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The cathedral, usually called the Duomo, is Florence’s most recognizable building. You are able to catch glimpses of its magnificent red-tiled cupola from just about anywhere in the city center. Construction on the church complex began in 1296 and the work—Brunelleschi’s dome and his Baptistery, and Giotto’s bell tower—was completed in 1426. The interior of this architectural is reserved in contrast with the exterior’s marble Gothic facade and its green, pink, and white stripes. Climb the 463 steps up into the dome for a close-up look at Giorgio Vasari’s fresco, The Last Judgment, and a bird’s-eye view of the city.

CoLAB, one of Rio’s coolest venues, may serve breakfast all day but it is much more than a breakfast joint. The tight space starts the day as a coffee house, then morphs into a cafe in the afternoon, and as the night falls, it becomes a bar. In addition to sundry coffee, granola, and artisanal baked goods, there are brunch items on the menu, as well as several curries, “street food” prepared with care (the falafel is especially recommended). The drink menu includes a range of nonalcoholic choices like kombucha and lemonade, as well as beer, and both classic and creative cocktails. A recent expansion introduced an additional small space for live music, a chill second floor, and a terrace. A performance schedule can be found online.

The cobalt-blue-and-brick-red residence where now-legendary Mexican visual artist Frida Kahlo grew up—and at times lived with husband Diego Rivera—is one of the city’s most consistently packed attractions; buying tickets in advance is strongly recommended. That said, the visit is essentially (and justifiably) mandatory and offers fascinating glimpses into this extraordinary woman’s life and work. In addition to holding some of her paintings, the house also functions as a showcase for her library, astounding wardrobe, and collection of pre-Columbian artifacts; it additionally bears witness to her close association with left-wing politics. What’s more, the museum portrays the artist’s struggles with depression, marital infidelities, disability, and illness. The house’s garden—home to a modest café and mostly bashful felines—makes for a great breather before more strolling in the Coyoacán neighborhood.

A favorite among Hollywood royalty, the Big Island’s Four Seasons is more secluded than its sister property on Maui. It sits on 863 acres of palm-fringed coastline, with little else for miles in any direction, other than two exclusive golf courses and some of the most expensive vacation homes in the state. Yet, conveniently, the hotel is only a 15-minute drive from Kona International Airport, and it isn’t uncommon for guests to fly in, park themselves at the resort, and never leave. Why would they? It’s an immaculate, ingenious playground, shamelessly verdant against the area’s prodigious black lava. There are seven pools to choose from, including one rock-walled rectangle in the ocean, and another man-made lagoon stocked with thousands of reef fish for guaranteed snorkeling success. Kids can camp overnight in a rock amphitheater. Lovebirds can have candlelit dinners on the beach. Even the accommodations are a Polynesian fantasy, with tropical woods and large headboards. All that, along with a tiki torch–lit beachfront, a French head chef, a swank sushi bar, a staff that treats every guest like Hollywood royalty, and honest-to-goodness cultural cred (the on-site museum and cultural center are well worth visiting), and it’s easy to understand why one would happily pay a king’s ransom to spend a few days here.

Occupying three whitewashed colonial buildings sheltered from the bustling streets of Old Town Cartagena, Casa San Agustín sits on the site of a former aqueduct and channels its heritage with a swimming pool that tunnels through its stately remnants. Inside, common spaces feature a mix of Colombian art and artifacts with contemporary wicker furnishings and marble floors. The 20 rooms and 10 suites are cozy and a bit more polished than those found at other historic properties nearby: Units feature 200-year-old wood-beamed ceilings and iron canopy beds topped with Frette linens; some have patios with hot tubs or brick terraces with views of surrounding buildings. But there’s plenty of space to unwind throughout the property, namely a library with original frescoes and a lounge with a long wooden bar and ceiling-high wine cabinet. It’s a good idea to make reservations in advance for dinner at Alma, considered among the city’s best restaurants, where the upscale international cuisine includes fresh ceviche and dry-aged beef cured on-site.

For most of its history, the Whitney Museum, originally founded by Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney in 1931, was located on New York’s Upper East Side, in the building that now houses the Met Breuer. In 2015, it reopened in a new, larger space designed by Renzo Piano in Manhattan’s Meatpacking District. The institution’s permanent collection is especially strong in works by leading artists from the first half of the 20th century, and as you might expect from its official name, American artists are particularly well represented—Louise Bourgeois, Alexander Calder, Stuart Davis, Edward Hopper, and many others. Visiting exhibitions tend to focus on living artists who are still producing new pieces; the museum’s Whitney Biennial (now taking place in odd-numbered years) is arguably the preeminent showcase in the United States for young contemporary artists. In addition to the galleries, the building has a number of outdoor terraces dotted with sculptures and offering views of Lower Manhattan and the Hudson River.

