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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.

Nestled in charming Bloomingdale, the rustic Red Hen is a golden egg of D.C.’s dining scene. Chef/owner Michael Friedman (also of All Purpose Pizza) has created an inviting home for culinary pleasures like the cool taste of soft, bulbous burrata and classics like an elevated rigatoni pasta with fennel sausage ragu. Inspired by Italian and Jewish traditions, the vibe is familial, and thoughtful attention is paid to each dish, drink, and decor detail. The best seats are at the bar next to the open kitchen, where you can watch the grilling, flipping, frying, chopping, baking, and plating. Don’t leave without dessert—the maple custard with a caramelized hazelnut crumble will transport you.

In remote Africa, travelers find profound stillness, untamed nature, and a portal to the past. Don’t forget the gin and tonics.

Musicians Aimee Mann, Joe Henry, and Loudon Wainwright III gather in Louisville to indulge in raw oysters, dry martinis, and unscripted conversation.

Chefs bring fresh flavors from Portugal’s former colonies to Lisbon’s plates.

Overlooking Chesterman Beach, the Wickaninnish Inn, or “the Wick,” as locals call it, offers 75 cabinlike rooms with Adirondack-style furnishings. Amenities include a library stocked with board games and movies, a spa that offers West Coast–inspired treatments, and guided hikes to nearby tide pools every Saturday morning. Swing by the Henry Nolla Carving Shed on the beach, where local wood carvers⎯“Feather” George Yearsley, for one⎯craft wooden objects such as eagle feathers, dugout canoes, jewelry boxes, and First Nations masks. From $460. 500 Osprey Ln., (250) 725-3100. Image courtesy of Wickaninnish Inn

You might hear Long Street before you see it—this bustling artery is the heart of Cape Town, home to some of the city’s most popular restaurants, bars, and boutiques, all within a few blocks’ radius of the Grand Daddy Hotel. Built in 1895, this landmark building has been transformed into one of the city’s quirkier havens, though it somehow manages to walk the fine line between campy and classy. It’s a spot that’s beloved by tourists and locals alike (don’t be surprised to stumble onto a local fashion shoot in the gilded Daddy Cool bar).

Behind the stately gray exterior lies a whimsical world: snuggle into crisp white sheets in one of the 26 colorful rooms or suites, or settle into a stylishly appointed Airstream in the rooftop trailer park. And speaking of the rooftop: there’s no better place to take in the view of Table Mountain presiding over the city.

Le Diplomate brings France’s chic bistro culture to D.C.’s trendy U Street Corridor. Upon entering through its bright blue door frame, the high ceilings, antique decor, and bread-cart centerpiece will have you checking for your passport. The classic French cuisine is on display with colorful salads, juicy steak frites, and rich crème brûlée. The only reminders that you’re still in America are the generous portions and the warm, attentive service. Request a seat in the glass-enclosed and tiled sunroom, where the wall reads “Blanchisserie de Chemise,” an homage to the location’s former life as a laundromat. This District arrondissement certainly welcomes the tasty transformation. Bon appétit!

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.

Built in 1901, the legendary “First Lady of Waikiki” blends Victorian architecture with a golden beach and turquoise seas. Putting a luxury hotel in a deserted backwater was a bold move—but one that paid off. Tourism took off here and the Moana remains its ruling monarch. One of the most lovely, historical hotels in Hawaii, it still has Ionic columns supporting an elegant porte-cochère, plus a long shaded gallery along its facade where rocking chairs encourage guests to watch the world go by. A $21-million renovation brought it up-to-date in 2014 and added a new beach club. But an exhibit room still honors its rich past on the second floor of the Banyan Wing, and serves as a jumping-off point for free historical tours (11 a.m., Mondays and Wednesdays).

This pink-marble waterfront edifice in Piazza San Marco dates back to the 14th century, when it was the residence and seat of government for the doges (rulers) of Venice. Today the ornate Byzantine- and Moorish-influenced Gothic Palazzo Ducale is a symbol of the city, and serves as a museum hosting some of Venice’s most important art, including the famous Bacchus, Venus, and Ariadne masterpiece by Tintoretto. It also runs the popular Secret Itinerary and Doge’s Palace Hidden Treasures tours. After you’re done, treat yourself to a glass of wine in the small on-site bistro, with windows looking onto the Grand Canal adjacent to the Bridge of Sighs.

Undoubtedly one of Colombo’s most atmospheric shopping areas can be found amid the historic surroundings of Fort’s Old Dutch Hospital, built in 1677. There are outlets here of several Colombo favorites like Spa Ceylon and Barefoot, which is famous for its textiles, as well as jewelry shops and smart boutiques peppered in between cafés and restaurants.

English-speaking bibliophiles love Under the Volcano for its cozy, welcoming space, where shelves stretch from floor to ceiling and wall to wall, sagging under the weight of previously read and gently used books. Those that don’t fit on shelves sit in towering stacks on the floor. Don’t expect the kind of boring pulp that tends to get left behind at hostel book exchanges. These are quality reads, including some unexpected and even rare finds.

While accommodations in southern Utah range from luxe lodgings and wellness resorts to glamping tents and rustic cabins, they all make use of their surroundings, pampering guests with stunning views and activities like hiking and horseback riding.

Set in a row of shophouses—traditional double-use structures with a storefront on the street level, the owner’s residence on the floors above—the New Majestic Hotel is a small gem in Chinatown filled with quirks and contrasts. Colonial design is plentiful, from the vintage Compton fans in the lobby to furniture from the 1920s–1960s throughout. The rooms are a little more free-form. They range from suites with their own urban gardens to attic-style spaces with loft beds and 20-foot ceilings. Then there are the five rooms in which Singapore artists were told to unleash their creativity (Work, one of these rooms, looks like temporary housing, with plywood sections everywhere). Pieces by local emerging artists include murals with hidden messages or displaying pop art influences. The bottom of the rooftop pool has small portholes that look down onto the Majestic Restaurant, one floor down.