did not hike all the way there to quit so on the bridge I went. My family did not seem to share my fear, taking off ahead of me on the bridge. The bridge offers a superb view of the Trift Glacier melting into the Triftsee (the lake formed by the glacier’s melt water). From here you can go higher on the mountain but we did not have the strength or the time to continue on.

A true feast for the eyes, this Belle Époque brasserie inside a century-old former bank building (now part of the W Amsterdam) is one of the loveliest dining spaces in the city. Beneath a soaring, stained-glass ceiling, immense circular lighting fixtures hang over sleek black-marble tables; an intricate tiled floor, gold accents, and a mirrored bar round out the glamorous vibe. The sophisticated French and Italian dishes are beautifully executed, and don’t miss the cocktails—especially the selection of classic punches. High tea is served in the elegant adjacent tearoom every afternoon.

Hiking the French Valley is part of the W-trek through Patagonia’s Torres del Paine National Park. It’s about 16 mi round-trip from Refugio Paine Grande to the French Valley Mirador, to see the French Glacier and the Paine Massif as close as you can get. The trail is diverse and only reaches a steep height at the last 5.5 km on the way there. You begin at Lago Pehoe and take grassy paths through the forested valley, on an terrain that the locals call “Patagonia flat,” i.e. an undulating up and down of several feet. On the way you’ll see tiny magenta--and edible--berries that taste just like apples; you’ll cross small glacial streams where you can fill up your water bottle with fresh, wild water. You’ll trek right by the Cuernos, or the “Horns,” another well-known set of peaks in Torres del Paine. Over the French River you go as you get deeper into the valley, over wobbly rope bridges. The final 5.5 km to the French Valley Mirador has you balancing on thousands of loose boulders on your way up. The very top of the trek feels like being in the middle of a Patagonian fishbowl: Paine Massif to your left, French Glacier in front, the Aleta de Tiburon (the Shark’s Fin) and the Cuernos to the right, and turquoise Lago Pehoe behind you.

My bucket list included seeing the Northern Lights. This took me to the Chena Hot Springs Resort located an hour outside of Fairbanks, Alaska (the address is WRONG on the map). The Northern Lights are best seen in clear dark skies which is abundant in the Fairbanks area. It was 22 below (which is way cold!), but you could stay snuggly warm in the natural hot springs. The medicinal powers of the hot springs are also a high point. Maybe my imagination, but I went into the pool with an achy hip and came out pain free. The rock hot springs pool is surrounded by snow covered trees. This one looks to me like a tree nymph pointing to the sky and promising you a night time glimpse of the Northern Lights. What a spectacle it is! Mother Nature at her best is the colorful dancing lights that can be seen in this Alaska wonderland. Unfortunately, there is no guarantee that the Northern Light will appear so I am not promising you or guaranteeing you that if you go you will definitely have that remarkable experience. But, if you are one of the lucky ones that are blessed with a view of this remarkable phenomenon, it is worth the trip. If not, you may also see shooting stars in the dark night sky filled with more stars than you can imagine, go on a one horse open sleigh ride or go mushing in a sled pulled by a group of eager sled dogs! Also enjoy the cozy pub that has a great menu and drinks aplenty! Call the resort to confirm what activites will be available during your stay.

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.

Marché aux Puces de St-Ouen, aka Clignancourt, is Europe’s largest flea market and the city’s favorite place to find a bargain. Exiting the Métro at Porte de Clignancourt, those in the know pass by the counterfeit designer-goods hawkers, avoid the parking lot with camper vans full of cheap goods, and head under the overpass to Rue des Rosiers. Groups of stalls form smaller flea markets, each with its own specialty, so shopping can feel like walking through a museum where you can actually buy things. The market called Serpette draws serious dealers looking for mid-century marvels, but shoppers who head as far as Jules Vallès market may score some true bargains. Of course, this is France, where food matters, so there are plenty of local cafés to choose from. Ma Cocotte is trendy chic, La Chope des Puces has live jazz with moules frites, and Chez Louisette draws a crowd nostalgic for French tunes with its simple steak frites.