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Philippe Starck’s design firm, Yoo, transformed an 1872 dowager hotel into the 63-room Hotel Sans Souci Wien. Expect oversize Starck and Arne Jacobsen furnishings, four-poster beds, parquet floors, pillows made with Fornasetti fabrics, and pieces from the owner’s art collection (Picassos among them) that contrast with a soft color scheme. Downstairs in the spa, you’ll find a true Viennese rarity: a 65-foot indoor pool.

Located in a quasi national park about 20 kilometers due north of Osaka, this 87-year-old ryokan-style property has maple trees as neighbors. The park teems with nature, home to 1,300 plant species and 3,500 insect species. Despite its proximity to the city, Otowa Sansou is a tranquil place to stay, especially spectacular in the fall when the maple leaves gracefully morph from green to fiery red. The traditional Japanese inn is a window to the past, with a pretty, central courtyard shaded by maple trees, and shoji (paper sliding screens), tatami, and lanterns used in the design.

Treat yourself in the Paris of the North with a visit to Sweet Heart, located inside a lovely red wooden house in the heart of Tromsø’s main shopping district. For a true taste of Scandinavia, choose salty over sweet and try some black licorice, the house special loved and loathed in equal measure. Those without that acquired taste needn’t fear though, as the shelves are packed with all kinds of chocolates, jellies, and other candies, many beautifully packaged into gift boxes. The store also sells tea, coffee, and ice cream, making it extremely difficult to leave without satisfying any craving you had three times over.

Experience the khlongs, or canals, of the “Venice of the East” on a longtail boat and you’ll get a special look into the heart of Bangkok. Most of Bangkok’s waterways were dug in the 18th and 19th centuries, and while some have been filled in and paved over, there are still an amazing number to explore. Several of them, such as Khlong Saen Saeb, go through the center of the city, and the Khlong Bangkok Yai, on the western side of the Chao Phraya, cuts through one of the oldest parts of town. Many tours leave from the central piers on the river and are no more than a couple of hours long.

Only in Rio can you happen onto a tropical paradise without leaving city limits. About 22 miles west of Copacabana lies Prainha. The name calls up a small beach that’s in fact a sand formation in an ecological reserve surrounded by the Atlantic Forest (Mata Atlântica), with its complete variety of plant and animal life. Known as one of the city’s surfing meccas, it’s a gem for anyone keen on sun and waves. Eat fresh seafood right on the beach, and if you brought your board, take the surf-bus that connects to the city’s most popular tourist areas.

Kim Soo Home, a French-inspired boutique shop in Seminyak, carries everything from Indonesian ethnic pieces to handmade textiles and wooden furniture. If you’re looking to pick up something to remind you of your trip to Bali, you’ll find it here—the shop stocks items from makers throughout the archipelago, along with its own unique, locally made designs. It’s difficult to leave the airy and carefully manicured store, but you can decompress for a bit in the stylish adjoining café before you reenter the harsh world outside.

Comprised of just 10 suites with distinctly different designs, Palácio Belmonte feels more like a dream vacation home than a hotel. The vibe is spot on, given the backstory: A Frenchman traveled to Lisbon looking for a vacation home in the Portuguese capital. He first saw the building from a taxi and thought to himself, “It has nine windows, just like my home in France. I’ll buy it.” It wasn’t until after purchasing the property that he actually set foot inside and saw just how enormous it was—far too large for him and his family. Thus, he set about remodeling the building (which was originally owned by a noble family in the 1400s) with the notion of converting it into a space for visitors.

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.

From October to February, sperm whales, humpback whales, and pilot whales make their way from the cold Atlantic to the warm waters of St. Lucia to breed and mate. Whale-watching tours leave from Castries and some of the other towns on the west coast and sail north to south to spot the whales, breaching and spouting, from a safe distance. Over the last few years, sperm and pilot whales have more frequently been spotted than humpbacks. It’s not unusual to see schools of spinner and bottlenose dolphins along the journey. Some whale-watching trips offer lunch as well as a chance to snorkel and swim, so shop around for the excursion you want.

If Codpa Village retains a bit of a mystical vibe, it’s with good reason: This was the residence of the chief of the Altos de Arica, who ruled a cluster of pre-Hispanic-era tribes. Somewhat unusual for northern Chile, Codpa’s land is quite fertile, thanks to the nearby Vitor River. Among the benefits of this fertility is a grape used to make a local wine, Pintatani. In addition to sampling the fruit of the vine, drink in local culture at a village performance: A shaman reads coca leaves and performers play music and dance, giving you a peek into an earlier era.

