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This small archaeological site is situated on a hillside about 12 miles east of Oaxaca city. The name “Dainzú” means “hill of the organ cactus” in Zapotec, although that most certainly was not the original name. The site was occupied in very early times, but its apogee was roughly at the same time as Monte Alban (200 B.C.E. to 350 C.E.). It was excavated in 1965 by Mexican archaeologist Ignacio Bernal. This is one of Oaxaca’s less visited sites, so you’re likely to have the place to yourself. It is quite a nice site, however, and worth a visit for a few special features. The site has a ball court, as well as a gallery of bas-reliefs depicting ball players, so undoubtedly the game was very important to the inhabitants. Another must-see is a tomb that has a jaguar carved into the entrance; the face is carved in the lintel, and the animal’s forearms are on either side.

The centerpiece of the city’s emerging Vulkan neighborhood, Oslo’s very first food hall is a culinary utopia. Let your nose guide you to one (or five!) of 27 eateries peddling everything from cupcakes to tapas to bento boxes. Can’t decide? Stop at the Torget stall and order the Taste of Mathallen menu to sample mind-altering dishes from the hall’s best restaurants. The communal wooden benches in the center of the hall encourage sharing, so you and your friends can divide and conquer. Finish your visit with a craft beer in the basement pub Smelteverket, which features Norway’s longest bar.

This 19th-century complex, originally built as a hospital for the disadvantaged, is host to an impressive display of modern art, most notably a series of frescoes by famous Mexican muralist Jose Clemente Orozco. The collection includes one of his most well-known murals, El Hombre de Fuego, which earned its building the nickname “the Sistine Chapel of the Americas.” A UNESCO World Heritage Site, Hospicio Cabañas is a perfect example of Guadalajara’s ability to embrace its history and its future, combining 1790s architecture, 1930s murals, and, finally, a space for rotating exhibitions of contemporary art.

Having functioned as an orphanage, an insane asylum, and a military barracks in the past, Hospicio Cabañas also has a spooky side. There are several ghost stories about the space, including a legend about a clock that stopped whenever a child died in the orphanage.

The moment the snow melts, young Torontonians begin their annual spring migration to Trinity Bellwoods Park. The hippest park in town, Bellwoods stretches from the shopper’s paradise of Queen West up to central Dundas Street. On a summer’s day, sun-and-fun seekers spread out on beach blankets to watch the action: at the dog run, on the tennis courts, in the kiddie pool, and even closer, on the adjacent blankets. After dark, head to nearby Bellwoods Brewery for a pint.

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.

Although the Smoking Goat is credited with pioneering a culinary renaissance in a once-sleepy corner of North Park, nothing else about chef Fred Piehl’s flagship restaurant screams “culinary vanguard”—and that’s precisely what devotees love about the place. Regulars come here for the reliably exquisite staples: French onion soup with what’s essentially an open-face grilled cheese sandwich afloat in rich veal broth; duck fat truffle fries with pecorino romano and mustard aioli; beef cheeks à la Bourguignonne with carrots, cioppolini onions, cherry tomatoes, mashed potatoes, and braising jus; and other creations that blend traditional French tastes with sustainable, organic San Diego–sourced ingredients. While dinner at this rustic, romantic spot is hardly the time to eat lightly, if you want to go vegetarian, opt for the indulgent raclette au gratin with fingerling potatoes, cornichons, and toast, along with a salad of poached and raw pears with mixed greens, pistachio pesto, and champagne vinaigrette. And as befits the restaurant’s caprine theme, the goat cheese cheesecake with poached peach and whipped cream is a favorite dessert.

A recent addition to the Puerto Rican capital’s culinary scene are food hall–style spots where diners can choose among multiple kiosks, or stalls, each featuring a distinct kind of cuisine. Lote 23 is one such spot, located in the working-class neighborhood of Santurce. More than a dozen food entrepreneurs have fare on offer here, from pizza and tacos to bao and burgers. If you just need something to cool yourself off in the tropical heat, there are popsicles and cocktails, too. The alfresco eating area has plenty of picnic tables where you can sit and enjoy whatever you’ve ordered.

