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You’ve made it to the splendid isolation of Ulleung-do island’s north shore...Now, where to sleep? “Chusan Ilga Pension” is one of the island’s best choices: above the waves, on a clifftop beneath a volcanic peak, with a granite Buddha overlooking the greenery to the west and a fishing village just down the steep road to the east... This is rustic comfort: the floors are heated in the traditional Korean manner, the timbers are exposed, but the double-paned windows can either shut out the roar of the sea or let in the salty breeze, as you wish. Downstairs is a restaurant that serves the local seafood and mountain vegetables. There are several buildings on this clifftop, but the one with the restaurant offers three rooms with balconies almost directly above the sea; ask for one of these. To get here: take the coastal road from the port where you disembark from the ferry. You can’t get lost--there’s only one coastal road. Go counterclockwise around the island. Once you reach the north side, look out for the Elephant Rock in the sea and Songotsan peak on your right. Soon you’ll see a sign for Seongbulsa Temple, pointing up an almost immpossibly steep road. Start climbing and after the first bend, Chusan Ilga will be on your right. (The website is in Korean only, but the central tourist office in Seoul can phone for you; you’ll have to wire money through a Korean bank to confirm your room.)

Visitors flock to southern Arizona for sun and saguaros... ...but for a hole in the ground? Other than the ones on golf courses? From the 1960’s to the 1980’s, Tucson was ringed by eighteen steel-and-concrete-reinforced holes in the ground--highly secure shafts in the desert that housed intercontinental ballistic missiles tipped with multi-megaton nuclear bombs. “Peace through Deterrance” was the idea, as the propaganda-phrase goes... Of the 54 Titan Missile complexes that were scattered around the country, only this one, about 45 minutes south of Tucson, has been preserved and opened to the public. It’s a startling reminder of how thin the line was that separated the “Cold War” from “M.A.D."--"mutual assured destruction.” It would only have taken 30 minutes from its desert launch for this missile to deliver unimaginable destruction--via a 9 megaton nuclear warhead--up to 6300 miles (10,000km) away... On a lighter note, some of the filming of one of the Star Trek films took place here. You can visit the subterranean control bunker and staff living quarters, access corridors, and the missile silo itself. Tours are offered on the hour year-round, with additional tours offered every thirty minutes from January through April. Closed Christmas and Thanksgiving. Whether you’re coming from the left or from the right, politically, the sobering reality of this fusion of human nature and technology is worth going underground for if you’re driving down I-19.

Yes, New Mexico actually has an official “state question"--since 1996, referring to the ubiquitous chile sauce, it’s “red or green?” Fortunately you don’t have to choose just one; the local way to say ‘can I have both’ is just one word: “Christmas.” If you’re driving through New Mexico on the way to Arizona and points beyond, the only town of any size on I-40 between Albuquerque and Flagstaff is Gallup. For road-trip food here, get away from the Interstate and its humdrum chain restaurants. Seek out Jerry’s--a block off old Route 66. You can’t miss the retro neon sign, and there’s often a line out the door for its New Mexico-style fare. Gallup is surrounded by Navajo, Hopi, and Zuni lands--you might well be one of the few non-Native-Americans eating here at breakfast or lunch. The restaurant allows local vendors to come in and show their wares--usually jewelry and bracelets--while you eat. (You can request a ‘do not disturb’ sign for your booth if you want.) “Hole in the wall” gets overused, but Jerry’s definitely fits that description. Nothing pretentious here--but the flavor of the chile sauce is as good as you’ll find in Albuquerque or Santa Fe. A recommendation: the flat cheese-and-onion-enchiladas, topped “Christmas” style with a fried egg on top. And don’t forget to sop up the sauce with the sopaipillas, saving some of the frybread to top with honey as a dessert afterwards...

New Mexico has an official state vegetable: the chile pepper. (In case you’re wondering, only 13 out of the 50 states even have such a designation.) And the self-proclaimed chile capital is the tiny agricultural village of Hatch--population 1600. But every year, on Labor Day weekend, up to thirty thousand people converge here to celebrate the hot pods during the annual Hatch Chile Festival. Climate and soil here converge for optimal pepper-growing. If you can’t make it to the Rio Grande Valley in early September, don’t worry about the flavor running out--roasted then frozen or canned, or dried and powdered, Hatch chiles can be had year-round. At Pepper Pot, a family-owned restaurant on what passes for the village’s main drag, try them stuffed--the chile relleno--or in sauce form, over enchiladas, burritos, huevos...And when it comes to which sauce to choose, New Mexico has an official state question: “red or green?” The local (and tastiest) way to answer is “Christmas,” and you’ll get both. This is down-to-earth terroir... Incidentally, several years ago, Anthony Bourdain passed through here and proclaimed Pepper Pot’s red enchiladas to be the best he’d ever had. Come judge for yourself. Open for breakfast and lunch, this converted home is a cash-only restaurant. The borders of both Texas and Mexico are only an hour away, and it’s a favorite with local farmers and bikers passing through; if you decide to eavesdrop, you’ll be hearing trilled Rs and twangy English.

