Search results for

Crashing waves serve as the soundtrack to your stay at Elbow Beach, situated on 50 lush acres along Bermuda’s rose-hued southern coast. Decorated with exposed beams, tiled floors, and neutral color schemes, the spacious cottage-style rooms are the portrait of coastal elegance—think coral-emblazoned throw pillows, wicker benches at the foot of the beds, and ocean or garden views through French doors. Polished-pebble paths lead the way to the spa, which offers treatments inspired by local ingredients, from a ginger-and-coconut scrub to a hibiscus bath. Grab a rum swizzle in the lounge, relax by the curving perimeter of the pool, or snorkel, swim, and kayak at the hotel’s private beach. You might also prefer to hit the pavement: Elbow Beach is mere minutes from the capital of Hamilton, Gibb’s Hill Lighthouse, and four 18-hole championship golf courses.

Marrakesh’s legendary La Mamounia, which dates back to the 12th century, reopened in 2009 after a meticulous three-year renovation by noted French architect and designer Jacques Garcia. Step behind its fabled doors and a sensory feast awaits, from the gentle tinkling of the numerous water fountains and basins; to the fragrant waft of jasmine, orange blossom, and cedar; to the lush Arab-Andalusian interiors, filled with traditional Zellige tilework, sculpted wood, and carved plaster. There are 209 rooms and suites, with the largest topping out at more than 1,000 square feet. Views range between Koutoubia Mosque, the snow-capped Atlas Mountains, and La Mamounia’s own legendary gardens, which abound with 2,000-year-old rose bushes, 700-year-old olive trees, and flowering bougainvillea and jacaranda. Three secluded, standalone riads each feature three bedrooms arranged around a central patio and private pool, though guests would be remiss not to hang around La Mamounia’s dreamy central pool, lined with palm trees, loungers, and lanterns.

The present-day Summer Palace is China’s largest royal park and was once called the Garden of Cultivated Harmony. It took its current name when Empress Dowager Cixi, in a controversial action, used some money earmarked for the navy and rebuilt the park, which had been destroyed during the second Opium War in the mid-19th century. It was damaged again during the Boxer Rebellion in 1900. Imperial rule in China ended in 1901, and in 1924 the Summer Palace opened to the public. The grounds are covered in traditional Chinese pavilions, halls, and temples. A nice way to take a load off after touring the palace’s extensive grounds and buildings is to tool around the placid lake in a pedal boat or rowboat.

The Swiss-born modernist giant was many things: architect, painter, sculptor, graphic artist, furniture designer, and writer. This museum, also known as the Centre Le Corbusier, is located in the Zürichhorn park, and offers a chance to view examples of his work across all these realms—the most striking of which is the building itself, Le Corbusier’s last, a steel-and-glass masterpiece marked by multicolored enameled panels.

This NoMad hotel was developed with a community of influential, savvy travelers in mind. Case in point is the upscale-urban design by studio MAI, which includes both modest and globally-inspired décor (think raw-bronze shelving, rich fabrics, and hand-carved benches in a carefully devised layout to maximize space). MADE Hotel, developed by The Devli Group, also anticipates travelers’ needs with a variety of venues, from Paper (a neighborhood coffee shop serving serious caffeine fixes) to Ferris (a new American eatery with plates like lobster toast with kombu and sesame). If you decide to venture out, the team still has you covered—literally. Sutterheim raincoats and Foak sunglasses are available to rent, rain or shine.

A pioneer of the East Nashville restaurant scene, Margot McCormack created this stylish spot in a repurposed service station in the heart of East Nashville’s Five Points long before the area was considered a destination for fine dining. The Nashville native, who moved away for the Culinary Institute of America and a stint at restaurants in New York City, serves from her collection of mismatched china in a cozy space with copper pots hanging from exposed brick walls. After more than a decade, the restaurant remains a favorite for dinner and Sunday brunch. The menu changes daily, but entrées might include pan-roasted scallops with parsnip purée, baby carrots, and preserved lemon, or house-made fettuccine with butternut squash, walnuts, and goat cheese.

Dining in a beach chair—or at least a chair by the beach—is an essential part of the experience at Spice Mill Restaurant, which looks directly across the water to St. Kitts’ sister island of Nevis. The menu here journeys across the global culinary landscape, but the fish and produce are sourced as locally as possible—including from the restaurant’s own gardens. Expect fine dining with your toes in the sand.

