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I’m not one to skip breakfast, especially in Italy, where thoughts of cappuccino, pastries, and local ham tend to rouse me early from slumber. But on my first morning at the Hotel Sant’Angelo, in the old quarter of Matera, I was having a hard time dragging myself from the creature comforts of my cave. Staying in a cave, it turns out, can be surprisingly pleasant. There was just one small window high overhead, but the room and adjoining bath were in no way dank—a testament to the natural ventilation that keeps the caves cool and comfortable. The wavy contours of the white tufa-rock walls conjured a feeling of being enveloped in some primordial womb. Yet there were modern amenities: luxurious linens, Internet service, a telephone. Fred Flintstone never had it this good. I might have snoozed until noon, were it not for an impatient mate eager to see the sights. We had arrived in the village the previous night after a long drive across the treeless plains of the Basilicata region, located at the instep of Italy’s boot. Matera is an enchanted world of Stone Age splendor. Known as the sassi (Italian for stones), the bisque-colored hilltop cave homes comprise one of the oldest continuously inhabited places on earth, according to UNESCO. The caves have provided shelter for more than 7,000 years. A millennium ago, shepherds inhabited them and carved churches into the rock; during the Renaissance, the area prospered and elaborate buildings were carved out, the excess tufa sculpted into ornate facades. By the early 1900s, the sassi had fallen into neglect. Families and their animals crowded into the caves for warmth, and disease was rampant. When writer Carlo Levi brought this tragic state of affairs to light with his 1945 book Christ Stopped At Eboli, the Italian authorities moved residents en masse to modern housing—leaving the sassi abandoned, save for the occasional crew brought by film makers (Pier Paolo Pasolini and Mel Gibson among them) in search of a biblical-looking backdrop. It was only in the 1990s that the Italian government encouraged people to move back. Residents revamped the cave dwellings as homes, restaurants, and inns. When the Sant’Angelo opened in 2004, it was the area’s first luxury hotel. The 19 cave rooms are sparsely but tastefully appointed with rustic wooden furniture. Some carved decorations—crosses, hearts, an owl—date back hundreds of years. Fossilized shells embedded in the walls reveal that the region once lay underwater. Eventually, my fiancé and I did emerge from our cave to wander the town’s ancient alleys. A local guide named Dora Cappiello took us into some of the 150 chiese rupestri (rock churches), where she pointed out wine troughs and frescoes of San Nicola, the patron saint of local shepherds. We also visited a cave dwelling that had been restored to resemble its state when the caves were equal parts manger and living space.
Simple, delicious meals punctuated our explorations. The curvy walls of Baccanti, a cave restaurant, created a private nook where we feasted on silky pappardelle pasta with a cinghiale (wild boar) ragu, accompanied by a dry, fruity red aglianico from the nearby Vulture wine region. Tired and sated after a full day, we headed back to our cave—on moonless nights, a flashlight or trail of bread crumbs is advised for the stumble back to the hotel—where the promise of a deep, sound night’s sleep awaited. —Amy Cortese Hotel Sant’Angelo, 39/0835-314010, from $211 for a double. This appeared in the March/April 2010 issue.

Its massive size, centrality to daily life in the capital, and easy accessibility (a Metro station opens up right onto the plaza) makes the Zócalo an ideal place for large-scale temporary exhibits. The government hosts occasional exhibits and makes entry free for residents and visitors alike. Past exhibits have included Gregory Colbert’s “Ashes and Snow,” a show of large-format photos of animals and people, and Willy Souza’s “Mexico en tus sentidos” (“Mexico in your senses”), lush, vivid photos of people and places around Mexico. To see if a show is planned during the time you’ll be visiting, check the website of the Secretary of Tourism.

Nestled at the base of the Valley of the Ten Peaks, Moraine Lake boasts turquoise waters that change color throughout the day as sunlight refracts off the minuscule particles of glacier-ground rock suspended within. Though it has a B-list rating compared to Lake Louise’s A-list status, this spot is arguably the more spectacular of the two. It’s located a little less than nine miles from the hamlet of Lake Louise. When you arrive, you can hike up to the Rockpile (clearly visible at the front of the lake) for the best vantage point, or spend a day exploring one of the neighboring valleys.

