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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.

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.

What began as a recreation area for immigrants from Brazil’s northeast is now a destination for visitors looking to get off the beaten tourist path. The densely populated São Cristóvão quarter is home to this enormous complex, open seven days a week, to which visitors may arrive at a reasonable hour and not get out before dawn. Afternoons are for shopping and noshing; but after dark, the volume goes up, and the marketplace becomes a scene for partying, pop-up karaokes, and live-music performances that are 100-proof Brazil. Authentic northeastern music known as forró plays until sunup.

If you like tea, then you must make a pilgrimage to Mariage Fréres, which has been open since 1854. They sell the most amazing teas (my favorites are Marco Polo and French Breakfast) along with teapots, cups, and tea paraphernalia. I recommend staying for a delicious pickmeup in their beautiful tearoom.

The Riviera was a refuge for many artists during the war, and when the owners of La Colombe d’Or in St-Paul-de-Vence exchanged meals for works of art, they eventually found themselves with a world-class collection. Today, pieces by Fernand Léger, Pablo Picasso, and Joan Miró adorn the cozy dining room where guests savor regional specialties.

At first glance, this cookware emporium feels like a dusty relic. But dig a little deeper, especially in the basement, and you’ll find just about anything you could need for the kitchen, along with plenty of treasures you don’t—duck press, anyone?—but would love all the same. Knives, copper cookware, and ceramics are the selection’s biggest strengths.

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.

A French-era hill station, this national park stretches from the coast to the Annamite mountain range at the Lao border. More than 1400 species of plants, including rare ferns and orchids, have been discovered in Bach Ma, representing a fifth of the flora of Vietnam. It is also a great place for bird spotting.

An accomplished food journalist in print and on the radio, chef Neil Forbes has also been associated with some of Edinburgh’s best cooking for the past 20 years. At Cafe St Honoré, he works with local, seasonal ingredients from Edinburgh’s famous farmers’ market, serving up French-inspired dishes like fennel tarte tatin, braised pork belly, and monkfish with chorizo, purple-sprouting broccoli, and roast garlic mayonnaise. For an exceptional value, go for the weekday “Express Lunch,” when three courses costs under $25.

This hotel is on our list of The 11 Best Hotels in Chicago.

Chicago invented the skyscraper, and some of the world’s most elegant examples define the city’s skyline. You can stay in the coolest one of them all, designed by German American architect Mies van der Rohe and run by Langham Hotels. To access the Langham Chicago’s minimalist-yet-opulent 268 guest rooms (including 48 suites), you must first check in at the second-floor lobby; its ceiling is hung with silver pebbles, its sofas populated by stylish guests, and its David Rockwell–designed Travelle restaurant alive with music and bites by executive chef Damion Henry during coveted afternoon teas.

The former IBM building with a black exoskeleton also houses a Chuan Spa, which specializes in such Eastern therapies as acupuncture, cupping, and gua sha. A 67-foot-long indoor pool and full-service fitness center are available to all guests.

Anyone spending the night in the rooms, with floor-to-ceiling glass windows framing Chicago views, has access to one of the city’s best concierges, who can organize a River North food tour, a Frank Lloyd Wright walking excursion, or a mixology class at Travelle. Don’t leave without taking a photo beside Jaume Plensa’s “Anna” sculpture in the Wacker Street lobby—then walk over to Millennium Park to see his larger works on display.

The close-in neighborhood called Colonia Roma was first developed at the dawn of the 20th century as a high-end suburb laid out along tree-lined boulevards and plazas. Prominent families erected elaborate residences in architectural styles ranging from neoclassical to art nouveau and even neo-Moorish. A century later—despite some ups and downs—the district is at a peak as one of Mexico City’s most fashionable areas, and old mansions now serve as retail spaces or smart dining rooms that open out onto the street, day and night, in that marvelous dolce vita way. Stroll the quarter’s main drag, Álvaro Obregón, afternoons and evenings, for a complete sampling of its urban pleasures; shopaholics with an eye for edgy design won’t want to miss the whimsical boutiques that line adjacent Cerrada Colima. Deeper dives into side streets and nearby plazas turn up even more surprises when you’re ready for a walkabout.

Inscribed above the door of the Ben Youssef Medersa in Marrakech reads the following: “You Who Enter My Door May Your Highest Hopes Be Exceeded.” It is an appropriate proclamation for what is arguably the most mind-blowing example of Islamic design and architecture within a Koranic school anywhere in the country. Founded in the 14th century, it was embellished by the Saadian dynasty in 1570 with an ornate bronze doorway, elegant stuccoes, and a marble-tiled patio lined with elaborate mosaics. The prayer room, with its palm and pine cone motifs, looks down into the courtyard from the students’ quarters and gives a splendid helicopter view of the space. During its heyday, the medersa had room for up to 900 students; it was given over to the city as a museum in the 1960s and has remained so ever since.

Surely the world’s only museum to showcase the phalluses of an entire nation’s mammalian wildlife, Iceland’s Phallological Museum is somewhat unique. Despite its obvious quirk factor, the museum is actually an interesting and—for the most part—fairly serious establishment. It offers guests the chance to inspect almost 300 penises (including parts of penises) that together represent pretty much all the land and sea mammals to be found throughout the country. A quarter belong to various types of whales, but there are also samples from polar bears and seals, as well as a letter from a local human pledging his own personal specimen posthumously. There are also elf penises, though you’ll need special psychic powers to see them.

More than a local institution dating back to the 1850s, the Café Tortoni ranks among the world’s most famous salons. As vintage photos here show, the columned establishment has hosted more literary figures than you can count. Play billiards while you enjoy a latte, or order from the full restaurant menu.

“Alon and I are regulars for Friday breakfast. We love their take on the Arab dish shakshuka. In the original, eggs are poached in a sauce of tomatoes and red peppers, but here they use green peppers instead of red, and they add goat cheese.” —Architect Irene Kronenberg