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.

Two Florentine brothers were inspired by the history of radio communication to name their cushy bar Mayday—and outfit it with vintage radios (set on the tables and hanging from the ceiling), black-and-white photographs, and tons of other vintage memorabilia. The drinks, too, feel of another time, with their focus on handcrafted preparations, small-batch liquors, and organic and locally grown ingredients. Sample everything from unfiltered brews made from Tuscan barley and wheat, to a rare Scottish whisky or a green tea–infused cocktail. The atmosphere is one of collaboration: There are nightly lively music performances, the walls are lined with art installations and exhibits, and patrons are encouraged to leave their own vintage mementos. Classes in mixology and infusion-making are also available, and are a fun way to hone your skills while mingling with locals.

With his high-concept McCrady’s and his more rustic Husk—both in Charleston—chef Sean Brock transformed perceptions of Southern cooking from heavy, simple fare to a culinary tradition that is rich, complex, and filled with history. He worked with experts to resuscitate countless heirloom vegetables and grains lost to the agriculture industry, many of which reflect the region’s deep immigration roots (rice varieties from China; spices from Africa). He also changed the game with this simple rule: No ingredient north of the Mason-Dixon may enter the kitchen. Husk Nashville, which Brock opened in 2013, applies the same philosophy, but this time the menu is a nod to the bounty of inland Tennessee. In a 19th-century former residence in downtown Nashville, the James Beard Award–winning chef serves up his modern spin on classics such as pimento cheese, paired here with benne wafers, pickled jalapeños, and chipped beef. The Tennessee-raised pork prime rib, paired with cabbage, pecan butter, and molasses vinegar, is impossibly tender. Leave room for the vegetable plate, which highlights the best of the season’s produce.

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.

“What better way to understand yoga than to travel to its birthplace?” says Katie Christ. Two years ago, the food stylist put her life in San Francisco on hold to spend two months studying at the Ramamani Iyengar Memorial Yoga Institute (RIMYI) in Pune, India. “It was the biggest luxury I have ever allowed myself.” Katie had been practicing Iyengar yoga, a style of hatha yoga that focuses on alignment and uses props like blocks and belts, for more than 10 years when she decided she wanted to study in India.

She applied to RIMYI, where the venerable B.K.S. Iyengar (above), the founder of Iyengar yoga, occasionally teaches with his son and daughter. “It’s not for the faint of heart,” says Katie. “There’s no music. No incense.” RIMYI requires each applicant to have eight years of Iyengar experience plus a letter of recommendation from his or her yoga teacher. Acceptance can take up to two years. The year before she attended, Katie traveled to Pune for two weeks to experience life in the city.

That first visit happened to coincide with B.K.S. Iyengar’s 90th birthday. “I had no Indian garb appropriate for the festivities, so I went shopping, and in one afternoon I saw so much. A woman making a rangoli, a traditional folk art design, let me try to draw one with colored powder on the street. At the market I saw a man whose sole job was to peel garlic bulbs. I tasted the most amazing chai, made by a chai wallah who used pliers to crush fresh ginger into a pot of milk with tea leaves and ground spices. I knew I wanted to stay. [On my second trip] these experiences would become part of my everyday routine.”

The institute doesn’t provide housing, so Katie used her first visit to find a flat to rent for her two-month stay. “I had the perfect commute: a 10-minute walk through a public garden where I would watch teens flirting on benches and women in saris and sneakers taking their morning power walks.” Classes were held six days a week: two-hour sessions led by a member of the Iyengar family and three hours of open practice each day, and an hour of pranayama (controlled breathing) once a week. “In open practice, I experienced incredible generosity from students who were advanced teachers,” says Katie. “If someone recognized that I was struggling, they would come over to help me achieve better alignment. Several times Geeta Iyengar [the daughter of B.K.S. Iyengar] called out to give me specific instruction.

I felt incredibly fortunate, considering there were up to 120 students in a class.” When she wasn’t in class, Katie and her Australian neighbors, all senior Iyengar teachers attending the institute, would hit the markets and seek out the best chai, Indian sweets, and chappals (sandals). On Sundays they took trips to sights like the ancient sculptures and paintings in the Ellora and Ajanta caves. Katie felt her body becoming stronger and her head becoming clearer with each passing day. “The goal of yoga is to calm the chatter of the mind. When I arrived I had tons of chatter,” she says. “After practicing so intensely every day for two months, the chatter became a murmur.”

From $450 for a one-month program, not including meals and accommodations. 91/(0) 20-2565-6134, bksiyengar.com. This story appeared in the January/February 2012 issue.