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Presiding over Stanley Park, Canada’s largest aquarium houses more than 50,000 creatures, from penguins to sea otters to three-toed sloths. Don’t miss the star turns from the rescued Steller sea lions Izzy and Rogue, who swoop gracefully under the water and bask on sun-warmed rocks. Afterward, be sure to visit the theater, which goes beyond 3-D with mist, scents, wind, and even lightning. Adding substance to style, the aquarium is also the headquarters of Ocean Wise, a global conservation initiative dedicated to increasing the understanding, wonder, and appreciation of our seas.

An iconic name in Portland retail—as well as among readers who have never been to the city—Powell’s has multiple locations on both sides of the Willamette. The downtown store remains the one best suited for visitors to explore, with miles of used reads, a tightly curated selection of books from the knowledgeable staff, and every Portland-themed book you could hope to find under one roof. A renovation in 2014 opened up the space and made it feel less like a warehouse of dusty stacks, an improvement that bodes well for the future of the business. Author appearances, even those at the satellite branches, are some of Portland’s best events for interesting discussions.

It’s one of the most recognizable facades on Passeig de Gràcia: a modernist fantasy of undulating stone, brightly colored mosaics, and stained glass—one that could only come from the mind of famed Catalan architect Antoni Gaudí. Designed in 1904 as a home for local industrialist Josep Batlló, the building pays homage to the legendary tale of Saint George and the Dragon. The balconies are reminiscent of skulls, and exterior columns look like bones—recalling the dragon’s human victims—while the roof’s arched shape and scale-like tiles mimic the dragon itself. The interior is just as fantastical, all sinuous lines and curving forms. To avoid the crush, try going first thing on a weekday morning, or shell out a bit extra for a Fast Pass timed ticket online (28.5 euros, or about $37—5 euros more than regular admission).

This national park is centered along the spine plateau above Bryce Canyon, which drops to the east from the main park road. Along the road are numerous pull-offs for enjoying views down into the canyon, with its miles and miles of awe-inspiring sandstone hoodoo spires. Drive to the far south end of the park where the road terminates for the best views of Rainbow Point, named for the colorful rocks that lead into the Grand Staircase National Monument, then get away from the crowds by hiking one of the many trails that drop into the canyon. Visitors can also pick up a backcountry permit and stay overnight to see the stars. While most tourists come during the spring and summer months, Bryce is particularly stunning in the winter when it’s covered in snow.

Built by Kaiser Wilhelm I in the late 19th century as a gesture to parliamentarians, Berlin’s famed Reichstag came into its own during the Weimar era—Germany’s first attempt at democracy. The parliament building burned under mysterious circumstances in 1933, leading to the suspension of civil rights and Hitler’s ensuing dictatorship. Seized and shot to pieces by Soviet troops in 1945, then abandoned during the city’s division, the traumatized building reentered public life when the German government returned to Berlin following reunification. Today the Reichstag stands proud, topped by a glass dome designed by British architect Sir Norman Foster as a symbol of political transparency. Going inside the dome is very popular; you can look down on plenary sessions as well as admire sweeping city views.

In a city where cooking has been elevated to a lifestyle, provisions for the refined kitchen are in high demand. And no one has been able to meet that need quite like March. The whitewashed, sun-dappled store on an upscale stretch of Sacramento Street inspires instant kitchen envy in all. Pungent spices are displayed in black glass jars with custom labels, hand-thrown serving wear is stacked in elegant totems on the wood shelves, and a fat-bellied AGA stove stands against a wall of spotless subway tile. If you aren’t a home cook, you will vow to become one after a visit to March. The proprietor, the perpetually chic Sam Hamilton, came from New York and a career in fashion before finding her way here. She even interned with Alice Waters for a spell at Chez Panisse, which helps explain Hamilton’s knack for curating items—like handwoven tortillero baskets, Parigi stemware, and fishmongering knives by Pallares Solsona—that aren’t just beautiful but also useful to cooks who actually put their kitchens to work.

Thanks to the green-thumbed loving of owner Robert Johnstone, the Ruined Garden has bloomed into a jungly paradise—a welcome retreat both for lunch in the shade on a sunny afternoon and for a bask in the glow of a roaring wood fire in the red-brick dining room as days get cooler. Johnstone has long been celebrated locally for his deeply authentic approach to Fassi cooking, and the menu features some hard-to-get traditional dishes like slow, spit-roasted-lamb mechoui (order a day in advance) and Sephardic saffron chicken with eggs. He doesn’t limit himself to tradition, though: Try reimaginings of traditional Fassi street food like “popcorn” makuda (potato fritters), succulent chicken wings and livers in a delicately spiced onion confit, or earthy berkoula (a foraged green wilted with olive oil and preserved lemons).

This former royal palace is one of the largest museums in the world, and its art collection is considered one of the most comprehensive. It contains around 400,000 works, although—mercifully, perhaps—not all are on display at any one time. There are some pieces that never get taken off the walls. The Mona Lisa and her smile attract millions of visitors each year. Other must-see masterpieces include the sculptures Winged Victory of Samothrace and Michelangelo’s Rebellious Slave, and the Eugène Delacroix painting The Death of Sardanapalus. There’s no real trick to avoiding crowds at the always-packed museum. The best you can do is try to go in the off-season, early or late in the day, and on a weekday. Your chances of being alone with the Mona Lisa will still be slim to none, but you might be able to actually see that enigmatic smile behind the Plexiglas.

