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There are many secrets and many stories hidden beneath Pune’s bustle, waiting for you to uncover them on this fascinating three-hour walk. Duck into narrow alleyways—some forgotten by time, others stuck in a time warp—to uncover medieval royal courts, ancient temples, erstwhile aristocratic dwellings, and aging bazaars. You have 2,000 years of history at your disposal, and a well informed volunteer guide to lead the way. If historical facts and dates aren’t your thing, join the walk for a look at the pace of life in old Pune, where the new jostles with the old, and the old with the ancient. A number of families continue to inhabit their ancestral homes in the old core, particularly in the wadas of Pune. A wada is a traditional residential structure. It consists of two or more floors with multiple rooms built around one or more inner courtyards. The more ornate wadas belonged to wealthy families (merchants, aristocrats, and so on), while the simple ones were designed as community housing, with many families living there. The walk ends at one of Pune’s most well known wadas, Vishrambaug Wada.

Blink and you’ll miss this tiny Indian-run eatery serving eclectic international fare between Mitte and Prenzlauer Allee along the trendy Kastanienallee. Notable for its upside-down McDonald’s sign (hence the “W” in the name; Der Imbiss means “The Snack”), the restaurant consists of a service window and a few brightly colored tables, and has quirky Hawaiian and African decor. The food is not only cheap and tasty but also healthy and diverse, pulling off an ambitious mix of Mexican, Californian, Indian, and Italian influences. It’s most famous for naan pizzas—Indian naan breads baked in the venue’s tandoor, with pizza-esque toppings from olives and cheese to artichokes and salmon. The menu also includes filling Indian thali platters, soups and salads, and Mexican-style wraps.

I’m generally more of a details guy, but now and again there’s a place for a high-level, 30,000 foot view of a place (and cheesy sociology jargon). Kota Bharu’s massive central market is not for the feint of heart - or the vegetarian. The central section, depicted here, is generally where you’ll find standard fruits and veggies. If you wander deeper into the bowels of the complex, you’ll find a rather intense wet market (men chopping beef flanks like a lumberjack would fell an oak, pig intestines hung like festive garlands, and unscrupulous vendors hawking sea turtle eggs). We visited with a few travel friends, and I think I was the only one from the group who could handle the sensory assault. I found parts of this market particularly disturbing (just a whole lot of things going on I’m not used to seeing anyplace else), but as a travel experience - whoa, yeah. I’ll never forget this one. I must have shot more than 400 photos in the couple of hours I dragged our party through this complex. I’ll focus on the details in a future post.

Soak up the endless horizon on this 15k tramp alongside Lake Wanaka. Why is this worth your Kiwi time? The rolling and winding track that follows the lake’s edge provides an unobstructed and ridiculous view of the snowcapped mountain tops (head over in spring for sunny skies and cool winds). Park your car in one of the lakefront car parks in town and head clockwise along the lake. You’ll pass Waterfall Creek and the small Damper Bay before you reach Glendhu Bay. The only thing that is missing here are sculptures of hobbits, dwarves, and trolls (just saying).

The Durian is fondly known as the king of fruits in Southeast Asia. It’s a fruit that the locals love, but that many outsiders find to be an acquired taste. In fact, Andrew Zimmern, the presenter of the Travel Channel’s Bizarre Foods, (the guy who eats the world’s craziest and weirdest things) can’t stand durians. The name durian comes from the Malay word “duri,” which means “thorns.” Cutting open a durian is an art. You have to cut along certain lines created by the thorns, which are barely visible. If you get it wrong, it would be tough to open. Once cut, you use your palms to push apart the insides to reveal the yellow flesh. The smell of the durian is strong enough to make you salivate or faint, depending on which side of the fence you are on regarding it’s taste. If you’re ever in Malaysia, you must give it a try. Who knows? You could end up liking something that Andrew Zimmern himself can’t stomach!

