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The melodious invitations of “irasshaimase” (“welcome”) from all the staff at Ippudo NY as I walked into the restaurant quickly transported me back to Japan although I must admit it seemed to me slightly dissonant, almost like a dubbed movie, when I heard the phrase perfectly uttered from some of the blonde-haired, blue-eyed waiters. But the welcome was a nice touch, an additional layer of the place’s verisimilitude. We waited for our table in the busy bar area where ramen bowls lined its red walls like trophies in a hunting lodge. The glowing reviews and reasonable prices make Ippudo NY a very popular choice even at six in the evening - presumably just a late lunch for New Yorkers. The restaurant does not take reservations so expect a little wait. We sat in a narrow wing filled with a concentrate of small tables: You are close enough to your neighbors to smell what they ordered and be influenced by their decisions. We started with the pork bun, a popular choice: It was smooth and creamy but not as sweet as the ones I had in Japan. My wife and I both ordered ramen, she the miso tonkotsu and I the traditional tonkotsu, and we delighted in its milky oil-dappled broth, the telltale soft boiled egg, and the freshly pulled ramen. We finished with the matcha (green tea) ice cream and soft tofu, a distinctively Japanese combination, and it completed our reintroduction to the dining experiences we so loved in Japan and we were left to reflexively whisper to ourselves “oishi.”

With only 48 hours to spend in Istanbul, you really don’t want to have a bad meal. Doing my research before we left, one place that kept turning up with names like “Best Meals of 2012,” My Last Meal on Earth Would Be,"—plus recommendations from trusted friends—was Çiya. After a leisurely morning wander around the seaside neighborhood of Ortaköy, we hopped on a ferry, grabbed a glass of hot tea, and headed to the Asian side of Istanbul. In Kadıköy we found young buskers playing traditional music on almost every corner, and vegetable and fish sellers shouting the praises of their wares. And all of the sidewalk cafes were full. Çiya is spread out over three locations. We had the difficult choice of choosing one of them. We picked Çiya kebap. We ordered a thin and spicy lahmacun—a kind of turkish pizza—to start and then moved on to our meaty mains: Ayvalý Taraklý, an intense dish of tiny lamb chops smothered in a pomegranate and fresh quince sauce; a classic kebap plate with hand-minced lamb with lots of fresh mint; Kağıt Kebap, a spicy hand-minced lamb and hot chili pepper kebab. We were seated on the second floor with a view of the original Çiya Sofrasi, and we watched as plates from the two restaurants were passed back and forth. After all that food, the sun broke through the clouds, and we headed back out to the streets—to the crowds of Sunday shoppers and the sounds of the muezzin call.

New York, Tokyo, and other major cities are home to startling numbers of authentic Neapolitan pizzerias, many with ovens handmade by Neapolitan craftsmen. In those places, pizza making is definitely considered an elevated craft. Perhaps Neapolitans do not think of their cooks as artists because so much of the city’s cuisine is rooted in cucina popolare, or people’s food. What strikes me most about the food of Naples is the uniformly high standards in even the humblest restaurants. That goes for pizzas as well, which makes it impossible to single out one pizzeria. Or so I thought until I visited La Notizia, located up in the hills on the edge of the gritty working-class borough of Fuorigrotta (too far from central Naples to be reached on foot). Owner-chef Enzo Coccia is as obsessed with the details of materials and technique as any Neapolitan tailor.

From my first bite, Coccia’s pizza struck me as something categorically different and decidedly better than anything I had tasted in Naples—or anywhere else in the world. It was feather light but still chewy, the way Neapolitan pizza should be. The thin middle crust didn’t dissolve into a soupy blend of cheese and tomato. When I asked Coccia about his technique, he formed two small test rounds of dough. He flattened one by hand; the other he rolled out with a can. He threw them both into the wood-burning oven and pulled them out 30 seconds later. The hand-formed dough was light and airy. The can-leveled dough was dense. “I prepare my dough at seven in the morning,” said Coccia. “It needs 14 to 16 hours to rise. I make only 300 pizzas’ worth of dough, and when that’s done, we close. Of course it takes the best and freshest ingredients—artisan mozzarella and local extra virgin olive oil—but it’s more than that. You need a passion for the traditional way. Then pizza can be as artisanal as a suit. 39/(0) 081-714-2155. This appeared in the September, 2012 issue.

