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The most enviable address in Waikiki, the beachfront Halekulani is all about restrained elegance and pitch-perfect service. The hotel dates back a century, though it was entirely rebuilt in the 1980s—and the room decor—fifty shades of white and plantation shutters framing the turquoise sea—complements the scene outside. The beach itself is small and usually mobbed, but the pool is a dream—a giant oval big enough for laps, and quiet enough (few kids here) for a long doze under your chaise’s umbrella. The grassy courtyards and seaside restaurants are just as improbably serene; some might say stuffy, but for others, the reliably hushed atmosphere is a welcome tonic to the hubbub of Waikiki, just outside the Halekulani’s marbled entrance.

Occupying what were the Maison Blanche department store and the S.H. Kress & Co. five-and-dime, this stately hotel first opened its doors in 2000 after a $250 million overhaul of the then-shuttered Beaux-Arts buildings. After Katrina, the property underwent a second renovation, which included the expansion of its spa (now a sprawling 25,000 square feet) and the addition of a private entrance for Club level guests.

This is a Ritz-Carlton, so you can expect the same (high) level of service and luxury—think ornate furnishings, sumptuous linens, and a $3.5 million art collection—as at other properties within the brand. But the property isn’t just another Ritz. Bellmen wear seersucker, the bistro serves po’ boys, and there’s live jazz in the lounge (which also serves a mean Vesper).

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 owner Dave Neupert discovered the history of the Gold-Diggers Entertainment building in East Hollywood, he knew he had to turn it into a music-themed bar and boutique hotel. Originally built as an “inn above a tavern” in 1924, directly on Santa Monica Boulevard back when it was the famous Route 66, the building later became a dive bar with a rehearsal studio in the back that welcomed punk bands and was even used as a sound stage for Ed Wood. Now, the sleek Gold-Diggers bar includes dark-wood chevron paneling, textured wall coverings, a gold-velvet stage curtain, and Art Deco pendant lighting. Justin Gage of Aquarium Drunkard oversees the music and has welcomed such musicians as Iceage, Mary Lattimore, Julianna Barwick, and Luna to perform. There’s also an on-site recording studio, featuring nine professionally designed and acoustically engineered writing, tracking, and mixing studios managed by industry veteran Simon Horrocks and Grammy-award-winning engineer Eric Gorman.

This bowed silver building stands out among the skyscrapers of Downtown L.A. (though it now has an equally interesting-looking neighbor in the Broad). Those stainless-steel curves have a purpose, though. Architect Frank Gehry designed the Walt Disney Concert Hall with top-notch sound quality in mind, and the result is an architectural landmark that doubles as one of the most acoustically advanced concert halls in the world. The venue is home to the always impressive L.A. Philharmonic, a 100-piece orchestra that puts on concerts ranging from classical to jazz, contemporary, and world music throughout the year.

Just 10 minutes from downtown Orlando, in village-like Winter Park, the Alfond Inn has a unique legacy: The boutique lodging was created to provide income for scholarship funds at neighboring Rollins College, one of Florida’s oldest liberal arts schools. If helping students isn’t reason enough to book a stay, the hotel offers lots more incentive. A skylit domed atrium in the Spanish colonial–inspired main building draws your eye to a rotating collection of artwork curated by Cornell Fine Arts Museum, and pet-friendly guest rooms are simple and cheerful. While the hotel is not a full-fledged resort, it offers guests plenty of opportunities to linger. Fire pits and rocking chairs are dotted around the property, and shaded areas for loungers enhance the rooftop pool’s already undeniable appeal. Hamilton’s Kitchen restaurant serves modern Southern cuisine paired with wines selected by an award-winning sommelier. And shops, wine bars, and independent boutiques like Rifle Paper Co. line the town’s Park Avenue, a few blocks away. You can also take a pontoon boat tour for views of many of the Mediterranean-style mansions along the waterfront. Perhaps best of all, Disney and Universal theme parks are only a half-hour drive away.

