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A UNESCO World Heritage site in a mountain valley about 40 miles west of Da Nang, My Son is a vestige of the Champa kingdom, a culture that was heavily shaped by Hindu beliefs and practices. Built between the 4th and 14th centuries, the temples pay homage to the god Shiva, though the deity is often referred to here by different names. While some of the shrines are partially restored, and others overgrown with greenery or showing their age (many were destroyed by American bombing during the Vietnam War), the sheer scope of the ruins are proof of the reach of Hinduism and the lofty ambitions of the Cham kings.

Fans of the movie Apocalypse Now probably know it was shot in Baler, some 150 miles northeast of Manila. At the time, locals were already well aware of the area’s killer waves, which caused trouble for the fishermen. But attitudes toward the waves slowly changed, thanks to the film: Residents used the surfboards left behind by the crew to learn to ride them. Surfing culture in the Philippines was born, and the big waves were no longer considered a threat, but rather an opportunity to bring in surfing tourism and events each year from October to February. But Baler has a lot to offer for the non-surfer, too, even if you just sit on the beach and watch the ocean. Couples love the long stretch of sand at Sabang, which is perfect for romantic beach walks, and the sunrise here is a must-see. From a historical perspective, Baler is significant because it was the last stand of Spanish forces in the Philippines; the yearlong siege that began in July 1898 is one of the longest in the country’s recorded history. The undermanned Spanish troops, not knowing the war was over, held onto their fortress in the only stone building in the area, the San Luis Obispo de Tolosa church, for 337 days.

Sun Moon Lake is Taiwan‘s largest fresh water lake. When I lived in Nantou County, central Taiwan, I would often ride my scooter to Sun Moon Lake for a bit of fresh air and reflection. One day I drove to the lake and traveled up a hill to the Ci-en Pagoda. Parking my bike, I climbed to the top of the pagoda and gazed out at the misty lake, which seemed magical in that moment. Many legends surround Sun Moon Lake, including the one which says the lake was once inhabited by two dragons. These dragons used the sun and moon as toys, causing the world to fall into darkness. Eventually a young couple came and defeated the dragons, brining light back into the world. Sun Moon Lake is one of the most peaceful places I’ve ever visited.

Dieppe Bay is ringed by black sand—a reminder that St. Kitts was formed by volcanoes. It’s also the site of the first European settlement in the eastern Caribbean, a French colony established in 1538 that was destroyed by the Spanish just two weeks after its founding. Beyond its historic significance, however, Dieppe Bay is simply a peaceful, palm-lined beach on the north end of the island. An offshore reef keeps the water calm for swimming and snorkeling, and Arthur’s restaurant is nearby for when you’re craving some fresh fish and vegetables.

Goat Island Café (which locals simply call “Sadie’s) is the place to go in American Samoa for tasty fish and chips or a breakfast of Spam and eggs. Goat Island Café, located inside the hotel, Sadie’s by the Sea, offers generous portions. The café also pours cold Vailima—a beer brewed in Samoa. Open for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, guests can choose to sit inside the restaurant or dine alfresco in a perfect poolside setting where you can also enjoy views of the ocean and nearby Rainmaker Mountain.

Both Tokyo‘s largest and oldest Buddhist temple, Senso-ji is one of the city’s must see sights. The streets leading to Senso-ji are filled with souvenir shops where you can find tapestries, kimonos, kitschy key chains, and finger foods. Surrounding the temple you’ll also find yatai (food stalls) selling Japanese favorites like yakisoba (fried buckwheat noodles) and okonomiyaki (savory pancakes with a mix of ingredients including eggs, noodles, beef, octopus, squid, and green onion). Inside Senso-ji receive your omikuji (fortune) and if it’s not to your liking leave it behind on the wall of bad fortunes. Take your time exploring the grounds around Senso-ji, which are rich in pristine Japanese landscape design.

If you’re looking for authentic local fare but don’t want to venture outside of Grace Bay, Fresh Catch Local Bites will fit the bill. You’ll find this bright, casual restaurant on the ground floor of the Salt Mills Plaza, serving up hearty portions of fried fish, conch fritters, blackened grouper, and more. It’s open for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and there’s always an enticing selection of daily specials on the board up front.

Instagrammers, take note: This open-air eatery is prime for watching—and snapping—the sunset. Every table is positioned on the pier, directly over Aruba’s shimmering waters. Come early to score a front-row seat for the evening spectacle, then stay late for the live music and light bites. The fish cakes are a must, but other popular dishes include pan-seared grouper with ginger and apricot sauce, and dark-rum-infused blue cheese tenderloin. If this chic lounge looks familiar, it’s because it made an appearance on The Bachelor.

Seafood and regional delicacies rule the menu at this charming 19th-century former plantation home—go for the fish tacos, ceviche, or keshi yena, a local entrée consisting of a large sphere of cheese stuffed with seasoned meat. The papaya stew, with delicately spiced cabbage and invigorating ginger, is another local favorite. Savor your meal at one of the rustic picnic tables outside, or head to the dining room for a slightly upscale atmosphere. Landhuis Misjé is a great pick for both a romantic dinner and an outing with a tribe of hungry family members.

Hardly a “shack,” the stylish and cosmopolitan Ortega is a superb place to dine in New Zealand‘s capital city. Of course, seafood is a major focus on the menu, with highlights including lobster-and-prawn ravioli, or sautéed paua (New Zealand abalone) with braised pork cheek in an unctuous Asian-style sauce. Befitting its location in the best craft-beer city in the land, Ortega sports a beer list that’s diverse and well-considered, combining top drops from Wellington makers like Garage Project, Tuatara, and ParrotDog, and other excellent beers from around New Zealand and the world. Booking ahead for one of Wellington’s best restaurants is recommended, especially on weekends.

