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While much attention is paid to the Japanese and Italian influences on Los Cabos cuisine, one of the very best spots in town is an Argentine entry. The low-key, low-lit courtyard restaurant Chamuyo features a dozen or so tables, a long bar, and a traditional Argentine grill. The steak-house menu sends you on a culinary adventure through Buenos Aires dance halls and the verdant pampas. Meat-stuffed Argentine empanadas (markedly different from the Mexican variety) are served oven-baked or fried, and make excellent starters. For your main course, try chef Marcelo Romby’s 22-ounce beef ribs, which he slow-cooks for more than four hours. Pair it with a bottle of Baja red and, if you can, save room for some first-rate alfajor cookies.

For more than two decades, Chef Volker Romeike’s standout restaurant has charmed patrons at the Sheraton Grand Los Cabos Hacienda del Mar with its Pacific Rim concept, ocean views, and dramatic design. Pitahayas—both space and the menu—got an updated look in 2015. A newer focus on blending Mexican and Asian flavors has allowed Romeike to show off his culinary creativity. Duck lumpia (like a spring roll) is served with a papaya salsa; a taro tostada comes topped with carnitas (braised pork); and tuna poke comes with watermelon and chili powder. For special occasions, consider the Cava de Santiago wine cellar, which houses some 400 vintages. The restaurant’s bar also offers Social Fridays, when limitless drinks can be had for a not unreasonable tariff.

The structure in the Casco Viejo that houses this museum has a fascinating history. When it was built back in 1874, its facade—which features mansard roofs and gaslights—was an architectural novelty for Panama. Count Ferdinand de Lesseps acquired it in 1881 to headquarter the Universal Inter-Oceanic Canal Company; it then fell into U.S. hands as part of that nation’s canal-building concession. A museum since 1997, it features 11 exhibition galleries and presents a rich learning experience on conserving, researching, and giving voice to Panama’s history, such as the Torrijos-Carter Treaties (which returned the canal to Panamanian hands) and the Panamanian flag that was damaged on January 9, 1964, during an event known as Martyrs’ Day, one of the bloodiest episodes in the struggle for control of the canal.

A mixed-use space for art, education, and history—inside a restored early-20th-century palace—the Museu de Arte do Rio (MAR) is a landmark in the city’s harbor zone. Walk from the top floor down, fifth to first, following an exhibition itinerary that touches on different elements that have left their mark on Rio’s rich history. At the end of the visit, go back upstairs for some refreshment at the excellent terrace restaurant that offers boffo views of Guanabara Bay. On the plaza out front, the Museu do Amanhã (Museum of Tomorrow), a science museum housed in a stunning building designed by architect Santiago Calatrava, can provide a visit that nicely pairs with your MAR expedition.

In a city that inspired the most famous works by the winner of a Nobel Prize in literature, you’d be forgiven for expecting a place to buy novels on every corner. Cartagena’s book offerings are somewhat slim, but the best by far is Ábaco, a bookstore and café in the heart of the old part of the city. It draws local literati, but even if you don’t speak Spanish, you’ll find something here; there’s a small gift section, and, of course, Colombian coffee.

While the state of Virginia generally has more historic accommodations than you can shake a stick at, few would argue that the Houses of Colonial Williamsburg trumps them all. Guests can truly immerse themselves in an 18th-century environment (with 21st-century conveniences) with a stay in one of the original homes, shops, offices, or kitchen buildings of the Revolutionary City. Two dozen cottage-like buildings vary in size and layout, with period antiques or reproduction furnishings. Tavern rooms are closer to traditional hotel rooms, with private bathrooms and sitting areas and a great room downstairs with a fireplace for gatherings. All rooms and houses have access to the amenities of the Williamsburg Inn and Spa, discounts on Colonial Williamsburg tickets and passes, and preferred reservations for dining, spa appointments, and golf tee times. What guests are really paying for, though, is location and uniqueness of experience rather than luxury.

