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A compelling reason to be in Cape Town on a weekend morning (especially Sunday, if you want to eat your way through the food-focused Oranjezicht City Farm Market, too) is the dynamic Neighbourgoods Market at the Old Biscuit Mill in up-and-coming Woodstock. From 9 a.m. to 4 p.m., hip locals and tourists alike weave their way through what can only be described as an abundance of all things artisanal—edible, wearable, and otherwise. The most jam-packed part of the market is usually the massive tent lined with vendors specializing in mushrooms, bread, paella, pizza, honey, cakes, cheeses, and craft brews. It’s a veritable smorgasbord, so wear your stretchy pants, and work it off afterward by strolling the other section devoted to micro-merchants selling baby moccasins, brightly colored swimwear, offbeat home accessories, recycled brass jewelry, and more.

One of the first stops outside of Cusco was on the Anta plain at 12,375 ft. The 16th century ruin of Chinchero is rumored to be the birthplace of the rainbow. I would be hard pressed to argue those refractions of light could have a more beautiful beginning. A wonderful outdoor market overlooks the ruins and there are many weaving cooperatives to explore in the village. Locals work hard to preserve cultural customs speaking Quechua and wearing colorful traditional dress. By supporting the talented women and buying local you assist in making their lives more self sufficient through their craft. If you’re looking for colorful blankets, I thought this market had one of the best selections.

If walls could talk, you’d be stuck in conversation with the Fillmore for hours. The building was a dance hall when it opened in 1912 and a roller rink during the 1940s, and led its first concerts in 1952 with artists like James Brown and Ike & Tina Turner. But in the mid-1960s, the venue really had its moment. Concert promoter Bill Graham made the ballroom a hub for psychedelic music and brought would-be legends like the Grateful Dead, Big Brother and the Holding Company, Jefferson Airplane, and Santana to the stage. Needless to say, there’s history here. Learn it best by attending a show. The standing-room-only ballroom still brings in big-name artists—think Lorde and the 1975—at budget-friendly prices, along with a constant stream of smaller acts. There’s a full-service restaurant and a bar, and the vibrant collections of old photos, artwork, newspaper clippings, posters, and billings will school you on the club’s colorful past.

Feel instantly cool when you slip through the unmarked wooden doors and enter La Factoria. Garden lights hang from the graffiti-covered walls (designed to look artsy-shabby with a stylish restraint), seductive music plays, and the liquor bottles behind the bar are lit from beneath to add to the glow. The flattering amber light in this neighborhood bar invites whispered conversations and lingering glances. La Factoria, which introduced San Juan to the craft cocktail when it opened in 2013, encourages experimentation. Take your time enjoying your drink of choice, but be sure to wander a bit further into the sprawling building where you’ll come upon separate spaces with different moods: a wine bar, a speakeasy, a dance floor.

When I first stepped into the blue folds of the ICEHOTEL in Jukkasjärvi I thought this must be what Superman’s Fortress of Solitude looks like. It’s that blue found in the water of higher latitudes, a blue that looks photoshopped although no photograph seems to be able to reproduce it with fidelity. Most of the time you and the other hotel guests are dressed in the hotel-issued technical gear: snow suits, balaclavas, moon-boots, mittens, caps. But when you sleep in the cold hotel you strip down to your long underwear, lock your things in a locker, carry a sleeping bag and sleeping sheet to your room, and try to get as comfortable as possible on the reindeer skins. One tip to remaining comfortable is to go easy at the hotel’s ICEBAR. The drinks, inspired by and named after the rooms in the cold hotel, come in hollowed cubes of ice and go down a little too smoothly. The bathrooms, contrary to the supposition made by my friend on Facebook, are not made of ice but you do have to walk outside to reach them at night. We dressed and went to straight to breakfast when we woke. (It is busy in the locker and shower area in the morning.) I ate a protein-rich meal to restore the lost kilojoules and then sat for forty-five minutes in the sauna. When you check out you receive a diploma (write out the name of each guest if you want individual diplomas) perfect for you to share it with the very friends who thought you were nuts for wanting to sleep in the ice and snow and the cold.