While not the tallest mountain on Raiatea—that distinction belongs to 1,017-meter-tall (3,337-foot-tall) Mount Tefatoaiti—Mount Temehani is the island’s most sacred. And at 772 meters (2,532 feet), it’s plenty scenic, too. But this flat-topped peak’s true claim to fame is the tiare apetahi—a delicate, white, five-petaled flower (related to the Tahitian gardenia) that’s so rare it grows nowhere else on Earth but on this mountain.

The only existing French plantation house on St. Kitts, the Fairview Great House was built circa 1701 and originally housed French military officers. Today, guests can tour the beautifully restored property, taking in the period furnishings, kitchen, apiary, chapel, and bathhouse before exploring the two-and-a-half acres of botanical gardens, filled with tropical flowers, fruit trees, and monkeys. Visitors can also purchase day passes to the property’s swimming pool and sunny deck, or sign up for cooking classes and tastings of St. Kitts’ own Brinley Shipwreck Gold Rum.

Yo, ho, ho and oh, my! Up on Government Hill, this watchtower, built circa 1678, is known as Blackbeard’s Castle and is literally the stuff of legends. Although it’s open for debate whether the notorious pirate ever used the five-story tower as a lookout, one thing is for certain: Its views are tops. Nearby the flower-lined 99 Steps (technically there are 103), built in the 18th century of ship-ballast brick, lead from historic Kongens Quarter to some more terrific views of the island.

Across the Firth of Forth from Edinburgh, in the town of North Queensferry, the Wee Restaurant has remained a Fife standout for more than a decade. As its name implies, it’s a small spot with just 40 seats, but the close quarters create a relaxed, intimate atmosphere. Here, husband-and-wife team Craig and Vikki Wood offer simple food like char-grilled sirloin steak and smoked haddock with potatoes alongside a carefully considered selection of wines. In addition to à la carte dishes, the restaurant serves a seasonal “Menu du Jour” at lunchtime Tuesday through Saturday and in the evening from Tuesday through Thursday. It’s perfect for lighter appetites and offers great value, with two courses for £16 (around $21) or three for just £20 ($26).

For an elegant island dining experience, opt for an evening at Le Corail at the InterContinental Bora Bora Resort & Thalasso Spa. The formal and contemporary dining room, right beside the lagoon, seats only 28 at a time, so the mood is intimate and romantic. Tables by the windows, with a view of the resort’s overwater wedding chapel, are the most coveted. The French-accented seven-course tasting menu rotates with the seasons and is plated artfully, in keeping with the modern surroundings. With advance notice, the kitchen can accommodate those with allergies and dietary restrictions. Open six nights a week for dinner, from April to November.

The most quintessential Cambodian souvenir must be the checked cotton krama that you will see around the necks, heads or waists of every Cambodian you meet. Cambodians like to boast that the krama has a dozen different uses -- some clever, some cute, some cringe-worthy. The most popular way to wear the krama is as a handsome scarf and a symbol of national and cultural pride, hung loosely around the neck over a pressed dress shirt. However, head out to the villages and you’ll see local farmers wearing them wrapped around their forehead to soak up the sweat, while village women will wear them as a head-dress. I’ve used mine as a belt. They’re handy for wiping the perspiration from your brow while scrambling temples in the sticky humidity. You’ll see kramas sold everywhere and in the Old Market they start from as little as US$1, however, these are generally made from a polyester-cotton mix and don’t do the trick. I love the authentic, quality cotton kramas sold at boutiques like Wa Gallery, which is where the ones above are from.

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.

Preservation Hall occupies a worn Creole town house that was originally built as a home in the early 19th century, and that had evolved into an art gallery and performance space by 1961. (It was founded by a man of philanthropic bent who fretted that the great, aging New Orleans musicians no longer had a place to play.) It hasn’t changed much since the ‘60s—audiences cluster on benches or stand along the back wall to hear whomever is playing that night. Among the glories of New Orleans is traditional jazz, which is still very much alive here and never feels as if it belongs in a morgue—or even an intensive care unit. Check the schedule for upcoming acts, but don’t get hung up on specific performers; every night offers something worth stopping by for, and everyone leaves in a better mood than when they arrived.