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Snaking, cracking, shimmering a brilliant blue in places and covered by mystical frost in others, the Mer de Glace displays nature in all its powerful glory. France’s longest glacier stretches for 4.3 miles and is over 650 feet deep. Quite literally a sea of ice, it continues to move under its own weight; its surfaces break up, crevasses appear, and pointed columns of ice known as seracs burst from the surface. Though this glacier continues to amaze, it’s slowly being decimated by climate change—in 1988, you only had to climb down three steps to reach the ice grotto, which is carved out every spring; now, the ice has receded so much that you have to tackle 430 steps.

Hotel June is a fairly new addition to L.A.’s hotel scene, but the historic Malibu spot, which re-opened in 2022 and was once home to Bob Dylan, has swiftly risen up the ranks. Why? For one, its minimalist design offers a calm, relaxing respite from the hectic Southern Californian lifestyle—while also paying homage to its ‘60s roots. There are only 13 bungalow-style rooms, and the vibe is strictly laid back. Private patios feature hammocks, a small pool invites you for a dip, and nearby beaches and trails offer outdoor exploration.

The melodious invitations of “irasshaimase” (“welcome”) from all the staff at Ippudo NY as I walked into the restaurant quickly transported me back to Japan although I must admit it seemed to me slightly dissonant, almost like a dubbed movie, when I heard the phrase perfectly uttered from some of the blonde-haired, blue-eyed waiters. But the welcome was a nice touch, an additional layer of the place’s verisimilitude. We waited for our table in the busy bar area where ramen bowls lined its red walls like trophies in a hunting lodge. The glowing reviews and reasonable prices make Ippudo NY a very popular choice even at six in the evening - presumably just a late lunch for New Yorkers. The restaurant does not take reservations so expect a little wait. We sat in a narrow wing filled with a concentrate of small tables: You are close enough to your neighbors to smell what they ordered and be influenced by their decisions. We started with the pork bun, a popular choice: It was smooth and creamy but not as sweet as the ones I had in Japan. My wife and I both ordered ramen, she the miso tonkotsu and I the traditional tonkotsu, and we delighted in its milky oil-dappled broth, the telltale soft boiled egg, and the freshly pulled ramen. We finished with the matcha (green tea) ice cream and soft tofu, a distinctively Japanese combination, and it completed our reintroduction to the dining experiences we so loved in Japan and we were left to reflexively whisper to ourselves “oishi.”

Michael and I take the lead up a scree-choked stream draining from the Gangjam glacier. Two hours of climbing through talus brings us to ice-blue seracs rising like frozen waveforms from the mottled glacier. An hour further, in the cirque beneath the black wall of Kailash, we begin to sink up to our knees in sun-softened snow. Michael’s altimeter reads 17,500 feet, and above us, the mountain’s north face rises in a 4,000-foot vertical thrust of glazed rock, capped by a treacherous overhanging white cornice. Jaws gone slack, we lift our eyes in awe toward the Throne of Shiva. “How about it, bro? Break out the crampons?” “Jesus! I am not seeing a good route on that wall,” Michael replies, and we both laugh. Kailash remains one of the few legendary mountains on this planet left unclimbed—out of reverence. “And look at that freakin’ cornice!” Michael adds “Nevé ice for sure. Like frost on a windowpane. Won’t hold your points for shit.” There were rumors, nearly a decade ago, that the legendary Austrian mountaineer, Reinhold Messner had surreptitiously planned to bag Kailash, a task which he certainly had the skill and resources to accomplish. But when Messner saw the Precious Snow Mountain for himself, he realized what a desecration it would be to set crampons on its face or boots on its summit. He’s since become a vocal proponent of keeping Kailash off-limits to climbers in perpetuity.

Serene. That’s how I would describe the pool at the Lone Pine Hotel in Penang, Malaysia. This lovely boutique hotel is one of the oldest hotels in Penang, established in 1948. Recent renovations have made it into a charming ‘modern classic’ beach getaway. It’s under the management of the exclusive E and O Hotel. So you can expect beautiful rooms and good service, but at a more affordable price.