Sun Moon Lake is Taiwan‘s largest fresh water lake. When I lived in Nantou County, central Taiwan, I would often ride my scooter to Sun Moon Lake for a bit of fresh air and reflection. One day I drove to the lake and traveled up a hill to the Ci-en Pagoda. Parking my bike, I climbed to the top of the pagoda and gazed out at the misty lake, which seemed magical in that moment. Many legends surround Sun Moon Lake, including the one which says the lake was once inhabited by two dragons. These dragons used the sun and moon as toys, causing the world to fall into darkness. Eventually a young couple came and defeated the dragons, brining light back into the world. Sun Moon Lake is one of the most peaceful places I’ve ever visited.

A breezy little beach hotel filled with rough wood, natural linen, and flea market finds, the Rose seems, to the uninitiated, like a pure product of quirky Venice’s hipsterfication. In fact, the historic, wood-and-stucco building was built by the beach town’s founder, Abbot Kinney, in the early days of the 20th century; rumor says it was his private brothel, frequented by such friends as Charlie Chaplin. By the 1970s, at the height of Venice’s drug culture, the building had become a flophouse of sorts, and neighbor Dennis Hopper was known to drop by. Before two British photographers discovered it, the house had turned into a mural-covered crash-pad for surfers, yogis, and beach bums of all kinds.

Looking at the low-key Rose now—the town’s first true boutique hotel, barely half a block from the beach—one would hardly know that the entire history of Venice had passed through it. The rooms are spare but stylish, with large windows, art photography, and vintage furniture. Some rooms are large enough to live in, whereas others share a hallway bathroom. Amenities are minimal—Stumptown coffee, bicycle rentals—but a relaxed beach house that attracts artists and creatives looking to delve into Venice’s eclectic, vibrant culture doesn’t need to try too hard to be cool.

Poutine is the stuff of legends, much to the chagrin of many Canadians. It is the one food non-Canadians seem to know the most about, and a snack of this heavy dish is at the top of the list for most visitors to Montreal. Even though it can be found throughout Canada, poutine got its start in Quebec back in the 1950s and truly is a collage—some would say train wreck—of ingredients. The classic recipe is simple, really: french fries topped with brown gravy and curd cheese. But this simple explanation really doesn’t do it justice. Like many other comfort foods, poutine may not be the healthiest dish, but there is just something satisfying about the experience. I love sharing a big bowl amongst friends, each armed with a fork scouting out the best fries and melty cheese curds as the gravy drips drop by drop into the bowl below. There are a thousand varieties of poutine, including BBQ, lobster, and even foie gras, but there’s nothing like the simple original version.

Istanbul’s Spice Bazaar may be a global tourist trap, but isn’t nearly as rage-inducing as the squawking group tours inside the Grand Bazaar. Here, a remnant of authenticity lives on in this 17th century building, created by commission for Sultana Turhan Hatice. Visually-arresting piles of spices and Turkish delight, and rows of pushy men, make for a wild afternoon of souvenir shopping and colorful conversation. Inside the Ucuzcular stall the sellers are friendly and happy to let you browse. A bag of “love tea” ensures romance in a pot. In that vein, on my way through the bazaar, a man trotted up to me and said, “Excuse me. I think you dropped something...” I looked puzzled. He smiled and theatrically clutched his chest, "...my heart.” He probably does that for all the Westerners, but I pretended it was as real as the magic in the spices.

The magnificent avenue of oak trees that greets visitors at Boone Hall Plantation is, on its own, a Charleston must-see. After taking it in, guests can walk through the plantation mansion or take a driving tour of the grounds, which cover 738 acres. If the car feels too restrictive, opt instead for a garden tour, which highlights a collection of antique roses and a striking butterfly pavilion. Depending on the season, you can visit the U-Pick Fields to harvest your own strawberries or stock up on tomatoes and peaches at an adjacent farm stand. At Boone Hall’s Gullah Theater, historic reenactors recount the dark days of slavery and celebrate the African American culture that marked plantation life in centuries past. .

