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In 2001, hotelier Ian Schrager tapped French designer Philippe Starck to reconceptualize The Clift Royal Sonesta Hotel’s wildly modern interiors. A complete contrast to the building’s historic facade, the lobby is dark, edgy and filled with a quirky smattering of cool furniture—among them chairs by Ray and Charles Eames, a coffee table by Salvador Dali, and a surreal stool by Renee Marguerite. Upstairs, splashes of lavender brighten more neutral rooms, which feature wheelbarrow-shaped chairs and sleigh beds designed by Starck. Merino wool blankets are primed to battle foggy nights, while MALIN+GOETZ bath products soothe well-traveled skin with natural ingredients and science. Downstairs in the Redwood Room, a see-and-be-seen crowd nurses drinks. The swanky lounge sports sleek backlit shelves, its original redwood paneling, and a bar supposedly crafted from a single redwood tree. Though The Clift sits just up the street from Union Square, it feels far away from the tourists.

Locha is a hard word to translate. A literal English translation would be “a problem,” but that misses the mark. You could think of it as a “mess,” but that’s not really it either. Locha is more along the lines of “something funky is in the works.” And true to its name, Chemical Locha is all kinds of funky—and a very colorful kind of funky at that. This little store is set up right where N Main Road turns into Lane 5, and the bright green and purple logo is hard to miss if you are walking past. Duck in for all sorts of quirky, kitsch, and crazy swag. Items on sale include: A rib-tickling collection of t-shirts, including an Iron Man shirt with a turbaned laundrywala ironing a pile. Kooky bar accessories—look out for those with an Indian twist, like the “Horn OK Please” coasters. Bright stationery, including diaries, notebooks, and bookmarks you can plant (the bookmark is embedded with sunflower seeds; the idea is to read, sow, and reap). A set of funny mugs, key chains, and games. If you’re looking for offbeat souvenirs, this is definitely your place.

The charming Swiss village of Verbier is a breeding ground for fearless, thrill-seeking mountain bikers. Be warned, though: Even a rockstar mountain biker from Colorado or Utah will feel like he needs training wheels when he tackles these mountains. In town, local bike shops outfit cyclists with bikes and Transformer-like protective gear. A gondola whisks cyclists to the top of the mountain where they can tackle trails of varying degrees of difficulty in La Tzoumaz Bikepark. Less death-defying trails wind around the mountain past quirky sculptures such as a giant penguin and a huge skeleton of a wooly mammoth. Apparently, a mountain-biking battle wound is an essential Swiss souvenir. I took home a double-fractured finger after launching over my handlebars (A note: Men who get injured apparently get stitched up by a hot Swiss nurse. I got a scholarly Swiss doctor, but I also didn’t get a bill). For something a bit more low-key, rent an electric mountain bike and cruise around town past the fancy hotels (Verbier W opened in 2014) and charming homes. Just a touch of pressure on the pedal makes you feel like Lance Armstrong ascending the hills.

If big museums aren’t your thing, but you’d like to get a flavor of the story of Dublin, drop into the Little Museum on St. Stephen’s Green, which is full of quirky memorabilia from times past in the city, all donated by the public. There are guided tours on the hour, and each tour reveals some of the city’s secrets, with letters from famous literary characters like James Joyce and Samuel Beckett, signed U2 albums, and all sorts of things on display—from badges and newspapers to old signs and even bullets—all of which have a story to tell. Set in a Georgian townhouse, with views out over the green and the excellent Hatch & Sons Irish Kitchen in the basement for post-tour grub, this little space offers a lot to love.

Quirky is the word for Castle Leslie Estate in Monaghan—near the border between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland—where rooms are arranged at the end of higgledy-piggledy corridors and long flights of stairs. The winding layout and overstuffed armchairs in the lobby make the vine-swathed, 19th-century castle feel like a family residence—and it feels even more homey when you see the castle’s nonagenarian owner, Sir John Leslie, Fourth Baronet (or Sir Jack to guests), chatting with visitors in his pajamas around midday.

There are a thousand acres to explore, three lakes to row around, forests to get lost in, streams to follow, and horse trails to trot along (starting in the equestrian center and livery near the main house). So at the end of the day there’s nothing left to do but sit by the fire and engage Sir Jack in a long chat. Rooms are scattered throughout the estate: in the castle, of course, but also in the former hunting lodge, stable mews, and village cottages.

