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It might be a part of the Colorado River—a man-made reservoir carved out of the river in 1960—but everyone calls the body of water bisecting Austin Lady Bird Lake. On hot summer days, scores of walkers and joggers move along the lakeside paths through nearby Zilker Park, but you can also take to the water by canoe, kayak, water bike, or stand-up paddleboard. You can’t swim here, but the left fork (heading west) in the river will take you to Barton Springs Pool, a popular Austin hangout, where you can splash in the water to your heart’s—and body temperature’s—delight.

Never has a yummy treat been mired in such controversy as the Whoopie Pie. First, how did this burger-shaped cake with the sugary cream filling get its name? Does the name come from the exclamation that schoolchildren shouted upon opening their lunch bags to discover these delights? Or does it come from the Amish farmers, who were rewarded with these portable “pies” in their lunch boxes? My vote (and Pennsylvania Dutch lore) favors the school kids. But wait—there’s more controversy! While I am one hundred percent certain that these little cakes called pies originated in my lovely state of Pennsylvania, it seems that the state of Maine has also laid claim to their origin, even going so far as to name the Whoopie Pie as its “official state treat.” Other research points to somewhere in New York state as their birthplace. We may never know… There was a time not long ago when Whoopie Pies felt much like a prized local secret because no one outside of Pennsylvania had ever heard of them (excepting, I guess, some of those Mainers). These days, though, you can even find Whoopie Pies in the bakery sections at Trader Joe’s and Whole Foods. But the most authentic and delicious version can only be found at the Amish bakery Beiler’s in the Reading Terminal Market. My personal favorite is the pumpkin flavor, but the chocolate is also delicious. Or maybe try the oatmeal, or the red velvet. Better yet, try one of each—they’re portable!

Reservations required—and no wonder. The tours at the Neon Museum sell out months in advance. A walk through the museum’s famous “Boneyard” (where neon goes to die) is fascinating, from motel row to the first integrated casino (one that shut almost as soon as it opened), and the Stardust, with its nuclear testing-inspired font. All of this comes alive thanks to the museum’s famous docents, all art history buffs with loads of family history or other personal anecdotes.

By all means, eat some grits ‘n’ greens down South...but don’t fall into the trap of thinking that all local food is fried when traveling in the region. Check out Manuel’s--one of the culinary highlights along the Savannah River in Hammond’s Ferry, SC. Originally from Lyon, chef/owner Manuel Verney-Caron has created a neighborhood gathering place that features local produce from literally just up the street at “Blue Clay Farm.” This community garden is one of the centerpieces of the “New Urbanism” that has built this pedestrian-friendly neighborhood near the site of a late-18th-century water crossing. Jog along the river, stroll on sidewalks within ‘conversation-distance’ of front porches, kneel down among the chickens and ducks--and make sure to end up at Manuel’s. The residents of Augusta, GA have voted Manuel’s as having the best bread in the city--you can chew on his loaves in restaurants around town and buy them at the Saturday morning Farmer’s Market at the Riverwalk. Technically, though, Manuel’s is out-of-city and out-of-state--but it’s a quick jaunt to North Augusta, SC. Go to the source, and there’s much more than bread: duck confit and croque-monsieurs are served along with burgers and pulled-pork BBQ at lunch; a more substantial taste of France can be indulged at dinner in this bouchon-inspired interior. Most visitors to Augusta come for The Master’s Golf tournament; leave the chain-restaurants around the Augusta National--the drive to SC is worth it.

This property is closed through 2019 for repairs made necessary by hurricanes Irma and Maria.

Caneel Bay, one of the island’s more secluded and protected bays, is home to Caneel Bay Resort, a historic luxury hotel founded by Laurance Rockefeller. After opening the resort in 1956, Rockefeller donated the land on which it lies to become the Virgin Islands National Park, which covers about 60 percent of the island. Day-trippers can easily reach Caneel Bay by taxi from Cruz Bay. The resort has no fewer than seven beaches, including Honeymoon Beach, a short hike away. Come here to relax on the main beach, book water sports at the diving and snorkeling center and have lunch at the hotel restaurant.

The trek to the HOLLYWOOD sign may be the most famous L.A. hike to outsiders, but if you’re looking for downtown views, celebrity sightings, and a typical L.A.-style glamour hike (not necessarily strenuous, but very fashionable), the 3.3-mile Runyon Canyon loop is your best bet. You’ll still get a great view of those giant letters, but you’ll also be able to spot the who’s who of the Hollywood Hills, with plenty of locals out on their routine pre-Sunday-brunch ritual. (And there are lots of grade-A brunch spots nearby, such as the Griddle Café, if you too are in search of a pancake-heavy menu.) The trails are dog-friendly, and dog-loving Angelenos take full advantage, so your pooch will have no shortage of company if you decide to bring him along.

