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Dozens of artists from a myriad of backgrounds and cultures—American, Texan, Mexican, Latin American—sell their work at the San Angel Folk Art gallery in San Antonio. The gallery is stocked with paintings, ceramics, paperwork, textiles, glass, and sculpture, and visitors can easily spend the better part of an afternoon viewing the exhibits and browsing the wares. With such a diverse breadth of art, there’s a piece to appeal to every collector’s tastes. Image of tin art by Chris Ake courtesy San Angel Folk Art.

If you love antiquing or if you’re just searching for a Mexico City souvenir with a bit of history behind it, it’s hard to imagine a more pleasant way to spend a Saturday morning in the capital than visiting Plaza del Angel, a giant antique market with dozens of galleries, located in the Zona Rosa. You can visit during the week, too, but on Saturdays, temporary vendors join those who have permanent spaces here to sell all sorts of wares, from postcards and pictures to religious relics, furniture, books, magazines, and handcrafts.

Take San Francisco’s defining features—its booming tech industry, its creative heart, its killer restaurant scene—and squeeze them into a 100-year-old building in a neighborhood undergoing a sea change. That’s Hotel Zetta. The dynamic property, which re-opened as Hotel Zetta in 2013, couldn’t be more, well, San Francisco.

In the lobby, there’s a chandelier fashioned from recycled sunglass lenses, a front desk made from reclaimed wood, and a two-story Plinko board (an interactive art piece) that descends from the Playroom. About that: The Playroom caters to the work-hard, play-hard set. A shuffle board, a pool table, and video games (both current and retro) spark friendly competition. A classic London telephone booth lets guests order room service or video chat. Modern amenities continue in the rooms. Desks built from kitchen butcher blocks encourage standing while working. A G-Link docking station facilitates wireless streaming from tablets and smartphones to flat-screen Samsung Smart TVs, which come pre-loaded with complimentary Internet service, apps and HD channels.

The art? A blend of analog and digital. Art in the guestrooms include work by Nick Gentry. He made an original work as a compilation of floppy disks. Then, the work was photographed and screenprinted as a giclee on a canvas for the rooms. Downstairs, two new ventures from famed Bay Area restaurateurs Anna Weinberg, James Nicholas and Chef Jennifer Puccio (of Marlowe and Park Tavern) ensure the young and hungry are adequately fueled.

In a city with a taco shop on nearly every corner, Salud stands out for its Chicano-inspired food and decor: According to owner Ernie Becerra, the tacos served here are not traditionally Mexican. The signature Barrio is served on a tortilla made of flour instead of corn, and its filling (stewed beef topped with nopal, beans, and sour cream) is a take on a popular dish in Southern California’s Mexican community. In the dining room, a tattoo mural and a car hood mounted on the wall nod to the lowrider lifestyle Chicano kids grow up idealizing.

When the Last Bookstore debuted in 2005, the name was meant to be ironic. Now, in a world of Kindles and iPads, digital books (or at least digital bookstores) are the norm, and brick-and-mortar establishments such as the Last Bookstore are a dying breed. That hasn’t stopped this Downtown L.A. icon from growing. The shop still buys, sells, and trades new and used books and vinyl records just as it did when its doors first opened over a decade ago, and it shows no signs of stopping anytime soon. Come in to browse the store’s impressive collection, to hang out for an afternoon, or to catch author talks and more. The Last Bookstore puts on some killer events, and past speakers have included the cast of Portlandia, How to Kill a City author Peter Moskowitz, and Holocaust survivors. Oh, and they occasionally give away free concert tickets on their Instagram account, so it’s worth a follow even if you’re not a die-hard bookworm.

Years ago when Mexico City’s southern neighborhoods were in fact small, independent cities, the quarter known as San Ángel Inn was a sylvan getaway for well-heeled urbanites. No longer an inn, the area’s namesake—a former Carmelite convent from the eighteenth century—persists as an iconic, country-club-style restaurant and lounge. Its venerable walls, gardens, and fountains call up colonial gentility and ward away the urban chaos just outside the door; strolling mariachis are the sole “disruption.” Sip what many believe is the city’s best margarita amid an impeccable, songbird-serenaded garden.

This used to be a hacienda, but it was turned into a restaurant almost 50 years ago. The food is phenomenal and the margaritas are famous—in fact, they’re my favorite thing on the menu. There is always a band or a pianist playing.

Barranco, one of the city’s most beautiful neighborhoods, awash in character, is known for an artsy vibe and gorgeous colonial buildings. Cross the Puente de los Suspiros (Spanish for “Bridge of Sighs”) and follow the Bajada de los Baños to the seaside. Explore the side streets and duck into cute cafés and art venues, including the Museum of Contemporary Art (MAC). The gallery-shop Dédalo, in particular, is ideal for combining coffee, snacking, shopping, and art viewing. Visiting another Barranco landmark, the belle epoque Hotel B, provides a quick trip back to a time of elegant architecture. Splurge for a smart cocktail on the rooftop bar to linger a little longer.

