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In the country’s wine region, you can pick grapes, sing songs, and keep ancient harvest traditions alive. It’s so much fun, you can taste it.

One traveler discovers a tradition even richer than the cuisine.

I Kriti (Greek for “Crete”) has been serving some of Athens’ best Cretan cuisine long before the island’s hearty cuisine became fashionable in the mid-2000s. A charming, utterly unpretentious tavern tucked into a nondescript arcade passage near Omonia Square, Kriti serves fare that will leave you reeling with pleasure—dakos (barley bruschetta topped with grated tomato, crumbled myzithra cheese, olives, and pickled samphire), smoked Cretan pork, snails in garlic, Crete-made sausages, spicy cheese dip, and baked pies, all at excellent prices and with real Cretan hospitality (the owners don’t really speak English, but it doesn’t matter). Expect to wait for a table but then, once seated, to spend some time here. And don’t forget to wash each dish down with some Cretan raki, a strong grape distillate similar to grappa.

A tribute to the zinfandel grape, which originated in Croatia, this restaurant and bar features a zin-centric wine list but also showcases regional favorites like Plavac and Dingač. Of its 100 wines, it offers about 30 by the glass, encouraging guests to taste their way through Croatia’s wine heritage. Pair your drinks with one of the restaurant’s three-tiered platters, which come loaded with Dalmatian bites, then settle in on the terrace for some live music. If you’re hungry for a full meal, opt instead for the five-course “Taste of Dalmatia” menu, which includes everything from seared Adriatic tuna and homemade oxtail ravioli to calamari stuffed with ricotta and sun-dried tomatoes. Come morning, Zinfandel also serves breakfast, which diners can pair with champagne or fig-flavored travarica, a local herb grappa.

The natural fresh-water springs at Hierve el Agua were incredible (and cold!). The water is very high in calcium carbonate, and the minerals have formed these natural pools and crazy waterfall-like rock formations. The dusty road was somewhat harrowing, we had to make way for quite a few donkeys packing some serious loads. (And the formerly white rental car came out of the experience with a light yellow coating.) But the view over the valley of Oaxaca was unbelievable, and the meal we had at one of the stands was delicious. We were there in December; it was clear and warm and perfect.

The ancient Greeks called Folegandros “iron hard,” but this Cycladic island has a mellow soul beneath its edges. The northern part is the wildest, where locals still scrabble a living making cheese from their goats, threshing grain with mules, and fishing off translucent bays. At homestead tavernas (like Eirini’s grocery-cum-eatery in Ano Meria), the owners rear or grow everything they serve. The main village, Chora, is huddled on a cliff 650 feet above the sea, but the emerald water below is so clear you can count the fish swimming by. The tangle of lanes all lead to three interlocked squares lined with tavernas and bite-size bars, where evenings drift by as you drink shots of rakomelo (warm grappa with honey).

Officially named Zalogajnica Dioklecijan—but known only as Tri Volta to locals—this blue-collar hangout knocks out home-style lunches, moonshine grappa and the best sliced-to-order local prosciutto. The terrace is prime real estate, featuring views of the Riva and seafront through three Roman vaults.

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.