You really can’t ask for fresher beer than they serve at the Pike. This huge pub is actually built around the equipment that is brewing the next batch as you drink. It’s the brainchild of Charles Finkel, whose passion is evident in this glorious shrine to beer, with his collections of bottles, ads and vintage merch covering every square inch of the place. When we visited, he was actually putting up some beer-themed stamp collections on one of the few remaining patches of uncovered wall; we got chatting, and in his enthusiasm he insisted on taking us down to the basement for a tour of the workfloor. Charles just adores what he does and you can taste it in the microbrews, a selection of lovingly crafted beers that you’ll struggle to find outside the Pacific Northwest. I loved “Naughty Nellie,” a golden ale that slips down rather too easily, but there’s more than a dozen types to choose from not to mention seasonal varieties (we visited at Halloween, when a special Pumpkin ale was on tap). A good way is to buy the tasting menu, which includes around eight of their flavours (although beware, some of them are fairly strong and might go to your head). The Pike’s easiest to find if you approach it from 1st Avenue, through Pike Place Market, although we stumbled onto it in Post Alley, where you can get an elevator up to the pub. We stumbled upon it when we were just gasping for a drink—but we got so much more.

New York City’s Chinese and Chinese American populations total around 570,000, making this the largest concentration of Chinese outside the mother country. The first Chinatown in Manhattan dates to the 1870s, and while it continues to grow, it has also been joined by other Chinatowns, including one in Flushing, Queens. That is where Joe’s Shanghai opened its first location, in 1995—though the two in Manhattan, on Pell Street in Chinatown and West 56th Street in Midtown, will be more convenient for most travelers. You can expect a wait for a table, and when you are seated you may be sharing it with strangers. The restaurant can be noisy, and as soon as you have finished your meal, you’ll be encouraged to settle up and leave. In other words, people don’t come here for the atmosphere or the service. Instead, the excellent and generous renditions of favorite Chinese dishes, especially the restaurant’s signature soup dumplings, are the draw. The dumplings are served in bamboo steamer baskets and each one holds a pork or crab meatball in a hot broth, all wrapped up in a doughy package. It may prove to be the most flavorful moment of your trip to New York.

Hotel Monaco is charming, boutique hotel nestled in the heart of historic Old Town on a lively block of King Street, walking distance to the waterfronts and lots of shopping and restaurants. A sumptuous lobby greets guests with rich decor of peacock blue walls, crimson accents and cozy seating nooks. Rooms are colorful, comfortable an roomy. As with most Kimpton hotels, this one has excellent service and personal perks such as complimentary morning coffee and tea service, free afternoon wine receptions, courtesy shuttle service to Reagan National Airport, Dive-in movie nights by the pool, and umbrellas for use on rainy days. This is also one of the few pet-friendly hotels in the area and dog owners can bring their pets to Yappy Hours on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. Guests can mingle with Alexandria locals and enjoy drinks with their canine companions on Jackson 20’s patio. TIP: Joining the Kimpton’s free InTouch loyalty program will get you complementary wi-fi access and $10 in credit to raid the mini bar GET THERE: 12 blocks from King Street metro (blue & yellow lines), free King Street trolley between station and hotel, a courtesy hotel shuttle service to Reagan National Airport

When traveling, I love to spend Saturday morning at the farmers market. There’s no better way to meet the locals and get to know the town culture. What produce do they love? What coffee do they sip? What’s the overall mood? One of the best Saturday morning farmers markets I’ve been to was in a giant park in Portland, Maine. The stalls were packed with reasonably priced, locally grown produce (of course, Maine blueberries were abundant). Despite the chilly morning temperatures, children played in a splash park and adults sipped locally made apple cider while listening to the various jazz musicians who had set up around the farmers market. Despite the crowds, parking was abundant (such a rarity!) as was the “Maine nice” that we found around the entire state.

