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If anything’s endemic to Orange County it’s surfing—there are 40 miles of coastline here, after all. It’s not hard to find passionate practitioners of the sport, but doing is one thing and teaching is very much another. For newbies or even intermediate surfers looking to get back on a board, La Vida Laguna’s approachable, confidence-boosting instructors are the surest way to success. In private and semi-private lessons, their goal is to ensure that their surf pupils—starting from age eight—stand up on a wave, of course, but they also want to create more ocean advocates in the process. Wave safety and selection plus etiquette training are part of the lessons, along with pop-up drills, positioning, and gentle pushes at Thalia Beach, which has consistently calm waves for beginners. Guides also lead stand-up paddleboard lessons, hikes, and kayak adventures (expect frequent sea life sightings), tailoring and combining experiences upon request. Appointments are necessary and can be made on the phone, online, or at the company’s historic Craftsman bungalow in downtown Laguna. Local tip: For fewer surfers in the water, book a couple lessons on weekdays during the winter season.

Located a few blocks from Courthouse Square and Whiskey Row in downtown Prescott, about 100 miles north of Phoenix, the Motor Lodge is ideal for a retro road trip. The 13-room lodge began life around 1910 as summer cabins. After a century of serving as all manner of accommodation, it was purchased in 2008 by Joe Livingston and Brian Spear, who set out to prove it had at least one more life as a modern boutique hotel, complete with comfy beds, tastefully eclectic decor, flat-screen TVs, and free Wi-Fi. One of the few hints that this is no longer an old-fashioned motor court is the bright yellow exterior doors and other splashes of color that suggest a more modern era. Still, there are throwbacks—some delightful (the room porches which are close enough together, and few enough in number, that chats with people who might otherwise remain strangers seem the neighborly thing to do) and some not so much (the tiny bathrooms in most of the rooms that would have passed without comment in earlier decades). Mostly, though, the two hosts seem to be striving for, and achieving, a hospitality that often becomes a guest’s strongest memory.

Mitla is located in the Oaxaca Valley, just a short distance from Oaxaca City. However you get there, it’s worth the visit. It’s not a large site; an hour and a half will be more than enough time to walk around. There are so many things that set Mitla apart from other ruins in Mexico. First off, it’s neither Maya nor Aztec. Its influence comes from the Zapotec and Mixtec cultures. It sits right on the desert floor, so cactus, desert scrub, and aloe plants punctuate the surrounding landscape rather than jungle. There are no pyramids to climb; the highest structure on the site probably has no more than 10 or so steps to get to the top. There are no stone sculptures or carved walls to be seen anywhere. Instead, the decoration on the buildings are beautiful geometric patterns created by inlaid and interlocked pieces of stone (grecas). Amazingly enough, no two walls have the same grecas, and on some of the walls, you can still see the original red-painted stone. Some of the walls and the cupolas of the San Pedro Church (built by the invading Spaniards) have been restored to their red-colored glory. The desert backdrop, the grecas, the pops of red color – it all adds up to a very special place!

Located in a former shoe factory, City Museum devotes 600,000 square feet and four levels to play for all ages. The museum was the brainchild of artist and entrepreneur Bob Cassilly—along with a crew of 20 artisans known as the Cassilly Crew—who constructed the space from objects found around the city, from construction cranes and fire trucks to church pipe organs, old airplanes, and plenty of reclaimed building materials. The result is a wonderfully weird and wacky museum that’s constantly evolving, depending on what’s been donated and collected recently. There’s a sky-high jungle gym, a rooftop Ferris wheel, an aquarium, and multi-story slides that once served as chutes for shoes. The museum has a “no map” policy to encourage exploration, but does advise visitors to bring their own flashlight—you never know what you’ll find in those dark caves.

High-elevation baking might not always (ahem) rise to the occasion...but at Clafoutis, the French family that owns and cooks at this bakery/restaurant has acclimated perfectly to the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. While it might be hard to tear yourself away from red-and-geeen-chile-on-everything while in New Mexico, if you do want to take a break from capsaicin for your morning eats, this is the place. Just to the northwest of the city’s historic core, Clafoutis is one of Santa Fe‘s morning institutions. You can get things to go, but if you wait for a table, you’ll be served café au lait in a bowl along with “Bonne Maman” jams to transform perfectly-textured baguettes into “tartines.” “Bonjour” greets you as you walk in the door, and your eyes will feast on the piles of pâtisseries beckoning from the counter. My wife and I had one of the best chausson-aux-pommes--in or out of France--that we’ve ever tasted. And, in a nod to local tastes, they even offered green chile to go with les oeufs... Be forewarned, though--parking is extremely limited, and weekend mornings are formidably popular. Un peu de patience: so worth the wait!

