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A 600-suite hotel within a hotel, The Cove is the most luxurious of the room towers at the Atlantis Paradise Island Resort. Kids aren’t banned, but the vibe is definitely grown-up—witness the adults-only Cove Pool, with its DJ-driven party scene, outdoor gaming tables, and mating-ritual pool wear. But there’s a sense of sophistication in the two-story lobby, which soars above ponds of water lilies, as well as the suites, which have balconies with ocean views, sunken living rooms, and marble-floored bathrooms. All the activities of Atlantis, including those that make adults feel young again—such as the Abyss and Leap of Faith waterslides, or the dolphin encounters—are only steps or a free shuttle ride away. Also available is immersive programming that connects guests to the rich history, art, people, food, and festivities of the islands, from exhibits showcasing regional artists and a weekly Junkanoo Fest & Feast (honoring a more than 500-year-old tradition) to five new outposts of beloved local Bahamian restaurants.

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.

The town of Gamboa lies at the center of a rain forest on the banks of the Panama Canal, where Lake Gatún and the River Chagres meet about 20 miles from the capital. Gamboa’s Summit Park is home to Panama’s national bird, the harpy eagle, as well as to Soberanía National Park and the Panama Rainforest Discovery Center, where visitors can walk the Camino del Oleoducto (Pipeline Road), a famous bird-watching path where up to 300 avian species can be spotted on a single day. Another tip might be sailing the Chagres in piraguas (local pirogues or handmade dugout canoes) that plumb dense jungles and give visitors the chance to interact with the Emberá Quera indigenous community. This historic community lives off fishing, farming, artisanal craft-making, and tourism. Native-led tours showcase various local customs such as dances as well as vegetable-dye body-painting techniques and their meanings (known as jagua), in addition to the people’s relationship with nature. Navigating the rain forest with a traditional Emberá botanist is a singular experience.

The River Café is situated right in the middle of the huge Karura Forest, a tranquil swath of wilderness in the middle of the city. The dining area, on a large expanse of wooden deck under an open-sided canvas roof, gets extra atmospheric charm from the surrounding forest treetops and plants. The menu is varied, with a good vegetarian section as well as light bites and more indulgent meals. The French onion soup and the salads are recommended. This place gets busy on the weekends, when Nairobians stop in for brunch after church or a walk around the forest, so book in advance.

Named for the beach it sits on and famous for its views, Moonstone Grill is set at the junction of Little River and the Pacific, with a patio and large windows overlooking both. Given its full bar and specialty cocktails, many visitors like simply to enjoy a drink and take in the sunset. That’s a shame, because the food is good, too. The menu consists of local appetizers, seasonal seafood plates, and top-notch steaks. It’s not cheap, and you’ll want to make a reservation: Word has gotten out about this high-end, low-key Humboldt classic.

New Orleans’s newest public park lies along about a mile and a half of the Mississippi River—a lovely retreat reclaimed from industrial squalor. The main entrance is near the foot of Esplanade Avenue, marked by a boxy footbridge (with elevator) over the railroad tracks, which divide the park from nearby low-slung neighborhoods. While walking along the water, note how the powerful Mississippi’s twists and currents require dexterity from a river pilot, as the huge passing barges slide past sideways angling for the bends. At Piety Wharf—a former warehouse location converted into a massive sculpture that invites contemplation—you can cross a steeply arched span (designed by noted architect David Adjaye, and locally dubbed the Rusty Rainbow) into the Bywater neighborhood for a walk back to the French Quarter.

There are few places where you can better learn about the beauty and complexity of desert ecology than the Desert Botanical Garden, not far from downtown Phoenix. Check out the Desert Discovery Loop Trail for a look at local flora, go for a flashlight tour or cooking class (using plants found in the region, of course), or catch one of the musical performances that are part of the garden’s concert series. Make a point to visit the Desert Terrace Garden for the best views of the surrounding buttes and desert.

The perspective from Gary Farrell Winery, on the outskirts of Healdsburg, is distinctive. Perched high on a ridge above Sonoma County’s Russian River Valley, you get a sense of the fog that makes this growing region so perfect—the clouds trap cool air and moisture down below, enabling pinot noir and chardonnay grapes to mature slowly. This general understanding of the microclimate only enhances your enjoyment of the wine itself, which winemaker Theresa Heredia has made with a deft touch since 2012. After extensive renovations to the main tasting salons in 2017, the visitor experience at Gary Farrell now ranks as one of the best in the county, especially if you reserve a spot on the covered patio outside. All the tastings are seated; the Inspiration Tasting matches six wines with three small bites from chef Didier Ageorges, while the Exploration Tasting includes a tour, five wines, and a cheese-and-nuts plate. Both experiences take about 90 minutes and reservations are suggested. In case you’re wondering, although his name is still on the wine and the winery, Gary Farrell himself—a true pioneer of pinot noir in the Russian River Valley—hasn’t been involved in day-to-day operations since he sold the winery to the Vincraft Group in 2004.