Starting in 2014, this collection of historic buildings was reinvented as a gastronomic hub—helping to revitalize the city’s downtown in the process. An early 20th-century citrus packing warehouse became the Anaheim Packing House, a virtual United Nations of food: Walking through the 42,000-square-foot hall, you’ll find citrusy ceviche at Urbana, fried chicken sandwiches at Sweetbird, garden-fresh hot pot at Rolling Boil, organic curry at ADYA, and matcha shaved snow at I Am. Craft beer—quickly becoming a signature of Southern California—is in no short supply, thanks to bars like Anaheim Brewery, housed inside a 1925 mission revival building. A circa 1917 marmalade factory became the MAKE Building, where you can linger over a flight of California reds at Pali Wine Co. or a plate of pulled pork at Jav’s Barbecue. The compact district is distinctly Californian, from the succulents and air plants inside to the palm trees and olive groves of Farmers Park outside—a grassy knoll where, at any given time, you might happen upon a free yoga class, a gardening demo, or a live acoustic band playing under the sun.

So you want to drive through a tree? Well, you’ve got options. (At least for now. Since no new drive-through trees will be created any time soon, for obvious environmental reasons, the existing ones are maybe the last of their kind.) There are actually three trees in the vicinity of Redwood National and State Parks whose trunks are wide enough to accommodate a car. The Chandelier Tree, at the Drive-Thru Tree Park, may be the most well-known and most frequently photographed; pay your $5 and get behind the wheel. The Tour Thru Tree, near Klamath, is the other tree with a human-constructed tunnel. The only organically occurring drive-through tree in the area is the Shrine Tree in Myers Flat, on Avenue of the Giants. The opening in this tree was primarily nature-created—though at this point it’s held together with some human help. Shrine also has a fallen tree with a drive-up ramp, a stump you can walk through, and a couple of playhouses carved from redwoods.

The quiet beauty of this church, built by John Cottle in 1824, is enhanced by its noble backstory—it was the first house of worship on Nevis where whites and blacks could pray together. Having fallen into ruins more than once, the church exists today as a roofless shell, but manages to retain its simple dignity and an important place in Nevis history.

CoLAB, one of Rio’s coolest venues, may serve breakfast all day but it is much more than a breakfast joint. The tight space starts the day as a coffee house, then morphs into a cafe in the afternoon, and as the night falls, it becomes a bar. In addition to sundry coffee, granola, and artisanal baked goods, there are brunch items on the menu, as well as several curries, “street food” prepared with care (the falafel is especially recommended). The drink menu includes a range of nonalcoholic choices like kombucha and lemonade, as well as beer, and both classic and creative cocktails. A recent expansion introduced an additional small space for live music, a chill second floor, and a terrace. A performance schedule can be found online.

The area of gently rolling hills just to the northeast of Lucca is famous not only for its impressive villas, but also for olive oil and wine. A perfect gastronomic stop-off between visits to the magnificent Villa Mansi and Villa Torrigiani, the 30-hectare farm estate Colle di Bordocheo produces both, and offers tastings and tours for visitors. Estate wines such as the complex, spicy Picchio Rosso (a blend of sangiovese, merlot, and cabernet grapes) and the white Bianco dell’Oca (chardonnay, vermentino, sauvignon) marry well with the house extra virgin and platters of local cheeses and foccaccie. Book ahead and you can add lasagne and cold cuts to the basic €15 per head package, making a fine, rustic lunch. There are also apartments for rent on the estate, which lies in a strategic position for visits to the coast, the lush, mountainous Garfagnana region, Florence, and, of course, Lucca.

The Black Sheep Bistro, or BSB as the proprietors call it, is an upscale and modern restaurant that features a globally inspired menu. It’s one of the few establishments in Panjim (also known as Panaji) that can rightfully call itself farm-to-table: Most of its ingredients are sourced within a 100-mile radius. Menu favorites include clams and Goan chouriço, osso buco, and crabmeat ravioli. Housed in a traditional Portuguese-style building, BSB has an extensive wine list with an internationally trained sommelier to make pairing recommendations. Cocktails are available, too, with wacky names and taglines like “Hakuna Ma Vodka: It means no worries for the rest of your night!” Check out the menu during the monsoon time, when the wet season’s produce transforms what is available.