In many ways, the Fairmont Orchid is the quintessential Hawaiian luxury resort. Its big, elegant lobby is blooming with purple orchids and birds of paradise, its enormous, 24-hour swimming pool wends its way around black rock islands, and its 32 lush acres include tropical gardens and a white-sand beach that frames an aquamarine cove. The 540 guest rooms and suites, located in two six-story towers, all have lanais; half have ocean (or partial water) views, the others overlook the spotless grounds. It’s the dream Vacationland, and as such, the mood is jolly round-the-clock. Cheerful staff oversee the long list of activities—canoe excursions, petroglyph hikes, stand-up paddle-boarding, and about a zillion other options are available both on property and off (some activities are complimentary, others cost extra)—and the crowd tends to be a fun-in-the-sun bunch. On any given day, there might be a Canadian family in a heated volleyball game on the beach, or a group of Silicon Valley execs soaking in the hot tub.

Carve out a day to spend at the award-winning Spa Without Walls, where the Hawaian-influenced treatments are performed in 17 treatments rooms, some with ocean views and private outdoor spaces. Them, fuel up on Japanese meats and sushi, fresh seafood, robatayaki (grilled) items, beachside classics, and more at the numerous dining outlets. Along with repeat guests, the hotel’s most frequent visitors are the giant sea turtles that regularly hang out at the Orchid’s beachfront. They’ve become such an integral part of the property that even guests at other hotels drop by for a peek.

Forever on the verge of being the next big target of gentrification, the district known as Santa María la Ribera—northwest of downtown—retains its neighborhoody, down-at-the-heels charms. Its streets are home to a mix of old-school cantinas (all perfectly visitor-friendly) and mom-and-pop restaurants, alongside some neglected architectural gems, hipster coffeehouses, and standard-issue, sometimes grimy local businesses—in short, it’s still real. The district’s centerpiece is its central plaza, known as the Alameda, and its exuberant Moorish-style gazebo (it started life as the Mexico Pavilion at a long-forgotten world’s fair). Recently restored and awash in color, the kiosk is a gem—and the proud emblem of the barrio. Note some amazing old mansions and the spooky Institute of Geology lining the plaza. The nearby Museo Universitario del Chopo—housed in a glass-and-cast-iron former natural-history museum—is a renowned center for avant-garde art that leaves no viewer less than provoked.

You might not think of Vienna as a very Greek city, but guess what: The oldest restaurant in town is the Griechenbeisl, the Greek Tavern. Back in the late 15th century, Levantine traders lodged in this building on Fleischmarkt street, and its hodgepodge of rooms in which many a historic figure have dined hasn’t changed much since. The walls of the Mark Twain Room are decorated with autographs by the great scribe and many other notable figures. Despite its name, the Greek Tavern specializes in schnitzel and other dishes that are as pure Austrian as can be. And the live music you enjoy while dining won’t be made by a bouzouki, but by a Viennese zither. Out front there is a plaque commemorating the 17th-century minstrel Marx Augustin, famous as the subject of the song “Oh Du Lieber Augustin.”

Berggasse 19 is the address of a modest house on a modest street, but it was there that much of the modern world and culture were changed forever. For nearly 50 years, the Freud house—now, officially, the Sigmund Freud Museum—was the home and office of the legendary psychoanalyst, until 1938 when he finally departed for London as Nazi forces were descending on Vienna. The rooms are filled with old books, antiques, personal artifacts, and correspondence, though not the famous couch (which is now at the Freud museum in London). In 2019, the house will undergo a yearlong €4 million renovation to its facade and exhibition spaces. If you walk the Ringstrasse over to the Burgtheater area, you can see the University of Vienna that was once the General Hospital where Herr Professor worked for many years.

After moving from Saigon to Oklahoma City in the ‘90s, Lien Le opened Pho Lien Hoa, a cash-only Vietnamese restaurant offering more than a dozen types of pho and other Vietnamese specialties.

Set in a row of shophouses—traditional double-use structures with a storefront on the street level, the owner’s residence on the floors above—the New Majestic Hotel is a small gem in Chinatown filled with quirks and contrasts. Colonial design is plentiful, from the vintage Compton fans in the lobby to furniture from the 1920s–1960s throughout. The rooms are a little more free-form. They range from suites with their own urban gardens to attic-style spaces with loft beds and 20-foot ceilings. Then there are the five rooms in which Singapore artists were told to unleash their creativity (Work, one of these rooms, looks like temporary housing, with plywood sections everywhere). Pieces by local emerging artists include murals with hidden messages or displaying pop art influences. The bottom of the rooftop pool has small portholes that look down onto the Majestic Restaurant, one floor down.

Climbing uphill from the port, the streets of Vigo’s casco vello, or old town, retain their authentic flavor because locals still live above the neighborhood shops, taverns and tapas joints. The narrow streets open up to sunny little squares, including one at the cathedral, Santa María de Vigo (also called La Colegiata). Note the street names in the casco vello: They still often correspond to the wares offered there (buy a hat on Rúa Sombrereiros or baskets on Rúa dos Cesteiros).