Esperanza, an Auberge Resort, sits on the southern tip of the Baja California Peninsula, offering guests exceptional views of the Sea of Cortéz. Each of the hotel’s 57 rooms faces the sea and Esperanza’s private beach but also offers access to four separate swimming pools. Hotel staff keep guests as busy as they want to be with a full schedule of activities, some of which are the usual Baja resort suspects like yoga lessons and cooking classes. A number of options are quite unique, however—book a master tequilero to teach you about the fine art of tequila appreciation, or take classes in Spanish, salsa, painting, and more. Guest rooms are gorgeous, with an earth-tone color scheme and fine, locally made handicrafts as decorative accents. Bathrooms in the casitas look out onto water, while villas have full kitchens and dining rooms.

Actually, the lobby of the Sapphire Hotel is as far as you’ll get when you visit these days. And for all intents and purposes, it’s far enough. The Sapphire maintains the edge its enjoyed since its inception in the early 1900s. Then a gathering place for the quirky and lightly mannered; cool before cool was cool, it now is the great-grandparent of PDX hip. The candlelit scene keeps the conversation low and the alcohol levels, therapeutic. With cocktails like: You’re Not My Real Dad, Retrosex, Winter Isn’t Coming and Floozie, what could possibly go wrong. The hotel rooms are long gone, but the kitchen still hangs around. The menu maintains a simplicity and charm of another era. An order of the salmon corn cakes with a Sapphire salad will easily sustain, but why stop there. Go for the fully-loaded Sapphire burger, have another pop and regroup for the ginger-vanilla bean creme brûlée. The best thing about the Sapphire is the hang time. It’s out on the bleeding edge of Hawthorne, so once you get out there, you’ll tend to want to linger. The atmosphere encourages it with a sharp wait staff supported by bartenders that roll the dice to delver concoctions you can’t get just anywhere. Happy hour tends to evolve into happy evening, even happy night. I’d say it was a gem, but that would be stating the obvious.

Are the Dutch so tall because they consume so much dairy? Hard to say, but the important thing is that delectable cheese made from the milk of cows and sheep grazing on lush pastures in Holland is sold throughout Amsterdam. Netherlanders have been making cheese since 400 C.E. and the product is as synonymous with Holland as tulips, clogs, and windmills. The country is the world’s largest cheese exporter, with a dairy industry that generates around €7 billion annually. There are touristy cheese markets in Alkmaar, Hoorn, and Edam where old weighhouses form the backdrop for the traditional cheese trade. For Amsterdam visitors, shops like Henri Willig Cheese & More proffer everything from mild Gouda and mellow Edam to Boerenkaas (literally, farmers’ cheese), an artisanal raw-milk product. The mini chain of cheese manufacturer Henri Willig was founded in 1974 and now has six shops in the center city and six others elsewhere in Holland. Over 1 million customers visit Henri Willig annually for organic, goat, and smoked cheese, as well as Dutch specialties like Frisian clove cheese (made with low-fat milk, cumin, and cloves) and Leidse kaas, the piquant, cumin-scented variety from Leiden. Henri Willig shops also sell cheese graters, slicers, fondue sets, and other accessories, as well as sweets like Dutch drop (licorice), chocolate, and stroopwafels. An export division ships products to 25 countries. Stop in for a snack, as samples are always set out for hungry customers.

In the heart of old town Kapaa, the Olympic overlooks Main Street with laid-back Hawaiian style. Upstairs in an old building that’s been converted into a collection of ragtag shops, the cafe has a commanding presence. Park and wander along the street to make your way to the stairs leading up to the bar and cafe. No pretense upon arrival. The tables lining the open windows in front are choice for people watching and catching the breeze from the prevailing trades. Late afternoon sun streams in and heats things up but is a welcomed delight. There’s always something cold close by to help with the temperature regulation. The bar is a mix of locals and tourists. Happy hour is a draw from four to six with discounts on drinks and select appetizers. I’m a big fish fan when near the source and the fish tacos at the Olympic take the gold. Dressed with a mango salsa and sides of beans and rice, they use two kinds of fish to keep your tastebuds guessing. There is a good selection of island beers and all the fruity umbrella drinks you can imagine. It’s right on the Kapaa multi-use path, so you can cruise in on your beach bomber for a refreshing break. Staff are friendly and service is casually good. Worth a stop when trolling around Kauai for someplace to take a break from vacation.

