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Lanai, a sleepy, 140-square-mile former pineapple plantation, is suddenly in the spotlight. Following the island’s purchase by tech billionaire Larry Ellison in 2012, the bay-facing Four Seasons Resort Lanai underwent a multimillion-dollar overhaul that reduced the number of guest rooms from 286 to 213. The rooms shook off their dated look with mahogany floors and walls clad in slate and teak. Guests can dine at outposts of Nobu and Los Angeles–based Malibu Farm, take private flight lessons and horseback-riding excursions, or book one of the resort’s wellness-focused retreats.

A hot lobster roll from Neptune Oyster is summertime heaven on a butter-soaked brioche, and bivalve lovers queue up daily to sample the two dozen varieties of oysters chilling in the front window of this diminutive North End restaurant. Fresh-off-the-boat fish and creative takes on New England seafood are the draws here—the clam chowder is made to order, the fish-and-chips uses Acadian redfish (not cod), and it’s probably the only place in town where you can get lobster tacos. Yeah, it’s pricey—hot or cold, the lobster roll will set you back around $30—but share the Neptune Plateau raw-bar plate with your friends and you’ll truly feel like the king of the sea.

Mendoza has suffered devastating earthquakes that have reduced the city to rubble. The earthquake of 1861 destroyed most of the city. Instead of repairing all the damage, the city decided to build a new city center southwest of the original location. They created a large principal plaza—Plaza Independencia—surrounded by four smaller plazas: Plaza San Martin; Plaza Chile; Plaza Italia; and the most picturesque, Plaza Espana. These open spaces created a safe retreat for residents to gather in the event of another destructive earthquake. On weekends the plazas come alive with artisan markets, food vendors, lip-locked lovers and families. Enjoy the people watching and be aware of your belongings.

Bota Bota began its life on the water as a ferryboat. Then called the Arthur Cardin, it sailed between the cities of Sorel and Berthier, just east of Montreal, back in the 1950s. Many years later, someone had the idea to transform this mothballed boat, docked in the old port of Montreal, into a floating spa. Mission accomplished. With its 25,000 square feet, 21 treatment rooms, 6 terraces, and 40 different types of services, the Bota Bota makes a pretty grand spa, if you ask me. What’s even greater about the spa is the location. Docked in the old port with stunning views of downtown and Old Montreal, the Bota Bota offers its passengers (not customers!) the healing benefits of a spa while they are lulled by the natural movements of the St Lawrence River.

Chef Jorge Vallejo spent time in the kitchen at Pujol before he and wife Alejandra Flores opened Quintonil, giving the former boss a run for his money. Their place, too, has become a fixture on best-restaurants lists, and is changing how people understand Mexican food. Taking its name from a weed that not long ago “decent” Mexicans wouldn’t dream of eating, Quintonil seeks to rescue and preserve discarded Mexican ingredients—particularly heirloom vegetable and herbal varieties—as part of the progressive and sustainable eating program it so elegantly advocates. Menus change seasonally, but a recent bill of fare included an avocado tartare with ant eggs and quelite-herb chips; chilacayote squash in mole with basil; and a rich chocolate-and-pinole-flour parfait. A tasting menu of Neronian proportions is also available.

Also known as the Papenoo Valley, the Maroto Valley is a magical place once inhabited by ancient Polynesians. If you go with a guide -- I recommend Marama Tours -- you’ll be able to learn about the history of the area as well as learn to forage like they did in the past. The above photo is of a local fruit called noni, whose juice gets rid of mosquito bite itch. A few other natural remedies the group learned include lime can be a deodorant, coconut juice aids digestion and taro is good for strong bones and teeth.

I’m not sure exactly how Rainbow Beach got its name, though I wouldn’t be surprised if it actually had a lot to do with rain. The island’s most popular beach bar, especially on Sundays, is centrally located on St. Croix’s West Coast, some of the island’s tallest peaks and dense rainforest just a few miles behind it. Prevailing weather patterns, particularly during the summer months, make brief afternoon showers a fairly regular occurrence here. That doesn’t stop the party, though. Live bands play on and everyone keeps dancing. When you’re already wet from the sea and feeling the vibes, a little rain doesn’t hurt one bit.

