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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.

A modest entryway opens onto a bright, colonial Mexico fantasia, complete with blue tiles, crisp white linen, colorful pottery, and would-be-viceregal artworks. Since 1912, Café de Tacuba has opened early and stayed up late to serve classic Mexican fare like enchiladas and chalupitas, excellent tamales, hearty breakfasts, a wide variety of soups, and even more-ambitious entrees, attracting an amenable congress of families, foreigners, work groups, and confidence-exchanging senoras. Order the café con leche for a smart jolt of showmanship; Spanish troubadours serenade the proceedings most nights and weekends. Maybe it’s your grandmother’s Mexico, but the old girl knew a thing or two.

“What better way to understand yoga than to travel to its birthplace?” says Katie Christ. Two years ago, the food stylist put her life in San Francisco on hold to spend two months studying at the Ramamani Iyengar Memorial Yoga Institute (RIMYI) in Pune, India. “It was the biggest luxury I have ever allowed myself.” Katie had been practicing Iyengar yoga, a style of hatha yoga that focuses on alignment and uses props like blocks and belts, for more than 10 years when she decided she wanted to study in India.

She applied to RIMYI, where the venerable B.K.S. Iyengar (above), the founder of Iyengar yoga, occasionally teaches with his son and daughter. “It’s not for the faint of heart,” says Katie. “There’s no music. No incense.” RIMYI requires each applicant to have eight years of Iyengar experience plus a letter of recommendation from his or her yoga teacher. Acceptance can take up to two years. The year before she attended, Katie traveled to Pune for two weeks to experience life in the city.

That first visit happened to coincide with B.K.S. Iyengar’s 90th birthday. “I had no Indian garb appropriate for the festivities, so I went shopping, and in one afternoon I saw so much. A woman making a rangoli, a traditional folk art design, let me try to draw one with colored powder on the street. At the market I saw a man whose sole job was to peel garlic bulbs. I tasted the most amazing chai, made by a chai wallah who used pliers to crush fresh ginger into a pot of milk with tea leaves and ground spices. I knew I wanted to stay. [On my second trip] these experiences would become part of my everyday routine.”

The institute doesn’t provide housing, so Katie used her first visit to find a flat to rent for her two-month stay. “I had the perfect commute: a 10-minute walk through a public garden where I would watch teens flirting on benches and women in saris and sneakers taking their morning power walks.” Classes were held six days a week: two-hour sessions led by a member of the Iyengar family and three hours of open practice each day, and an hour of pranayama (controlled breathing) once a week. “In open practice, I experienced incredible generosity from students who were advanced teachers,” says Katie. “If someone recognized that I was struggling, they would come over to help me achieve better alignment. Several times Geeta Iyengar [the daughter of B.K.S. Iyengar] called out to give me specific instruction.

I felt incredibly fortunate, considering there were up to 120 students in a class.” When she wasn’t in class, Katie and her Australian neighbors, all senior Iyengar teachers attending the institute, would hit the markets and seek out the best chai, Indian sweets, and chappals (sandals). On Sundays they took trips to sights like the ancient sculptures and paintings in the Ellora and Ajanta caves. Katie felt her body becoming stronger and her head becoming clearer with each passing day. “The goal of yoga is to calm the chatter of the mind. When I arrived I had tons of chatter,” she says. “After practicing so intensely every day for two months, the chatter became a murmur.”

From $450 for a one-month program, not including meals and accommodations. 91/(0) 20-2565-6134, bksiyengar.com. This story appeared in the January/February 2012 issue.

Opened as the Grand Hotel Royal in 1896, the luxurious Corinthia Hotel has a long and storied past. It was here that the first film was ever screened in Budapest, and the building weathered fires and war before relaunching in its most recent incarnation in 2004. Travelers who really want to learn about the hotel’s history can take one of two weekly tours with manager Tibor Meskál, who has worked on and off here since 1961. Though the original interiors were demolished long ago, the property nevertheless retains a regal atmosphere. Italian limestone, Spanish marble, and gilded molding lend a sense of grandeur in the Grand Ballroom, a marble lobby is accented with swirling golden filigrees in the flooring, and guest rooms feature warm wood furnishings and creamy palettes. Even the leisure facilities skew toward the opulent: the courtyard-style indoor swimming pool is topped with a stunning stained-glass ceiling.

This local favorite breakfast spot has quickly become Los Cabos’ worst-kept secret. Far removed from the main tourist zone, Restaurant Bar Campestre has for years catered to local businesspeople, families, and in-the-know visitors. Even after a renovation that upped seating capacity, it remains a no-frills flavor palace well worth the wait for a table and the effort to find it. Come early for a heaping serving of chilaquiles (strips of fried corn tortillas). They’re available with red or green sauce, and topped with chicken or steak. All the breakfasts pair perfectly with just-squeezed orange juice and cup after cup of fresh-brewed coffee.

You can’t come to Mexico without eating at least one, or 20, tacos. The Mexican staple has an addictive quality, especially with its many preparations at the legendary Tacos Gardenias in downtown Cabo San Lucas. This no-nonsense, frills-free taqueria has been around for more than three decades, perfecting family recipes that go beyond what you might expect. This being Baja, of course there are fish and shrimp varieties. Moving along, you’ll find shredded chicken, beef, carnitas (braised pork), cactus, chicharrón (fried pork rinds), and cochinita pibil (slow-roasted pork) iterations. There’s no wrong time to eat a taco, of course, so Gardenias opens early, at 8 a.m., with all the toppings on hand to get you eating.