While modern Halifax has grown beyond its nautical roots, the 109-room waterfront Muir—a member of Marriott’s Autograph Collection of independent hotels and part of the city’s new $200 million Queen’s Marque district—offers a peek into its maritime past. In the lobby, walls of glass from an art installation glow like a lighthouse, and more works continue the theme throughout. Rooms are outfitted with midcentury modern–inspired furniture and custom-designed tartan blankets that nod to the province’s Scottish history. The restaurant serves Nova Scotia classics such as hodge podge, a hearty stew, and the hotel’s speakeasy BKS references the region’s rum-running past in cocktails like Her Majesty’s Displeasure.

The fragrant, pleasingly cluttered Central Grocery is a holdover from an era when Italian-run groceries occupied storefronts throughout the city. This timeworn shop across from the French Market still boasts an old-world charm, filled with tall shelves crowded with imported goods and various whatnots, mostly Italian. But that’s not why you’ll see lines out the doors. The crowds are clamoring for muffulettas, classic New Orleans sandwiches that originated here about a century ago. (Slogan: “Imitated by many, but never duplicated.”) A muffuletta comes on a type of round, flattish loaf (not unlike a focaccia) that originated in Sicily. The details may vary, but it typically includes cured meats (capicola, salami) and cheese (provolone). What distinguishes it from a hubcap-shaped hoagie is the topping—a tangy marinated-olive salad. Know this: You don’t need to order a whole one; a quarter-sandwich is still plenty filling for one person.

The Samoa Cookhouse has been serving all-you-can-eat family-style meals since 1890. It used to be just for the loggers who worked in the company town of Samoa, just outside of Eureka, but since the ‘60s it’s been open to the public, for people like me who don’t work nearly as hard as a lumberjack but can still eat like one. There’s a set menu for every meal. Breakfast on a Sunday means sausage, scrambled eggs, biscuits, and gravy, and best of all, thick slices of French toast made from enormous loaves of just-baked bread. The waitresses are as friendly and energetic as you’d expect of people who have to serve a room that holds hundreds at huge tables covered in red-gingham vinyl tablecloths. Giant saws hang on the walls, and there’s a little museum off the dining room full of old mill equipment and great old photos. Hearty food, nice people. This place is good for your soul.

At this luxury collection of six historic homes—some from the 16th century—guests can book a bedroom or an entire house, all within blocks of Santo Domingo’s most important attractions. You won’t find out which room or home you’ll be staying in until your arrival, but you’re sure to be pleased. Located in the heart of the Zona Colonial, the casas are exquisite. Two were part of former convents, one was a monastery, and another was once the private home of a famous Dominican fashion designer. Each one features unique decor and its own courtyard, and five of the six have private swimming pools. Upon check-in, you’ll receive a loaner iPhone to communicate with your house butler and the round-the-clock concierge team, who can help arrange excursions like culinary tours in the Old City and visits to one of the Caribbean’s largest organic cocoa producers.

Restaurant l’O à la Bouche has better-than-usual seafood—try the papio (small amberjack) cooked with fruit. The joint’s not much on ambiance or views, but it’s run by a chef who cares and who can offer a delicious taste of both French and Polynesian worlds.

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.

In the heart of Toruń’s Gothic, brown-brick Old Town—which itself looks like it was built out of gingerbread—lies the Living Museum of Gingerbread, an interactive museum that opened in 2006. Toruń’s gingerbread tradition goes back much further, however, with the first mention of the sweet dating to 1380. At the museum, you’ll learn the story of Toruń’s famous gingerbread while working under the watchful eye of the Gingerbread Master to prepare the dough, bake the bread in traditional wooden molds, and, finally, decorate each loaf. After going through the fun process, you might agree with Frédéric Chopin, who wrote of a visit to Toruń, “Gingerbread impressed me most. Although I have seen the fortifications, and the famous town hall . . . all these cannot surpass the gingerbread, ah, the gingerbread!”

Since 1993, Philadelphians Wendy Born and James Barrett have shown a deft hand in the kitchens of their multi-location Metropolitan Bakery. Artisanal breads – able to rival any venerated loaf from Europe– are their claim to fame but their cookies, cakes, croissants and locally-sourced jams and spreads are equally as divine. They have several locations in Philadelphia, including my favorite in Chestnut Hill a bit further afield, but consistency is assured in each outpost. You can also expect to see the duo’s vision (and baked goods) played out at FARMiCiA, the organic/local restaurant they co-own in Old City. If you have a hankering for something sweet, don’t leave without picking up one of their toothsome chocolate chip cookies (or a few).