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I hate wimpy hamburger buns--you know the kind: pickle juice and grill marks bleed through the sad white carbs...Downtown Flagstaff’s Diablo Burger rejects mushy bread in favor of hearty “db"-branded English muffins. Their beef patties are from just down the road a bit, where the cows are grass-fed, open-range, hormone & antibiotic-free...The cheese--local. Beer on tap? Almost always regional. The potatoes for their Belgian-style fries? From the local “food-shed” too. “Landscape-scale conservation that you can taste,” they say. Savor a beefy taste-of-place on your way to or from the Grand Canyon, or linger a while in this college-ski-town that defies Arizona‘s all-desert reputation. The outdoor seating area boasts a mural that is redolent of Hieronymous Bosch and Picasso. Chew on that at 7,000-ft. above sea-level... (Diablo Burger has also opened a second location a few hours south--down in Tucson...)

Missouri is a gold mine for nature lovers, with crystal-clear lakes for swimming and boating, lazy rivers for fishing and floating, and wooded hamlets for hiking, biking, and camping. Visitors here will even find more than 6,000 caves, many of which offer guided tours. Head to the state’s finest parks to explore these natural wonders, perhaps with a picnic—or even a tent—in tow.

Who says nothing grows in the desert? Local flavor is fresh and on display Saturday mornings during cooler weather at the Old Town Scottsdale Farmers Market, where Arizona-grown oranges and peppers are sold alongside homemade tamales and mozzarella. There are food trucks, artisanal ice cream, and cooking demonstrations from local chefs. Head to the Singh Farms stand to view the harvest of organic peaches, tomatoes, figs, peppers, and more, along with fresh-baked bread, herb butter, honey, and eggs. Most weeks, a local chef dishes out breakfast from the outdoor café on-site.

Far above the plains where lions roam, there’s another Kenya, where life moves slowly and the people run fast. Writer Matt Gross tries to keep up.

No matter your passion, Portland has you covered. The tax-free shopping wonderland is loaded with stores to tickle the fancy of shoppers both casual and obsessed. From Powell’s City of Books—easily one of the best bookstores in the United States—to Wildfang, where the coolest patriarchy smashers hang, and, yes, all the chain stores, Portland’s got the goods. Some of the city’s shopping hubs include downtown Portland, Pioneer Place, 23rd Avenue, and the Pearl District. Fuel up with some java at the coffee shop of your choice because there is serious shopping to be done.

College-town hiking aficionados usually know where to eat, so when the guys up the street at Babbitts Backcountry Outfitters told me this was one of the best places in town for weekend brunch, I went. A lunch-and-dinner place during the week, Criollo Latin Kitchen opens up on weekend mornings with offerings from blue corn pancakes to pork belly tacos, with poblano cheddar grits, sweet ancho chili sausage gravy, and Haitian ‘ti-malice'-inspired relish to go with eggs over easy. And along with the artists’ paintings that change monthly, the food is “local” as well—the menu and the chalkboard on the wall will let you know the ranches and farms in Arizona and Colorado that are the sources for Criollo’s organic ingredients. On this particular morning, I had the “huevos motuleños,” the Yucatán’s version of “huevos rancheros.” And get some bacon—it’s hearty, comes from Black Mesa Ranch in the White Mountains, and will make you want to bring the word “toothsome” back into popular usage. Even if you’re just passing through Flagstaff on your way to the Grand Canyon, or driving from Albuquerque to Los Angeles, Criollo is worth a stop. It’s just a block north of historic old Route 66 downtown. (Criollo is owned by the same folks who opened the nationally-renown “Brix” just up the street—Flagstaff is becoming a restaurant mecca—and its newest sister restaurant is “Proper,” way down the road in Tucson. “Taco Tuesday” evenings with inexpensive margaritas can be crowded.)

Inside the city’s most innovative restaurants, maverick chefs are defining modern Czech cuisine.

On a trip with a young traveler in tow, a writer reflects on her first Venice adventure—and how it changed her life.

Tourism is down, prices are up, social services are disappearing, and the government is bankrupt. Which means it’s a good time to get to know Seychelles.

For cross-country skiers, one winter destination rises above the rest: humble Hayward, Wisconsin, where, for a glorious weekend, their obscure sport is king.

Once an oyster-farming backwater, this area was held sacred to the shark goddess Ka‘ahupahau. But it’s forever etched into America’s psyche due to the 1941 Japanese surprise attack on the naval base, which launched the U.S. into WWII’s Pacific theater. Today, more than a million visitors pay their respects annually at the museums and memorials, which include the USS Bowfin, the USS Missouri, and the wreck of the USS Arizona. Buy tickets online to avoid the inevitable long wait. Ford Island also houses the Pearl Harbor Aviation Museum here: Historic hangars showcase vintage aircraft like a Japanese Zero and a Curtiss P-40E Warhawk. Plane buffs should add on a $10 combat-simulator flight.

After hiking, skiing, or Grand Canyon gawking, what better way to spend an evening than in Flagstaff’s oldest microbrewery? Wood-burning stoves in the entryway will keep you warm if the wait is long in this family-friendly brewpub. In addition to the handcrafted beers, you will find wood-fired pizzas, fondues, and apple cake made with oatmeal stout. I opted for the “Brewer’s Platter": bratwursts and spicy southwest sausage braised in their Railhead Red Ale, with caramelized onions, red cabbage, cinnamon apples, and skin-on mashed potatoes. So glad I listened to the guys in the mountain-gear-store up the street who recommended the place. For two decades, Beaver Street Brewery has been a Flagstaff institution, its sign a beacon on foggy winter nights... (Just remember, at 7,000 ft. above sea level, the brews go to your head much faster...so eat up!)

After a string of personal losses, a writer heads to Tamil Nadu seeking solace from her sorrows. It takes two temples, a palm leaf astrologer, and the driver of a velour-lined taxi to make her feel whole again.

Hail to New Mexican food—a melting pot of Spanish, Mediterranean, Mexican, Pueblo Native American, and cowboy chuckwagon. The best New Mexican cuisine is earthy and home-style and includes dishes such as tamales, chiles relleños, green chili cheeseburgers, and enchiladas. The official New Mexican state question is “Red or green?” Your answer depends on the kind of chili sauce you want smothered on your dish. Unsurprisingly, the state hosts some of the best New Mexican food you’ll find anywhere.

Yes, New Mexico actually has an official “state question"--since 1996, referring to the ubiquitous chile sauce, it’s “red or green?” Fortunately you don’t have to choose just one; the local way to say ‘can I have both’ is just one word: “Christmas.” If you’re driving through New Mexico on the way to Arizona and points beyond, the only town of any size on I-40 between Albuquerque and Flagstaff is Gallup. For road-trip food here, get away from the Interstate and its humdrum chain restaurants. Seek out Jerry’s--a block off old Route 66. You can’t miss the retro neon sign, and there’s often a line out the door for its New Mexico-style fare. Gallup is surrounded by Navajo, Hopi, and Zuni lands--you might well be one of the few non-Native-Americans eating here at breakfast or lunch. The restaurant allows local vendors to come in and show their wares--usually jewelry and bracelets--while you eat. (You can request a ‘do not disturb’ sign for your booth if you want.) “Hole in the wall” gets overused, but Jerry’s definitely fits that description. Nothing pretentious here--but the flavor of the chile sauce is as good as you’ll find in Albuquerque or Santa Fe. A recommendation: the flat cheese-and-onion-enchiladas, topped “Christmas” style with a fried egg on top. And don’t forget to sop up the sauce with the sopaipillas, saving some of the frybread to top with honey as a dessert afterwards...