The crumbling architecture of Stone Town is a UNESCO World Heritage site, and the town’s carved doors are one of its most recognizable features. I spent a lot of time searching for the door of Swahili merchant Tippu Tip, a notorious 19th-century slave and ivory trader who grew fabulously wealthy from his exploits in the interior of Africa. He showcased his wealth by slapping Stone Town’s most elaborately carved door on the front of his mansion in the mysteriously named Suicide Alley. If you can find Suicide Alley (it’s unmarked, near the Shangani Post Office in Stown Town), keep your eyes on the ground: the alternating black-and-white tiles of Tippu Tip’s front stoop might be the first thing you see. The house is now inhabited by several families, so be respectful when taking pictures and exploring the area.

I expected to see many things in Iceland but had no clue there were reindeer there too. I guess I should have done my homework on the fauna better :). It was a lovely surprise to see them though close to Djúpivogur. There was an entire herd of them grazing right by the ocean which I have never seen before.

What started as one man’s simple hobby has turned into a Houston landmark that attracts visitors from across the country: The Beer Can House. Back in 1968, owner John Milkovisch, a retired upholsterer for Southern Pacific Railroad, realized he really enjoyed drinking beer but was tired of throwing his cans away. Instead, he decided to recycle them as decorations for his house, from aluminum beer-can siding to beer can garland that hangs from the roof’s edge. Now, 50,000 cans later, it’s a stunning work of art that stands as a testament to, well, beer. Admission is $5; children 12 and under are free. From June through August, the Beer Can House is open Wednesdays through Sundays from 12-5pm. From September through May, it’s open Saturdays and Sundays from 2-6pm. The Beer Can House is closed on most major holidays.

Frenchmen Street is, more or less, the local-music version of Bourbon Street. It also has its share of tourists trundling about with go-cups in hand, but they’re drawn more by the music than the drink. Plan to spend an evening (things start to pick up around 8 p.m., earlier on weekends) along a three-block stretch of small, informal clubs where there’s often no cover (give generously and give often when the bucket comes around), or at most $5 or $10. Notable clubs include the Spotted Cat, the Maison, Blue Nile, D.B.A., the Apple Barrel, and Snug Harbor. Earlier in the evenings, there’s often an impromptu brass band at the corner of Chartres and Frenchmen. Between sets, take a moment to browse the night art markets, the largest of which is next to the Spotted Cat.

Why we love it: A grand resort with subtle style and top-notch amenities

The Highlights:
- Stylishly minimal guest rooms with balconies and deep-soaking tubs
- An infinity pool overlooking the Dead Sea
- Impeccable service from an expert staff

The Review:
There’s a tendency among high-end hotels in the Middle East to overwhelm guests with bling. The Kempinski Hotel Ishtar, the grandest of all the Dead Sea resorts, does things a little differently, impressing visitors with its architecture instead. The hotel’s Babylonian-style buildings loom large, but inside the decor is dialed back to the point of almost minimal. Walls disappear into expanses of glass, framing dramatic views over the sea, while shady balconies and sunken baths keep ostentatiousness at bay. There are plenty of pools, lagoons, and waterfalls of course, plus a private beach, a luxurious spa, and a handful of restaurants, but your first impression, as someone hands you a glass of cold hibiscus juice at check-in, is that this is a hotel that gets the details right.

Few burger joints have a backstory as quintessentially L.A. as Monty’s Good Burger. Koreatown’s first all-vegan restaurant, the In-N-Out-style hole-in-the-wall serves Impossible burgers on vegan buns with lettuce, tomato, Follow Your Heart “cheese,” and a faux thousand island sauce, plus creamy shakes, loaded tots, and not-so-secret menu picks like Dog Pile loaded fries or tots (check their Instagram for the latest options). Before it was a bright blue exclamation point on the corner of Western and 5th, Monty’s was a Coachella food stall debut with a queue that gave founders Lexie Jiaras (USC class of 2017), Max Angles, and Dennis Gomez an idea. Now, Monty’s—named after Jiaras’ Maltese—is full steam ahead, with locations in Riverside and Echo Park and an Instagram following of over 100k. The food itself is especially tasty—if a bit pricey. But you pay for quality, and the locally sourced, organic ingredients deliver a cruelty-free burger that tastes pretty dang close to the real thing.