Hop aboard the ferry at Pier 41 in San Francisco, or from the town of Tiburon, and spend a day on the largest and most beautiful island in the bay—Angel Island State Park. You can bring your own bike, or rent one when you arrive, and ride the paved perimeter trail around the 760-acre island. There are open-air tram tours, too, with guides recalling the island’s rich history, as well as guided hikes. Of course, you are free to roam the trails on your own, one of the best of which is the hike up to the top of 788-foot Mount Livermore, where 360-degree views take in the San Francisco skyline and the Golden Gate Bridge. Whatever your plan, know you’ll be immersing yourself in local history in a place that has been a fishing and hunting site for Coast Miwok Indians, a haven for Spanish explorer Juan Manuel de Ayala, and a U.S. Army post starting with the Civil War. From 1910 to 1940, hundreds of thousands of immigrants were processed here, and during World War II, Japanese and German POWs were held on the island. Several buildings and other relics remain as a reminder of the island’s varied history, including the United States Immigration Station museum (open March–October).

In the 17th century, the British and French were fierce rivals for control of St. Kitts. The only thing that eventually brought them together was the existential threat of an attack by the island’s native Carib inhabitants—a fear so real that, in 1626, a joint force of British and French soldiers cornered and massacred more than 2,000 Caribs at what came to be known as Bloody Point. Today, guests can visit the historic site by hiking along the river—which was said to have run red for three days after the slaughter—from the village of Challengers through Stone Fort Canyon, where they can also find 100 petroglyphs carved into the rocks.

Located in East End Village and painted in Anguillan flag colors, the Heritage Collection is Anguilla’s only museum. It showcases the island’s history and geology from the time of the Arawaks to the 1969 Anguillan revolution, with additional displays on the British invasion (derisively called the “Bay of Piglets” by the press) as well as on Queen Elizabeth II’s royal visit. Established in 1996, its collection includes photographs and artifacts from the island’s major eras, including the days of slavery and the phosphate trade. If you’re lucky you’ll meet Colville Petty, the museum curator and founder, and garner some of his unique insight on Anguillan history.

The village of Monticello just outside of L’Île-Rousse would be worth a visit just for its wonderful coastal views, which come courtesy of its perch 213 meters (700 feet) above the sea. Like many towns here in the Balagne region it’s also known for a gorgeous church: Saint-François-Xavier, which has two fine Baroque chapels. Further down a mountain road that passes through groves of olive trees, Santa-Reparata is a village with another handful of historic churches and chapels.

When I stepped into the grand lobby of Québec’s Le Château Montebello, I felt like I was entering Paul Bunyan’s living room. Giant timbers braced a three-story-high ceiling, and a massive fireplace in the center radiated warmth in all directions. After checking in, I joined the guests gathered around the six-sided hearth and sank into a leather club chair. I spent the rest of the day by the fire, sipping hot toddies and napping, as the comfort of the crackling flames sent me and the other fireside dozers snuggling deeper into our cushions. I had come to ski some of the 65,000 acres of wooded backcountry that neighbor the resort, but the château was so welcoming, I found it hard to leave.


Often described as the world’s largest log cabin, the lodge and two other main buildings were constructed in 1930 from 10,000 red cedar logs and 500,000 handmade wooden shingles. The houses and the vast surrounding forests were long owned by the politically prominent Papineau family, and until 1970, the estate remained a private nature retreat for Canada’s upper class. As I walked through the château’s halls, the intricately carved banisters and exposed beams reminded me of the great western lodges in the U.S. national parks—only without any grumpy tourists demanding to know where the animals are.

In the guest rooms, deluxe amenities such as flat-screen TVs and rain-dome showerheads upstaged anything found in Yellowstone or Yosemite. Despite the modern perks, rawhide lampshades and other rustic details helped my suite retain its frontier appeal. When I got up to pull the plaid drapes closed that night, I watched a horse-drawn sleigh pass by, glowing in the moonlight against the dark ribbon of the frozen Ottawa River.

Without fresh snow to ski the next morning, I was left to explore the lodge’s other activities. I opted out of getting scrubbed with maple sugar at the spa or unsuccessfully flirting with French-Canadian women by the fire, and instead devoted the day to learning the inscrutable rules of curling. The château has an indoor ice rink dedicated to the sport, a national favorite that’s best described as a combination of shuffleboard and falling down a lot. My instructor was Henri, a kindly sexagenarian who, like many in Québec’s western Outaouais region, seemed more comfortable speaking French than English. As it turns out, kindly reassurance sounds the same in either language. But as my backside repeatedly hit the ice, Henri’s patient polyglot insistence that I was doing “une belle job” grew progressively less convincing.

After my rough-and-tumble day, I dined in the white-tablecloth Aux Chantignoles restaurant. Québecois cuisine dominates the menu, and I followed a dinner of tender venison osso buco with a slice of Québec’s famously sweet and jiggly sugar pie—think pecan pie sans pecans. Snow fell just in time for me to ski through the nearby forest on my last day. I spent a long afternoon there, gliding among stands of birch, pine, and spruce in the rolling Laurentian Highlands. Now and again, I paused to admire one of the countless frozen lakes, their smooth surfaces dotted with tracks left by moose and white-tailed deer. I skied in the silent wilderness until just after sunset. As the scent of a wood fire began to tickle my nose, I grew eager to cozy up by the hearth again. I turned back toward the château’s stone chimney, its rising plume of smoke signaling for my return.
This appeared in the November/December 2010 issue.