Who knew Malta was so pretty? Well, I suppose the people who live there knew. I didn’t. There was, to be fair, a lot I didn’t know about Malta, including that the national language is actually Maltese, which sounds like no Mediterranean language you’ve ever heard. But one of the most unexpected delights were the narrow streets of the capital city, Valletta. The closed balconies that jut from almost every house are a major feature; they’re the first thing you see as you walk down Republic Street, the city’s main thoroughfare, where they are painted a uniform dark green. Meander away from the shops and into some of the smaller residential streets, and you will be rewarded with a wider palette. Bright reds and yellows, cornflower blues, pastel greens, and dusky pinks—it’s like something out of a fairy tale. Go feast your eyes.

Many islands have laws with steep fines against wearing beach wear when not on the sandy shoreline and while you may have heard of folks going au-naturel on St. Martin, that’s certainly not the norm throughout the region. On St. John, however, things were a little different. About a mile walk from a parking lot on the edge of Cruz Bay along what’s called the Lind Point Trail, through typical island bush and over a hill and down through more bush past a fork (where either choice gets you to the same place) intrepid travelers are rewarded with a tiny strip of sand, only around 25 yards long, unofficially known as the island’s only nude beach: Salomon Beach. I’ve been to this secluded sandy alcove a number of times and without fail the maximum number of sun worshipers was never above four or five. In fact, most times, the beach was deserted. So, for years this is where those with a passion for enjoying nature to the fullest could go to let it all hang out in relative privacy… Until recently. Since my last trip to Salomon Beach back in 2007, there’s been a crackdown on this unofficial naturist haven. Suddenly being a free spirit isn’t so free due to the stiffness of fines—around $110 for those caught with their pants down (so to speak). But, hey, doesn’t mean you can’t press your luck!

There are no boats here, where the Han River flows into the Yellow Sea--this is the watery mine-laden western limit of the DMZ. On a trip to Korea in the mid-1990’s, one of my uncles took us to visit Aegibong, a 500-ft.-high hill that presides over the estuary. From the top of the hill we could see across and into North Korea. The first thing that struck me was the lack of trees--the mountainsides are completely deforested, except for the inaccessible fringe of riverbank. As far as we could see on this clear early autumn day, the slopes above the golden rice paddies were denuded of trees. When the wind blew in the right direction, we could hear propaganda from the loudspeakers on the north bank. A few months later, Kim Il Sung would die, and the North Korean famine would intensify; it’s estimated that up to 1 in 10 North Koreans perished during the mid-to-late 1990’s...all of this while Seoul, just to the southeast of the scene in this photo, would continue to grow into one of the most vibrantly capitalistic cities anywhere... South Korea would morph into the most Internet-connected country in the world, while the North would devolve into a place where doctors have to scrounge in the hills for edible weeds...

A contemporary arts and crafts shop with an attached café in a lovely restored casona in Barranco. Dédalo, the brainchild of an artistic couple that studied arts and literature in Florence, features unique, carefully curated ceramics, glassware, toys, frames, clothes, jewelry and decorative pieces for all tastes.

We all have a mental image of upscale European alpine villages from countless spy movies and Vogue fashion shoots. There’s the little café with etched glass and women sipping Alsace with perfect hair and puffy parkas. The men are capable sorts, usually lean and well-traveled. Jet-setters, rich ski bums, and other dubious types mill around low-slung Citroëns with skis on the back, while the air feels charged with intrigue and adventure simmering under the laissez-faire insouciance. Sorta like the Arrabelle at Vail Square. “There’s no other place like this in North America that captures the iconic ambience of classic Old World European cities like Salzburg, Innsbruck, and Prague,” says John Dawsey, director of sales. “During the design phase, we really wanted to capture a feeling aligned with a cultured European central plaza.” The Arrabelle consists of 86 suites overlooking the town square, which converts into a skating rink in winter at the gondola base of Vail Mountain. The charm is in the details: working wood shutters, copper drainspouts, and subtle fairy-tale stenciling around the Bavarian Biedemeier-style architecture. The lobby’s windows are Czech, no less. Off the lobby, the Tavern is always buzzing with locals and visitors in the shadows sipping hot chocolate and Grand Marnier. The menu is meat-friendly. Try the Bone-in Veal Schnitzel with saffron risotto because that’s what spies and dangerous women eat.

Most people that backpack in the Maroon Bells Wilderness Area usually either go over West Maroon Pass to Crested Butte or go over Buckskin Pass and camp at Snowmass Lake. A lesser known lake is Willow Lake. With fewer visitors, this is a secluded backpacking trip where the lake feels like it is all yours. You still get the great views of the Maroon Bells because you are in the same area without the crowds of people. Head as if you were going to go to Buckskin Pass and when the path forks with signage toward Buckskin pass to the left, bear right and continue hiking. You could do this as a long day hike for the ambitious.