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If you have a design in mind, there’s a good chance the Tahiti Pearl Market can make it in a few hours. It’s great fun to sort through the loose pearl bins to find the perfect specimen.

Québec City has an abundance of elegant restaurants, both contemporary and classic, where you could easily imagine you are dining in Paris or New York. Bistro St-Malo, on the other hand, is a no-pretense, casual favorite, albeit one that still serves excellent renditions of French and Québecois dishes. Steak frites, duck confit, and boudin (blood sausage) are among the classic bistro options served here. The setting is as memorable as the cooking—the stone walls, hung with oil paintings and knickknacks, gives the restaurant a feeling similar to that of the many antique shops that sit near it on Rue Saint-Paul. In the summer, alfresco dining on the street, which runs along the waterfront of Lower Town, adds to the cafe’s popularity.

Amsterdam’s Royal Palace sits on Dam Square at the heart of the city. Though it remains a working palace—it’s where King Willem-Alexander was crowned in 2013—the Dutch royal family only uses it occasionally and the rest of the time it’s open to the public. Walk through the 350-year-old palace to explore its vast halls and priceless art collections. The truly passionate can get a deeper look by booking a guided tour from an art historian.

Founded in 1838, Amsterdam’s zoo, just east of the Canal Ring, is one of the oldest in Europe, with a parklike setting that also houses an aquarium and planetarium (entrance to both is included in the price of admission). The grounds, while not large, are home to around 700 species, including giraffes, gorillas, penguins, pelicans, sloths, and reindeer. A highlight is Lemur Island, where the freely roaming long-tailed creatures scurry and hop all around you. The zoo also recently updated its Asian elephant and jaguar enclosures. The aquarium, which dates from 1882, was fully renovated in 1997 and counts tropical fish, sharks, and sea horses among its residents; it also boasts an underwater scene of a typical Amsterdam canal, complete with a sunken bicycle.

Atop St. Paul’s Hill sit the ruins of St. Paul’s Church, built by the Portuguese and consecrated in 1521. Malaysia’s oldest church was first Roman Catholic, then Dutch Reformed and ultimately used by the British to store gunpowder. Missionary St. Francis Xavier was briefly interred here (after three weeks his remains were sent to Goa, in India, where they can be found to this day); an open grave marks the spot where he was buried. Adjacent to the church is the Porta de Santiago, all that’s left of the Portuguese fortress A Famosa; built in the early 16th century after the Portuguese took control of Malacca, the fortress was used by both the Dutch and the British.

The Carbet Falls (Les Chutes du Carbet, in French) is one of Guadeloupe’s most famous sights, a series of three waterfalls tumbling down the side of the volcano La Soufrière, with a backdrop of lush Parc National de Guadeloupe foliage. The first falls drops 125 meters (410 feet), the second, 110 meters (360 feet), and while the third has the greatest volume of water, it’s the shortest, at only 20 meters (66 feet). The second falls is the most visited, largely because it’s an easy 20-minute stroll from the parking lots. Visiting the first falls involves a hike up a steep trail that’s just under a kilometer (3,000 feet). Only experienced hikers should attempt to visit the third falls.

Given the civilized associations of the Côte d’Azur, the Massif des Maures may come as a surprise. This small mountain range that runs parallel to the French Riviera for some 60 kilometers (36 miles) is still, at least in areas, decidedly wild with its typically Mediterranean forests of oaks, pines and chestnut trees. Don’t expect the soaring peaks of the Alps—even the tallest mountains are under 750 meters (2,460 feet)—but on the plus side, that makes the area accessible even for casual day hikers. Well-marked and maintained trails lead to a more rugged Provence that feels far from the beach towns below. (Note, however, that some routes may close in the summer and autumn depending on the risk of fire.)

This lake filled with giant, translucent chunks of iceberg is one of Iceland’s most distinctive and photogenic sights. Featured in high-profile movies, including two of the James Bond series and Batman Begins (as well as many local TV commercials), the sight is reached via a scenic drive along the country’s main ring road (Route 1). The icebergs originate at the Breiðamerkurjökull glacier, which looms in the distance behind the lagoon, and look especially otherworldly when they reach the nearby black-sand beach. The area is also a paradise for bird lovers, with arctic terns and skuas nesting in the area (they may dive-bomb you if you get too close to their nests), and it’s possible to spot the occasional seal. A nearby visitor center offers simple fast food and drinks as well as souvenirs.

