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Japadog is one of those odd and wacky combinations of a hot dog with Japanese toppings, but it works! I had the Terimayo, a teriyaki-drenched dog topped with seaweed. Not substantial for the $5 price tag, but a good snack. The location on Robson is dine-in, and there are carts across the city.

Within the Aysén Region, the Chonos Archipelago, named for an extinct people, is laced with innumerable islands around which blue whales thrive. Both the Darwin and Moraleda channels traverse the archipelago, which extends down to the 17,420-square-kilometer (6,726-square-mile) Laguna San Rafael National Park in the Northern Patagonian Ice Field. The San Rafael Glacier and a 16-kilometer-long (10-mile-long) fjord are found within the park that is part of a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve.

Starting in 2014, this collection of historic buildings was reinvented as a gastronomic hub—helping to revitalize the city’s downtown in the process. An early 20th-century citrus packing warehouse became the Anaheim Packing House, a virtual United Nations of food: Walking through the 42,000-square-foot hall, you’ll find citrusy ceviche at Urbana, fried chicken sandwiches at Sweetbird, garden-fresh hot pot at Rolling Boil, organic curry at ADYA, and matcha shaved snow at I Am. Craft beer—quickly becoming a signature of Southern California—is in no short supply, thanks to bars like Anaheim Brewery, housed inside a 1925 mission revival building. A circa 1917 marmalade factory became the MAKE Building, where you can linger over a flight of California reds at Pali Wine Co. or a plate of pulled pork at Jav’s Barbecue. The compact district is distinctly Californian, from the succulents and air plants inside to the palm trees and olive groves of Farmers Park outside—a grassy knoll where, at any given time, you might happen upon a free yoga class, a gardening demo, or a live acoustic band playing under the sun.

California’s original Holiday Inn has come a long way. After several iterations—former owners include singer Gene Autry and producer Merv Griffin—the property reopened as Parker Palm Springs in 2004. The hotel underwent a major refresh in 2017, with designer Jonathan Adler combining an electric color palette with irreverent, stylish details like an antique DRUGS pharmacy sign and a full wall of macramé owls. Couples love the rooms featuring private outdoor patios and hammocks that hang above their own sandpits. The 12 stand-alone villas work best for families. But the many shared spaces are what make this a Palm Springs playground for all ages: Wandering around the 13-acre grounds, you’ll encounter a life-sized chess set, a labyrinth of bougainvillea-lined garden paths, three pools (one is adults only), and hanging rattan chairs aplenty. The food ranges from breakfast all day at the upscale diner Norma’s to escargot and steak au poivre at the hushed French restaurant Mister Parker’s. Escape the activity on the ground at the Palm Springs Yacht Club spa, where every treatment is customized and you can easily spend an entire day.

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.

Since 1983, food lovers in the know have headed to Santa Barbara’s renowned Paradise Café. Housed in an early 20th-century brick and stucco building with a relaxed atmosphere, the café’s oak wood grill is fueled by Santa Maria live oak—also known as California live oak—a wood that’s essential for the area’s regional style of barbecue. The flavors brought out by the oak in steaks, pork chops, roast chicken, shrimp and sausage, ahi tuna, rainbow trout, and salmon keep added seasonings to a minimum, so fresh ingredients remain the focus of the menu. The crowd favorite, the half-pound signature Paradise Burger, is grilled over oak, topped with Tillamook cheddar cheese, and placed on an onion roll—and best enjoyed with a glass of Paradise syrah, sourced from local vineyards. If you sit on the patio, give the historic mural more than a glance. It features Leo Carrillo, an old-Hollywood actor best known for his role as Pancho in the television series The Cisco Kid; he is locally beloved for his involvement in preserving and conserving California open spaces.

“What better way to understand yoga than to travel to its birthplace?” says Katie Christ. Two years ago, the food stylist put her life in San Francisco on hold to spend two months studying at the Ramamani Iyengar Memorial Yoga Institute (RIMYI) in Pune, India. “It was the biggest luxury I have ever allowed myself.” Katie had been practicing Iyengar yoga, a style of hatha yoga that focuses on alignment and uses props like blocks and belts, for more than 10 years when she decided she wanted to study in India.

