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The Pont St-Bénézet is so famous it even has its own song, “Sur Le Pont d’Avignon” (as the bridge is more commonly known). The last crossing on the Rhône between Lyon and the Mediterranean Sea, the 3,000-foot bridge was built between 1177 and 1185, using similar engineering to the Pont du Gard (one of the world’s most famous Roman aqueducts, just up the road). As legend has it, the process began when a young shepherd named Bénézet heard voices telling him to build the bridge, then carried a boulder down from the mountains and threw it into the water to lay the foundation. The bridge was later destroyed during a siege in 1226 and rebuilt in 1234 with 22 stone arches. Due to flooding, all that remains of it today are four arches, but it’s worth a visit for historical purposes. You can purchase one ticket for entry to both this UNESCO World Heritage site and the adjacent Palais des Papes.

The oldest winery in South Africa, Groot Constantia has a long history of producing some of the best wines in the world. Groot Constantia is also a rarity in its proximity to Cape Town itself. In the 19th century the European heads of state included wines from Groot Constantia in their cellars. Today the wine makers at this famous winery are still making their excellent wines and guests can visit for a full tasting. It’s also a great spot for a picnic, as long as you watch out for baboons. This is South Africa after all.

The world-famous Road to Hana hugs a jagged black lava shore. Just past mile marker 16 lies the Keanae Peninsula, where visitors can explore a traditional village, a stone church from 1856, and vast taro fields. The peninsula itself was formed by a massive lava flow from Haleakala, then softened by native Hawaiians, who carried soil down basket by basket to blanket the young rock. Today, the area is covered in lush greenery, which makes for an impressive sight against the turquoise sea and Maui’s famous North Shore waves. Before getting back on the road, be sure to stop at Aunty Sandy’s, one of the best banana bread stands along the Hana Highway, for a slice, a shaved ice, or a pork sandwich if you’re hungrier.

The Dubai Spice Souk is a traditional market located in Deira, near the famed Gold Souk. It’s easy to overlook the Spice Souk if you’re not looking carefully; tucked into alleyways off of Baniyas Street, the souk is small, but manages to pack a pungent punch. If you plan on purchasing spices – from cardamon to cumin to turmeric to nutmeg, and everything in between – be prepared to haggle. A good rule of thumb is to cut the vendor’s opening salvo in half, and then barter upwards from there until you reach a number you’re both comfortable with.

Unlike most hard-to-navigate Norwegian cities, the streets of downtown Kristiansand form a grid pattern known as kvadraturen. At the northern end lies Posebyen, Kristiansand’s old town, whose interconnected wooden houses occupy fourteen blocks. The best preserved building is the old post office, which dates back to 1695. For a self-guided walking tour, pick up a copy of the Kristiansand Guide from the tourist office at Rådhusgata 18, just a few blocks to the south. The residents who occupy this former commercial area are proud of their homes, so expect well-tended flower boxes and friendly greetings.

One of the oldest buildings on the Royal Mile, Gladstone’s Land stands as a tribute to tenement life in Edinburgh’s Old Town. It was once owned by merchant Thomas Gladstone, who extended and remodeled it to include opulently decorated apartments, attracting wealthy tenants like Lord Crichton and the minister of St Giles’ Cathedral. By the mid-1800s, however, only the city’s poorest residents remained in the Old Town, and the building fell into disrepair. It was rescued from demolition in 1934 by the National Trust for Scotland and today serves as a tourist attraction where visitors can learn about the fascinating—and sometimes scandalous—lives of the people who lived on property. Guests can also view rare, hand-painted Renaissance interiors dating from the 1620s; seek shelter under Edinburgh’s only surviving 17th-century arched store frontage (designed to protect shoppers from the weather); and admire the gilded bird of prey that hangs outside the house.

The Castelo de São Jorge, is one of the Alfama neighborhood’s most historically significant monuments. Plan a visit late in the afternoon so that you can explore every nook and cranny and learn about the castle’s abundant history. Stay for golden hour so that you can capture the light as it dances on the castle walls, and later to watch the sunset dip below the horizon.

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.

From the luxury Oetker Collection, Le Bristol is one of the first hotels in France to obtain Palace distinction. Occupying nearly an entire block on Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré near the Élysée presidential palace, this soulful property has been a gathering place for Parisians since 1925. The 190 guest rooms, which feel like private apartments, are decorated with precious fabrics, paintings, and 18th-century antiques. The on-site attractions include a spa by Le Prairie, a teak-lined pool resembling a yacht, and a courtyard garden fragrant with jasmine. For more than a decade, chef Eric Frechon has held three Michelin stars at Epicure, where menu fixtures include the macaroni stuffed with black truffle and foie gras. Frechon’s culinary dominions are a portal into French gastronomy itself: The hotel has its own chocolate factory, cheese cellar, flour mill, and boulangerie.