Want hot chiles? mild peppers? powder? paste? Across from the old Spanish mission in Tumacácori, you’ll find it. For decades, family-owned and family-run Santa Cruz Chili & Spice Co. has been providing flavors in Southern Arizona. There’s even a mini Western Museum...and of course, you can sample the sauces and salsas... The Santa Cruz valley, between Tucson and Nogales, is one of the oldest continually-farmed regions in the U.S.; for four thousand years, native peppers, beans, squash, cactus and corn have been cultivated, even here in the desert. Then, beginning in the 17th century, Spaniards introduced Mediterranean plants: grapes, figs, pomegranates, figs, quince...and cattle ranching. A small garden on the grounds of the Tumacácori mission across the road from the Santa Cruz Chili Co. still grows some of these heirloom crops. A visit to the mission and spice market make for a great afternoon or day trip from Tucson. Go south from Tucson on I-19 for about an hour. (Note: I-19 is marked in kilometers, not miles; quirky.) Take Exit 29, turn left, then turn north on the old highway, and you’ll see the big chile-pepper sign on the left, just before you get to Tumacácori mission National Historical Park. The store is closed on Sundays.

What if you could spend the night in the middle of hundreds of acres of wild scrubland—where large herds of elephant graze, gazelles bound, and elusive leopards patrol—with nothing between you and the canopy of stars but a thin black mosquito net? The Star Beds at Loisaba Conservancy in northern Kenya offer a quirky and spectacular place to wonder at the universe all night long. The camp’s comfortable beds are rolled out onto a private open deck in the evening, allowing guests to watch the darkness set in and the glittering wonder of the galaxy awaken overhead.

Up-and-coming starlets in the 1920s and ‘30s would have stayed at the Crescent. When the palm tree–lined art deco building opened in 1927, it was as lodgings for the budding actresses who’d just signed studio contracts and moved out to L.A. for their big breaks. They, too, sipped cocktails (after Prohibition ended, of course) and listened to jazz (probably not by a live band, though) in the intimate lounge and on the breezy terrace. It’s even just possible there was saltwater taffy at the front desk and a library stocked with an impressive collection of classic and contemporary literature and nonfiction. However, the walls might not have been adorned with paintings and photographs by some of the area’s top artists, and there definitely wasn’t 24-hour room service or iPod docks.

After the studios moved on, and luxury designer shops and trendy restaurants moved in, the Crescent turned into a cozy, quirky boutique hotel known for its prime location, affordable rates, and bend-over-backward service. These things won’t change.

Housed in a 19th-century French hospital, the Covent Garden Hotel is the oldest and most historic of Tim and Kit Kemp’s celebrated Firmdale hotels portfolio. Opened in 1996 by the husband-and-wife team, it bears a staid style that reflects its early position in the cannon of hotels, which have since become far more exuberant and quirky. The hotel’s muted, pared-back look will undoubtedly appeal to those who crave discretion. It’s not unusual to spot venerable British actors tucked away in a corner, quietly conducting a meeting. This is, after all, the heart of Theatreland—or London’s West End—where a recognizable clientele comes with the territory. However, the Covent Garden Hotel is by no means the see-and-be-seen spot of its media-magnet sister properties, including Charlotte Street Hotel, The Soho Hotel, and Ham Yard. Instead, go here to sequester yourself with a book in the upstairs drawing room, which, with its crackling stone fireplace and wood-paneled walls, resembles the traditional lounge of an English country house.

Actually, the lobby of the Sapphire Hotel is as far as you’ll get when you visit these days. And for all intents and purposes, it’s far enough. The Sapphire maintains the edge its enjoyed since its inception in the early 1900s. Then a gathering place for the quirky and lightly mannered; cool before cool was cool, it now is the great-grandparent of PDX hip. The candlelit scene keeps the conversation low and the alcohol levels, therapeutic. With cocktails like: You’re Not My Real Dad, Retrosex, Winter Isn’t Coming and Floozie, what could possibly go wrong. The hotel rooms are long gone, but the kitchen still hangs around. The menu maintains a simplicity and charm of another era. An order of the salmon corn cakes with a Sapphire salad will easily sustain, but why stop there. Go for the fully-loaded Sapphire burger, have another pop and regroup for the ginger-vanilla bean creme brûlée. The best thing about the Sapphire is the hang time. It’s out on the bleeding edge of Hawthorne, so once you get out there, you’ll tend to want to linger. The atmosphere encourages it with a sharp wait staff supported by bartenders that roll the dice to delver concoctions you can’t get just anywhere. Happy hour tends to evolve into happy evening, even happy night. I’d say it was a gem, but that would be stating the obvious.