She applied to RIMYI, where the venerable B.K.S. Iyengar (above), the founder of Iyengar yoga, occasionally teaches with his son and daughter. “It’s not for the faint of heart,” says Katie. “There’s no music. No incense.” RIMYI requires each applicant to have eight years of Iyengar experience plus a letter of recommendation from his or her yoga teacher. Acceptance can take up to two years. The year before she attended, Katie traveled to Pune for two weeks to experience life in the city.

That first visit happened to coincide with B.K.S. Iyengar’s 90th birthday. “I had no Indian garb appropriate for the festivities, so I went shopping, and in one afternoon I saw so much. A woman making a rangoli, a traditional folk art design, let me try to draw one with colored powder on the street. At the market I saw a man whose sole job was to peel garlic bulbs. I tasted the most amazing chai, made by a chai wallah who used pliers to crush fresh ginger into a pot of milk with tea leaves and ground spices. I knew I wanted to stay. [On my second trip] these experiences would become part of my everyday routine.”

The institute doesn’t provide housing, so Katie used her first visit to find a flat to rent for her two-month stay. “I had the perfect commute: a 10-minute walk through a public garden where I would watch teens flirting on benches and women in saris and sneakers taking their morning power walks.” Classes were held six days a week: two-hour sessions led by a member of the Iyengar family and three hours of open practice each day, and an hour of pranayama (controlled breathing) once a week. “In open practice, I experienced incredible generosity from students who were advanced teachers,” says Katie. “If someone recognized that I was struggling, they would come over to help me achieve better alignment. Several times Geeta Iyengar [the daughter of B.K.S. Iyengar] called out to give me specific instruction.

I felt incredibly fortunate, considering there were up to 120 students in a class.” When she wasn’t in class, Katie and her Australian neighbors, all senior Iyengar teachers attending the institute, would hit the markets and seek out the best chai, Indian sweets, and chappals (sandals). On Sundays they took trips to sights like the ancient sculptures and paintings in the Ellora and Ajanta caves. Katie felt her body becoming stronger and her head becoming clearer with each passing day. “The goal of yoga is to calm the chatter of the mind. When I arrived I had tons of chatter,” she says. “After practicing so intensely every day for two months, the chatter became a murmur.”

From $450 for a one-month program, not including meals and accommodations. 91/(0) 20-2565-6134, bksiyengar.com. This story appeared in the January/February 2012 issue.

Although the restaurant claims it’s “American” (the owner is from San Francisco), local Greeks are laying claim on this all-day hangout. Breakfasts and brunches—creamy Greek yogurt and pancakes—start the day, then around lunch, diners switch over to cheeseburgers and fries, Tandoori chicken, perfect Middle Eastern falafel, and even a couple of Thai dishes. The eclecticism magically works, as ingredients used are crazy-fresh and the atmosphere is low-key and friendly. The team of chefs is as international and colorful as the menu (and as the ceiling, too, which is decorated with multicolored umbrellas), and Mama Roux lies on a pedestrian-only street, which helps, too. As night falls, you may as well stay for dinner, and try the excellent beers on tap.

Cacao beans’ scientific name is theobrama cacao, which translates into “drink of the gods.” Casa Cortés in Old San Juan will truly please any god with its Cortés chocolate concoctions. This welcoming café fuses modern style of its seats and dishes with the antique charm of walls covered in Cortés chocolate molds and a short history of chocolate on a collage of artwork that exudes nostalgia. The menu features mouth-watering items such as a baguette filled with Brie, chocolate, and a hazelnut spread; a blood orange and passion fruit cheesecake topped with a chocolate mousse; and an Argentinian ice wine. I opted for the mallorca (a sweet bread dusted with powdered sugar) stuffed with Ibérico ham, Manchego, chocolate, and a guava spread, accompanied by a European hot chocolate that was to die for. My meal was perfect, but I’m sure everything I didn’t get to taste was just as amazing. That’s what you get when your chocolate comes straight from a nearby farm. While I waited for my food, I watched a video on chocolate production. There’s also a museum (unfortunately, I was unable to see it, but you can bet I’ll be back there next time I come home to my beautiful island) and some products for sale. Make sure to take a little piece of Casa Cortés with you for future indulgences—they advertise one chocolate tablet as being enough for two beverages.

