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Located around the block from the neighborhood’s main hub, Sunset Junction, Silver Lake Pool & Inn is a quiet oasis in the walkable (yes, walkable . . . in L.A.), creative enclave of Silver Lake. Its bright, airy guest rooms with stylish design elements, such as terrazzo countertops and leather lounge chairs, are a peaceful retreat from the hustle and bustle of the city. Complete with comfortable king or queen beds, cotton Turkish robes, luxurious walk-in rain showers, and an impressive mini-bar selection (think: Madre mezcal, Salt Point canned cocktails), it has everything you’d need to keep the vacation vibes flowing. And if for whatever reason you don’t, the friendly staff is happy to help.

Oporto is the second largest city in Portugal and one of the oldest European cities dating back to the 4th c. “Oporto " means the port. Oporto is famous for among other things Port wine. Port wine is fortified wine. These wines are world renowned. They are produced in the Douro Valley in Northern Portugal. At harvest time, the grapes are picked from the vines on the steep steps of the Douro Valley and taken to the various cellars in Vila Nova de Gaia. Until the late 1960’s the wines were carried down the river in flat bottomed boats called barcos rebelos. In the 1700’s, there were several hundred of these vessels carrying the Port. In the 1930’s there were about 300 plying the river. Today Port is sent by rail and road. You can still see the barcos with their sails with barrels on board in the river on the shores of Vila Nova de Gaia. They are there to show the history of the vessels and Port wine. You can sign up for tours of the various wine cellars. There are many such as Taylor, Graham, Croft, and Ramos Pinto. The tours are fun and offer different samples of Port and sometimes biscuits and chocolate. Your hotel desk clerk will help you or check out an information center. I crossed the D.Luis I Bridge on foot and descended to Vila Nova de Gaia. I checked out the history of Port wine. Great experience! There are several restaurants that serve traditional Portuguese food. After dinner enjoy an expresso and a glass or two of Port.

This beautiful 19th-century palace on the Asian shoreline near the First Bosphorus Bridge served as a summer retreat for sultans and visiting dignitaries. Designed in a French neo-Baroque style, the palace features six halls and 24 rooms adjacent to an expansive garden. Complete with halls devoted to the harem, it is also famous for being the place of house arrest of one of the last sultans, Abdülhamīd II, who died in the palace in 1918.

If you are looking for a super modern, contemporary cocktail bar in Genoa, head to Mua just a few blocks away from Piazza Ferrari. With super sleek white leather couches, you almost feel like you are not even in Genoa anymore. And while the food isn’t anything to write home about, they have an extensive cocktails menu - including my favorite, the Raspberry Mule. My suggestion is to have a few drinks with the friendly bartender, and then move on to a nearby osteria for dinner later in the evening.

Never has a yummy treat been mired in such controversy as the Whoopie Pie. First, how did this burger-shaped cake with the sugary cream filling get its name? Does the name come from the exclamation that schoolchildren shouted upon opening their lunch bags to discover these delights? Or does it come from the Amish farmers, who were rewarded with these portable “pies” in their lunch boxes? My vote (and Pennsylvania Dutch lore) favors the school kids. But wait—there’s more controversy! While I am one hundred percent certain that these little cakes called pies originated in my lovely state of Pennsylvania, it seems that the state of Maine has also laid claim to their origin, even going so far as to name the Whoopie Pie as its “official state treat.” Other research points to somewhere in New York state as their birthplace. We may never know… There was a time not long ago when Whoopie Pies felt much like a prized local secret because no one outside of Pennsylvania had ever heard of them (excepting, I guess, some of those Mainers). These days, though, you can even find Whoopie Pies in the bakery sections at Trader Joe’s and Whole Foods. But the most authentic and delicious version can only be found at the Amish bakery Beiler’s in the Reading Terminal Market. My personal favorite is the pumpkin flavor, but the chocolate is also delicious. Or maybe try the oatmeal, or the red velvet. Better yet, try one of each—they’re portable!

Few local D.C. residents know about St. Matthews Cathedral, and I would really be surprised if any visitors to D.C. knew about it, since it’s the National Cathedral that gets the mention in the guidebooks. That’s too bad, really, because this tiny Catholic church, with its unassuming exterior, has a glorious interior that few people see and appreciate. (Believe it or not, I get to come here for my Spanish classes.) Although it is a neighborhood church, it’s had its moments in the national spotlight. There have been many funeral services held here for notable people, including President Kennedy. For a cathedral, it has a very small interior—there are only seven chapels. The walls and ceiling are decorated with stunning images of angels and saints, including Matthew, rendered in marble and mosaic. The center dome helps to make the space feel larger. Last, but not least, there is a beautiful organ that is often featured in concerts and recitals; the sound of the music that pours forth from it is amazing! If you are visiting from out of town, I would recommend going to the church in the late morning. Then walk back toward the White House, stopping for lunch in McPherson Square. That’s where some of D.C.’s fleet of food trucks parks every day. Find a spot in the park to eat and enjoy your time in D.C.! The church is located about five blocks north of the White House and is a short walk from the Farragut North Metro station.