Be forewarned: The parking lot often fills up by 10 a.m., so go early.

Just as Rome has the Colosseum and Paris the Eiffel Tower, so Switzerland has the Matterhorn. Located above Zermatt, this 48,195-foot wonder attracts hordes of visitors, eager to see the morning sunlight beam off its four faces, ski its neighboring mountains, or even attempt to climb the beast itself. The Matterhorn, however, is not for the faint-hearted and has claimed the lives of more than 500 people since it was first scaled in 1865—an average of 12 per year. It’s also been replicated at Disneyland in California as a rollercoaster.

Encyclopedic is one way to describe L.A.’s oldest art institution. Sprawling is another. The Los Angeles County Museum of Art opened in its current Miracle Mile location in 1965 and has not stopped growing, becoming the largest museum in the western United States. Its 135,000-piece collection spans 6,000 years of art. It also includes some of the museum world’s most photographed outdoor sculptures, such as Michael Heizer’s mind-boggling Levitated Mass and Chris Burden’s Urban Light. The museum hosts some 40 exhibits per year, plus a dynamic schedule of events, such as Tuesday film matinees and picnic-friendly Jazz at LACMA (held weekly on “summer” weekend nights—which in L.A. means April to November). While anyone can join free tours throughout the day, docents also lead customized experiences for a fee, which will take you through the galleries before or after hours to marvel at artists as wide-ranging as Henri Matisse, Ai Weiwei, Diego Rivera, and Catherine Opie. Kids are also catered to with a special gallery, Sunday activities, and a free membership, which includes entry for them plus an adult guest any day of the year. Pro tips: Plan to spend several hours at the museum, fueling up on wood-fired pizza midway through the day at Ray’s & Stark Bar. And if you’d like to experience the outdoor sculptures without the crowds, go early in the morning or on Wednesdays, when the museum is closed and gloriously quiet.

If you only see one temple in Bangkok, make it Wat Pho: home of the largest reclining Buddha in Thailand. The 141-foot-long statue is an artistic masterpiece plated in gold leaf and inlaid with mother of pearl. You could easily spend all day wandering the grounds, looking at reliquaries, visiting the massage school, and admiring the 400 statues of Buddha in the outer cloister—each posed and sculpted slightly differently. Before you leave, drop some money in one of the 108 begging bowls (one bowl for each of the characters of Buddha). The money goes to maintaining the Wat and the gift will bring you good luck. That seems like a fair trade.

Originally laid out during Spanish rule, the Alameda Central was Mexico City’s first municipal park, at one time reserved for the elite. Today it’s a well-manicured garden for all, especially popular with working-class crowds on Sundays. Its willow-lined lanes lead to old-fashioned statuary, fountains, and a gazebo (where something’s always going on), as well as a rotating calendar of contemporary sculpture exhibitions. On the park’s western edge and occupying a beautifully restored art deco structure, the shopping and design center known as Barrio Alameda houses edgy boutiques, a chic guesthouse, and trendy restaurants whose outdoor seating is a people-watcher’s delight. Duck in for a glimpse of how the city center continues along its gentrifying course.

To see the Panama Canal in person is to dive deeply into that nation’s history. Coming from the capital, the closest entry point is the Miraflores Visitor Center. Dedicate enough time to check out exhibitions that reveal why the waterway was built here and how the route shaped Panama’s international profile. Head outside to see how the canal works. The structure has several levels, and the third level is always crowded with visitors seeking photo ops. (There’s a restaurant on level four.) If you have time, the Agua Clara observation center on the canal’s Caribbean side offers views of newer, wider locks that opened in 2016.

Long the heart of the Condesa district (even during the dark days following Mexico City’s devastating 1985 earthquake), today’s Parque México is the quintessential urban park. Well-manicured with ample seating and a recently refurbished open-air forum that plays host to groovy neighborhood events as well as perennial skateboarders, the park’s venerable trees provide shade to the area’s easy-on-the-eyes crowd of joggers, dog walkers, cute old folks, and amorous teens. Along the garden’s perimeter, some of the city’s smartest apartment houses (often in flawless art deco style) share space with cool cafés, kicky boutiques, and crowded restaurants. Few city pleasures surpass Parque México’s people-watching (and pooch-watching) over coffee or cocktails, as golden sunlight streams through branches onto lively, see-and-be-seen sidewalk venues.