I’m not sure at what age humans develop the skill to stand still and appreciate scenery, but based on a scientific survey of kids who live in my house, it’s not age seven. (On a trip to the Canadian Rockies, as my wife and I snapped photos of the relentlessly picturesque mountains, my son, Luke, investigated how quickly he could break his toy helicopter.) Luke expects Mother Nature to be his playmate. At Bandelier National Monument, about an hour’s drive from Santa Fe, New Mexico, she is. The visitor center offers kids a booklet of activities that, when completed, earn them a Junior Ranger patch. (You could call it a bribe. We prefer the term incentive.) The scavenger hunt sent us off on the Main Loop Trail in search of birds, trees, and bugs, as well as the feature that sets Bandelier apart and makes it perfect for kids: cave dwellings. Ladders of salvaged wood lead to rooms that the Pueblo people carved out of the cliffs here over 800 years ago. “I don’t want to go up, Daddy,” Luke said. “It’s too steep.” “You’ve got this, buddy,” I said. “Just take it slow.” There were no lines of impatient parents pushing their children to race up the ladder. (We saw no more than 20 people on the trail.) Luke could climb the rungs at his own pace. He paused in triumph at the top, then set off to wander the caves. While Mom and Dad squatted—“Watch out for your bald head, Daddy”—Luke could explore without even hunching. After about 45 minutes, we were walking back toward the visitor center. We crossed a nearly dry creek by hopping hand in hand from one downed log to another and were back in time for lunch, before hunger, fatigue, or boredom could set in. It was a parent’s—and child’s—dream hike. This appeared in the August/September 2014 issue.

Located just off Main Street, the Washington School House Hotel eschews Park City’s typical rustic style for a pared-down, flea-market–chic aesthetic. Before being reimagined as a design-oriented inn in 2011, the 1889 building served as a schoolhouse for miners’ children and a dancehall for the local outpost of Veterans of Foreign Wars. Today, the interior is anything but traditional, from the whitewashed living room with 16-foot ceilings to the antique mirror and the white, lacquered antler chandelier. Outside, a heated pool sits on the hillside surrounded by aspens and boulders. There’s also a fire pit, fashioned from a steel Olympic torch from the 2002 Winter Games.

Each of the guestrooms and suites is unique, though all feature reclaimed wood floors, crystal chandeliers, and tall windows. An artful collection of European antiques and vintage paintings adds a bohemian vibe, while white marble bathrooms offer heated floors, walk-in showers, clawfoot tubs, and period fixtures. Guests can also look forward to plush hooded robes and top-notch toiletries from Molton Brown.

Vancouver’s most famous urban space, the thousand-acre Stanley Park, epitomizes everything that locals here love about the outdoors, and visitors have many ways to explore the expansive grounds. Hiking trails weave around totem poles and hemlock trees, while at the beaches, you can swim, people-watch and picnic. Rent a bike or a pair of in-line skates for a scenic ride along the Seawall, or wander through the many gardens where rhododendrons, azaleas and roses bloom.

One of Belize’s top chefs runs this beachfront restaurant at his resort, Parrot Cove Lodge, in Hopkins Village. In addition to its lovely alfresco atmosphere, you’ll enjoy a fine-dining experience that’s hard to find in Belize. Chef Rob’s four-course menu is made with locally sourced products of the day, and the menu is updated depending on what he found that day. Multicultural dishes, inspired by Maya, Garifuna, and Asian cuisines, include Thai-style pork, and shrimp and coconut soup. Reserve ahead with your preferred date, as tables tend to fill up quickly.

Just a 10-minute walk to the village from the Samedan train station will bring you to one of the best soaks in Switzerland: the Mineralbad & Spa Samedan, a day spa designed in 2010 by husband-and-wife architects Miller & Maranta, who built this compact yet incredibly spacious spa into the village’s tiny 12th-century plaza. Inside, a maze of watery caverns and tiled tunnels flicker with light while two relaxation rooms paneled with a fragrant, endemic pine tree prized for its calming properties, allow guests to take a snooze between soaks. The open-air rooftop bath is discreetly nestled under the 400-year-old Reformed Church clock tower—so close that the glockenspiel bells cause ripples in the water when they chime. The steamy 100-degree pool is an ideal place from which to watch glints of gold flash on the spines of the Rhaetian Alps when the sun sets.

The most enviable address in Waikiki, the beachfront Halekulani is all about restrained elegance and pitch-perfect service. The hotel dates back a century, though it was entirely rebuilt in the 1980s—and the room decor—fifty shades of white and plantation shutters framing the turquoise sea—complements the scene outside. The beach itself is small and usually mobbed, but the pool is a dream—a giant oval big enough for laps, and quiet enough (few kids here) for a long doze under your chaise’s umbrella. The grassy courtyards and seaside restaurants are just as improbably serene; some might say stuffy, but for others, the reliably hushed atmosphere is a welcome tonic to the hubbub of Waikiki, just outside the Halekulani’s marbled entrance.