From its new location on the Singel, Supperclub maintains the old traditions of one of Amsterdam’s most innovative nightclubs. In few other upscale restaurants can you take off your shoes, get in an oversize bed with friends, and savor an unconventional five-course meal over the course of an evening. But supperclub is not for everyone. Part culinary journey, burlesque/vaudeville club, cocktail bar and experimental free state, it’s a unique if somewhat pricey venue for a fun, quirky evening with friends or business colleagues. When not wintering in India, flamboyant Howie may greet you, ushering your posse to La Salon Neige, where you’ll scoop courses from hospital bowls, ash trays and sensual models dressed in slices of Carpaccio, brandishing salad dressing in syringes and deep-fried cricket tidbits—crunchy croutons! Opt for the upper level lounge and you can watch from above as dykes, belly dancers and aerial artists perform. Don’t worry about crumbs in bed; get into the act while the drag queens vamp and the dancers swirl. Between courses, enjoy a Lavender Love or Leap of Faith cocktail in the Chapter 21 bar. Or venture to the downstairs smoking room that doubles as a gay toilet. While puffing on a joint, don’t be surprised if spontaneous music erupts or locals engage you in conversation. There are supperclubs in Istanbul, London, Los Angeles and San Francisco, but this is the original. And there’s nothing conventional about it!

If you’re craving for Italian food in Manila, and love those little quaint places, you should visit this place. It’s not in your usual tourist areas, it’s located in Cubao Expo in Cubao, Quezon City, about 20 km from Makati. The Cubao area is more known to the locals as it houses a large wet market, as well as to the sports and live concert enthusiasts who attend events at the popular Araneta Coliseum. In the past, kids loved this area too as there used to be a large indoor carnival. Recently, the commercial area has been rehabilitated, and now also includes a large upscale mall and hypermarket. The owner of Bellini’s is an Italian married to a Filipina and both of them are heavily involved in their restaurant business since 1999. Their food is great as they are all freshly made and uses quality ingredients. Try the beef carpaccio, the pizza is excellent too and I also love their pasta. I also love the decor, they put together some Italian icons on the walls and ceilings and even has a mini Tower of Pisa inside the restaurant :-) After your meal, you can also explore Cubao Expo, which includes small stores selling arts and other quirky stuff. It also has a weekend flea market. If you prefer more upscale shopping, you can go the nearby Gateway Mall.

The 25hours brand is known for its playful take on the hotel experience, and this Zurich establishment follows suit. With an interior concocted by local designer Alfredo Häberli, the space features the usual mix of colorful, offbeat furnishings, slick design, and casual friendliness, as well as the cute touch of Häberli’s personal city tips scrawled on various surfaces.

The rooms and suites are separated into categories of silver, gold, and platinum to reflect the city’s banking-capital status. That’s as corporate as it gets, however, since the interiors are decidedly funky, with bold colors, quirky carpets and artwork, and angular work desks. The hotel also offers a restaurant, living room and business lounge (with iMac workstation and free Wi-Fi), plus an in-house kiosk that stocks everything from necessities (shampoo and toothpaste) to accessories (Freitag bags).

A breezy little beach hotel filled with rough wood, natural linen, and flea market finds, the Rose seems, to the uninitiated, like a pure product of quirky Venice’s hipsterfication. In fact, the historic, wood-and-stucco building was built by the beach town’s founder, Abbot Kinney, in the early days of the 20th century; rumor says it was his private brothel, frequented by such friends as Charlie Chaplin. By the 1970s, at the height of Venice’s drug culture, the building had become a flophouse of sorts, and neighbor Dennis Hopper was known to drop by. Before two British photographers discovered it, the house had turned into a mural-covered crash-pad for surfers, yogis, and beach bums of all kinds.

Looking at the low-key Rose now—the town’s first true boutique hotel, barely half a block from the beach—one would hardly know that the entire history of Venice had passed through it. The rooms are spare but stylish, with large windows, art photography, and vintage furniture. Some rooms are large enough to live in, whereas others share a hallway bathroom. Amenities are minimal—Stumptown coffee, bicycle rentals—but a relaxed beach house that attracts artists and creatives looking to delve into Venice’s eclectic, vibrant culture doesn’t need to try too hard to be cool.

At Pappa Zouk’s rum bar in Antigua the truest path to happiness is through a mix of rum, fresh fish, new friends, and zouk music. First you should know that Pappa Zouk’s is not a restaurant. It’s a rum bar with a dizzying array of rums, rhums, and rons from across the Caribbean and beyond. Yes, lucky rummies can supplement their rum intake with a full menu of authentically prepared fresh fish and other seafood delights, but first-and-foremost this quirky little space is dedicated to drinking and being merry. Secondly, you should know Pappa Zouk is not the mad German owner and bartender. No, that curmudgeon with a penchant for abruptly ending the night’s festivities with a hearty “Get the f**k out!” is Bert Kirchner. He named his place after a deaf, dumb, old man he met on Dominica who would transform from a shuffling ancient to a lithe dancer with pure joy radiating from his gap-toothed smile down to the tips of his barefoot toes any time zouk music was played. He couldn’t hear the music, but he certainly felt it. And his pure happiness in the face of his meager existence was something that always stuck with Bert. Now he spreads happiness his own way — with rum, fresh fish, and zouk playing in the background.