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Inside the historic Glen Helen Homestead, an old cattle station set along the Finke River—possibly the oldest river in the world—is a restaurant dedicated to Albert Namatjira, the late Aboriginal landscape painter who grew up nearby. Namatjira Gallery Restaurant serves such outback fare as crocodile spring rolls, barramundi with apples and potatoes, and pepper steak in a dining room covered in Namatjira’s windswept masterpieces.

Among vacationers who’ve been coming to Grand Cayman forever, there’s a whole faction that essentially camps out at Rum Point all day every day, and you’ll understand why as soon as you see the place. Tucked away, super low-key, and graced with a ridiculously photogenic pier—its perfectly weathered planks cutting a striking figure against the tranquil, turquoise surroundings—this beach is the ultimate spot for settling into a lounger or hammock between water-sports outings. Rum Point’s namesake booze—which used to wash ashore by the barrel, according to legend—is available in all manner of cocktails here, of course. But order at least one mudslide at its spiritual birthplace: the beach’s beloved Wreck Bar.

No matter what kind of getaway you have in mind, you can find a guestroom to fit at Castle Hill Inn. Rooms in the main house vary in size and décor, but each is kitted out for romance with a fireplace, a king-sized bed, oversized tubs, and windows looking over the water and expanses of lawn. The Turret Suite, a bi-level space, has a bedroom on the first level; on the top floor, a soaking tub on a raised floor takes advantage of the 320° wrap-around windows. Below the main house, the Harbor House’s modern guestrooms feature front-porch views of Newport Bridge and the hotel’s Grace Kelly Beach. At the far end of the 40-acre property, the Beach Cottages and Beach Houses are set along the private beach, offering views that take in both the mansions along Ocean Drive and the wild Atlantic itself. The cottages, slightly smaller and closer to the beach, have peaked ceilings with rafters. The airy Beach Houses, compactly outfitted with galley kitchens, sunny decks, ceiling fans, fireplaces, and curated shelves of books, cast a kind of never-leave spell.

In an age when many independent bookstores have surrendered to the advance of chain stores and Amazon, City Lights is a true survivor. Since it was founded by poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti in 1956, it has served as a gathering place for San Francisco’s literary communities. Everyone from beat poets to left-wing critics of America have found a welcome here. City Lights is also a publishing house, with Allen Ginsberg’s Howl and Other Poems being perhaps the single most famous book it has put out, though it counts scores of other works by some of America’s leading contemporary literary figures on its list. You can drop in anytime to find an unexpected tome, and the store also has a crowded calendar of readings.

If, like most visitors, you head for Tucson between Thanksgiving and Easter, you’re probably seeking sun and warmth while the rest of the country deals with the winter blahs. And you’ll most likely find what you’re looking for. There’s a reason why golfers, cyclists, hikers, and runners flock to southern Arizona this time of year. But, once or twice a decade, the lush Sonoran desert might get a snowfall—it never lasts for long, but every saguaro, ocotillo, cholla, and prickly pear cactus will be edged in ephemeral white. As soon as the sun comes up over the mountains, you’ll start hearing the drip drip drip of the inevitable melting...And by the next day you’re likely to be wearing shorts again. Saguaro National Park, which flanks both the western and eastern edges of Arizona’s second-largest city, is the ideal place to go for a hike in the rare desert snow. The Eastern (Rincon Mountain) division of the park has a hilly eight-mile one-way loop road with access to numerous trails. Drive slowly and yield to the runners and senior-citizen-cyclists-in-spandex with thighs of steel. Get out and up into the saguaro-studded hills before the unlikely landscape disappears...Keep your eyes open for bobcats, mule deer, and the pig-like javelina. (You’re less likely to encounter a rattlesnake in the winter months, but this is still desert wilderness.) And if there’s no snow, you might be treated to spring wildflowers. Don’t forget your sunscreen...

Every detail at this former farm has been carefully executed to highlight the spectacular setting, a nature preserve near Norway’s southwest coast. The hotel’s nine wood cabins hover atop metal rods discreetly drilled into boulders above the Valldøla River—the architects’ solution for securing hard-to-get government permits while leaving the land virtually untouched. Purposefully spare yet stylish, each is furnished with only a bed and a couple of lounge chairs next to a wall of glass that encourage quiet meditation on the beauty of the Valldal valley and snow-capped mountains beyond. The concept continues in the spa, which is perched on a bluff overlooking the river and features a small outdoor hot tub and glass-enclosed steam room. Meals are served at a long communal table in a renovated cow barn; though breakfasts are included (the smoked salmon is to die for), three-course dinners are extra but worth the splurge thanks to locally foraged and sourced ingredients such as reindeer steaks.

You might expect austerity and modesty at a kaiseki restaurant in Kyoto, but that’s not what you’ll find at this remarkable jewel box of a place secreted away inside the South Congress Hotel. Brightly illuminated white panels with black stripes surrounding the 12-seat dining room echo Japanese shoji screens. The room looks like something out of a Stanley Kubrick film, and knife-wielding chef Yoshi Okai plays to the design with mischief and edginess. His menu of more than 20 dishes balances artistic presentation and bold flavor, from raw Japanese sea bream to jiggly mounds of Hokkaido uni. The dishes may look like something you’d get in Japan, but the colorful service from the tattooed chef (who moonlights as a rock-and-roll singer) feels uniquely Austin.

You could expect no less than to find a bustling fish market in a seaside town. Explore the isles of this market that houses fishermen and farmers alike and watch the morning’s catch being descaled right in front of you.