Chef/owner Roberto Solís is widely considered one of Mexico’s best chefs—and Néctar deserves its reputation as one of the area’s top restaurants. The kitchen serves up traditional dishes from the area, all featuring local and seasonal ingredients so the menu changes depending on what’s being harvested around the Yucatán. But several local favorites are always available, including cochinita pibil(roast pork); relleno negro-stuffed turkey; and tikin xic (fish marinated in Achiote and sweet chile.

Why we love it: Tanzania’s first Design Hotel delivers eco-chic 20 miles off the coast

Highlights:
- A very haute take on African village architecture with 56 thatched bungalows, suites and villas
- The sight of dhows (traditional wooden sailboats) silhouetted at sunset
- Lush tropical landscaping with a spice garden flourishing over a quarter of the 32-acre grounds

The review: Set on the equator, Zanzibar glows with color from the pearl-hued beach to lush vegetation and the turquoise Indian Ocean. “Zuri” means “beautiful in Kiswahili, the island’s language, and the hotel delivers on this promise at every turn. Of especial note: the carved doorframes, contemporary African art and locally made furniture, often crafted from old dhows. Enjoy nice upcycled touches too like the rainbow of hanging lamps in the open-air Peponi bar, made from old bottles.

Tucked on a west-facing slope, most of the accommodations face the sapphire Indian Ocean, and all have large terraces with bold-colored hammocks and wicker furniture. They also boast outdoor showers, where concrete floors contrast with curtains of paper beads, handmade by artisans at the female-led social enterprise Chaka. Inside, the warm tones of Tanzanian teak and eucalyptus compliment the nyasi (grass) thatch from the mainland. Make sure to veil your bed with the mosquito net, which contains an energy-efficient cooling system!

Bungalows can sleep up to two adults and some have hot tubs. Suites step things up with larger terraces, living rooms and private outdoor Jacuzzis. Or really splash out with an exclusive oceanfront villa that can host up to six adults, complete with an infinity pool and private swathe of sand.

Guests can dine on the shore, at the pool or in one of the beachfront restaurants. Expect a fusion of African, Indian and Arabian cuisine, though European and Middle Eastern elements come into play as well. Zuri Zanzibar is especially strong on shisha (hookah) offerings and sugar-cane cocktails, along with dishes like beef samosas, coconut-milk ceviche, octopus-tentacle salad and pilau rice with kachumbari (a tomato-onion salad popular in the African Great Lakes region).

Talk about first impressions: Carved sandstone elephants welcome guests into a two-story chandeliered lobby at this palace-style hotel. Attentive service starts at check-in, with gifts of bindis and fresh jasmine necklaces. At 550-square-feet or larger, rooms are palatial themselves, and richly decorated with oriental carpets, jacquards, and hand-embroidered brocades. Those on higher floors offer panoramic city views, but many visitors choose spaces overlooking the internal courtyard or expansive garden (and away from a 16-lane highway) for a sense of calm. The hotel’s Edwardian-inspired bar draws locals and guests alike with its 25-page whiskey and scotch menu, as does a rooftop pool with stunning vistas over New Delhi’s urban landscape. Unique amenities include an on-call astrologer and, for women travelers, the option of an all-female service staff, including butler, gym instructors, and private city guides.

Built in the 14th century as a villa for a powerful shogun, Kinkaku-ji temple, commonly referred to as the Golden Pavilion, is an easy bus ride from the main bus terminal in Kyoto. The temple is one of the most popular buildings in Japan, so expect a lot of fellow gawkers. It exemplifies several different Japanese architecture styles, and the top two levels are completely covered in gold leaf. The extensive gardens are beautifully manicured and serene, despite the abundance of visitors using selfie sticks.

Félix Meana and Katie Button, veterans of elBulli in Spain, converted Asheville’s former downtown bus depot into a stylish tapas bar. Cúrate means to cure oneself, which diners can do with traditional Spanish dishes such as Catalan sausage bocadillos, codfish salad, and honey-drizzled fried eggplant. This appeared in the July/August 2012 issue. Read Emma John’s feature on the North Carolina bluegrass scene.

