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While you’re in Damaraland, the Organ Pipes are just a short drive away from Twyfelfontein and the Petrified Trees. After paying a small tip for a guide to accompany you (there was no real indication if this is necessary or not so you might just want to roll with it) you descend down into a crevice so that you can walk among the rock formations. No explanation is needed as to why this area got it’s nickname. Each basalt rock has a different hue, ranging from grey to reddish orange, further exposed over time as the land erodes away. It doesn’t take very long to walk a short loop to the exit and is an interesting geological site to photograph and visit.

This West Hobart café has long been known for sourdough: stone-ground, organic fruit, fig and walnut—you name it. But the owners of Weston Farm took it over in 2013 and added new breakfast and lunch favorites that outshine the bread—from baked eggs over chorizo hash coated in saffron yogurt to pork and fennel meatballs smothered in spicy paprika sauce. Most produce comes from the farm, including the smoked paprika, which won gold in the 2017 Delicious Magazine awards. (The farm also rents out a cottage overlooking its olive groves.) A mini marble-bar bakery, Pigeon Whole Bakers, fronts Franklin restaurant and is run by the original Pigeon Hole baker, Jay Patey. This is now the place to get your sourdough bread and doughnuts.

The Buccaneer has a long history. The colonial great house was built by Maltese knight Charles Martel in 1653. Located on a protected bluff, the house later became the home of Danish governor von Prock after Denmark’s 1733 purchase of the Virgin Islands. Fast-forward to 1947, when the Armstrong family transformed what was by then a cattle estate into the Buccaneer, St. Croix’s first family-run hotel. The resort, completely modern and still quite popular, operates the Buccaneer Golf Club, celebrated for its par 70 course that offers Caribbean views from 13 of its 18 holes.

I’m not one to skip breakfast, especially in Italy, where thoughts of cappuccino, pastries, and local ham tend to rouse me early from slumber. But on my first morning at the Hotel Sant’Angelo, in the old quarter of Matera, I was having a hard time dragging myself from the creature comforts of my cave. Staying in a cave, it turns out, can be surprisingly pleasant. There was just one small window high overhead, but the room and adjoining bath were in no way dank—a testament to the natural ventilation that keeps the caves cool and comfortable. The wavy contours of the white tufa-rock walls conjured a feeling of being enveloped in some primordial womb. Yet there were modern amenities: luxurious linens, Internet service, a telephone. Fred Flintstone never had it this good. I might have snoozed until noon, were it not for an impatient mate eager to see the sights. We had arrived in the village the previous night after a long drive across the treeless plains of the Basilicata region, located at the instep of Italy’s boot. Matera is an enchanted world of Stone Age splendor. Known as the sassi (Italian for stones), the bisque-colored hilltop cave homes comprise one of the oldest continuously inhabited places on earth, according to UNESCO. The caves have provided shelter for more than 7,000 years. A millennium ago, shepherds inhabited them and carved churches into the rock; during the Renaissance, the area prospered and elaborate buildings were carved out, the excess tufa sculpted into ornate facades. By the early 1900s, the sassi had fallen into neglect. Families and their animals crowded into the caves for warmth, and disease was rampant. When writer Carlo Levi brought this tragic state of affairs to light with his 1945 book Christ Stopped At Eboli, the Italian authorities moved residents en masse to modern housing—leaving the sassi abandoned, save for the occasional crew brought by film makers (Pier Paolo Pasolini and Mel Gibson among them) in search of a biblical-looking backdrop. It was only in the 1990s that the Italian government encouraged people to move back. Residents revamped the cave dwellings as homes, restaurants, and inns. When the Sant’Angelo opened in 2004, it was the area’s first luxury hotel. The 19 cave rooms are sparsely but tastefully appointed with rustic wooden furniture. Some carved decorations—crosses, hearts, an owl—date back hundreds of years. Fossilized shells embedded in the walls reveal that the region once lay underwater. Eventually, my fiancé and I did emerge from our cave to wander the town’s ancient alleys. A local guide named Dora Cappiello took us into some of the 150 chiese rupestri (rock churches), where she pointed out wine troughs and frescoes of San Nicola, the patron saint of local shepherds. We also visited a cave dwelling that had been restored to resemble its state when the caves were equal parts manger and living space.
Simple, delicious meals punctuated our explorations. The curvy walls of Baccanti, a cave restaurant, created a private nook where we feasted on silky pappardelle pasta with a cinghiale (wild boar) ragu, accompanied by a dry, fruity red aglianico from the nearby Vulture wine region. Tired and sated after a full day, we headed back to our cave—on moonless nights, a flashlight or trail of bread crumbs is advised for the stumble back to the hotel—where the promise of a deep, sound night’s sleep awaited. —Amy Cortese Hotel Sant’Angelo, 39/0835-314010, from $211 for a double. This appeared in the March/April 2010 issue.

Few call this restaurant by its actual long and somewhat odd name, preferring simply Happy Valley Dim Sum or Dim Sum in Happy Valley. Look for the green retro sign with the words Dim Sum running vertically in gold under big red Chinese characters. This cozy 1950s-style Shanghai café—with snug wooden booths under old movie posters—serves some of the best dim sum in Hong Kong. Order from a menu that includes lots of vegetarian options as well as panfried shrimp and chive dumplings, lobster and shrimp dumplings, and fried rice rolls with soy sauce.

You know there’s something worth checking out when this in-town farm attracts farmers from farther afield to come learn best practices. Not only is this urban goat dairy a working farm, it also offers field trips, tours, summer-camp programs, cheese-making classes, and an oft-sold-out goat yoga (yoga with goats) session. (And to guard the goats, there’s a llama.) With all those Zen goats, there’s plenty of milk flowing, and in addition to the goat cheese, the farm sells shares of the goat herd for access to the raw goat milk. It’s located on the historic Long’s farm property along with a local community garden manager, Growing Gardens.