On a hilltop perch overlooking 8,000 acres of grounds designed by famed landscape architect Frederick Law Olmsted, the Inn on Biltmore Estate’s 210 rooms and suites evoke traditional 19th-century manor houses, with dark mahogany beds and desks, billowing window treatments, and comfortable overstuffed chairs; book a room with a balcony to breathe fresh mountain air while appreciating views of rolling hills—or simply take in the vista from the hotel’s veranda. The formal dining room showcases seasonal specialties using estate-raised cattle and lamb, vegetables from the on-site garden, and wine from the property’s own winery, where you can participate in a free tasting, then ride back in a complimentary shuttle. If you’re looking for something more casual, the lobby lounge and library bar offer salads and sandwiches—and no dress code. But the main attraction is the 250-room Biltmore château, the Gilded Age mansion George Vanderbilt built here in the late 1800s, and its 16th-century tapestries, Renoir and Sargent originals, and 65 fireplaces.

On an island that’s less than two square miles with fewer than 2,000 people, new hotel openings are bound to cause a stir—as did Bahama House when it launched on Harbour Island in January, 2017. It’s the newest outpost from the folks at Eleven Experience, a vacation outfitter known for offering elegance after a full day of bespoke escapades. Spread across a restored colonial home built in 1800, an annex, and two authentic Bahamian cottages and enclosing a freshwater lap pool, handcrafted tiki bar, and hot tub area, Bahama House’s 11 suites have been appointed with eclectically curated furnishings, artwork, and wall coverings, eschewing island kitsch for beach-chic sumptuousness. Though the hotel leans toward softer adventures than sister properties in Colorado, Iceland, and the French Alps, the flip-flop–wearing “experience managers” are on hand to arrange snorkeling and bonefishing excursions and paddleboard or kayak outings. Or they’ll simply provide a fully stocked Yeti cooler for a day of lounging on famous pink-sand beaches.

Hundreds of years ago, at the height of Florence’s Renaissance heyday, visitors to this cultural capital wouldn’t have stayed in the kinds of luxury hotels that now line its picturesque streets. Rather, the well-heeled would have come at the behest of friends, lodging in private homes whose unassuming facades in the best neighborhoods belied their sumptuous interiors and private gardens, outfitted with art and artifacts collected from around the world.

A guesthouse to its core, Casa Howard continues this Florentine tradition; there is neither lobby nor restaurant, and the owner Massimiliano Leonardi di Casalino lives in his own apartment here while in town (note, it can be rented when he’s away). Jennifer Howard Forneris, one of the design-conscious proprietors who has since passed away, was the daughter of renowned textile designer Luciano Forneris. She gave each room its own look, with finds from her and Leonardi di Casalino’s world travels. A media room is the sole common area, and a hammam steam room and an on-site concierge service are the only nods toward traditional hotel services. Insider recommendations are personalized according to guests’ preferences, and the honor bar feels more like a friend’s (well-stocked) fridge.

This 12-cottage luxury hotel, 3,100 feet up in the Blue Mountains, is Jamaica without the beaches. It is the Jamaica of misty mornings, cool, cuddle-worthy evenings, and a musical heritage recognized worldwide. First as a private estate belonging to music producer Chris Blackwell and then as part of his Island Outpost collection of hotels, Strawberry Hill has been a creative refuge for performers including Bob Marley, the Rolling Stones, and Willy Nelson. After Hurricane Gilbert destroyed the estate’s great house in 1988, Blackwell commissioned Jamaican architect Ann Hodges, who specializes in historic reconstructions, to build the cottages, a restaurant, and a pool, which were opened in 1994. Yet despite the rock and roll history, and the hanging with like-minded souls up in the mountain mists, what guests seem to remember most is the far-below views of Kingston, especially at night, when the lights glow and sparkle from what must certainly be another world.

