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The concierge at the hotel was skeptical. The cab driver was amused and skeptical. Lucha libre, or Mexican wrestling, is clearly an unsophisticated embarrassment, tantamount to telling a visitor to the U.S. to watch Keeping Up with the Kardashians. Attending a match, though, is a way to see a side of Mexican culture not found in museums or historic churches, but one that definitely uses some of the same mythology, iconography, and pageantry seen there. The crowd shouts, chants, and laughs through performances featuring dancing girls, inept referees, men in lavish and ridiculous costumes (a caveman with a plastic club, fur boots, and a skimpy loincloth), and some honest-to-God astounding feats of athleticism. Matches—loud and funny and thrilling—take place on Friday nights and occasionally during the week. Tickets can be bought in person at the arena, but arrive early to avoid a long line and use your time to shop the stands set up outside for handmade lucha libre wares (wrestling capes, masks, T-shirts, onesies for infants).

If, like most visitors, you head for Tucson between Thanksgiving and Easter, you’re probably seeking sun and warmth while the rest of the country deals with the winter blahs. And you’ll most likely find what you’re looking for. There’s a reason why golfers, cyclists, hikers, and runners flock to southern Arizona this time of year. But, once or twice a decade, the lush Sonoran desert might get a snowfall—it never lasts for long, but every saguaro, ocotillo, cholla, and prickly pear cactus will be edged in ephemeral white. As soon as the sun comes up over the mountains, you’ll start hearing the drip drip drip of the inevitable melting...And by the next day you’re likely to be wearing shorts again. Saguaro National Park, which flanks both the western and eastern edges of Arizona’s second-largest city, is the ideal place to go for a hike in the rare desert snow. The Eastern (Rincon Mountain) division of the park has a hilly eight-mile one-way loop road with access to numerous trails. Drive slowly and yield to the runners and senior-citizen-cyclists-in-spandex with thighs of steel. Get out and up into the saguaro-studded hills before the unlikely landscape disappears...Keep your eyes open for bobcats, mule deer, and the pig-like javelina. (You’re less likely to encounter a rattlesnake in the winter months, but this is still desert wilderness.) And if there’s no snow, you might be treated to spring wildflowers. Don’t forget your sunscreen...

Rumi was born in Afghanistan, spent time in Persia (Iran), then settled in Konya, Turkey when his father was invited there to be a scholar. Rumi became an Islamic scholar himself teaching peace, love, and tolerance. He built quite a following of the educated – who saw him as a wise philosopher – and uneducated – who saw him as a prophet. Rumi’s life changed when he created an intense friendship with an older, wandering mystic -- Shams of Tabriz. Shams was a brilliant outcast and Rumi was deeply drawn to a learning relationship with this man who was ultimately supposedly killed by some of Rumi’s fans due to the influence he was having on the younger Rumi. From this tragedy, Rumi found a deep well inside himself filled with an ability to channel poetry. It was about this time that he also introduced the experience of divine harmony that comes from whirling. Thus, a new form of religious ecstasy was created and the Whirling Dervishes (also known as the Mevlevi order) have been doing this annual ceremony marking Rumi’s death for almost 750 years. This is the start of the Sema (ceremony) with each Semazen (dancer) bowing upon arriving on stage and the Basi (the leader) at the “head of the class.” The mesmerizing ceremony represents man’s journey to the oneness of perfect truth – amidst separation and longing - through the power of divine love. In 2005, UNESCO proclaimed the “Mevlevi Sema Ceremony” as amongst the Masterpieces of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity.

Thanks to its easy-to-reach location on the main highway just fifteen minutes south of Playa del Carmen, this open cenote ranks among the most popular with locals. One half of the clear spring is shallow, with areas for climbing adjacent rocks; other spots are just deep enough for snorkeling. Elsewhere, there are still deeper waters for swimming and cooling off, complete with a sundeck and a small cliff for jumping.

One of the most famous landmarks, the pyramids that grace the Giza Plateau certainly don’t disappoint. Nearly 4,000 years old, these mystical tombs have captivated the attention of people around the world since they were first built.


Tourism is down in Egypt, making this a great time to visit and have these monuments almost to yourself. With your admission ticket you can wander around the massive structures and even descend into the incredible Pyramid of Khafre.