Opened in 2004, the Leeum, Samsung Museum of Art seeks to bridge the past, present, and future of art. The sleek complex consists of two wings, one dedicated to traditional Korean works and the other to international contemporary art. The traditional wing is shaped like a reverse cone, with a spiraling walkway that winds through galleries of ancient paintings, calligraphy, and crafts. In stark contrast, the glass-and-steel contemporary wing was built without supporting posts, encouraging viewers to move freely among distinctive works by Basquiat, Olafur Eliasson, and Takashi Murakami. The experience continues outside on the parking lot deck, where there is a polished sculpture garden.

Hidden behind unassuming doors, this 17th-century palace provides respite from the frenetic bustle of the medina without sacrificing sense of place. The property hits all the right Moroccan style notes: there’s plenty of arabesque-patterned tiling and a lush courtyard complete with tinkling fountain and fragrant citrus trees. But the classic interiors also have contemporary flair—see the chrome lamps, cement-hued tadelakt baths, and leather furnishings in the eight guest rooms, or the panoramic rooftop and on-site restaurant, which not only serves local Fassi fare but also offers free cooking classes that begin with a trip to the market. For an alternate take on tradition, guests head to the hotel’s candlelit Carrara marble hammam, which uses indigenous ingredients like ghassoul clay from the Atlas Mountains, black-olive soap, and argan oil for its soothing pamper sessions.

My wife, Robin, and I have been camping, fishing, and hiking in the Lakes Basin area, near Sierra City, since we met. These days, our usual home base is a tiny log cabin at the edge of Packer Lake, pictured here. From trailheads around Packer you can hike to many other lakes--Saxonia, Deer, Lower and Upper Tamarack, Young America, Upper and Lower Sardine. Most of the hikes are relatively easy, and on some trails you’ll rarely encounter other hikers. In early October 2007, a brief, unseasonable storm passed through and carpeted the area with an inch or two of snow, which made for an especially invigorating walk along the Pacific Crest Trail to the lookout at the top of the Sierra Buttes.

A city of red-tiled rooftops, pine- and cypress-shaded hills, and sparkling turquoise waters, the Old Town of Dubrovnik stuns with both its architecture and scenery. Its surrounding stone walls, built between the 11th and 13th centuries to protect the city from war and epidemics, stretch for a full 1.3 miles, comprising an immense system of forts, bastions, and walkways that offer breathtaking views. Hike along them, then be sure to check out the Lovrijenac Fortress, built atop a 100-foot rock looking out toward Venice (Dubrovnik’s historic rival). The Old Town’s main street of Stradun, known locally as Placa, is also worth exploring. It’s especially nice in the late afternoon, when the sun shines off the historic buildings and swallows soar in the blue sky above.

There isn’t much to do in Laborie, but the colorful spot on the southwestern coast offers visitors the experience of an authentic St. Lucian fishing village. The point is to slow down to local speed. Enjoy the views of the white-sand shore lined with pirogues, the traditional fishing canoes. Walk around the village, where plywood homes and ancient churches exist alongside newer structures. Whet your appetite with a trip to the open-air market, where you’ll spot green figs (bananas) and cassava bread for sale. Settle in for a grilled lobster lunch with a side of breadfruit at Mama Tilly’s. Then walk north along the water to Rudy John Beach Park, a shaded stretch of sand ideal for an afternoon nap and sunset.

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.

This luxurious restaurant next to the venerated Cafe Gerbeaud has been around for a decade but its combination of tradition and innovation remains as on point as ever. Chef Ádám Mészáros has earned a Michelin star with his intriguing takes on meats and seafoods, often served in six- and eight-course tasting menus with well-chosen wine pairings. The Hungarian degustation menu, for example, offers modern takes on local specialities, like beef stew. The dark-hued, comfortable interior, complete with gilt chairs, marble statues, chandeliers, and brocade wallpaper, as well as the impeccable service (not a given in this part of the world) invites guests to linger, and we highly recommend you do.

For much of its history, the western edges of Manhattan neighborhoods like the West Village and Chelsea consisted of small manufacturing buildings and warehouses that served the piers on the Hudson River. Over time, those factories were replaced with residential developments, and shipping largely moved out to Brooklyn and New Jersey. What remained, however, was an abandoned light-rail line, located above street level. After 10 years of lobbying the city, state, and federal governments, the first section of the High Line park opened in 2009. It now extends for 1.45 miles, from Gansevoort Street in the south to 34th Street at its other end. An innovative design by James Corner Field Operations uses native species to preserve some of the feeling the old rail line had when it was overgrown with weeds. It has quickly become one of New York’s most popular attractions, both with residents and visitors who stroll the length of it, as well as a model for other cities attempting to find new uses for old infrastructure.