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Housed on a 1,100-foot stretch of beachfront, Grace Bay Club is as stylishly current as it was in 1993, when it became the first luxury hotel to open on the then nearly empty sands of Grace Bay. From its original 21 rooms, the upscale property has grown to 82 suites, each of which features ocean views, a private veranda or patio, and chic interiors by renowned designer Thom Felicia. Guests can also look forward to superior service, including a personal concierge available day or night via a provided cell phone.

When hunger strikes, there’s the oceanfront Infiniti Restaurant & Raw Bar, which boasts sea-to-table fare and the longest bar in the Caribbean, as well as several other family-friendly venues, including The Grill. If it’s pampering you seek, make time to visit the spacious Anani Spa, where you’ll find six treatment rooms, including one just for couples. A spa tent is also available for beachfront massages.

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.

When a restaurant has only four items on the menu, chances are good it will be an expert at preparing them. Myeongdong Kyoja is one such establishment. The restaurant’s signature dish is kalguksu, a hearty soup with chicken broth, hand-cut noodles, minced meat, dumplings, and vegetables. Also on offer is kongguksu, a cooling soup of soymilk broth and nutrient-rich chlorella noodles that’s perfect for summer. On the other end of the spectrum is guksu, a wheat-noodle dish coated with spicy red-pepper paste. Lastly, there are mandu—baskets of steamed dumplings stuffed with fresh pork and vegetables. As servings here tend to be large and optimal for sharing, it’s best to come with a friend or two.

Another Hong Kong “who knew?"—you can surf right off of Hong Kong Island at the aptly named Big Wave Bay Beach. Follow the local surfers to the scenic eastern end of the island near the Dragon’s Back hiking trails. It’s considered the best spot in Hong Kong for beginners; there are board rentals and lessons, too. Expect weekends to be crowded. While you’re there, check out prehistoric rock carvings nearby that depict animals and geometric designs, similar to other carvings found along the shoreline of Hong Kong. To reach the beach, get out at the MTR Shau Kei Wan Station, Exit A2, and then take the red mini bus marked Shek O.

One of New York’s most iconic landmarks is also one of America’s: the Statue of Liberty, standing in the middle of New York Harbor as it has since 1885. The statue was famously a gift from France, built to a design by sculptor Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi and with structural engineering overseen by Gustave Eiffel. The statue was one of the first large-scale curtain wall structures—that is, one where weight is supported by an internal frame and not by the exterior walls. As one of New York’s most visited sights, some tickets sell out far in advance. There are two different levels of tickets: pedestal and crown. Tickets to the pedestal and especially those to the crown are often gone months in advance, so plan accordingly.

The Power and the Glory is a cool bistro in the center of Cape Town that has attracted a cult following among locals. The relaxed style, the bearded staff, the folding chairs, and the sidewalk stools may remind you of a Brooklyn cafe. If you can snag a chair, it makes for a great place to work or to have a meeting over a light breakfast. In the evening, the place is usually packed with revelers. Try the quiche in the morning, the pretzel bun hot dog in the evening, and the Nutella cheesecake for dessert.

Among all the odd-shaped mountains that adorn the Rio horizon, Sugarloaf (Pão de Açúcar in Portuguese) stands apart for its majesty and fortuitous placement. Sugarloaf is part of a single landmark along with sister peak Urca, to which it connects via a now-century-old cable car locals call the bondinho. When you reach the top of the rounded outcropping, 1,300 feet up, it’s hard to decide what to look at: You’ve got 360 degrees of Rio from on high. The recommended (and most sought-after) visiting hour is sunset. Yet there’s no hurry to descend before night falls. Seeing the lights come up in the cidade maravilhosa is well worth a tarry.

Like the New York speakeasy Please Don’t Tell, the hidden Shanghai bar Keep it Quiet also has a request of drinkers in its name. In the corner of the garden at lauded Shanghainese restaurant Yongfoo Elite is a mid-size space decked out in heavy antique furnishings. Though the decor is on the dark side, a skylight and glass wall overlooking the garden let in enough light. Speakeasies can err on the side of pretentious, but Keep it Quiet doesn’t. You won’t see drinks here that require the concentrated labor of a mixologist nor the use of garnishes better suited to cocktail hour. The Rum Old Fashioned, for example, is simply rum (Bacardi and Ron Zacapa), bitters, a bit of sugar, and a squeeze of citrus.

