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This little private church is probably the most photographed stop in Oia. Our rented house was right next to it but lower on the steps so we could see lots of people getting lots of photos. Married couples would take their photos next to it, photographers were offering workshops that included this spot. I woke up at 5.30AM to wonder when nobody else was around. Best time of day to walk around this very busy tourist destination.

This fascinating museum is located in a former farmhouse in the small village of Hólmavík along the east coast of the Westfjords. As well as positing some interesting facts (most of the witches in Iceland were men, for example), it also showcases some fascinating and downright bizarre exhibits, including wooden stakes carved with ancient runes, animal skulls used in rituals, and—most sinister of all—a pair of “necropants,” trousers made from the dried skin of a man that were used as part of a spell that supposedly brought wealth to the wearer. A connected museum, a turf-roofed Sorcerer’s Cottage, lies farther along the coast in Bjarnarfjörður.

Before reaching this incredible castle, you will be astounded by the beautiful pastures and lakes along the roadside. Lambs occasionally trot across allowing a great opportunity for photos. Upon reaching Kylemore, you will enter through a quaint cafe for lattes, tea and delicious pastries. The tour begins walking through this enormous castle turned legendary private school that was originally owned by Mitchell Henry who built it for his wife. After taking in the luxuriousness of the manicured walls and decorations, you can then walk to the little cathedral. The cathedral is just as impressive as the castle. The pillars inside are made up of five different types of marble. Following the cathedral, you can choose to walk to the walled Victoria gardens or take the shuttle that runs to and fro the castle. The gardens have several green houses and a vast amount of exotic plants that dazzle the eyes and invigorate the nose! Here you can sit down for a coffee or tea and simply enjoy the man-made beauty that has lasted over a century. There are also several nature walks to allow more time for one to take in Ireland’s beauty. This is a fascinating place to admire historic architecture and learn about the love story that started it all!

Rimrock Cafe stood by itself as Whistler’s destination dining room for years as Whistler Creekside Village matured around it. Chef Rolf Gunther’s menu doesn’t dazzle you with fads, but focuses instead on classics such as terrine of duck confit, foie gras, rack of lamb, and the Rimrock mixed grill, featuring filet mignon, lamb chop, and venison. Like the menu, Rimrock’s cocktails recall former days when every element of a dining experience was done exactly right (try the Canadian Whisky Sour). Not surprisingly with its cuisine and cocktails held at such high standards, Rimrock is known for consistently impeccable service.

Forty miles from Zurich in the heart of central Switzerland, the Axenstrasse is a historic motorway that’s so achingly scenic it might even cure your vertigo. It winds for seven miles around the base of the Uri Alps hugging the verdant ridge of turquoise Lake Uri (a branch of the four-fingered Vierwaldstätter See—Four Forested Cantons Lake—more familiar to most tourists as Lake Lucerne). It occasionally careens through century-old mountain tunnels and past painted bell towers and Roman-era viaducts scattered around the region’s Alpine villages, where the legendary folk hero William Tell is supposed to have come from. There are numerous picnic areas along the older sections of the Axenstrasse, and the entire stretch of lake is swimmable in the summer. Hikers can find a variety of trails along the road that can take them to higher altitudes, where they can spot ibex, chamois, alpine orchids, purple gentian, and acrobatic alpine choughs, riding the thermals of the warm foehn winds, said by locals to cause madness.

Named for the champion Austrian skier, the ultra-luxe Fairmont Heritage Place, Franz Klammer Lodge pulls out all the stops for its spa, offering an oxygen bar in a mountain-view suite and an adults-only hot tub on a rooftop overlooking the surrounding peaks. Nearly every popular form of massage is available, from reiki to Himalayan salt to Swedish deep-tissue—a godsend après ski (or hike). Book a bespoke scrub (sugar or salt, with your choice of warm oil) to emerge feeling brand spanking new.

To get a feel for Kerala’s rich and layered history, head to Fort Kochi. Once a small fishing village in pre-colonial times, this area—now the historic old town neighborhood of the city of Kochi—belonged to the Portuguese for much of the 16th and 17th centuries, then to the Dutch for a little over a century, then to the British until India’s independence in 1947. For all that time, the waterside spot served as an important port along the spice route, with Chinese and Arabian traders sailing through to pick up sandalwood, cloves, cinnamon, pepper, and other local goods. Today, Fort Kochi features myriad reminders of all who have lived and worked here: the Dutch cemetery, Koonan Kurish Old Syrian Church, and the 16th-century St. Francis Church, the Mattancherry Palace (aka the Dutch Palace), colonial Parade Grounds, still-in-use Chinese fishing nets, and the painted tiled-lined Paradesi Synagogue, built in 1567 and considered the oldest active synagogue in the commonwealth. The Indo-Portuguese Museum and Southern Naval Command Maritime Museum provide more context, while Fort Kochi Beach—with its colonial-era bungalows, Arabian Sea strand, and food stalls peddling the day’s fresh catch—draws both locals and tourists. Architecture buffs will love historic sites like Thakur House, Bastion Bungalow, and David Hall, many of which can be spotted from a stroll along breezy Church Road.

