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Chef Jorge Vallejo spent time in the kitchen at Pujol before he and wife Alejandra Flores opened Quintonil, giving the former boss a run for his money. Their place, too, has become a fixture on best-restaurants lists, and is changing how people understand Mexican food. Taking its name from a weed that not long ago “decent” Mexicans wouldn’t dream of eating, Quintonil seeks to rescue and preserve discarded Mexican ingredients—particularly heirloom vegetable and herbal varieties—as part of the progressive and sustainable eating program it so elegantly advocates. Menus change seasonally, but a recent bill of fare included an avocado tartare with ant eggs and quelite-herb chips; chilacayote squash in mole with basil; and a rich chocolate-and-pinole-flour parfait. A tasting menu of Neronian proportions is also available.

Also known as the Papenoo Valley, the Maroto Valley is a magical place once inhabited by ancient Polynesians. If you go with a guide -- I recommend Marama Tours -- you’ll be able to learn about the history of the area as well as learn to forage like they did in the past. The above photo is of a local fruit called noni, whose juice gets rid of mosquito bite itch. A few other natural remedies the group learned include lime can be a deodorant, coconut juice aids digestion and taro is good for strong bones and teeth.

I’m not sure exactly how Rainbow Beach got its name, though I wouldn’t be surprised if it actually had a lot to do with rain. The island’s most popular beach bar, especially on Sundays, is centrally located on St. Croix’s West Coast, some of the island’s tallest peaks and dense rainforest just a few miles behind it. Prevailing weather patterns, particularly during the summer months, make brief afternoon showers a fairly regular occurrence here. That doesn’t stop the party, though. Live bands play on and everyone keeps dancing. When you’re already wet from the sea and feeling the vibes, a little rain doesn’t hurt one bit.

Opened in 2004, the Leeum, Samsung Museum of Art seeks to bridge the past, present, and future of art. The sleek complex consists of two wings, one dedicated to traditional Korean works and the other to international contemporary art. The traditional wing is shaped like a reverse cone, with a spiraling walkway that winds through galleries of ancient paintings, calligraphy, and crafts. In stark contrast, the glass-and-steel contemporary wing was built without supporting posts, encouraging viewers to move freely among distinctive works by Basquiat, Olafur Eliasson, and Takashi Murakami. The experience continues outside on the parking lot deck, where there is a polished sculpture garden.

Hidden behind unassuming doors, this 17th-century palace provides respite from the frenetic bustle of the medina without sacrificing sense of place. The property hits all the right Moroccan style notes: there’s plenty of arabesque-patterned tiling and a lush courtyard complete with tinkling fountain and fragrant citrus trees. But the classic interiors also have contemporary flair—see the chrome lamps, cement-hued tadelakt baths, and leather furnishings in the eight guest rooms, or the panoramic rooftop and on-site restaurant, which not only serves local Fassi fare but also offers free cooking classes that begin with a trip to the market. For an alternate take on tradition, guests head to the hotel’s candlelit Carrara marble hammam, which uses indigenous ingredients like ghassoul clay from the Atlas Mountains, black-olive soap, and argan oil for its soothing pamper sessions.

There isn’t much to do in Laborie, but the colorful spot on the southwestern coast offers visitors the experience of an authentic St. Lucian fishing village. The point is to slow down to local speed. Enjoy the views of the white-sand shore lined with pirogues, the traditional fishing canoes. Walk around the village, where plywood homes and ancient churches exist alongside newer structures. Whet your appetite with a trip to the open-air market, where you’ll spot green figs (bananas) and cassava bread for sale. Settle in for a grilled lobster lunch with a side of breadfruit at Mama Tilly’s. Then walk north along the water to Rudy John Beach Park, a shaded stretch of sand ideal for an afternoon nap and sunset.

A city of red-tiled rooftops, pine- and cypress-shaded hills, and sparkling turquoise waters, the Old Town of Dubrovnik stuns with both its architecture and scenery. Its surrounding stone walls, built between the 11th and 13th centuries to protect the city from war and epidemics, stretch for a full 1.3 miles, comprising an immense system of forts, bastions, and walkways that offer breathtaking views. Hike along them, then be sure to check out the Lovrijenac Fortress, built atop a 100-foot rock looking out toward Venice (Dubrovnik’s historic rival). The Old Town’s main street of Stradun, known locally as Placa, is also worth exploring. It’s especially nice in the late afternoon, when the sun shines off the historic buildings and swallows soar in the blue sky above.

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.