With its wild, lush wetlands, Thailand is home to numerous species of snakes: pythons, cobras, and kraits, to name just three. While many of the country’s snake farms are not what you would call prime examples of animal rights at work, the Queen Saovabha Memorial Institute is way more ethical than most. Two hundred species of snakes, including king cobras, are on display, and there’s a facility that produces anti-venom as well as an animal toxin clinic for treating people bitten by other poisonous critters. Visitors can also attend snake-handling performances in the outdoor amphitheater and observe the snake milking process at daily public demonstrations.

In the center of the Founder’s Chapel of the Batalha monastery of Santa Maria da Vitoria, you will find the tombs of King John I and his wife Queen Philippa of Lancaster. Their sons’ tombs are also there.

One of their sons was Prince Henry the Navigator. Henry was born in Oporto in 1394 and I visited his birthplace while in that grand city which is Portugal’s second largest.


Henry was always interested in the sea and navigation. His father appointed him governor of the province of the Algarve and he founded a school of navigation and an observatory in Sagres. Sagres is located at the south western tip of the Algarve. It is a wild and beautiful rocky outcrop. There are remains of Henry’s school there.

I stood on the grounds as the wind whipped the area on a sunny day. You could almost see the caravels coming into the near-by ports their sails snapping in the wind.

The maritime trade started by Prince Henry the Navigator enabled Portugal to become a wealthy world power (14th to 16th centuries). The ship he designed called the caravel was lighter and faster than vessels of the time. Because of Henry’s work, other navigators explored the seas and discovered many new sea routes.

The Prince died in 1460 and left a very impressive legacy. Henry’s tomb is a large marble structure and is marked. I went up to the tomb that is beautifully preserved in Batalha’s chapel.

There is a lot of history in that chapel. When in the monastery, don’t miss the Founder’s Chapel.

New Orleans’ green spaces run the gamut from City Park, which spans 1,300 acres and is the 6th largest urban park in the United States, to the city block-sized Jackson Square, a French Quarter gathering point for artists, musicians, and street performers. The former has walking trails, botanical gardens, and an open-air sculpture garden, plus tennis courts, an 18-hole golf course, and a mini-golf course, but most come to see the world’s oldest grove of mature live oaks. Uptown’s Audubon Park is frequented by walkers, joggers, and cyclists who make their way around the park’s 1.8 mile loop—and it’s also home to the Audubon Zoo.

Yes, New Mexico actually has an official “state question"--since 1996, referring to the ubiquitous chile sauce, it’s “red or green?” Fortunately you don’t have to choose just one; the local way to say ‘can I have both’ is just one word: “Christmas.” If you’re driving through New Mexico on the way to Arizona and points beyond, the only town of any size on I-40 between Albuquerque and Flagstaff is Gallup. For road-trip food here, get away from the Interstate and its humdrum chain restaurants. Seek out Jerry’s--a block off old Route 66. You can’t miss the retro neon sign, and there’s often a line out the door for its New Mexico-style fare. Gallup is surrounded by Navajo, Hopi, and Zuni lands--you might well be one of the few non-Native-Americans eating here at breakfast or lunch. The restaurant allows local vendors to come in and show their wares--usually jewelry and bracelets--while you eat. (You can request a ‘do not disturb’ sign for your booth if you want.) “Hole in the wall” gets overused, but Jerry’s definitely fits that description. Nothing pretentious here--but the flavor of the chile sauce is as good as you’ll find in Albuquerque or Santa Fe. A recommendation: the flat cheese-and-onion-enchiladas, topped “Christmas” style with a fried egg on top. And don’t forget to sop up the sauce with the sopaipillas, saving some of the frybread to top with honey as a dessert afterwards...

After Toronto, Montréal is the Canadian city with the largest population of residents of Italian descent. For more than a century, the community has been centered in one of the city’s most charming neighborhoods, Little Italy. The way to the heart of this neighborhood is arguably through its stomach or, rather, the Jean-Talon Market, where residents have come to buy produce and stock their pantries since 1933. Even if you aren’t shopping for fresh vegetables or fruits, it’s a good place to come to sample Québecois products and buy gifts like local jams, jellies, and maple products to take back home.