When you hear the phrase, “summer in southern Arizona,” naturally your thoughts will tend toward heat and sunshine. Most wouldn’t think of mounds of fresh produce at a farmers’ market in the desert city of Tucson. But the arrival of the monsoon coincides with nature’s edible bounty, even here in the desert. The nearby Santa Cruz valley is actually one of the oldest continually-farmed regions in North America, with agriculture dating back four thousand years! Heirloom beans, squash, chiles, and tomatoes are still grown. The nearby higher elevation lands near Willcox are known for their orchards and even a few vineyards. Mesquite flour is made into cookies and tortillas. Prickly pear cactus is made into jams and frozen treats. All this is available throughout the week at various farmers’ markets around Tucson. The biggest one is on Sunday morning in the neo-colonial courtyards of St. Philip’s Plaza. And, if you’re curious, you’ll get language and cooking lessons, too. On a recent Sunday morning, my wife and I asked what some curious looking greens were. The answer? Purslane, or “verdolagas” in Spanish. They grow like weeds once the monsoon rains begin, and they contain more omega-3 fatty acids (think fish oil) than any other leafy plant. In a salad, or sautéed or stewed, they’re great. Who knew? Farmers’ markets are always a great place to get a vibe for a city—a cross section of people and produce. And, even in the desert, it is possible to shop and eat local.

“Ready!” I grip the bar tightly and lean forward. “Set!” I bend my knees and my heart starts racing. “HUP!” Before I have time for doubts, I take a deep breath, and jump off the platform. The next 40 seconds are a pure adrenaline rush as I soar through the air on a flying trapeze—a thrilling introduction to my first class at the satellite Trapeze School N.Y. in the Navy Yard district of Washington, D.C. I try to stay calm and oriented as my teacher yells instructions to swing my legs and lift my knees up to hang from the bar. This simple move is the foundation for many tricks that we six beginners in the class get to practice many times. By the end of the two-hour class, I’m already doing flips into the net and performing basic catches with one of the instructors. I start to wonder if my childhood dreams of joining the circus are possible after all. Class is over, I’m tired and my legs already ache from the climbs up the ridiculously long trapeze ladder (for me, the scariest part of the class). The school’s motto was right: “Forget about fear. Worry about addiction.” The school offers a variety of trapeze, aerial, trampoline, and acrobatics classes for adults and children.

Don’t go looking for Casa Grande, the national monument of pre-Columbian ruins, in Casa Grande, the sprawling exurb of a town about halfway between Phoenix and Tucson. You have to drive about 20 miles away to the small town of Coolidge to find the site. This may not be the most scenic stretch of desert, it must be said, but the destination is worth the detour. The Hohokam culture built this complex of dwellings and irrigation canals—one of many—late in their tenure here. Erected in the 1300s, this particular site was abandoned by the mid-1400s—the end of perhaps a thousand years of irrigated agriculture in the Sonoran Desert. The network of villages and canals continue to fascinate archaeologists and urban planners. The “big house” (Casa Grande was named by the first Spanish explorers in the area) stands about four stories tall. In the 1930s, the current shelter was built to protect it from further erosion. (Look carefully: you might catch a glimpse of the resident horned owls.) The timbers needed for construction came from the mountains about 50 miles away; at the time there were no pack animals, and thus no wheeled vehicles in this desert—makes you think... The surrounding ballgame-courts show influence from Mesoamerica. Desert civilization in North America is often thought of as a recent phenomenon—take the 20th-century explosions of Las Vegas, Phoenix, etc. Dig deeper, and get off the interstate. The past is not remote, and this is an easy day trip from Tucson.

Hidden Pond blends Maine cottage living with its own quirky, Instagram-worthy take on luxury. The enclave of 14 colorful one- and two-bedroom clapboard bungalows is spread over 60 acres of birch groves and balsam fir, just a 10-minute drive from downtown Kennebunkport. Each private house comes with a full kitchen that practically begs to be used, with first-rate cooking equipment and serving pieces and, for guests staying in the two-bedroom cottages, the option to send along a grocery list prior to arrival. However, dining at Hidden Pond’s farm-to-table Earth restaurant, with its awe-inspiring chandelier made from a preserved apple tree, shouldn’t be missed. For an even more memorable experience, guests can supper in one of two private garden sheds, which are outfitted with a sole table surrounded by hurricane lanterns, pitchforks, and potted plants, and situated steps from a chef’s garden that supplies ingredients for every meal. The Tree Spa is aptly named: Treatment rooms are nestled in the treetops eight feet above ground and are reached via wooden footbridges.

It all started with a tent. The acquisition of the original tent used by George Washington during the American Revolution was the starting point of what was to become the nation’s premier collection of colonial artifacts, now housed in this museum’s galleries. Visitors can experience key moments in the history of the United States re-created in the immersive displays and exhibits of Revolutionary-era art, weapons, manuscripts, and personal items. Located at Third and Chestnut streets, the museum is a short walk from the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall. Kids will love the cannon in the museum’s plaza.