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Austrian painter Christiane Ritter reluctantly followed her hunter husband to Svalbard in 1933, a time when much less was known about the far north than today. Five years later, her memoir, A Woman in the Polar Night, did the same job of informing people about the realities of arctic life that Marco Polo did for the Silk Road and Mongolia. Located at the mouth of the Liefdefd Fjord, Gråhuken Mountain plays a starring role in the novel as the location for the couple’s tarpaulin-covered hut, more than 97 kilometers (60 miles) away from the next human—and the place where Ritter gradually learns to love the isolation and harsh yet inspiring environment.

Adolf Hitler’s mountain retreat, the Eagle’s Nest combines haunting history with stunning panoramic views. Located high in the Bavarian Alps, this famous Third Reich construction was bought for the former German Führer as a 50th-birthday present. Today, the spot (also known as Kehlsteinhaus) is open to the public. After a bus journey to the base of the Eagle’s Nest, visitors walk through a long tunnel and make a final 406-foot ascent in an elevator embedded into the mountainside. Once inside the building, don’t miss the Italian marble fireplace—a present from Benito Mussolini. Also note that weather conditions may cause the Eagle’s Nest to close at certain times of year, so summer is your best bet to visit.

There’s a comfortable stillness to the acres of Ojai Valley Inn and Spa that’s apparent even when a cacophony of voices fills the air. Sunlight shines brightly against the resort’s white façade, which gleams in unison from the restaurants, accommodations, spa, and pools outstretched on shaded grounds. Flowers – from roses to bougainvillea, lavender to jasmine – line pathways where views of the surrounding rolling mountains peek out between buildings. And even when bicyclists, pedestrians, and the occasional golf carts use those pathways, the motion is as calm and quick as the breeze. Originally built in 1923 as a country club and golf course, the inn has never lost its luxurious appeal for intimate, quiet privacy. Old Hollywood stars have come and gone through its Spanish-style property, and today, the resort is still known as a place where big names can tee off or swim undisturbed. Its more than 300 guest rooms are tucked away in a series of terracotta-topped buildings that share a style of calm blue and white shades. Many rooms feature fireplaces enclosed by a sitting area, and private balconies are scented by the surrounding blooms. In the morning, sip a Keurig coffee from the soft white sheets of bed, or step outside for the view. Then, walk or bike to breakfast before a swim in the newly opened, “adults only” pool.

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.

José Clemente Orozco, one of the “Tres Grandes” of Mexican muralists (along with Diego Rivera and David Alfaro Siqueiros), is one of Guadalajara’s most famous sons and unlike another one, the architect Luis Barragán, many of Orozco’s most important works are in the city (at the Hospicio Cabanas, the University of Guadalajara, and other buildings). It may come as a surprise, then, that there is no museum dedicated to the painter and his works in his hometown. You might think, given its name, that the Casa Taller José Clemente Orozco would be it, but the house and studio was only used briefly by Orozco on visits to Guadalajara in the last three years of his life.

After his death, in 1951, his widow decided to turn it into a cultural center. There is only one work by Orozco on display in the building (La Buena Vida). Painted for the exclusive Turf Club, it shows a scene of festive debauchery, complete with scantily clad female dancers. Except for some perhaps veiled criticism, it shares little in common with Orozco’s more typical scenes of revolution. While the Casa Taller is not the place to go to learn about Orozco or see his works, it should be on your list if you want to see current works by contemporary Mexican and international artists. Its galleries regularly house temporary installations and shows by current artists following in Orozco’s footsteps by creating challenging socially engaged works. Admission is free.

The most enviable address in Waikiki, the beachfront Halekulani is all about restrained elegance and pitch-perfect service. The hotel dates back a century, though it was entirely rebuilt in the 1980s—and the room decor—fifty shades of white and plantation shutters framing the turquoise sea—complements the scene outside. The beach itself is small and usually mobbed, but the pool is a dream—a giant oval big enough for laps, and quiet enough (few kids here) for a long doze under your chaise’s umbrella. The grassy courtyards and seaside restaurants are just as improbably serene; some might say stuffy, but for others, the reliably hushed atmosphere is a welcome tonic to the hubbub of Waikiki, just outside the Halekulani’s marbled entrance.

Superlatives reign at this massive Palm Beach resort. Among the outsize offerings? The biggest casino in Aruba, with more than 500 slot machines and 26 gaming tables, as well as the island’s largest spa. Its 414 accommodations aren’t lacking for space either: Each room has a walk-in closet, double-sink bathroom, and private balcony; the highest-end suites are so palatial their balconies alone measure up to a sprawling 500 square feet—with ocean views to sweeten the deal. When you’re not playing roulette or indulging in a moisturizing coconut-milk wrap, kick back in one of the beachside palapas, or practice your breaststroke in the free-form pool, complete with cascading waterfalls and a volleyball net (a serene adults-only pool features a swim-up bar if that’s more your speed). In keeping with the more-is-more theme, guests are spoiled for choice with seven on-site restaurants, bars, and cafés, including a Ruth’s Chris Steak House, where the 500-degree plates ensure another best—the hottest meal in town.