Calle Ocho or Little Havana is where all things Cuban and Latino come together in Miami. Start your walking tour of Little Havana at Maximo Gomez Park (aka Domino Park). If you play dominoes and have the patience to wait for a spot at a table, you will be in on the hottest game this side of the Florida Straits. Or just watch as all ages face off for hours and hours. Then follow the pink marble of the Calle Ocho Walk of Fame that honors Latin stars such as the Queen of Salsa, Celia Cruz. Stop for tostones (fried plantains) and ropa vieja (shredded beef), or a medianoche, a morning or late-night version of the Cuban sandwich with sweeter, lighter bread. And don’t be afraid to try some chicharrones (fried pork rinds). ¡Buen provecho!

The city’s most famous snowbird, architect Frank Lloyd Wright, spent winters at his home and architecture school in the Sonoran Desert. Taliesin West brings the horizontal lines and organic materials of Prairie School design to the desert landscape in low, skylighted buildings. Behind-the-scenes tours visit the pop-up structures that students have designed as living spaces amid the barrel cactus and paloverde trees.

The first Smithsonian affiliate in the Northwest, this superb museum chronicles the Asian Pacific American Experience. Among its most poignant exhibits is the Letter Cloud installation: old hotel walls frame tales of aging far away from home. It also offers walking tours of the surrounding International District, including Touch Of Chinatown, which visits the elegant Kobo gallery and Uwajimaya, one of America’s largest Asian grocery and gift stores. Stop into the nearby Panama Hotel, home to a teahouse and the nation’s only intact sentō (Japanese public bathhouse). Lockers and marble baths still stand in the basement, which harbored the belongings of Seattle’s 7,050 Japanese-American residents imprisoned in WWII internment camps—the basis for Jamie Ford’s best-selling novel Hotel On The Corner Of Bitter And Sweet.

This sprawling museum is located in four buildings near Battlefields Park—the most recent of them, the Pierre Lassonde pavilion, opened in 2016 and was designed by starchitect Rem Koolhaas’s OMA. The 25,000 works in its permanent collection cover the history of art in the province, beginning with the French colonial period and including artists who are still active today. The museum also holds one of the world’s most important collections of Inuit art, with some 100 pieces—mostly carvings in stone, whalebone, or ivory—on display at any one time. Temporary exhibitions focus on both local and international artists. If you have time for a sit-down meal, Tempéra Québecor—helmed by Marie-Chantal Lepage, one of Québec’s best-known chefs—is near the entrance of the new pavilion, with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the grounds and the Grande Allée.

Mexico City is often depicted—and not incorrectly—as a capital city teeming with buildings, people, and cars. It also, though, has a surprising number of green spaces and parks, the most expansive of which is Bosque de Chapultepec, right on the edge of Polanco. It’s easy to while away a good bit of time in Chapultepec; the park has a zoo, a lake where you can rent pedal boats, street performers making music and magic, and the Castillo de Chapultepec—Chapultepec Castle—which houses the National History Museum. If you’re hungry, you’ll find plenty of vendors peddling everything from roasted corn on the cob to cotton candy.

This elegant mall bridges glitzy Kalakaua Avenue and up-and-coming Kuhio Avenue. Its heart: a treehouse in an enormous Indian banyan tree. The tree was planted around 1850 and briefly owned by Queen Emma; at one point, one of its tree houses contained a radio station. A $500 million renovation overhauled the market place, a Waikīkī classic, in 2016. Now ten restaurants and 75 retail stores preside here, anchored by Saks Fifth Avenue—the first in Hawaii. While the International Market Place has lost its manic, Mad-Man-era, free-for-all vibe, it maintains quite a bit of character for a mall with touches like a three-story waterfall. Visit at sunset to catch traditionally dressed performers singing, dancing, blowing conches, and lighting the Lamakū Torch Tower.

In 1589, the Church of San Luigi dei Francesi became the official church of Rome’s French community, and with true Bourbon flair, the church’s decorations are a celebration of France’s power and wealth, with gilded stucco, lavish marbles, and detailed ornament. But it can feel as though no one is noticing, since visitors usually head directly to the Contarelli Chapel in the transept to the left of the main altar, where three incredible Caravaggio paintings reside: The Calling of Saint Matthew, The Martyrdom of Saint Matthew, and Saint Matthew and the Angel. Known as the Matthew Cycle, the beautifully detailed and dark oil paintings show off the best of the baroque painter.

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.

The River Café is situated right in the middle of the huge Karura Forest, a tranquil swath of wilderness in the middle of the city. The dining area, on a large expanse of wooden deck under an open-sided canvas roof, gets extra atmospheric charm from the surrounding forest treetops and plants. The menu is varied, with a good vegetarian section as well as light bites and more indulgent meals. The French onion soup and the salads are recommended. This place gets busy on the weekends, when Nairobians stop in for brunch after church or a walk around the forest, so book in advance.