The Exumas are a stunning archipelago of remote islands and cays strung between Nassau and Long Island, and around a dozen of these tiny islands are protected within the Exuma Cays Land & Sea Park. Established in 1958 as a preserve where no fishing is allowed, it was the first marine protected area in the Caribbean. It has been highly successful at maintaining the fragile beaches and marine life found in the area. Visitors can take boat tours to the park to go diving and snorkeling on the many healthy reefs and to explore the secluded tropical islands, where endangered Bahamian iguanas roam the beaches. On Big Major Cay, you can go swimming with the pigs at Pig Beach and give them fresh water, as their water supply is limited.

Eighteen merchants band together here in Kakaako’s Ward Village mall, offering everything from a scoop of Froot Loop Vodka ice cream (Lucy’s Lab Creamery) to locally made board shorts (Salvage Public). One of the best places to find unique Hawaiian souvenirs, the South Shore Market shies away from tiki kitsch and instead taps into Honolulu‘s chic urban aesthetic. Travelers often appreciate the market’s long communal work table, complete with outlets and free, fast WiFi. Not to mention Scratch Kitchen & Meatery, which shares some classic recipes with its Chinatown counterpart, like milk-and-cereal pancakes and the cider-braised pork belly and apple pasta. But it also forges its own lunch-brunch path with indulgences such as a pillowy French toast stuffed with strawberries, mascarpone, and cream cheese.

Turning off the highway into Volcano Village, the one-street town leading into Volcanoes National Park, first-time visitors might think they just made a right turn into Oregon. Cool, misty, and thick with giant ferns, this corner of the Big Island is a small but serious rain forest, nourished mightily by eons of volcanic soil and abundant rainfall. Well concealed down one of the quiet side streets, in their rainforest property, are the four one-bedroom cottages that make up the Volcano Rainforest Retreat. Each is unique—one has a sleeping loft, another is a perfect hexagon, a third has a full kitchen. But with their cedar walls and ample windows and shoji screens, they bring to mind Japanese country houses.


A stone pathway even leads to a Japanese soaking tub sitting outdoors beneath a moss-covered pergola. Interiors have eclectic, tasteful furnishings (leather club chairs, farmhouse-style quilts, handmade ceramics) that make each one feel like the guesthouse of a good friend. Though kids are allowed, and futons are available for extra guests, the setting is best for quiet twosomes, rather than families or boisterous groups of friends, as guest quarters are fairly close to one another. That, and in the hush of the rain forest, loud voices just won’t do.

Much of the indigenous artwork for sale in the Pacific Northwest is, unfortunately, counterfeit. It’s difficult to tell if the masks and other artwork carved and painted in Salish styles of gentle curving lines, depicting animal icons such as the raven, wolf, and orca, are actually the work of Coast Mountains First Nations artists. Black Tusk Gallery, in the heart of Whistler Village, is a cooperative founded to represent indigenous artists. You can commission an artist to carve a totem that tells the story of your family. The gallery supports emerging teen artists of the British Columbia and Yukon First Nations people through an annual aspiring artists award.

Iceland’s largest and most famous geothermal spa lies around an hour outside Reykjavik, quite close to Keflavik Airport. With a dramatic setting amidst large black lava boulders, the steam-filled, creamy-blue pool area is a striking and surreal sight. The Blue Lagoon has been open since the 1980s and today draws some 700,000 visitors a year. The pools are actually created by heated seawater that flows from the adjacent geothermal power station. The waters allegedly cure all manner of skin-related ailments (eczema, psoriasis), but whether these claims are true or not, it’s certainly an atmospheric place to unwind, with very comfortable (99 degrees Fahrenheit) temperatures. The complex includes a small bar that dispenses healthy juices and beer, as well as a spa area for massages andbeauty treatments, and a very good restaurant; there’s also an upscale hotel if you wish to stay overnight.

This cenote’s name, which means “Two Eyes” in Spanish, refers to its two separate pools that lead into a large cavern of incredibly clear water. At more than 40 miles long, Dos Ojos is the largest underwater cave system in the state and among the most popular and adventurous dive spots on the entire Riviera Maya. Snorkelers of all ages are welcome to take in the amazing scenery and gaze at divers as they explore far below. The cenote lies just a few minutes north of Tulum, a little over a mile off the main highway.

There’s a comfortable stillness to the acres of Ojai Valley Inn and Spa that’s apparent even when a cacophony of voices fills the air. Sunlight shines brightly against the resort’s white façade, which gleams in unison from the restaurants, accommodations, spa, and pools outstretched on shaded grounds. Flowers – from roses to bougainvillea, lavender to jasmine – line pathways where views of the surrounding rolling mountains peek out between buildings. And even when bicyclists, pedestrians, and the occasional golf carts use those pathways, the motion is as calm and quick as the breeze. Originally built in 1923 as a country club and golf course, the inn has never lost its luxurious appeal for intimate, quiet privacy. Old Hollywood stars have come and gone through its Spanish-style property, and today, the resort is still known as a place where big names can tee off or swim undisturbed. Its more than 300 guest rooms are tucked away in a series of terracotta-topped buildings that share a style of calm blue and white shades. Many rooms feature fireplaces enclosed by a sitting area, and private balconies are scented by the surrounding blooms. In the morning, sip a Keurig coffee from the soft white sheets of bed, or step outside for the view. Then, walk or bike to breakfast before a swim in the newly opened, “adults only” pool.

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.