This travel-inspired eatery got so popular that it moved to a larger space on University Avenue in August 2017. Once in the new location, executive pastry chef Kristianna Zabala was able to expand her menu (which changes daily) to include breakfast sandwiches and Montreal-style bagels alongside her usual blood-orange-Creamsicle and blueberry-lavender doughnuts. Available in a range of creative flavors, Zabala’s signature creations feature organic eggs and fresh ingredients from local farmers. Don’t leave without trying the classic ube-taro-coconut variety or the white-chocolate-mint-glazed doughnut with a passion-fruit-jalapeño drizzle, if they are available.

Baja California Sur is less saturated than other Mexican seasides, but some of the beaches, like Balandra, attract a crowd. For a bit of Baha California Sur quiet, take a boat ride or a thirty-minute hike (no flip-flops, please) to Playa La Escondida. The beach is blanketed with white sand, surrounded by mountains, and bumps up against clear blue waters. Remember to bring all food, clothing, and other goodies you might need for your day as there are no shops or services.

A compelling reason to be in Cape Town on a weekend morning (especially Sunday, if you want to eat your way through the food-focused Oranjezicht City Farm Market, too) is the dynamic Neighbourgoods Market at the Old Biscuit Mill in up-and-coming Woodstock. From 9 a.m. to 4 p.m., hip locals and tourists alike weave their way through what can only be described as an abundance of all things artisanal—edible, wearable, and otherwise. The most jam-packed part of the market is usually the massive tent lined with vendors specializing in mushrooms, bread, paella, pizza, honey, cakes, cheeses, and craft brews. It’s a veritable smorgasbord, so wear your stretchy pants, and work it off afterward by strolling the other section devoted to micro-merchants selling baby moccasins, brightly colored swimwear, offbeat home accessories, recycled brass jewelry, and more.

Nuzzled up against the Arizona border about 100 miles west of Four Corners are some 30 square miles of the most iconic scenery in the American West. Monument Valley is one of those places that you’ll recognize as soon as you see it, even if you’ve never been there before, as dozens of movies, TV shows, and even video games have used the area as a setting. It’s made up of mesas both small and large reaching up from the valley floor, some rising as high as 1,000 feet into the sky. Part of the Navajo Reservation, the area charges a $20-per-vehicle entrance fee to drive the dirt-road loop. Once in, however, you can also enjoy a number of hikes, or hire a guide for a horseback tour.

This upscale New American restaurant in a brownstone near Rittenhouse Square is a popular destination for business dinners and special occasions. Chef Greg Vernick is a James Beard Award winner, and the restaurant regularly appears on many national and local “Best of” lists. The dinner menu changes with the seasons, but favorite options include the sea urchin and the roasted whole fish of the day. For dessert, look for the tasty blueberry pie, which is served with elderflower ice cream. A highlight of the cocktail menu is the Milk Punch—a classic rum drink made with Madeira, lime, and bitters.

Located inside the rectory building of the former St. Vibiana’s Cathedral, Redbird pays homage to its historical walls by keeping decor simple and minimal. The patio outside was practically built for brunch, which features an impressively deep set of cocktail options alongside frittatas and ricotta-blueberry pancakes. The real draw of the place, though, is its fabulous dinner menu, which offers American-inspired dishes like California sea bass, Day Boat Scallops, and a thyme-heavy chicken potpie. The wine list is extensive when it comes to both bottles and sips by the glass, so follow your server’s lead when it comes to picking the perfect one for your meal.

No hotel in Jamaica blends better with its surroundings than the aptly named Rockhouse, a string of villas clinging to the top of a sea cliff at the western tip of the island. Local stone, timber, and thatch are the building materials, and a harmony of design and setting is the result. The feel is rustic, but not rough (the showers might be outdoors, but the rooms are air-conditioned), and the feeling carries over to the pool, which sits on a rock platform halfway down the cliff face, from where sunbathers can don snorkel and mask and clamber down into a usually calm Caribbean. Even the restaurant hangs over the water, adding emphasis to the promise of dishes being fresh from the sea.