The Saguaro Scottsdale is among the handful of downtown Scottsdale hotels that embrace the urban Southwest vibe. Although it began life as a 1970s chain motel—evident in its blocky structure and the compactness of most rooms—this now-hip address has blossomed into the visual equivalent of desert wildflowers at the height of a wet spring. Especially striking against the desert tan that coats just about every other structure in Scottsdale, both outside and in, are a riot of colors that go beyond orange and purple and pink and yellow to such wildflower shades as California Poppy and Red Desert Globemallow. Just as vibrant is the Saguaro’s pool-party scene, aided, no doubt, by water temps chilled or heated as the season dictates. A complete redo of the Saguaro’s rooms in January 2017 gave them a modern Southwest vibe (think pastel-colored prints of cacti and desert-hued furnishings), but not so much that guests will be asking the concierge where to shop for cowboy boots (which would be Saba’s, just down the street, in Old Town).

With its palm-lined entrance, oasis-like courtyards, and proximity to the Sky Harbor Airport, the Royal Palms draws both business and leisure travelers, especially business travelers who’ve managed to work a few days of leisure into their schedule. Built in the shadow of Camelback Mountain in 1929 as a Spanish Colonial–style home for Cunard Line executive Delos W. Cooke (who imported 900 palms for the grounds), and opened as a hotel in 1948, the Royal Palms remains popular in part because, with just 119 rooms, it’s one of the smaller and more intimate of Arizona’s luxury resorts. Restoration and refurbishing have kept it up to date without diminishing its original charm.

Sea Temple sits proudly in the heart of Surfers Paradise, and if you pick the right floor, lifts you a world away from the noisy street below. Great access to Surfers, but a peaceful escape at the same time. Sea Temple is one of the Gold Coast’s top luxury accommodation providers and in my opinion, stands out because it has one of the best locations if glitz & glamour is what you’re after during your stay. The rooms are gorgeous, the pools are great but the best part is hands down the view - it helps that Sea Temple looks over the top of the surrounding cluster of hotels too. Beautiful!

What began in 1854 as a high school—then grew into a college and, later, a law school—has served as one of San Antonio’s top hotels since 1968. Located near the River Walk, not far from the city’s historic district, the leafy former campus is centered around a seven-story, Spanish colonial-style main building with 338 guest rooms. Each one mixes original touches like wood-beamed ceilings, exposed brick walls, and French doors with modern amenities like HDTVs, marble baths, and Wi-Fi (complimentary for loyalty club members). Some even look out on the River Walk, while others offer views of a verdant garden. Healthy extras like in-room fitness kits, a 24-hour gym, and a year-round heated pool help offset the indulgences served at the on-site restaurants and bars, which include the fine-dining Las Canarias (don’t miss the popular Sunday brunch.) Younger guests can look forward to game-filled backpacks and scavenger hunts, while adults will enjoy the award-winning spa and restaurant at La Mansion’s sister property, Mokara, located across the river.

Hiking the French Valley is part of the W-trek through Patagonia’s Torres del Paine National Park. It’s about 16 mi round-trip from Refugio Paine Grande to the French Valley Mirador, to see the French Glacier and the Paine Massif as close as you can get. The trail is diverse and only reaches a steep height at the last 5.5 km on the way there. You begin at Lago Pehoe and take grassy paths through the forested valley, on an terrain that the locals call “Patagonia flat,” i.e. an undulating up and down of several feet. On the way you’ll see tiny magenta--and edible--berries that taste just like apples; you’ll cross small glacial streams where you can fill up your water bottle with fresh, wild water. You’ll trek right by the Cuernos, or the “Horns,” another well-known set of peaks in Torres del Paine. Over the French River you go as you get deeper into the valley, over wobbly rope bridges. The final 5.5 km to the French Valley Mirador has you balancing on thousands of loose boulders on your way up. The very top of the trek feels like being in the middle of a Patagonian fishbowl: Paine Massif to your left, French Glacier in front, the Aleta de Tiburon (the Shark’s Fin) and the Cuernos to the right, and turquoise Lago Pehoe behind you.