From Top Chef: All-Stars winner Richard Blais comes this Little Italy favorite, a fast-casual spot specializing in humanely raised chicken and eggs. Here, the fried chicken is crispy and not too greasy, and sandwiches like the Malibu Barbie Q (chicken thigh, cornmeal onion ring, pineapple mustard) are addictive. An almost entirely outdoor spot, the Crack Shack features a walk-up window, bocce ball court, and cocktail bar. For something more traditional, head next door to Blais’s second concept, Juniper & Ivy, where you can enjoy an ever-changing menu of seasonal shared plates. From time to time, the restaurant hosts a Farm Dinner centered on a special ingredient like lamb from a local purveyor, making for one of the best splurge meals in the city.

No island getaway is complete without seeing gorgeous scenery you’d never, ever see at home—and Willemstad’s floating bridge delivers! Built in 1888, “Our Swinging Old Lady” is supported by 16 pontoon boats and two motors. When you hear the siren, look to see the entrance gates slam shut and moments later, the bridge sways to accommodate passing ships. (If you don’t feel like waiting for Queen Emma to reopen, you can take a ferry between Willemstad’s Punda and Otrobanda districts instead.) At night, the bridge’s lights cast a shimmering rainbow on the water.

Looking for authentic souvenirs of Costa Rica to bring back home? Kúkara Mákara offers a great selection of items, all 100 percent artisanal and officially Costa Rican. Its name—an allusion to children’s nonsense songs—hints at the relaxed, jovial mood inside the shop. The inventory changes constantly, so surprise is the order of the day. Recently we spotted original dolls, key chains, jewelry, satchels, handbags, decorative pillows, and objects made from recycled or repurposed materials. There’s also a small café that serves fresh, healthy fare.

When visiting this dramatic, narrow beach in the wealthy La Jolla enclave, take time to admire—and photograph—its single surf shack. One of San Diego’s most important surf-culture icons, the wooden palapa is actually a designated historic landmark, built in the 1940s by soldiers and surfers who served in World War II and reconstructed as recently as 2016. Windansea is also known for its pounding, experts-only surf break; you should attempt it only if you’re experienced, but it’s just as fun to watch from atop the beach’s smooth sandstone rocks. For some peace and quiet, sunbathe in one of this stretch’s secluded pockets.

This Madrid-style tavern specializes in Spanish as well as Italian, Lebanese, and Mediterranean tapas. Like many other spots in Barrio Escalante, Olio is known for its lively atmosphere—yet not so lively you can’t carry on a conversation. Its exposed-brick walls and eclectic decor lend it a particular warmth. The restaurant is also famed for cocktails, European wines, and fusion sangrias in locally inspired flavors like pineapple or watermelon.

San Juan’s Condado neighborhood is Puerto Rico’s version of Miami Beach. It’s a great place for beach-lounging and people-watching, with a multitude of bars, cafés and resorts along the sand. Be aware that the water can get rough in places, so use caution when swimming. La Ventana al Mar Park sits right on the beach, and the footpath along the jetty offers great views up and down the waterfront.

Located beneath the San Diego–Coronado Bridge, this public space might not be green and tranquil, but it tells a story of perseverance. In 1970, residents of the predominantly Latino Barrio Logan neighborhood staged a nonviolent takeover when the state attempted to build a California Highway Patrol station on land the city had promised would be a community park. Their protests were ultimately successful; the area was designated a park shortly thereafter. In 1973, brightly hued murals touching on Chicano identity and struggles began appearing on the concrete pillars surrounding the space. Today, visitors can see more than 50, which are considered so culturally significant that they earned the park National Historic Landmark status in 2016.

Ka’ana is described as a “boutique resort,” and it appeals to guests who want a sense of being in the Belizean rain forest while also enjoying the comforts and amenities of a full-service resort. Rooms and villas here seem to blend into the jungle, but it’s clear that all is carefully tamed to ensure that guests don’t feel overwhelmed by the wildness. Rooms are decorated in earth tones, with textiles and design accents all locally crafted. Furniture is sturdy local hardwood. Master suites have outdoor showers, and there are two spacious, private villas, each with its own plunge pool, garden, and outdoor terrace, among other luxuries. Staff can arrange land and sea excursions to the country’s most popular cultural, historic, and natural sites.