As does practically every hotel in Jamaica, Rockhouse has its celebrity stories, going back to the early ‘70s when Bob Marley, Bob Dylan, and the Rolling Stones added their names to the guest register. But it wasn’t until 1994, when a group of Australian owners took over, that Rockhouse began to evolve its reputation as one of the most Jamaican of Jamaican hotels. It happened in part because Rockhouse has none of the formality that some of the island’s best-known hotels, with their British colonial roots, still possess. And in part because of its active role in funding local education projects, it’s a valued, and popular, part of the community. That, and the restaurant’s homemade jerk sausage is legendary.

The dyeing vats at Chouara—as well as at the city’s other tanneries—are among the Fes medina’s most iconic sights. The ancient craft of tanning and dyeing, in all its visceral authenticity (cow urine and pigeon poop are still key components in the process), plays out much as it always has. Chouara has been around since the 11th century. The dyes used in the tannery pits are natural: Blue comes from indigo; red, from poppy or paprika; yellow, from saffron, pomegranate, or even a mix of turmeric and mimosa flowers. The best vantage point for observation is from one of the roof terraces. Leather shops hawking everything from butter-soft leather babouches (iconic Moroccan backless slippers) and poufs, to copies of designer jackets and handbags. (That Hermès Birkin bag, or a facsimile of it, could finally be yours at a fraction of the price.) Although the guides around here are a tenacious lot, don your best smile, carry a posy of mint to hold beneath your nostrils, and settle in for a long chat with the shopkeepers to learn about fascinating process. Expect prices in the shops to vary wildly—much depends on your haggling prowess. A favorite store is the aptly named La Belle Vue de la Tannerie, off the main drag. The shop has sought out skilled tailors with European know-how to create items of better quality using all Moroccan hides, which results in better leather goods. The tailors can copy a motorcycle jacket for you in three or four hours from goat or lambskin, the softest of the hides.

I’d like to believe that had my public library been as stunning as the Black Diamond in Copenhagen, I would have spent more time studying at the library and less time doing whatever one does when one is supposed to be doing their reading. But the reality is that I probably would have spent most of the time staring out at the water and at the handsome people who wander through its naturally lit halls. The Black Diamond is the newer annex to The Danish Royal Library. It gets its name from the black granite, tinted windows and trapezoidal design (isosceles I think; perhaps I would be more sure had I worked harder on that geometry homework). When you turn the corner, it peers out like a large warship: dark, massive, and slightly foreboding. But the people and bicycles scattered about near the library’s entrance bely the need for concern. At the library’s entrance there is a cafe perfect for you to steady yourself with coffee, pastries, and more people watching. The library holds an art exhibit, concerts, The National Museum of Photography, The Museum of Danish Cartoon Art, as well as its own collection. But the pièce de résistance is the atrium that overlooks the harbor. Take the escalator up a few floors and turn and seize the view. But don’t gasp too loudly: there are people probably trying to do their geometry homework.

Envisioned by Hong Kong-based architect Andre Fu, the Upper House was designed to give guests the experience of staying in a luxury residence within easy reach of the design stores, markets, and nightlife of the Wan Chai neighborhood. Every detail here has been carefully considered, from the environmentally friendly paint to the arrangement of the hotel’s 400-plus works of original art. As they climb the levels of the hotel, guests encounter sculptures with names like Silence, and Rise, and Lifted, which take them on an upward journey that ends at the 49th-floor Sky Bridge—a candle-lined walkway overlooking the atrium that’s lit by a James Turrell–esque skylight.

All the rooms, suites, and penthouses offer a choice between two color schemes: “bamboo,” with ash flooring, bamboo timber, and lilac upholstery, or “celadon,” furnished in green tea upholstery, limed oak flooring, and creme oak timber. Particular attention was given to the bathrooms. Each is nearly 300 square feet and outfitted with concealed televisions and sound systems as well as open-plan rain showers. Some have soaking tubs carved from Turkish limestone, from which guests can take in views of Victoria Harbour or the surrounding mountains. In contrast to many Hong Kong hotels, the Upper House’s restaurant, Café Gray Deluxe, emphasizes simple dishes prepared from the best local and organic produce. The result is high quality but not pretentious, much like the hotel itself.