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An indigenous-owned art gallery located at the busy junction of the Arnhem and Stuart Highways a half hour outside Darwin, The Didgeridoo Hut prides itself on selling genuine Aboriginal artwork from remote Top End communities, with whom the owners Dennis and Janis have personal relationships. In fact artists often come to the shop to demonstrate their painting and didgeridoo making skills and to share their stories with visitors. The works on display are high-quality and overwhelming; thankfully, the friendly staff are very knowledgeable about the artists and their symbolism—spiral circles represent waterholes and tool imagery usually stands for a man or woman. The prices are fair, but some have a little bargaining room built in.

Founded in 1971, the Wood Dale Historical Society is dedicated to the preservation of the history of this quaint Illinois town. One such monument to their efforts is the Adolph and Esther Rosenwinkel farm that was donated to the society back in 1982. The farmhouse itself was built in 1840, and the room pictured above is located in a second house on the property built by the same family in 1922. This structure features 10 rooms, and a full basement, which you can wander through during your free self-guided tour of the grounds. Start in the kitchen and work your way through the various rooms and nooks in this enchanting historical wonderland. All the rooms have themes ranging from the 1920s through the 1940s, complete with displays of fashion and interesting accessories of the times. The proprietors that I met were lovely, and took the time to show me around the entire place. So if you’re in the area, stop on in and meet Judi and Dennis, as they’d love to show you around the place. The Society doesn’t currently have a website, but please call 630-595-8777 for information, donations, and upcoming events.

Few burger joints have a backstory as quintessentially L.A. as Monty’s Good Burger. Koreatown’s first all-vegan restaurant, the In-N-Out-style hole-in-the-wall serves Impossible burgers on vegan buns with lettuce, tomato, Follow Your Heart “cheese,” and a faux thousand island sauce, plus creamy shakes, loaded tots, and not-so-secret menu picks like Dog Pile loaded fries or tots (check their Instagram for the latest options). Before it was a bright blue exclamation point on the corner of Western and 5th, Monty’s was a Coachella food stall debut with a queue that gave founders Lexie Jiaras (USC class of 2017), Max Angles, and Dennis Gomez an idea. Now, Monty’s—named after Jiaras’ Maltese—is full steam ahead, with locations in Riverside and Echo Park and an Instagram following of over 100k. The food itself is especially tasty—if a bit pricey. But you pay for quality, and the locally sourced, organic ingredients deliver a cruelty-free burger that tastes pretty dang close to the real thing.

A breezy little beach hotel filled with rough wood, natural linen, and flea market finds, the Rose seems, to the uninitiated, like a pure product of quirky Venice’s hipsterfication. In fact, the historic, wood-and-stucco building was built by the beach town’s founder, Abbot Kinney, in the early days of the 20th century; rumor says it was his private brothel, frequented by such friends as Charlie Chaplin. By the 1970s, at the height of Venice’s drug culture, the building had become a flophouse of sorts, and neighbor Dennis Hopper was known to drop by. Before two British photographers discovered it, the house had turned into a mural-covered crash-pad for surfers, yogis, and beach bums of all kinds.

Looking at the low-key Rose now—the town’s first true boutique hotel, barely half a block from the beach—one would hardly know that the entire history of Venice had passed through it. The rooms are spare but stylish, with large windows, art photography, and vintage furniture. Some rooms are large enough to live in, whereas others share a hallway bathroom. Amenities are minimal—Stumptown coffee, bicycle rentals—but a relaxed beach house that attracts artists and creatives looking to delve into Venice’s eclectic, vibrant culture doesn’t need to try too hard to be cool.

The Common becomes extraordinary on winter evenings when the Christmas tree is up and soft lights seem to hold back the twilight chill, but the truth is there’s no bad time to visit the nation’s oldest public park. The former cow pasture has been a focal point for Boston’s history and culture since its inception in 1636—a site for riots and rallies from the Revolutionary War to the Vietnam War era as well as weddings, hangings, and burials. Summer splashing and winter skating at the Frog Pond are local traditions, and you can spend hours wandering from landmark to landmark (like Augustus Saint-Gaudens’s famous bas-relief Memorial to Robert Gould Shaw and the Massachusetts Fifty-Fourth Regiment, or the Soldiers and Sailors monument atop Flag Staff Hill). Or you can just laze in the sun on the park’s west-side lawn.

Nothing defines Boston quite as much as the town’s devotion to sports (10 championships since the turn of the century doesn’t hurt), and with all due respect to the five-time-Super-Bowl-champion Patriots, it’s Fenway Park, not Gillette Stadium, that’s the temple of sports fandom. Opened in 1912, the quirky green bandbox between Lansdowne Street and Yawkey Way is almost as famous for its obstructed-view seats as it is for its fabled Green Monster wall in left field, but that’s a price Sox fans gladly pay in exchange for maintaining Fenway’s historic layout. It’s both intimate and loud on game day even in years when the Sox aren’t contenders (tickets are often hard to come by, so plan ahead); the old ballpark also is open for one-hour, behind-the-scenes tours that take you inside and atop the Green Monster. You’ll be able to stroll around the field (the warning track, not the grass), and visit the press box, the Pesky Pole, and (on days with no games) the dugouts and bull pens.