Steps away from Mérida’s prestigious mansion- and monument-lined Paseo de Montejo, this residence turned boutique hotel is a stylish retreat full of Instagrammable moments. Colonial-era details like wooden antiques, wrought-iron chandeliers, and exposed ceiling beams are sprinkled throughout the seven guest rooms, but modern comforts keep things current—think bathrooms with organic toiletries and rain showers illuminated by skylights. There’s plenty of tile flooring and colorful art on the walls, but the most scenic spots are the breezy colonnaded patios that overlook the hotel’s lush outdoor spaces. Head to the tranquil pool area to while away the time with a good read or an expertly crafted cocktail in one of the hammocks that swing beside the water. The next best seat in the house? You’ll find it on the breakfast patio, overlooking the palm-dotted garden. A seat at the granite-topped bar isn’t too shabby either, with personable bartenders serving up a wide variety of top-quality tequilas.

The first thing guests notice as they approach the 600-acre Rio Perdido ecolodge is a large wood-and-steel rotunda that, from a distance, resembles a flying saucer, an award-winning design that houses the resort’s open-air restaurant, bar, and spa. The bungalows are just as stylish: 30 prefabricated cubes are suspended on seven pylons (no trees were cleared during the building process) and feature an airy, modern aesthetic, with twin rolling beds, brass fixtures, and terraces with hammocks sited for gentle breezes. Larger suites are moodier and more romantic, with walls of singed wood and volcanic-stone floor tiles. Soak in the property’s natural springs, which are heated by the activity of nearby Miravalles Volcano, then choose your own adventure. If you’ve worked up an appetite hiking, tubing, or canyoneering, the restaurant serves satisfying Costa Rican casados (rice dishes) and ceviches, which guests can arrange to enjoy from a platform that sits 160 feet above the river that gives the property its name.

It’s not quite Providenciales’s celebrated Grace Bay—the Atlantic surf rolls in with a little too much force for that—but North Beach, on remote, undeveloped Salt Cay, is one of the prettiest stretches of sand in all of the Turks and Caicos. Salt Cay also has the advantage over its more famous counterpart in that just about the only thing on it is the tiny Castaway, whose guests almost always have miles of pure white sand and turquoise ocean entirely to themselves. About a mile and a half from “town” lies a scattered settlement of fewer than 150 people who make up most of the island’s residents. Castaway, which consists of four suites in two beachfront cottages, offers a Crusoe-like experience, except with private dining and Wi-Fi. Each suite has a king bed, to which two more single beds can be added, a full kitchen, and a deck where in season it is possible to watch migrating whales parade by.

Nicer than your average hostel, cooler than the typical chain hotel—this buzzy hybrid offers hostel-style dorms and more traditional accommodations in a 1930s Art Deco building on Reykjavik’s main drag. Designed by hotelier-owner Klaus Ortlieb (of New York’s Gotham Hotel and London’s Claridge’s), the hostel rooms are simple but smart, featuring metal-frame bunk beds, designer armchairs and sofas, and wood tables. The 18 hotel rooms are much more impressive, with elegant coffee-and-cream color schemes, king-size beds draped in Lissadell linens, and en suite bathrooms with C.O. Bigelow products. Most also come with private balconies that look out over colorful rooftops and mountain landscapes. The old-fashioned lobby and bar area—which is strewn with antique furnishings, exotic wall hangings, and leather sofas and armchairs—is a popular hangout for the city’s bright young things, but if you’re looking for something more low-key there’s an on-site movie theater with a carefully chosen selection of Icelandic films.