By all means, eat some grits ‘n’ greens down South...but don’t fall into the trap of thinking that all local food is fried when traveling in the region. Check out Manuel’s--one of the culinary highlights along the Savannah River in Hammond’s Ferry, SC. Originally from Lyon, chef/owner Manuel Verney-Caron has created a neighborhood gathering place that features local produce from literally just up the street at “Blue Clay Farm.” This community garden is one of the centerpieces of the “New Urbanism” that has built this pedestrian-friendly neighborhood near the site of a late-18th-century water crossing. Jog along the river, stroll on sidewalks within ‘conversation-distance’ of front porches, kneel down among the chickens and ducks--and make sure to end up at Manuel’s. The residents of Augusta, GA have voted Manuel’s as having the best bread in the city--you can chew on his loaves in restaurants around town and buy them at the Saturday morning Farmer’s Market at the Riverwalk. Technically, though, Manuel’s is out-of-city and out-of-state--but it’s a quick jaunt to North Augusta, SC. Go to the source, and there’s much more than bread: duck confit and croque-monsieurs are served along with burgers and pulled-pork BBQ at lunch; a more substantial taste of France can be indulged at dinner in this bouchon-inspired interior. Most visitors to Augusta come for The Master’s Golf tournament; leave the chain-restaurants around the Augusta National--the drive to SC is worth it.

Slightly sweet, with pleasantly salty mineral umami--that’s what the yellow-orange goo from sea-urchins tastes like. The fresher the better for this roe--and if you visit the coast of Jeju island, the legendary “haenyo” women divers will have just plucked these spiny balls from the sea floor minutes before your arrival. Wildly popular with visitors from nearby Japan, where the delicacy is called “uni,” Jeju islanders call it “gusal;" mainland Koreans refer to it as “seong-geh.” I had just had some in a bowl of seaweed soup for lunch when my wife and I accompanied my mother down to the rocky cove beneath Seongsan Ilchlulbong crater to watch the haenyo emerge from the sea. My mother, who is Korean, had just retired, and was visiting a corner of her own country that she had never seen. Volcanic Jeju-do is a subtropical island with a culture distinct from the rest of Korea--"the island of wind, women, and rocks.” The haenyo are dwindling as younger women seek urban jobs; many of the divers are in their 50’s and 60’s and still dive without oxygen tanks, harvesting shellfish cooperatively... My mother struck up a conversation with one of the women as my wife and I soaked up the salt air. The haenyo, still dripping in their wetsuits, were spooning out the roe--and suddenly, a couple of spoons were being waved in our faces--a free sample! Fresh from the sea-floor, served by living legends--not a taste that fades quickly...

Don’t go looking for Casa Grande, the national monument of pre-Columbian ruins, in Casa Grande, the sprawling exurb of a town about halfway between Phoenix and Tucson. You have to drive about 20 miles away to the small town of Coolidge to find the site. This may not be the most scenic stretch of desert, it must be said, but the destination is worth the detour. The Hohokam culture built this complex of dwellings and irrigation canals—one of many—late in their tenure here. Erected in the 1300s, this particular site was abandoned by the mid-1400s—the end of perhaps a thousand years of irrigated agriculture in the Sonoran Desert. The network of villages and canals continue to fascinate archaeologists and urban planners. The “big house” (Casa Grande was named by the first Spanish explorers in the area) stands about four stories tall. In the 1930s, the current shelter was built to protect it from further erosion. (Look carefully: you might catch a glimpse of the resident horned owls.) The timbers needed for construction came from the mountains about 50 miles away; at the time there were no pack animals, and thus no wheeled vehicles in this desert—makes you think... The surrounding ballgame-courts show influence from Mesoamerica. Desert civilization in North America is often thought of as a recent phenomenon—take the 20th-century explosions of Las Vegas, Phoenix, etc. Dig deeper, and get off the interstate. The past is not remote, and this is an easy day trip from Tucson.

When you hear the phrase, “summer in southern Arizona,” naturally your thoughts will tend toward heat and sunshine. Most wouldn’t think of mounds of fresh produce at a farmers’ market in the desert city of Tucson. But the arrival of the monsoon coincides with nature’s edible bounty, even here in the desert. The nearby Santa Cruz valley is actually one of the oldest continually-farmed regions in North America, with agriculture dating back four thousand years! Heirloom beans, squash, chiles, and tomatoes are still grown. The nearby higher elevation lands near Willcox are known for their orchards and even a few vineyards. Mesquite flour is made into cookies and tortillas. Prickly pear cactus is made into jams and frozen treats. All this is available throughout the week at various farmers’ markets around Tucson. The biggest one is on Sunday morning in the neo-colonial courtyards of St. Philip’s Plaza. And, if you’re curious, you’ll get language and cooking lessons, too. On a recent Sunday morning, my wife and I asked what some curious looking greens were. The answer? Purslane, or “verdolagas” in Spanish. They grow like weeds once the monsoon rains begin, and they contain more omega-3 fatty acids (think fish oil) than any other leafy plant. In a salad, or sautéed or stewed, they’re great. Who knew? Farmers’ markets are always a great place to get a vibe for a city—a cross section of people and produce. And, even in the desert, it is possible to shop and eat local.