This luxurious restaurant next to the venerated Cafe Gerbeaud has been around for a decade but its combination of tradition and innovation remains as on point as ever. Chef Ádám Mészáros has earned a Michelin star with his intriguing takes on meats and seafoods, often served in six- and eight-course tasting menus with well-chosen wine pairings. The Hungarian degustation menu, for example, offers modern takes on local specialities, like beef stew. The dark-hued, comfortable interior, complete with gilt chairs, marble statues, chandeliers, and brocade wallpaper, as well as the impeccable service (not a given in this part of the world) invites guests to linger, and we highly recommend you do.

Spread across 220 acres of coastal valley, the Ojai Valley Inn opened in 1923, originally commissioned by an early 20th-century glass tycoon. With white stucco and terra-cotta buildings, the mission-style retreat looks like a dreamy California village wedged between the Pacific Ocean and the Topatopa Mountains. Luxurious spa penthouses are ultra-private, and their location in the Spa Ojai building gives guests an easy route to their warm Himalayan salt stone massage or sound energy therapy treatment. The Hacienda Penthouse, atop a hillside villa, brings an air of Morocco to the California landscape. Wallace Neff Historic Rooms, built in the early days of the property, offer the relaxed glamour of that era. Days can be as peaceful or as action-packed as you like and may include golfing at the Ojai Country Club, blending essential oils in the on-site apothecary, lounging next to one of the property’s several pools, hiking, horseback riding, or indulging in retail therapy at two on-site boutiques. Olivella serves traditional and modern interpretations of Italian cuisine, while The Oak’s dishes highlight the resort’s herb garden. Pro tip: Order the signature lavender lemonade.

Throughout his life, African-American artist Noah Purifoy reimagined junk as art, using found materials to create sculptures inspired by Southern California’s culture and landscape. Some of his best-known pieces were made out of charred debris from the 1965 Watts riot, and he worked tirelessly to bring art programs into the local community and prison system. Then in the late 1980s, Purifoy moved to the desert, where he spent the last 15 years of his life creating his original and distinctive magnum opus: a series of large-scale sculptures sprawled across 10 acres of sandy red earth in the Mojave. The space redefines the notion of a museum, with an atmosphere that’s both meditative and reminiscent of Mad Max. While the found items are evident upon close inspection, the impact of the pieces themselves—with such titles as “The White House,” “Band Wagon,” and “Ode to Frank Gehry”—is deeply moving. The museum is open all day and free (though donations are encouraged), but you can also schedule a one-hour group tour or a private tour with a docent. Pro tips: Visit as early as possible or at sundown to avoid the scorching heat and experience the place at its most picturesque. Bring water and watch out for snakes.

For much of its history, the western edges of Manhattan neighborhoods like the West Village and Chelsea consisted of small manufacturing buildings and warehouses that served the piers on the Hudson River. Over time, those factories were replaced with residential developments, and shipping largely moved out to Brooklyn and New Jersey. What remained, however, was an abandoned light-rail line, located above street level. After 10 years of lobbying the city, state, and federal governments, the first section of the High Line park opened in 2009. It now extends for 1.45 miles, from Gansevoort Street in the south to 34th Street at its other end. An innovative design by James Corner Field Operations uses native species to preserve some of the feeling the old rail line had when it was overgrown with weeds. It has quickly become one of New York’s most popular attractions, both with residents and visitors who stroll the length of it, as well as a model for other cities attempting to find new uses for old infrastructure.

While many walked through the streets of the small town, I decided to head along the river and came across this beautiful view of Lake Brienz.

To see the Panama Canal in person is to dive deeply into that nation’s history. Coming from the capital, the closest entry point is the Miraflores Visitor Center. Dedicate enough time to check out exhibitions that reveal why the waterway was built here and how the route shaped Panama’s international profile. Head outside to see how the canal works. The structure has several levels, and the third level is always crowded with visitors seeking photo ops. (There’s a restaurant on level four.) If you have time, the Agua Clara observation center on the canal’s Caribbean side offers views of newer, wider locks that opened in 2016.

Panama City’s seafood market stands near the halfway point along the Cinta Costera, so the goodies on offer can be your reward after a long walkabout. Since colonial times, fishermen who sold the city its seafood have anchored here; there’s now an up-to-date market home to nearly a score of open-air stalls where customers chow down on ceviche, fried corvina fish with patacones (fried plantain rounds), filete a lo macho (fish filet in a shellfish ragout), and those same patacones, now stuffed with shrimp or much-celebrated shellfish guacho (think a tropical risotto). Don’t expect anything ritzy: This is plastic-chair-and-table country, but the food is so delicious that you won’t be thinking about the ambience.