La Terrasse, the most refined rooftop bar in Paris, attracts a well-heeled crowd who want the view without a fuss. White umbrellas provide shade over the spacious tables on this romantic rooftop garden with rose-lined alcoves and iconic views of the Eiffel Tower, an altogether peaceful place to enjoy a champagne cocktail and watch the sun set. As dusk inches into evening, consider dining at the bar’s prix fixe restaurant—the small menu of seasonal dishes is perfect for a hot summer evening. (If the price of a cocktail here is beyond your travel budget, reserve a spot at Le Quarante Trois cocktail bar, a more affordable rooftop garden option atop the Holiday Inn Paris–Notre Dame.)

One of the best places to feel the local side of Reykjavik life, the Kolaportid Flea Market is set in a spacious industrial warehouse close to the city’s old harbor. Open at weekends only, you can find anything from wool jumpers and vintage fashion garments to fermented fish and licorice, plus plenty of second-hand books and decorative knickknacks. Best to go early to avoid the crowds (it opens at 11 a.m.)—and best to have cash on you since many of the market’s vendors don’t accept credit cards.

This intimate, bistro-like 16-seat restaurant in the heart of Pest’s trendy Jewish quarter brings a dash of Scandinavian cuisine (and Scandi decor) to the Hungarian capital. Chef Gábor Fehér spent time in Copenhagen mastering Nordic cuisine, which here comes as mini-courses (they’re flavorful but small, so the kitchen recommends ordering at least four for a meal). Hungarian and even French culinary influences aren’t ignored, either— Fehér studied at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris. There’s a huge variety of Hungarian wines on offer, and the regular crowd is artsy and cool. By the way, “Esca” means “food” in Latin, and it’s easy to see what’s most important here.

Buenos Aires is a city of readers—it supports more bookstores per capita than any other place in the world. The crown jewel of the librerías here is the Ateneo Grand Splendid. Housed in a theater where music legends such as Carlos Gardel once attracted vast crowds, the store features shelf after shelf of tempting volumes on its rounded balconies. Italian frescoes on the domed ceiling and plush red-velvet curtains are from the theater’s original 1919 design. The four-story space carries over 120,000 books and a local-music selection, and there’s a café on the erstwhile stage.

The Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden is a gorgeous park that’s just a short walk from Shinjuku Station. There are several gardens within the space, including a formal French one, an English landscape garden, and a traditional Japanese design. While the admission fee is nominal (about $2), it helps assure that it is surprisingly quiet, with fewer visitors than parks open to the public for free. If the weather is good, consider picking up a bento from nearby Takashimaya’s depachika. Convenience stores sell plastic “blue sheets” for impromptu picnics. The only downside to this park is that it is alcohol-free; if you want to drink sake at your picnic, head down the road to Yoyogi Park.

The Hotel Adlon Kempinski undoubtedly boasts the most distinguished location in the city—right on historic Pariser Platz, opposite the Brandenburg Gate. The original incarnation opened in 1907 with the blessing of none other than Kaiser Wilhelm II. Despite playing host to such illustrious guests as Tsar Nicholas II, Albert Einstein, and Franklin Roosevelt, the building was almost destroyed after World War II. A new hotel was eventually opened in 1997 and continues to draw celebrities, politicians, and the occasional aristocrat—in 2002, it was here that Michael Jackson notoriously dangled his nine-month-old son out the window.

Needless to say, the hotel is the last word in stately—if somewhat conservative—luxury, as heralded by its glamorous, balconied lobby, which greets guests with the sounds of live piano and a trickling fountain. The sumptuous rooms come with marble bathrooms, full-size work desks, and entertainment centers; the three restaurants include the two-Michelin-starred Lorenz Adlon Esszimmer, serving classic European dishes such as braised shoulder of lamb (there’s a four-week waitlist for reservations, so plan accordingly). A luxury spa and a range of boutiques offering everything from fine wines to jewelry to porcelain are also on-site.