Experiencing this short dog sled ride was one of the highlights of our trip to Alaska. You can tell the dogs are very happy to do their job and it really is incredible to see the strong bond between the driver and the dogs.

Several restaurants are squeezed between the colorful fishing boats and flashy yachts in the ever-so-cute Palio Limani (Old Harbor) of Spetses. At Tarsanas, wooden tables are lined up along the pier. The yachties know that the Kaloskami brothers have their own caïque, so the catch of the day comes straight from their boat to their grill. In addition to simple grilled fish, these guys have a thousand ways with seafood, including red mullet ceviche, sea bass sashimi, creamy fish soup, and whole bream baked in a sea salt crust.

Aroos Damascus (which translates as “the Bride of Damascus”), on Al Muraqqabat Road in Dubai’s old Deira district, is an ode to Syrian cuisine. The lively atmosphere and great food draw a diverse crowd of South Asians, Filipinos, and locals looking for an alternative to enclosed malls and expensive restaurants. Platters of assorted appetizer, and entrees of kebabs, steaks, kibbeh, fatoosh, and flavorful Arabic pizzas (manaeesh) are served all day (and until late in the evening) inside or on the patio.

Wine, as they say, belongs at the table. Yet most tasting rooms offer only the wine. For a richer experience, seek out wineries that offer food pairings or, better yet, an entire meal. At Robert Sinskey winery, cookbook author and Chef Maria Helm Sinskey pairs bites made with ingredients from their garden with the new releases of Pinot Noir and the excellent Abraxas, a blend of Pinot Gris, Pinot Blanc and Gewurztraminer. Round Pond Estate takes it a step further — the four-course lunch served on the terrace uses all biodynamically farmed produce, vinegar and honey from the estate as well as olive oil that is crushed by stone just a stone’s throw from the winery.

Inspired by the lunar calendar, new spa treatments at the Ritz-Carlton Key Biscayne resort on an island south of Miami Beach explore the moon’s influence on the senses. Products from Éminence’s biodynamic line utilize ingredients harvested during corresponding phases of the moon.

One of Dallas’s earliest neighborhoods, this formerly industrial area just east of downtown has a long history as an entertainment hub, from its days as a hotbed of blues and jazz clubs in the 1920s, to the 1980s, when local bands like the New Bohemians, Butthole Surfers, and Old 97’s were launched from its clubs. Today, the area is not quite as counterculture as in the past, but it’s still got an indie steak, with vibrant street murals and public art providing the backdrop for a host of independent galleries, shops, bars, breweries, cafés, tattoo studios, and over 60 restaurants and 30 live music venues. Among the most iconic music spots are Club Dada and Trees, both of which have been revamped in recent years, as well as The Door, the Prophet Bar, jazz/blues favorite the Free Man, and the century-old Sons of Hermann Hall. As it has grown, the area has also become more family friendly, particularly during events like the annual Deep Ellum Arts Festival, which features stalls from around 200 juried visual artists, and five stages hosting 100 musical acts.

The Durian is fondly known as the king of fruits in Southeast Asia. It’s a fruit that the locals love, but that many outsiders find to be an acquired taste. In fact, Andrew Zimmern, the presenter of the Travel Channel’s Bizarre Foods, (the guy who eats the world’s craziest and weirdest things) can’t stand durians. The name durian comes from the Malay word “duri,” which means “thorns.” Cutting open a durian is an art. You have to cut along certain lines created by the thorns, which are barely visible. If you get it wrong, it would be tough to open. Once cut, you use your palms to push apart the insides to reveal the yellow flesh. The smell of the durian is strong enough to make you salivate or faint, depending on which side of the fence you are on regarding it’s taste. If you’re ever in Malaysia, you must give it a try. Who knows? You could end up liking something that Andrew Zimmern himself can’t stomach!