Touring the pyramids with a trained Egyptologist, like those found with Insight Vacations tours, makes the experience even more enriching. It’s hard not to feel like an archaeologist of old as you “discover” the inner chambers for yourself.

Vesper Bar at The Cosmopolitan is our favorite spot for a serious Old Fashioned—or Elderfashioned, the house’s riff, which gets a dose of St. Germain.

It had been a long wait for modern art lovers, but after a three-year closure and a $305 million renovation and expansion, the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art (SFMOMA) reopened in May 2016, and was it ever worth the wait. A new 10-story addition from the renowned Norwegian design firm Snøhetta integrates seamlessly with the existing black-and-white-striped atrium tower, giving San Francisco‘s SoMa neighborhood some serious eye-candy. It’s also now the largest modern and contemporary art museum in America, with nearly triple its previous gallery space. New to the already impressive collection are selected works from the esteemed Doris and Donald Fisher Collection, featuring significant American and European artists of the 20th and 21st centuries such as Andy Warhol, Ellsworth Kelly, Alexander Calder, Georg Baselitz, Barbara Hepworth, and Henry Moore, among many others. Gifts of painting, sculpture, drawings, media arts, and architecture made to the museum since 2009 also rotate through various galleries, while the entire third floor is dedicated to the Pritzker Center for Photography. Visitors take a breather in the tranquil sculpture garden with enormous living wall, or in the fifth floor Cafe 5. Along with offering free entry to visitors 18 years old and under, SFMOMA invites you to try In Situ, the museum’s signature 150-seat lounge and restaurant, helmed by Michelin-star chef Corey Lee, with a menu of dishes culled from the recipes of some 80 chefs from around the world.

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.

A 1,200-acre green space filled with museums, theaters, and gardens, Balboa Park is the center of art and culture in San Diego. It’s also one of the city’s most historic sites, built for the Panama–California exhibition in 1915. While the museums are definitely worth seeing, there are also a number of free attractions, including the photogenic Botanical Building, which houses more than 2,100 plants (including Venus flytraps); the Desert Garden, filled with succulents from around the world; and a sculpture court with works by Miró and Rodin. For one of the area’s best views, purchase a timed ticket to climb the California Tower in the Museum of Man. The ornate structure reopened to the public in 2015 after being closed for nearly 80 years and features a spiral staircase to the eighth floor, where you can catch a glimpse of the Cuyamaca Mountains, the Cabrillo Bridge, and even Mexico’s Coronado Islands.

Founded in what was previously an artists’ residence, Brody House fittingly takes its name from Hungarian author Sándor Bródy. Each of the 11 air-conditioned rooms features a bohemian mix of upcycled furniture—think sofas with frames crafted from old shipping pallets and accent walls made with old wooden doors—and some have claw-foot tubs. The hotel is part of a larger effort that includes condo-style accommodations (Brody Apartments), a grand suburban villa (Brody Villa), and an art gallery (The Art Yard). However, the group’s best-known property is Brody Studios, a private-members club for the local arts communities featuring bars, workshops, and even a recording studio. All guests staying at Brody sites get free access to the space and its regular calendar of dance parties and literature- and art-related events as well as the occasional English-language comedy show.

Bright and early, just before the sun comes up over Mount Bromo, Mount Semeru and Mount Batok, with ample rolling fog and an epic eruption for good measure. We climbed Mount Penanjakan in our Toyota 4x4 pre-dawn in the headlights of some 1,200 other vehicles. Once at the viewpoint my travel partner and I decided against the same shooting vantage as everyone else - all 3,000 tourists, gah - and climbed down the hill for a better look (and a few square feet to dig in our tripods). As soon as the sun started to shine and illuminate the volcanoes in the distance, all the nuisance and discomfort of the day, all the pain and suffering associated with actually making the trip to Bromo, it vanished. We spent the next hour shooting one of the most incredible sunrises I have ever witnessed. Getting here is a bit of a package-tour nightmare, but so very much worth it in the end.

