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Huaca Pucllana, a restored centuries-old adobe ceremonial temple, has remarkably and defiantly sat right in the heart of Miraflores since 400 C.E. The temple complex includes a Wari (or Huari) cemetery, where four preserved mummies were discovered in 2010, and a small museum housing artifacts, pottery and other excavated relics. It’s especially atmospheric when illuminated at night, best seen from the on-site restaurant, an upscale and highly recommended spot for a memorable dinner.

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 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.

Huayna Picchu is the landmark peak at Machu Picchu from which the classic, shot-from-above postcard photos are typically taken. While the views are spectacular, of course, the trail is not easy, studded with precarious, sometimes uneven stone steps, and often directly flanked by sheer drop-offs (thus probably out of the question for anyone with a fear of heights). While most hike to the top and back, you can also go up and around to the other side, with a visit to the Temple of the Moon/Great Cavern along the way. Admittance to Huayna Picchu is limited and sells out two or three months in advance; pay for your entrance as part of your Machu Picchu admission.

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.

Old San Juan offers historically and culturally significant experiences including a walk through 500-year-old forts, visits to UNESCO sites, historic churches, museums, the second oldest cathedral in the Americas and Ponce de Leon’s mansion. Cobblestone streets and pastel buildings are perfect for exploration during the day and variety of restaurants and shops make for a complementary evening.

The supper club is reinvented for the next generation at Yvonne’s, banishing any possible ghosts from the former Locke-Ober’s, and leaving just enough of the old girl (the beautiful hand-carved original bar and woodwork) to recognize her former self. The entrance is a bit mysterious, and the outer-bar area a happening scene. Walk through the “library,” a cozy space that looks like it’s right out of an Anthropologie catalog, and you’ll find lime-green banquettes, fancy chandeliers, and a modern web of lighting. The small plates are meant for sharing and make it possible to taste a good many flavors from the kitchen. Baked oysters Savannah are a nod to the well-heeled crowd, combining lobster, porcini cream, and Parmesan into a decadently rich mouthful. Seared halloumi has just the right sweet-and-savory combination and is a favorite that doesn’t disappoint. Be sure to make a reservation; there is usually a line. Try one of their crowd-pleasing punch bowls presented in unusual vessels. The “Goodbye, Me"—with Moroccan-mint-infused gin, sake, watermelon, lemon, and champagne—lives up to its name.

With dark walls, natural wood accents, and red curtains in front of the elevators, the trend-setting Andaz hotel feels like more of a scene than any other property in downtown Napa. In the center of downtown Napa, the hotel is mere steps from restaurants, shops, and arguably Napa’s best pub: the Norman Rose Tavern.

On check-in, all guests over 21 receive a complimentary glass of red or white wine. The swanky vibe continues into the 141 guest rooms, where hardwood hickory floors complement white marble bathrooms and midcentury modern furniture. The most convivial space in the hotel is the Mercantile Terrace, a second-story roof deck with a full bar menu and fire pits, a favorite of couples and business travelers alike.

The lounge is operated by Mercantile Social, the restaurant in the lobby that serves small-plate food items and cocktails; it also books live acoustic music sets a few nights a week. (And Mercantile Social sponsors free wine tastings daily.) If you haven’t had enough wine, fear not—on site are two tasting rooms from the wine empire built by Napa native John Anthony Truchard: John Anthony and JaM Cellars.

When the hip Andaz hotel chain opened in downtown Napa in 2012 it brought a youthful energy to wine country. In addition to its affordable rooms and excellent locavore-minded small plates restaurant, Farmer’s Table, the Andaz also gives guests a dose of culture. The brand’s Andaz Salon program introduces art, photography, music, and readings throughout its different properties.

La Ménagère is simultaneously a breakfast spot, a tapas and cocktail bar, a flower shop, a café, a housewares store, and a restaurant. The large space, once home to a famous Florentine home-goods emporium, is now a ramble of beautiful rooms that serve many needs. The bright and airy bar area is the site for breakfast, lunch, aperitifs, and cocktails, while dinner can be eaten in several of the other charming rooms, including a narrow passage set with a long communal table. There’s even a downstairs space where live music is played a few nights a week.