Take the bus south to the neighboring town of Mölndal to visit Gunnebo Slott och Trädgårdar. This charming 18th-century castle and garden has been restored to its original style, both inside and out. Built in 1778 as a summer home for a wealthy Gothenburg family, it is now a living museum where everything from the greenhouse to the kitchen garden evokes that era. Don’t miss the café, where sandwiches and cakes are made using produce grown in the outside garden.

Formerly the headquarters of the U.S. District Court in these parts, the low-slung brick building on the central waterfront now houses the island’s best handicrafts display. The maze features 150 artisans selling everything from handmade dolls and quilts to note cards and wooden serving items. There are also food vendors on site.

When I stepped into the grand lobby of Québec’s Le Château Montebello, I felt like I was entering Paul Bunyan’s living room. Giant timbers braced a three-story-high ceiling, and a massive fireplace in the center radiated warmth in all directions. After checking in, I joined the guests gathered around the six-sided hearth and sank into a leather club chair. I spent the rest of the day by the fire, sipping hot toddies and napping, as the comfort of the crackling flames sent me and the other fireside dozers snuggling deeper into our cushions. I had come to ski some of the 65,000 acres of wooded backcountry that neighbor the resort, but the château was so welcoming, I found it hard to leave.


Often described as the world’s largest log cabin, the lodge and two other main buildings were constructed in 1930 from 10,000 red cedar logs and 500,000 handmade wooden shingles. The houses and the vast surrounding forests were long owned by the politically prominent Papineau family, and until 1970, the estate remained a private nature retreat for Canada’s upper class. As I walked through the château’s halls, the intricately carved banisters and exposed beams reminded me of the great western lodges in the U.S. national parks—only without any grumpy tourists demanding to know where the animals are.

In the guest rooms, deluxe amenities such as flat-screen TVs and rain-dome showerheads upstaged anything found in Yellowstone or Yosemite. Despite the modern perks, rawhide lampshades and other rustic details helped my suite retain its frontier appeal. When I got up to pull the plaid drapes closed that night, I watched a horse-drawn sleigh pass by, glowing in the moonlight against the dark ribbon of the frozen Ottawa River.

Without fresh snow to ski the next morning, I was left to explore the lodge’s other activities. I opted out of getting scrubbed with maple sugar at the spa or unsuccessfully flirting with French-Canadian women by the fire, and instead devoted the day to learning the inscrutable rules of curling. The château has an indoor ice rink dedicated to the sport, a national favorite that’s best described as a combination of shuffleboard and falling down a lot. My instructor was Henri, a kindly sexagenarian who, like many in Québec’s western Outaouais region, seemed more comfortable speaking French than English. As it turns out, kindly reassurance sounds the same in either language. But as my backside repeatedly hit the ice, Henri’s patient polyglot insistence that I was doing “une belle job” grew progressively less convincing.

After my rough-and-tumble day, I dined in the white-tablecloth Aux Chantignoles restaurant. Québecois cuisine dominates the menu, and I followed a dinner of tender venison osso buco with a slice of Québec’s famously sweet and jiggly sugar pie—think pecan pie sans pecans. Snow fell just in time for me to ski through the nearby forest on my last day. I spent a long afternoon there, gliding among stands of birch, pine, and spruce in the rolling Laurentian Highlands. Now and again, I paused to admire one of the countless frozen lakes, their smooth surfaces dotted with tracks left by moose and white-tailed deer. I skied in the silent wilderness until just after sunset. As the scent of a wood fire began to tickle my nose, I grew eager to cozy up by the hearth again. I turned back toward the château’s stone chimney, its rising plume of smoke signaling for my return.
This appeared in the November/December 2010 issue.