I’m not sure at what age humans develop the skill to stand still and appreciate scenery, but based on a scientific survey of kids who live in my house, it’s not age seven. (On a trip to the Canadian Rockies, as my wife and I snapped photos of the relentlessly picturesque mountains, my son, Luke, investigated how quickly he could break his toy helicopter.) Luke expects Mother Nature to be his playmate. At Bandelier National Monument, about an hour’s drive from Santa Fe, New Mexico, she is. The visitor center offers kids a booklet of activities that, when completed, earn them a Junior Ranger patch. (You could call it a bribe. We prefer the term incentive.) The scavenger hunt sent us off on the Main Loop Trail in search of birds, trees, and bugs, as well as the feature that sets Bandelier apart and makes it perfect for kids: cave dwellings. Ladders of salvaged wood lead to rooms that the Pueblo people carved out of the cliffs here over 800 years ago. “I don’t want to go up, Daddy,” Luke said. “It’s too steep.” “You’ve got this, buddy,” I said. “Just take it slow.” There were no lines of impatient parents pushing their children to race up the ladder. (We saw no more than 20 people on the trail.) Luke could climb the rungs at his own pace. He paused in triumph at the top, then set off to wander the caves. While Mom and Dad squatted—“Watch out for your bald head, Daddy”—Luke could explore without even hunching. After about 45 minutes, we were walking back toward the visitor center. We crossed a nearly dry creek by hopping hand in hand from one downed log to another and were back in time for lunch, before hunger, fatigue, or boredom could set in. It was a parent’s—and child’s—dream hike. This appeared in the August/September 2014 issue.

The main branch of the New York Public Library is one of the country’s grandest Beaux Arts buildings, a temple to learning on Fifth Avenue between 40th and 42nd streets. At the end of the 19th century, John Bigelow, who oversaw the Tilden Trust, decided that as New York was becoming a global financial capital, it required a grand public library. When the Astor and Lenox libraries faced financial difficulties, he convinced them to merge and, with the Tilden Trust, underwrite the library that now stands next to Bryant Park. The firm of Carrère and Hastings was entrusted with the design, and construction began in 1902 on the building that would be the largest marble structure built up to that time in the United States. The elegant main reading room with its soaring carved-wood ceilings is the highlight of its interiors. The library hosts temporary exhibitions related to literary and cultural topics that draw on its extensive collection of books and other printed materials. The two beloved lions in Tennessee marble—Patience and Fortitude—have stood at the entrance to the library since it opened in 1911 and were created by sculptor Edward Clark Potter.

While rue Ste-Catherine is the home of Montréal’s international brands and shopping centers, avenue Laurier Ouest is the place to head if you are more interested in local designers and small boutiques. The street connects the neighborhoods of Outremont and trendy Mile End, both up the hill from Old Montréal. A number of restaurants here, and on nearby avenue Bernard, have alfresco sidewalk dining when the weather is warm.

A wildly colorful, cartoonish emoji mural sets the scene for fun, fabulous Lalo, the casual-chic outpost from chef Eduardo García (whose Máximo Bistrot is adjudged one of the finest spots in the city). Tables for two are the first to fill, so diners usually find themselves at a long shared table, choosing from a menu of small(ish) plates that pack real flavor and cleverly blend familiar comforts with more-unusual, yet equally tempting, combinations. Breakfast faves include a sinful French toast or less conventional choices like chilaquiles in salsa verde; fluffy omelettes contain amazing cheeses and surprising ingredients. And don’t be shy with pastries. Lunch swings to raved-about pastas and pizzas, or the salad whose ingredients all come fresh from nearby Xochimilco. Artisanal beers and homemade sodas are a sensation as well.

In an age of Hollywood blockbusters and cineplexes (even in Europe), true art-house cinemas are a dying breed; Művész on the Pest side of the city keeps the faith with a wide variety of international and vintage films shown on four screens. English films are shown with Hungarian subtitles. Alongside that are film festivals as well as a foyer with delicious old cozy sofas, magazines and books, fish tanks and wall sculptures, even arts and crafts to buy. On top of it all, the cinema houses a bustling retro cafe that attracts culture vultures beyond the usual cinephile audience.

The island’s first settlement, Holetown, on the west coast, is a favorite destination of shoppers thanks to Chattel Village. Beautiful old fretwork houses painted in a rainbow of bright colors have been turned into a collection of shops. Visitors can browse for gifts and souvenirs as they wander the landscaped grounds before enjoying a meal or drink at one of two restaurants.

At the beginning of the 20th century, a physics professor in Massachusetts inherited a ton of money. He promptly headed for the South Pacific, settling there and founding what’s now the Harrison Smith Botanical Garden. Maybe Smith had a slight Noah complex: He brought in plants from around the world, which means an African flower might sit next to a South American fern. The problem is that he inadvertently killed off the native plants with his imports. Still, the garden is a lovely spot to wander around, a sampler box of world botany.