Did you know that there are actually two equators? The terrestrial equator, like the tropics of Cancer and Capricorn as well as the poles, is based on the relationship between the Earth’s axis of rotation and the planet’s orbit around the sun. But there’s also something known as the celestial equator, which is an imaginary circle created by projecting the terrestrial equator into the night sky. The sun consistently hangs in the equatorial sky for 12 hours each day at the Earth’s widest part, but it passes directly over the actual line only twice each year, during the March and September equinoxes. Although many think that the equator is uniformly hot, in many areas it does experience wet and dry seasons. Biodiversity is extremely rich at the equator, particularly because half of the planet’s rain forests are concentrated in countries along the line: Brazil, Congo and Indonesia.

Chef Laurent Tourondel’s LT Steak & Seafood, located inside the historic Betsy Hotel on Ocean Drive, is popular not just with hotel guests but locals as well, who stop in for an afterwork cocktail or a nice night out. The restaurant does what its name indicates, and the menu is evenly divided between prime cuts of porterhouse and rib eye and fresh seafood from local waters and elsewhere, as well as sushi, sashimi, and ceviche. At dinner, there is often live entertainment such as jazz in the conservatory or a performance by an opera singer.

The most stylish spot in Fort Myers’ River District, Firestone occupies a historic, four-story building right on the water. In the restaurant, guests enjoy steak and seafood specialties paired with fresh, local produce. Also onsite is the rooftop Skybar, open daily from 4 p.m. for sweeping views of the Caloosahatchee River and Downtown River Basin, as well as a special martini bar, which welcomes patrons on Friday and Saturday nights.

Regulars at Workshop Kitchen + Bar know not to get too attached to any one dish. Innovative chef/owner Michael Beckman—who trained in Lyon and worked in Berlin—might be serving honey-lavender glazed black cod one night; a sausage, rapini, and fennel pizza another; and his signature burger (with pastrami and wagyu oxtail) the next. Diners in the know ask for the off-the-menu whole striped sea bass, grilled in the wood-fired oven with seasonally shifting ingredients. The adventurous menu is a big draw, to be sure, but so is the magical setting: The 90-year-old Spanish-inspired building—once an art gallery and movie theater—features 27-foot-high ceilings, which the trendsetting architecture firm SOMA updated with poured concrete for an industrial cathedral aesthetic. (The work won it a James Beard Design Award.) If you’re there for Sunday brunch or an early dinner, ask for booth #7, which is flooded with natural light, or a table in the whitewashed courtyard. Cocktails such as the Mountaineer—made with little-known Génépy des Alpes liqueur, pineapple and lime juice, and bitters—are just as revelatory early in the evening as they are on late weekend nights, when the place is bustling.

Kabana serves up Dubai’s best Afghani food—piping-hot bread, juicy meats, and deeply seasoned rice plates—in the Jumeirah neighborhood. Especially recommended are the muhammara (a spread made from roasted red peppers and ground walnuts, served topped with walnuts), and fried kibbeh (spiced ground lamb mixed with bulgur and onions). Kabana’s live music nights and shisha, or waterpipe, selections bring out an interesting cross-section of the city’s diverse culture.

Formerly the residence of the Maharajah of Jaipur, and now one of Jaipur’s most elegant luxury hotels, the 19th-century Rambagh Palace has had a front-row seat to history—and has hosted a long list of royals, dignitaries, and celebrities along the way. As an homage to those regal roots, the hotel’s fine-dining restaurant spotlights the cuisine of four of India’s former princely states: Rajasthan, Awadh, Punjab, and Hyderabad. In what used to be the palace’s banquet hall—still dripping with gilded mirrors and Italian frescos—enjoy dishes like laal maas (a Rajasthani spicy lamb curry), chicken cooked with raw mango and saffron, skillet-grilled lobster, and apricot-stuffed cheese dumplings simmered in tomato gravy. Cap off the night with a drink in the nearby Polo Bar, which serves fine spirits and cocktails inspired by the royal equestrian sport.