These two castles, both elements of the fortifications encircling the city, stand on either side of La Caleta beach. The fortress of Santa Catalina, entered directly from the promenade, was constructed in the 17th century. Its small chapel and a central patio planted with palms give it the sun-baked look of a Mexican mission. The castillo is now a cultural center where open-air concerts are held in summer. San Sebastián, meanwhile, is an imposing fort built (in 1706) on a small island connected to the mainland by a long stone causeway. This malecón is popular among locals and visitors as a pleasant place to walk for a cool breeze.

Panama City’s seafood market stands near the halfway point along the Cinta Costera, so the goodies on offer can be your reward after a long walkabout. Since colonial times, fishermen who sold the city its seafood have anchored here; there’s now an up-to-date market home to nearly a score of open-air stalls where customers chow down on ceviche, fried corvina fish with patacones (fried plantain rounds), filete a lo macho (fish filet in a shellfish ragout), and those same patacones, now stuffed with shrimp or much-celebrated shellfish guacho (think a tropical risotto). Don’t expect anything ritzy: This is plastic-chair-and-table country, but the food is so delicious that you won’t be thinking about the ambience.

Preservation Hall occupies a worn Creole town house that was originally built as a home in the early 19th century, and that had evolved into an art gallery and performance space by 1961. (It was founded by a man of philanthropic bent who fretted that the great, aging New Orleans musicians no longer had a place to play.) It hasn’t changed much since the ‘60s—audiences cluster on benches or stand along the back wall to hear whomever is playing that night. Among the glories of New Orleans is traditional jazz, which is still very much alive here and never feels as if it belongs in a morgue—or even an intensive care unit. Check the schedule for upcoming acts, but don’t get hung up on specific performers; every night offers something worth stopping by for, and everyone leaves in a better mood than when they arrived.

The southern Placencia Peninsula is a laid-back beach destination where you’ll see a little bit of every Belizean cultural group, in addition to a healthy number of expats. The village is where the action is, a main drag lined with Creole restaurants, bistros, fruit stalls, and snack stands. North of the strip, resorts occupy the Seine Bight and Maya Beach areas, ranging in scale from boutique to large, with swimming pools and water toys. Placencia is near some of the most gorgeous diving and snorkeling in Belize, including dreamy islands for day trips—such as Ranguana Caye, Laughing Bird Caye, and the Silk Cayes.

Set in a row of shophouses—traditional double-use structures with a storefront on the street level, the owner’s residence on the floors above—the New Majestic Hotel is a small gem in Chinatown filled with quirks and contrasts. Colonial design is plentiful, from the vintage Compton fans in the lobby to furniture from the 1920s–1960s throughout. The rooms are a little more free-form. They range from suites with their own urban gardens to attic-style spaces with loft beds and 20-foot ceilings. Then there are the five rooms in which Singapore artists were told to unleash their creativity (Work, one of these rooms, looks like temporary housing, with plywood sections everywhere). Pieces by local emerging artists include murals with hidden messages or displaying pop art influences. The bottom of the rooftop pool has small portholes that look down onto the Majestic Restaurant, one floor down.

Today, the fern-filled hillsides surrounding the Glenfinnan Monument regularly fill with camera-toting tourists, all eager to see the historic Jacobite Steam Train—which serves as the Hogwarts Express in the Harry Potter movies—breeze across the elevated stone viaduct. More significant than the train, however, is the monument itself, which serves as a striking tribute to those who fought in the Jacobite Risings.

Less than a year before the Battle of Culloden, Bonnie Prince Charlie raised his father’s Standard on this very land, marking the start of the Jacobite campaign. An army of 1,500 rallied around him, then marched as far south as Derby before the retreat that would seal their fate. In 1815, a nearly 60-foot monument was erected, with the long, kilted Highlander at the top representing the clansmen who gave their lives to the Jacobite cause. Travelers can make the dizzying climb to the top of the tower for unrivaled views of Loch Shiel, then tour the visitor center, which tells the story of Prince Charles and the 1745 Jacobite Rising.

As the name suggests, this hotel’s personality is one part laid-back Californian, one part British aristocrat. Nowhere is that clearer than at the 10th-floor rooftop pool, where plantings inspired by formal English gardens stand out against a backdrop of palm trees and sunny views of the Hollywood Hills. Downstairs, the London Bar channels both influences, too, with an orangeries-style latticework frieze inspired by English conservatories along with a living wall of exotic plants and a menu that ranges from classic (Moscow Mules, Pimm’s Cups) to creative (the Winston Churchill made with Bulldog gin and Laphroig scotch is a favorite).

The Hole is a geologic formation that offers a dramatic look at the same karst process that created Conch Bar Caves and other limestone sinkholes and caverns found throughout the Turks and Caicos Islands. As its name implies, the Hole is area’s largest limestone sinkhole, about 60 feet deep and 50 feet across. A pool of water at the bottom connects to Juba Sound’s nearby ponds through an underground tunnel. You can rent a car and drive to the Hole on the east side of Juba Sound; however, use caution when walking near the edge, as limestone can crumble.

While in Cape Town, be sure to take the red bus route and head to Camps Bay Beach. Camps Bay is a beautiful spot to enjoy dinner and watch the sunset for a perfect way to end the day. Many restaurants have outdoor seating facing the beach so you can enjoy a bottle of delicious South African wine while admiring the last rays of sun in the afternoon. Camps Bay has really cool rock formations and the views of the Twelve Apostles mountain chain.