Although the Smoking Goat is credited with pioneering a culinary renaissance in a once-sleepy corner of North Park, nothing else about chef Fred Piehl’s flagship restaurant screams “culinary vanguard”—and that’s precisely what devotees love about the place. Regulars come here for the reliably exquisite staples: French onion soup with what’s essentially an open-face grilled cheese sandwich afloat in rich veal broth; duck fat truffle fries with pecorino romano and mustard aioli; beef cheeks à la Bourguignonne with carrots, cioppolini onions, cherry tomatoes, mashed potatoes, and braising jus; and other creations that blend traditional French tastes with sustainable, organic San Diego–sourced ingredients. While dinner at this rustic, romantic spot is hardly the time to eat lightly, if you want to go vegetarian, opt for the indulgent raclette au gratin with fingerling potatoes, cornichons, and toast, along with a salad of poached and raw pears with mixed greens, pistachio pesto, and champagne vinaigrette. And as befits the restaurant’s caprine theme, the goat cheese cheesecake with poached peach and whipped cream is a favorite dessert.

A recent addition to the Puerto Rican capital’s culinary scene are food hall–style spots where diners can choose among multiple kiosks, or stalls, each featuring a distinct kind of cuisine. Lote 23 is one such spot, located in the working-class neighborhood of Santurce. More than a dozen food entrepreneurs have fare on offer here, from pizza and tacos to bao and burgers. If you just need something to cool yourself off in the tropical heat, there are popsicles and cocktails, too. The alfresco eating area has plenty of picnic tables where you can sit and enjoy whatever you’ve ordered.

In a city where cooking has been elevated to a lifestyle, provisions for the refined kitchen are in high demand. And no one has been able to meet that need quite like March. The whitewashed, sun-dappled store on an upscale stretch of Sacramento Street inspires instant kitchen envy in all. Pungent spices are displayed in black glass jars with custom labels, hand-thrown serving wear is stacked in elegant totems on the wood shelves, and a fat-bellied AGA stove stands against a wall of spotless subway tile. If you aren’t a home cook, you will vow to become one after a visit to March. The proprietor, the perpetually chic Sam Hamilton, came from New York and a career in fashion before finding her way here. She even interned with Alice Waters for a spell at Chez Panisse, which helps explain Hamilton’s knack for curating items—like handwoven tortillero baskets, Parigi stemware, and fishmongering knives by Pallares Solsona—that aren’t just beautiful but also useful to cooks who actually put their kitchens to work.

Spread across 220 acres of coastal valley, the Ojai Valley Inn opened in 1923, originally commissioned by an early 20th-century glass tycoon. With white stucco and terra-cotta buildings, the mission-style retreat looks like a dreamy California village wedged between the Pacific Ocean and the Topatopa Mountains. Luxurious spa penthouses are ultra-private, and their location in the Spa Ojai building gives guests an easy route to their warm Himalayan salt stone massage or sound energy therapy treatment. The Hacienda Penthouse, atop a hillside villa, brings an air of Morocco to the California landscape. Wallace Neff Historic Rooms, built in the early days of the property, offer the relaxed glamour of that era. Days can be as peaceful or as action-packed as you like and may include golfing at the Ojai Country Club, blending essential oils in the on-site apothecary, lounging next to one of the property’s several pools, hiking, horseback riding, or indulging in retail therapy at two on-site boutiques. Olivella serves traditional and modern interpretations of Italian cuisine, while The Oak’s dishes highlight the resort’s herb garden. Pro tip: Order the signature lavender lemonade.

Looking for authentic souvenirs of Costa Rica to bring back home? Kúkara Mákara offers a great selection of items, all 100 percent artisanal and officially Costa Rican. Its name—an allusion to children’s nonsense songs—hints at the relaxed, jovial mood inside the shop. The inventory changes constantly, so surprise is the order of the day. Recently we spotted original dolls, key chains, jewelry, satchels, handbags, decorative pillows, and objects made from recycled or repurposed materials. There’s also a small café that serves fresh, healthy fare.

When visiting this dramatic, narrow beach in the wealthy La Jolla enclave, take time to admire—and photograph—its single surf shack. One of San Diego’s most important surf-culture icons, the wooden palapa is actually a designated historic landmark, built in the 1940s by soldiers and surfers who served in World War II and reconstructed as recently as 2016. Windansea is also known for its pounding, experts-only surf break; you should attempt it only if you’re experienced, but it’s just as fun to watch from atop the beach’s smooth sandstone rocks. For some peace and quiet, sunbathe in one of this stretch’s secluded pockets.