The Marine Room faces the Pacific Ocean and is the only place in San Diego where you can eat great food in a cozy atmosphere while the surf pounds the glass. Don’t even bother coming here unless it’s during high tide. When you visit San Diego- just check the tide charts and then call the Marine Room to reserve your breakfast spot during high tide. They do an elaborate buffet and I was actually impressed at the quality of food. There’s something for everyone. The set up is buffet style, but the food is definitely not! From wild caught salmon to pastries to breakfast meats- there’s something for everyone. Recommended: Definitely check the restaurant website before reserving your seat. And definitely reserve a seat!

coffee in Santiago is even worse than in Paris (if that can even be possible?) but lucky for picky people like me, Wonderful cafe makes a very respectable + smooth cappuccino. It comes with latte art as well. Light lunches and other foods (i.e. bagels) are also available. Located in the up-and-comng Lastarria neighbourhood. You are welcome!

Tango is as essential to Buenos Aires as pizza is to Naples, so the Anselmo Hotel is a perfect fit for the city, with its location in the heart of the San Telmo neighborhood—known for spontaneous street dancing—in a 1906 mansion once belonging to tango composer Anselmo Asiento. The hotel is perched on Plaza Dorrego, a lively public space surrounded by cafes and shops which especially gets going on Sunday, when the San Telmo antique fair and flea market spills into the street, attracting shoppers, musicians, and revelers. Clean-lined, modern furniture and black-and-white photographs of Buenos Aires compliment the building’s original wooden shutters and wrought-iron balconies. Sip a glass of Malbec in the cozy wood interior of the Acacia bar and restaurant, or take it outside into the calm inner courtyard. A small gym is available if you haven’t gotten in enough steps wandering the neighborhood’s cobblestone streets or tango dancing the night away.

This local favorite breakfast spot has quickly become Los Cabos’ worst-kept secret. Far removed from the main tourist zone, Restaurant Bar Campestre has for years catered to local businesspeople, families, and in-the-know visitors. Even after a renovation that upped seating capacity, it remains a no-frills flavor palace well worth the wait for a table and the effort to find it. Come early for a heaping serving of chilaquiles (strips of fried corn tortillas). They’re available with red or green sauce, and topped with chicken or steak. All the breakfasts pair perfectly with just-squeezed orange juice and cup after cup of fresh-brewed coffee.

A writer walks into a bar. It sounds like the beginning of a joke, but when it happened at the Buena Vista on November 10, 1952, a new drink was born. Stanton Delaplane, a longtime columnist for the San Francisco Chronicle, walked in on that chilly November day and told the bar owner, Jack Koeppler, about a warm whiskey-and-coffee concoction he’d tasted in Shannon, Ireland. The oft-told story goes that the two men spent the evening measuring and mixing and testing in an effort to re-create the drink. Eventually, the recipe was mastered, and seven decades later, the Buena Vista’s Irish coffee is as legendary as San Francisco fog. Bartenders in crisp white jackets line up glass goblets on the bar and make up to 2,000 Irish coffees per day.

The ‘60s and ‘70s in San Francisco were synonymous with psychedelic “hobbies,” but tripping in the new millennium on Pier 39 is something you can now enjoy, legally, with the entire family. This labyrinth of 77 mirrors and black lights is reminiscent of a carnival fun house, and finding your way out of the 2,000-square-foot kaleidoscope of glowing twists and turns and befuddling dead-ends puts the fun in funky. While ‘80s music thumps, kids race through and into the walls, while adults feel their way down endless neon hallways. Created by Charles Magowan (who, no surprise, studied psychology at Yale), the Mirror Maze is a trip for all ages, and at just $5 it might be the cheapest one you’ll find in San Francisco.

There are a few contemporary boutique brands poised to put San Francisco on the fashion map. Freda Salvador shoes have become the “it” footwear for a subset of effortlessly cool creative women. Editors and designers can be spotted sporting the brand’s modestly heeled modern loafers, mules, boots, and sandals, which come in gorgeous colored leathers and satins. The shoes are all designed in Freda Salvador’s Sausalito studio by cofounders Megan Papay and Cristina Palomo-Nelson, and fabricated in a tiny family-run factory in Elda, Spain. Quality is paramount, as is wearability, but it’s the styles that have truly set the brand apart. The San Francisco flagship on Fillmore Street attracts a ladylike version of the obsessed sneakerhead—Freda fetishists who collect new styles like playing cards.