Nuzzled up against the Arizona border about 100 miles west of Four Corners are some 30 square miles of the most iconic scenery in the American West. Monument Valley is one of those places that you’ll recognize as soon as you see it, even if you’ve never been there before, as dozens of movies, TV shows, and even video games have used the area as a setting. It’s made up of mesas both small and large reaching up from the valley floor, some rising as high as 1,000 feet into the sky. Part of the Navajo Reservation, the area charges a $20-per-vehicle entrance fee to drive the dirt-road loop. Once in, however, you can also enjoy a number of hikes, or hire a guide for a horseback tour.

Botswana’s most famous crafts are baskets woven from fan palm fibers. They are dyed with natural pigments: blue from fever-berry leaves, dark brown from magic guarri shrubs, and yellow from the roots of red star apple trees. Some baskets take a month to make. Nearly all lodges sell baskets, but you can also purchase them online.

Rickshaw rides are common in Chandni Chowk, the vast and crowded market in the Old Delhi quarter, but book a comprehensive rickshaw tour for an immersive experience that lasts longer than 15 minutes. Witness the architectural marvels, multicolored facades, beautifully decorated shops, and the fragrances emanating from the potpourri of eateries that line the historic alleys. The tour covers 20 main sites—palaces, mansions, elegant shrines, and colorful bazaars—and finishes at an 1860 haveli (mansion) where you’ll visit a gallery of photos depicting the lifestyle of Mughals, as well as a small lounge where you can relax and try some typical snacks.

Much of Lisbon’s appeal lies in its sheer beauty. From the rust-toned rooftops across the whitewashed Alfama district to the Pombaline architecture of Baixa, the city is very easy on the eyes. For the very best views, head skyward to Park Bar, located on the rooftop of a Bairro Alto parking garage. There, you’ll find a just-trendy-enough mix of scenester residents and tourists, sipping on white-port-and-tonics while enjoying expansive vistas from the Tagus River to the bell towers of Santa Catarina Church.

The Inca Trail is perhaps the most famous trek in Peru. This is the road to Machu Picchu, an ancient route that leads from the Sacred Valley into the heart of the Andes. You must obtain a permit and hire an official guide in order to hike the Inca Trail proper. There are plenty of tour operators in Cusco that offer trips up to Machu Picchu, so you should definitely look at reviews before you choose. For better or for worse, the tours are all-inclusive. The local tour operators employ porters to carry your packs and set up a camp. A team of local chefs will prepare three meals a day, and many hikers come back raving about the delicious meals. Keep in mind that the trek can be tough, especially in the first few days. The trail is often narrow, and it flirts with formidable heights. The mountains in this part of the Andes can rise well over 13,000 feet, and many hikers find themselves suffering from altitude sickness. Make sure to take a few days (in Cusco or the Sacred Valley) to acclimatize before you begin the journey. Finally: make sure to plan ahead! The Peruvian government limits trail access to 500 people per day, including porters. This regulation protects the local ecosystem and the delicate ruins, and it ensures that the trail won’t be too crowded. However, it also means that permits for the peak summer season sell out months in advance. If you aren’t able to get a permit for the classic Inca Trail, never fear: there are various other trails that lead to Machu Picchu.

Magical, mysterious, magnificent—the ancient madrassas, or Koranic schools, of Morocco are unlike any other, and nowhere are they more extraordinary than in the Fes medina.

These architectural gems are home to students who come from all over the Arabic world to study their religion. The serene environment of the schools provides a welcome balm from the frenetic activity of life in the medina. Several of the oldest in Fes, while no longer in use, are open to the public, which allows a fascinating insight into the almost monastic existence of the former residents. A visit can also reveal layer upon layer of exquisite Islamic architectural details such as carved and filigreed plaster, delicate hand-cut zellij (glazed tiles), elaborate ironwork, and painted wood inlaid with gold leaf.

Among those you shouldn’t miss are the 14th-century al-Attarine, for its extraordinary plaster- and stuccowork that is said to have been inspired by the Nasrid Palaces in Granada’s Alhambra; the Bou Inania, near the Bab Boujloud (Blue Gate) and built around the same time, for its spacious, arcaded courtyard; and the 17th-century Cherratine in the Andalous Quarter, a fine example of Islamic architecture, with ornate carved-cedarwood balconies that go up and up and up, as if ascending to heaven.

An emblem of the new Vietnam, this 68-story skyscraper, named for a Vietnamese conglomerate and designed by Venezuelan architect Carlos Zapata, is easily identified in Ho Chi Minh City’s skyline—a helipad juts out from near the top, looking a little like a flying saucer crashed into the building. Upon completion in 2010, it was the tallest building in Vietnam; it can no longer claim that title (which now belongs to the Keangnam Hanoi Landmark Tower), but its construction remains an impressive achievement. The 49th-floor wraparound Saigon Skydeck offers expansive views of the river and the city’s concrete sprawl; you’ll find the same fine views at the somewhat pricey café-restaurant-bar Eon, located on floors 50, 51, and 52.

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.