Better known as the Tomb Raider Temple since its starring role in the Hollywood movie of the same name, Ta Prohm has at least as much star quality as Angelina Jolie. Cloaked in dappled shadow and locked in the embrace of the vast root systems that are still reclaiming it for the jungle, the temple is arguably the most atmospheric ruin at Angkor Archaeological Park. Construction on Ta Prohm began in 1186 C.E.; it was built in honor of the mother of King Jayavarman VII. Modern-day visitors are not permitted to climb onto the crumbling galleries of its 39 towers due to safety concerns. Nevertheless, picking a route around the various structures, close courtyards, and narrow corridors sprouting with lichen, moss, and creeping plants is one of the most enthralling experiences at Angkor.

Dozens of artists from a myriad of backgrounds and cultures—American, Texan, Mexican, Latin American—sell their work at the San Angel Folk Art gallery in San Antonio. The gallery is stocked with paintings, ceramics, paperwork, textiles, glass, and sculpture, and visitors can easily spend the better part of an afternoon viewing the exhibits and browsing the wares. With such a diverse breadth of art, there’s a piece to appeal to every collector’s tastes. Image of tin art by Chris Ake courtesy San Angel Folk Art.

The entire north side of Santa Fe’s downtown plaza is taken up by the 1610 Palace of the Governors, the oldest continually occupied public building in the United States. Its front adobe facade is completely shaded, and in this “portal,” the Native American Vendors Program has been operating for over six decades. A daily lottery ensures a rotating selection of artisans from the various pueblos throughout New Mexico. Yes, there might be some “finer” pieces available in the chic boutiques elsewhere in Santa Fe, but here, in the shade of a four-century-old adobe building, you can meet the artists and even haggle a bit. Be respectful, though—these are not cheap trinkets made in a sweatshop abroad: The crafts and the jewelry are usually made by the person with whom you’ll be conversing. (An interesting side note: The Palace was taken over in 1680 and occupied by Native Americans during the Pueblo Revolt until 1692, when the Spaniards returned. This is the only government seat in the U.S. to have ever been taken over by Native Americans. It then served as the residence of the governor during the Spanish, Mexican, and U.S. territorial regimes, until 1907. In 1912, New Mexico became a U.S. state. Today, the Palace serves as a museum.)

If you love antiquing or if you’re just searching for a Mexico City souvenir with a bit of history behind it, it’s hard to imagine a more pleasant way to spend a Saturday morning in the capital than visiting Plaza del Angel, a giant antique market with dozens of galleries, located in the Zona Rosa. You can visit during the week, too, but on Saturdays, temporary vendors join those who have permanent spaces here to sell all sorts of wares, from postcards and pictures to religious relics, furniture, books, magazines, and handcrafts.

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.

Ferries between St. Vincent and Bequia run frequently, all day and evening. The one-way trip takes about an hour, and the fare is about $10 each way or $17 round-trip. En route, passengers have breathtaking views in all directions, including volcanic St. Vincent and Kingstown Harbour, Young Island, Mustique and Canouan in the distance, and Bequia’s lovely Port Elizabeth. Once on Bequia, take an island tour, have lunch, go for a swim, or explore Port Elizabeth before heading back to St. Vincent at sunset. If you’re traveling in the other direction, spend the day on St. Vincent walking around historic Kingstown, touring the Botanical Gardens, or hiking the Vermont Nature Trail.

Years ago when Mexico City’s southern neighborhoods were in fact small, independent cities, the quarter known as San Ángel Inn was a sylvan getaway for well-heeled urbanites. No longer an inn, the area’s namesake—a former Carmelite convent from the eighteenth century—persists as an iconic, country-club-style restaurant and lounge. Its venerable walls, gardens, and fountains call up colonial gentility and ward away the urban chaos just outside the door; strolling mariachis are the sole “disruption.” Sip what many believe is the city’s best margarita amid an impeccable, songbird-serenaded garden.

This used to be a hacienda, but it was turned into a restaurant almost 50 years ago. The food is phenomenal and the margaritas are famous—in fact, they’re my favorite thing on the menu. There is always a band or a pianist playing.

For luxury accommodations near some of the buzziest parts of L.A., book a room at the chic Four Seasons L.A. at Beverly Hills (ask for one with an eastern view so you can see the gorgeous skyline at sunset). Schedule a wellness treatment at the spa, which offers spot-on massages and, for the hippy-inclined, reiki sessions. And don’t miss Sunday’s brunch, a smorgasbord of options ranging from fine cheeses, made-to-order omelets, and vegan chocolate chip cookies that could pass a blind taste test.

Stroll inside the Errol Flynn Marina, located right in Port Antonio town, for a waterfront respite along manicured lawns and sailboats. Enjoy an afternoon “I-Scream” cone from the on-site Devon House, a household name in Jamaica. There are public benches by the water, as well as bars and restaurants. If you can, stay long enough to enjoy the sunset.