Wing Lei was the first Chinese restaurant in the United States to receive a Michelin star, and this upscale eatery still is going strong. Chef Ming Yu’s menu mixes Cantonese, Shanghainese, and Sichuan flavors. Perhaps the most famous dish of all is the tableside-carved Imperial Peking Duck, which is both tender and crispy. Other entrées celebrate tradition but offer a new focus, like the wok-fried Maine lobster. Even the tea selection is exquisite—Jasmine Pearl and Tung Ting Oolong are among the varieties typically found only in China. The dining room is a sight to behold: The gold-and-red space draws inspiration from elements of classical Chinese architecture. The restaurant also has a view of a private garden with pomegranate trees and a golden dragon.

This beautiful Parisian cemetery is on the Boulevard de Menilmontant and next to the Metro station Philippe August, in the 20th arrondissement. Upon entrance to the main gate, grab a map so not to get too lost. The art work on the memorials and the stories behind the names on the headstones inspire a mood of great tragedy and romance. The locals call it the la cite des morts (the city of the dead). The cemetery makes the ideal place to explore if you’ve seen a lot of Paris before and want to dig a bit deeper. Seek out the tombs of 1) Oscar Wilde (for all of those declarations and kisses left behind); 2) Georges Rodenbach, a Belgian writer and poet of the 19th century with a breathtaking tomb; 3) Victor Noir, who became more famous in death (by duel) than life. Seek the answer to the riddle of why his tomb is seen as good luck for fertility You’ll also see the gravesite of Gertrude Stein and Alice Toklas, buried side by side in a testament to their love. The list of the celebrity dead goes on and includes Gericault, Piaf, Chopin, Heloise and Abelard. Even Jim Morrison. An afternoon here is guaranteed to leave you grateful for the treasures you found but weren’t expecting.

This unusual contemporary art museum is located in a series of dimly lit caverns and tunnels built into the side of a cliff in Berriedale, a Hobart suburb. Inside, mind-bending installations include a stinky model of the human digestive system that poops daily at 2 p.m. Founder David Walsh, a professional gambler turned art maverick, displays more than 400 edgy works from his private collection. The new Pharos wing that debuted in late 2017 is heavy on light spaces by James Turrell. MONA also stages two standout annual festivals: Mona Foma (which stands for Festival of Music and Art, sometimes further shortened to Mofo) in January, curated by Brian Ritchie of the rock band Violent Femmes, and Dark Mofo, the disturbing winter version held in June.

When it comes to Kindred, you can forget your preconceived notions of vegan restaurants. The South Park spot features killer cocktails, filling food, and an edgy design, complete with a coffered ceiling, a white-marble bar, and a demon-wolf-head sculpture mounted on the wall. Pair the refreshing Place of Certainty (vodka, elderflower, Aperol, lemon, Thai basil, winter melon bitters, and cucumber) with Kindred’s take on the charcuterie board (smoked golden beets, kale pesto, and red-chili-and-orange-fennel seitan), or order something more substantial, like the beet risotto or the seared cauliflower steak with squash puree and steak sauce. The restaurant also offers an excellent weekend brunch with everything from cinnamon rolls and banana bread French toast to pancakes with bourbon butterscotch.

It’s not that vegetarians aren’t welcome at Costa Mesa restaurant Vaca. It’s that they may not feel the same unbridled excitement as those who enjoy expertly prepared meat and seafood. The innovative lunch and dinner hot spot owned by former Top Chef contestant Amar Santana celebrates Spanish cuisine, from Andalusia, Seville, Madrid, Barcelona, and the Basque region to be precise. The call at lunch is the $28 three-course prix fixe, which changes weekly. Dinner brings an almost paralyzing array of decisions: unparalleled dry-aged rib eye (the restaurant’s name, after all, is Spanish for “cow”), seafood paella, or a collection of tapas such as sea urchin with scrambled eggs, served in the spiky shell with caviar. To accompany it, pick from one of the three drinks on tap: a house vermouth, a red sangria, or a signature gin cocktail named after the restaurant. Tucked between the Segerstrom Center for the Arts and the South Coast Plaza, the restaurant is great for preshow dinner or post–shopping spree lunch. Pro tip: If you’re with a group, request a circular booth; if you’re a pair, go for the heated patio or the bar.

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.

Surely one of the most extraordinary imperial relics of Morocco, the Palais Bahia (“the brilliant”) doesn’t disappoint. Built at the start of the 19th century by architect El Mekki for Si Moussa, the then chamberlain of Sultan Hassan I, the palace showcases a wide range of architectural styles hinting at the chamberlain’s playful spirit, especially after his son inherited it and added his own brand of flamboyant glamour to the place. Women’s quarters bedecked with crimson-and-mustard–striped ceilings, a marble-tile courtyard the size of a soccer field, and extensive salons lined by stained-glass windows are just some of the features of the 20-acre space. In 1912, General Lyautey, the governor of French protectorate Morocco, moved in and added creature comforts such as fireplaces and central heating. In so doing, he attracted a number of illustrious guests, among them the writer Edith Wharton. She described the palace this way: “They came, they built the Bahia, and it remains the loveliest and most fantastic of Moroccan palaces. Court within court, garden beyond garden, reception halls, private apartments, slaves’ quarters, sunny prophets’ chambers on the roofs, and baths in vaulted crypts, the labyrinth of passages and rooms stretches away over several acres of ground.” Follow Wharton’s lead and don’t miss it.