Built in the Roaring Twenties, the Royal Hawaiian ushered in the glam age of Waikiki Beach. The so-called Pink Palace, a Spanish Moorish–style confection set on bright-green lawns was, at the time, the priciest hotel project in the Pacific and a fast favorite of Hollywood royalty and East Coast blue bloods (who, in those early years, arrived by steamship, along with their piles of trunks and chauffeured cars). For those first few decades, anyone who was anyone, it seemed, stayed at the Royal Hawaiian; on any given day, you might see the likes of Spencer Tracy autographing a coconut or Joe DiMaggio surfing off the hotel’s beach. Once other luxury hotels sprouted up on Oahu, the Royal Hawaiian’s star faded some, but after a massive renovation in 2008, it became a member of Starwood’s Luxury Hotel Collection and, once again, one of the top spots on the island. The makeover managed to keep those graceful old bones and art deco flourishes (miles of tile, sweeping arches), while giving the whole place a long overdue upgrade. Genteel surroundings aside, the hotel is as lively as ever. But at night, when the oceanfront Mai Tar bar is rocking, guests can still scope out quiet corners. Retreat to the gracious portico lined with rocking chairs or the garden pathways dreamily lit by torches, and you’ll discover that the romance of old Waikiki lives on.

With its historic pueblo-inspired architecture and Spanish Revival style, this landmark Santa Fe hotel looks like it dates back much earlier than 1922, when it was designed by two of the area’s top architects: Mary Elizabeth Jane Coulter and John Gaw Meem. And, in fact, despite the imposing building’s relative youth, the legacy of La Fonda dates back to the 1600s. An inn or hotel has stood on this site since the city’s founding at the end of the Santa Fe Trail.

Now, as one of the city’s most iconic luxury hotels, it presides over the historic Plaza and boasts some of the best views of the city and surrounding mountains and desert. Thanks to a complete (and completely faithful) renovation in 2013, rooms are now bright and airy, outfitted with handcrafted furnishings, local artwork and textiles, energy-efficient casement windows, and all the luxuries expected of a modern grande dame. The fine-dining courtyard restaurant is one of the most romantic dining destinations in town—trumped only by the rooftop Bell Tower Bar, whose sunset views and margarita menu draw locals and in-the-know visitors alike. Throw in a heated outdoor pool (open year-round, a rarity in Santa Fe) and a decadent spa, and it’s no wonder that La Fonda has maintained its reputation for superlative hospitality for so long.

The Armani Hotel Milano occupies a beautiful, box-shaped 1930s palazzo in the beating heart of Milan’s fashion district. As striking as it looks from the outside, it’s arguably even more glamorous on the inside. Every aspect of its interior, from the mother-of-pearl doors to the leather-lined walls, has been either designed or approved by Giorgio Armani himself. The overall aesthetic is smart and elegant, thanks to the neutral color scheme of beiges and light grays. Special touches abound, including Armani amenities in the gray marble bathrooms, complimentary minibars, and a “lifestyle manager” appointed to each guest upon arrival.

The hotel’s 95 rooms come in various sizes and types, ranging from Armani Deluxe rooms, with their own deep bathtubs, to two-story Armani Signature Suites, which offer stylish central staircases and their own living rooms. The seventh floor of the building houses the impressive Armani/Ristorante, with floor-to-ceiling windows that look out onto Milan’s skyline. An Armani/Bamboo Bar and Armani/SPA provide further opportunities for exquisite in-house indulgence.

A colorful working-class neighborhood near downtown that had fallen on hard times, Woodstock has been revitalized with a mix of galleries, artists’ studios, boutiques, and restaurants. Much of the area’s original vibe remains, however, thanks to the long rows of colonnaded shops that edge Albert and Victoria roads. Among the nearby storefronts that are open throughout the week are Espresso Lab Microroasters and Luke Dale-Roberts’s award-winning restaurant, the Test Kitchen. Continuing down Albert Road, you’ll find spots like the Woodstock Co-op and the very trendy Woodstock Exchange, with a great array of places to eat and stores selling local goods. At the end of Albert Road, there’s a concentration of galleries, including the Stevenson, Goodman, and SMAC. On Saturdays, Woodstock draws crowds to the Neighbourgoods Market, a prepared foods extravaganza in the Old Biscuit Mill.