At the beginning of the 20th century, a physics professor in Massachusetts inherited a ton of money. He promptly headed for the South Pacific, settling there and founding what’s now the Harrison Smith Botanical Garden. Maybe Smith had a slight Noah complex: He brought in plants from around the world, which means an African flower might sit next to a South American fern. The problem is that he inadvertently killed off the native plants with his imports. Still, the garden is a lovely spot to wander around, a sampler box of world botany.

Take a break from the city’s frenetic energy with a visit to the Palermo Botanical Garden, just south of the port next to Villa Giulia Park. Established in 1786, the 10-hectare (25-acre) gardens contain plants from around the world: Southeast Asian palms, coffee and papaya trees, even cotton plants and sugarcane. A terraced pond blooms with lotus and water lilies, while the ruins of the 14th-century Church of Saint Dennis can be found amid the greenery.

Tucked into the Denny Regrade, this sleek new spot contains multitudes: a deli, butcher shop, crudo bar, and steakhouse devoted to Wagyu beef. Lock down your table early to descend the leather staircase—coiling around a 4,000-pound chandelier—into a luxurious, industrial-chic den, dreamt up in part by Kurt Dammeier of Beecher’s Handmade Cheese fame. Here Mishima Reserve meats take center stage: blending the signature marbled beef of Japanese Black Wagyu bulls with juicy, flavorful American Black Angus cows. But spare some love for the unusual appetizers and sides, which range from roasted bone marrow on an English muffin to smoky grits with mushrooms and red Fresno chili pepper.

Mile-long Newbury Street, lined with handsome 19th-century brownstone homes, is synonymous with shopping in Boston; it’s also the place to go to get your hair done up nice. Between Arlington Street and Massachusetts Avenue you’ll find an eclectic mix of boutique and designer shops, hair salons, art galleries, and restaurants that generally skews upscale (Tiffany’s, Chanel, Dolce & Gabbana) but also includes the original location of the Newbury Comics record store and a T.J. Maxx. Eminently strollable and dotted with sidewalk cafés, Newbury Street is the hip heart of the Back Bay neighborhood, perfectly distilled at eye-candy drinks-and-dining hot spots like Sonsie and Stephanie’s on Newbury.

The water is usually calm and a bit warmer on the Nantucket Sound side of the island. Steps Beach is off Cliff Road about four miles from town, sandwiched between Dionis and Jetties, and is not on most people’s radar. Before you take on the massive set of stairs leading down, enjoy the view of Great Point Light off to the right. Steps Beach offers protected shores with gentle waves washing onto the sandy beach, and gray-shingled mansions dotting the surrounding sand dunes. Come prepared, as there are no lifeguards or facilities, and make sure to save some energy to make the climb back up the steps.

“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.

The white-bricked Embassy Row Hotel has been catering to visiting dignitaries and diplomats since 1970, and a massive renovation in 2015 brought refreshed retro rooms, a rooftop pool, and a new lobby-level restaurant and coffee shop. Cheerful rooms are done up in deep blue and bright yellow and in-room massages and spa treatments can be arranged. Dogs are welcomed with no fee and optional curated treats from BarkBox. Station Kitchen & Cocktails (named for the nearby Dupont Circle streetcar station, now a subterranean art space) aims to be an all-day hangout spot, from morning coffee by Swing’s Coffee Roasters—a D.C. fixture for a century—to evening bottled cocktails and burgers. In summer, there’s no hotter spot in Dupont Circle than the rooftop pool and lounge with panoramic city views and an innovative aqua-cycling fitness class that puts a new spin on spinning. The hotel is rooted in the community, regularly supporting local charities and arranging behind-the-scenes tours of the consulate neighbors.

What kind of cuisine do Ken Oringer and Jamie Bissonnette proffer at Little Donkey? All of them. The James Beard Award–winning chefs have described their Central Square eatery as an exercise in indulgence—a place where they can slip the bonds of convention and make whatever they want. The good news is that anything these two plate is delicious. Local color can be found in the Parker House rolls, and Little Donkey honors the Jewish fondness for Asian flavors with a schmaltzy matzo-ball ramen bowl. It’s the type of food chefs cook for themselves at home, only now you get to join in the fun.

As part of our inaugural Unpacked Live event, host Aislyn Greene learns how chef Christina Lonewolf Martinez blends family stories, Indigenous foraging, and fine‑dining technique to re-imagine regional food.