Argentina is too vast a country to see on just one trip. But there’s a taste of real gaucho (i.e., Argentine cowboy) culture at the Mataderos Fair on the edge of town. For many, the main attraction is the various food stalls that hawk yummy, traditional comfort food. Try different versions of the ubiquitous empanada alongside delicacies from the provinces you won’t see on many in-town menus, like locro, a hearty stew with beans, corn, squash, and meat; or humita, a kind of Argentine corn-and-cheese tamale steamed in a corn husk; or the more familiar tamal, with meat instead of cheese. The fair runs on Sundays from 11 a.m. to 8 p.m. most of the year, or on Saturday nights starting at 6 p.m. in hot, sunny January and February.

Head to any Chinese park on a sunny afternoon or weekend and look up: Flitting through the sky, carried by the winds, are dozens of colorful kites. These are being flown by pint-size kids, laughing couples hand in hand, and smiling grandparents showing their prowess off to the next generation. Kites are delightfully old-school, and a handmade one is a wonderfully retro Beijing souvenir. For the best, head to Three Stone Kite, located within walking distance of the Forbidden City. This cheerful shop is chockablock with colorful kites—birds, fish, butterflies, and dragons, with frames made of bamboo. The Liu family has been making kites by hand for three generations, and what’s for sale here are works of art.

If the city has you overwhelmed, whether by its chaos or its abundance of choices, and you want to take refuge in the familiarity of a hotel bar, you can’t do much better than St. Regis’s King Cole Bar. Sit inside at the bar or on one of its loungers and enjoy live music with your drink, or—better yet—head out to the terrace, where you can watch traffic zip by on the city’s main avenue, Paseo de la Reforma. You’ll also be looking out upon the Diana the Huntress fountain, a snapshot-worthy landmark in this city that has no shortage of them. In fact, you can also see the Angel of Independence statue and Chapultepec Castle from here. As for drinks, the must-try is the Sangrita Maria, a blend of mezcal, sangrita, and pasilla chile puree. Every St. Regis bar creates a signature cocktail, and this one is definitely representative of Mexico City. If you’re a smoker, ask to see the bar’s cigar selection.

It is easy to indulge yourself without too much guilt in San Miguel—walking the town’s hills burns up plenty of calories. The restaurant Cumpanio operates three local bakeries, each called Panio (pictured here), which make out-of-this-world croissants, tarts, and cakes. San Miguel’s longtime stalwart bakery Petit Four serves many more tasty options than the namesake sweets. Enjoy baked goods served family-style at a large community table at Robin’s La Mesa Grande. Don’t worry when La Buena Vida sells out of its famous orange doughnuts, because more are made throughout the day. You can find a couple of the best purveyors of sweets with your eyes: Panadería El Maple is known by its Canadian maple leaf sign, while everyone calls La Colmena “The Blue Door Bakery,” for its impossible-to-miss entry.

Norway’s only revolving restaurant is a great choice if you’re traveling with family. Located at the top of a telecom tower, the restaurant takes approximately one hour to complete a rotation, ensuring a different view of Trondheim’s glorious water and mountains whenever you glance out of the window. While there’s nothing special about the food here, some dishes offer better value than others. Shun the pizzas, burgers, and steaks and order instead from the creative mains menu. Blackened chicken rarely disappoints, and the pasta dishes will easily fill you up. Booking is essential on the weekend. Allow an extra 15 minutes before your booking time to ride up in the elevator.

While the large pool hot springs of Glenwood Springs are great for a soak, it can get busy there (and the ambience is nothing special). The Ogilby/Jacober family, owners of the Avalanche Ranch Hot Springs in the Crystal River Valley, took a bit of a risk when they drilled to access what they suspected was a geothermal reservoir. But they hit the jackpot, and built three beautiful and intimate pools of naturally hot water set in a wooded area, with views of Mount Sopris, Elephant Mountain, and Avalanche Creek Valley. The original farmhouse on the property was built in 1913 and has since been renovated; it includes an antique shop, available to day guests as well as overnight patrons.

Hull Bay Beach—on the north shore of St. Thomas, west of Magens Bay—has the wave action surfers crave. When there’s a northern swell, the beach is considered the best surf spot on the island. The rest of the time you’ll find snorkelers, local families, and fishing boats bobbing out in the bay. The beach bar is a popular island spot.

It would be easy to walk past this tiny, unassuming joint in the Recoleta neighborhood. But those in the know flock to La Cocina, which is still run by the Catamarca Province family that opened it 40 years ago (the owners’ grandson answers the phone and wraps up lunch orders nonstop). La Cocina’s famous empanadas are oven-baked (as opposed to fried), and this lighter take on the Argentine staple feels like something you could eat every day. Go early for lunch or dinner, as the tiny place fills up at peak hours; don’t miss the picachu, a spicy cheese-and-onion empanada. Open Monday through Saturday from noon to 3 p.m. and 6 p.m. to 1 a.m.

One of Scotland’s most important stately homes, Scone Palace has a colorful history. It’s believed to have been the capital of the prehistoric Pictish people, who inhabited much of northern Britain in the early centuries B.C.E., and also served as the seat of parliaments and the crowning place of the Kings of Scots, including Macbeth and Robert the Bruce. The palace visitors see today only dates to 1802, though parts of a 17th-century house, erected on top of a 12th-century abbey, remain. The famous Stone of Scone, upon which royalty sat to be crowned, was here until 1296, when it was stolen by Edward I of England (today, it’s housed at Edinburgh Castle).

Visit the castle and tour the main State Rooms, full of everything from porcelain, ivories, and clocks to furniture, paintings, and other important family belongings. Then explore the expansive grounds, home to the Market Cross, the Old Scone graveyard, a 16th-century archway that once served as the grand entrance to the city of Scone, and a pinetum full of giant redwoods and noble firs.