Let the Urubamba River set your course during a thrilling rafting adventure along the Ollantaytambo rapids, available through the Belmond. The river helped form what is now the Sacred Valley, and along the way you’ll not only sense its power, but also get a feel for some less visited corners of the region it created. You’ll pass towering eucalyptus trees and the ruins of Inca terraces and more as you make your way down river, ending with a picnic lunch before returning to the hotel by car. Photo by Rod Waddington/Flickr.

The gallery, boutique, and tearooms of Morocco’s most famous living artist, Hassan Hajjaj, is an essential stop for any art lovers staying in the city. Tucked away down a narrow alley behind the Rahba Lakdima (otherwise known as the Place des Épices), it’s like stumbling into a jewel box filled with pop-art treasures. Hajjaj made a name for himself with a series of photographs titled Kech Angels, which depicted local girls on mopeds dressed in eye-popping robes. The collection has been exhibited all over the world in such illustrious venues as the Victoria and Albert Museum in London and the Institut des Cultures d’Islam in Paris, but nowhere beats enjoying the work on home turf. While you’re there, treat yourself to his iconic recycled home and fashion pieces, such as a sardine-can lantern, a pair of babouches (Moroccan slippers) cut from a flour sack, or a stool from an oil drum. And if you hang around for a pot of mint tea in the courtyard, you might even meet the man himself.

We were lost. My driver had picked me up from Hotel Alvear in Buenos Aires two hours ago, maybe more. It was hot in the car; the A/C had only two settings “off or ice blast.” I opted for a rolled-down window. We were on a jutted, dusty road that went on for several miles with no signage. He pulled the car over and made a call to Buenos Aires for clarification. After a rudimentary exchange with me in Spanish we continued slowly. Teens in a car behind us, not happy with our progress, tooted and gave us the universal sign of displeasure as they passed. My driver found the estancia La Bamba de Areco gates and after announcing ourselves at the intercom, were told to wait. In a few minutes, what a sight coming at us through the allée of plane trees; a gaucho galloping full speed on a beautiful mount. Still astride, she dispatched the gate and motioned for us to follow by car as she loped ahead. It was to be an amazing day. I was told that the owners, a French couple (a Parisian designer and an owner of an English Polo Team) purchased the crumbling estate five years ago carefully restoring and re-imagining the estancia. A series of superbly decorated rooms and suites offers entre to this privileged Argentine lifestyle to visitors. Love for polo or riding is optimal, not required. But a love for peaceful luxury, inspiring location, attentive staff, appreciation of the opportunity to be a part of a disappearing culture, and love of fabulous wines and food is a must here.

Here’s a bold claim: the Olympic Sculpture Park might just have something for everyone. Located on the waterfront, not far from Pike Place Market, it features great views of Puget Sound (well, on clear days) and the ferries going back and forth. Stroll the paths and admire the sculptures large and small scattered throughout the park, or sit on the many chairs and benches and admire the view. There’s a nearby bike trail, and the Neukom Vivarium (a giant 60-foot rainforest log ecosystem in a greenhouse) is just steps away. Best of all, it’s free! Get a dose of culture and then head down to the waterfront for some fish ‘n’ chips.

Handicrafts made from woven straw have been a staple of Bahamian life for generations. The technique was traditionally used to create functional items like fish traps and baskets for carrying food, but today such items are made primarily for souvenirs. A great place to find these and many other keepsakes is the Nassau Straw Market, where around 500 vendors sell a wide variety of goods, from baskets and handbags to wood carvings, drums, and T-shirts. The Nassau Straw Market is a short walk from the Bay Street shopping district. It’s open every day from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.

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.

Full disclosure: It’s authentically tourist-tacky in Plaza Garibaldi, the traditional Mexico City center for mariachi music and culture. But when you’re ready for a serenade, you’re ready. The plaza fills up late at night, every night, with a motley crew of local revelers from all walks of life, plus visitors, vendors, and dozens of extravagantly attired orchestras. Taking a table at Salón El Tenampa, right on the plaza, may afford a modicum of order. A Garibaldi institution beneath its fabulous neon sign, this music hall pulls in a fascinating, Felliniesque crew of misbehaving pencil pushers, shady ladies, brokenhearted tequila swillers, wide-eyed travelers, and slumming hipsters. Strolling bands—usually pretty good—are available for hire, but bring them in close to your table to avoid sonic interference from every other trumpet in the joint.