It’s impossible to ignore the hulking 1950s architecture of the Tate Modern, slap-bang in the middle of the most-walked part of the South Bank. A visionary refurb of this former power station has resulted in an artistic behemoth with multiple gallery spaces (containing both free exhibitions and ticketed exhibitions), including the fantastic Turbine Hall for oversize installations. Outside, the Millennium Bridge leads over the Thames to the City and the great domed St. Paul’s Cathedral.

Down by the river, the fine Art Nouveau Mercado Adolpho Lisboa—Manaus’s main market—is modeled on Paris’s long-gone Les Halles; the mercado’s wrought iron was even imported from France. Visitors can find indigenous foods, herbs and handicrafts, and it’s a great place to take photos of the amazing fish.

Much of Lisbon’s appeal lies in its sheer beauty. From the rust-toned rooftops across the whitewashed Alfama district to the Pombaline architecture of Baixa, the city is very easy on the eyes. For the very best views, head skyward to Park Bar, located on the rooftop of a Bairro Alto parking garage. There, you’ll find a just-trendy-enough mix of scenester residents and tourists, sipping on white-port-and-tonics while enjoying expansive vistas from the Tagus River to the bell towers of Santa Catarina Church.

Cruising down the Garonne river onboard the AmaDolce, the first port we called on was Cadillac, located about 19 miles from the city of Bordeaux. Cadillac, founded in 1280, is a small fortified town, and I bet their charming Sunday market is probably just as old. The market occupies a number of streets in the town center–you won’t miss it. It’s a great place to try all sorts of local specialties (seafood, breads, cheese, sausages), and of course to people watch. The locals not only do their weekly grocery shopping here, markets are also a real social event in France. Friends catch up, stories are exchanged, laughter rings through the streets. Stock up on your picnic needs, as you’ll have no challenge finding a picturesque spot to sit down and snack along the Garonne.

No worries about the little goose pictured here, it already had a name by the time the buyer walked away from the stand. Definitely pet, not food.

One of the most rewarding ways is to explore Bordeaux’ countryside is by bicycle.

While our ship, the AmaDolce, was sailing the short distace from Blaye to Bourg, we ‘raced’ her by bicycle. Without taking detours, it’s about an hours ride, but of course we took our time, exploring the sights, villages and vineyards on the way. We began at Blaye’s Citadel, one of the impressive ancient fortifications built to protect Bordeaux from foreign naval attacks, and since 2008, a designated UNESCO World Heritage site. We pedaled through vineyards, and finally along the waterfront, to take in the views of the Gironde estuary. It was there, that the AmaDolce finally took the lead ; )

A minor disclaimer is that we had to navigate three hills between Blaye and Bourg, nothing dramatic, and there were definitely enough stops along the way to catch our breath.

Our bike adventure was part of our river cruise itinerary, but you can contact Bordeaux by Bike directly for tours. I can highly recommend it, it’s a perfect way to get a real sense of place, and of course to work up an appetite.

Skimming along the Arizona border in the Vermilion Cliffs Wilderness, Buckskin Gulch is considered the longest slot canyon in the Southwest. After entering the intimate narrows of the canyon, the route continues on for about 15 miles until it reaches the Paria River. Along those 15 miles, the walls get as narrow as 10 feet and as tall as 500 feet above the canyon floor. While the route can be done in a day, many visitors take overnight gear and camp near the confluence before hiking out the next morning.

The Taj Mahal is referred to as “the jewel of Muslim art in India,” by UNESCO in its listing on the World Heritage Site registry. The Mughal ruler Shah Jahan had the truly magnificent white marble mausoleum built in 1632–1648, in memory of his favorite wife, Mumtaz Mahal. For its construction, artisans from all over the empire, Central Asia, Iran, were summoned and the final result of their stonework, calligraphy, carvings, gardening, woodwork, and soaring domes remains one of the universally admired masterpieces of world heritage. Allot ample time to tour the site—besides the mausoleum, there is a mosque, a guest house, cloisters, courtyards, gates, and vast gardens. In addition to being stunningly beautiful from afar, the iconic site is evocatively romantic and up-close, the intricate details in its architecture, ornamentation, and history, are revealed.