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One of the largest urban parks in the world, Munich’s English Garden was founded in 1789, when Elector Carl Theodor ordered a public park to be built along the Isar River. Having undergone many alterations over the centuries, it now offers a slew of contemporary leisure activities. Cyclists, joggers, and rollerbladers make use of almost 50 miles of pathways, while less-active visitors head to the Japanese teahouse (opened in 1972) or one of several beer gardens (the one next to the Chinese Tower is Munich’s second largest, with seating for 7,000). Additionally, there’s a man-made lake, soccer fields, a small amphitheater, a carousel, a Greek temple, and even a popular surfing wave on the river. The park’s large meadows are ideal for picnicking, barbecuing, and sunbathing, making the English Garden one of Munich’s most popular hangouts in summer. That said, autumn is also a spectacular time to stroll the grounds and peep all the changing leaves.

There’s a reason this is one of the most iconic spots along the Grand Canyon. Located on the Havasupai Indian Reservation and hidden deep within a 20-mile round-trip hike, Havasu Falls’ sparkling turquoise waters are a popular destination for seasoned hikers who come for the amazing views, rock climbing, and swimming. The hike to the falls and back is best enjoyed with a preplanned route and plenty of stops for rest, food, and water. Because tribe members of the Havasupai, which means “people of the blue-green waters,” maintain the trails and work to keep their land as unspoiled and pristine as possible, reservations for campsites are limited and day hikes and drones are not allowed.

Michael and I take the lead up a scree-choked stream draining from the Gangjam glacier. Two hours of climbing through talus brings us to ice-blue seracs rising like frozen waveforms from the mottled glacier. An hour further, in the cirque beneath the black wall of Kailash, we begin to sink up to our knees in sun-softened snow. Michael’s altimeter reads 17,500 feet, and above us, the mountain’s north face rises in a 4,000-foot vertical thrust of glazed rock, capped by a treacherous overhanging white cornice. Jaws gone slack, we lift our eyes in awe toward the Throne of Shiva. “How about it, bro? Break out the crampons?” “Jesus! I am not seeing a good route on that wall,” Michael replies, and we both laugh. Kailash remains one of the few legendary mountains on this planet left unclimbed—out of reverence. “And look at that freakin’ cornice!” Michael adds “Nevé ice for sure. Like frost on a windowpane. Won’t hold your points for shit.” There were rumors, nearly a decade ago, that the legendary Austrian mountaineer, Reinhold Messner had surreptitiously planned to bag Kailash, a task which he certainly had the skill and resources to accomplish. But when Messner saw the Precious Snow Mountain for himself, he realized what a desecration it would be to set crampons on its face or boots on its summit. He’s since become a vocal proponent of keeping Kailash off-limits to climbers in perpetuity.

The dishes are as gorgeous as the environs at this Lincoln Park eatery, where chef and partner Lee Wolen serves contemporary American fare by way of seasonally driven and artfully composed plates. Grilled bass with charred eggplant and cucumber or slow-roasted-beef short ribs with gem lettuce and sweetbreads are just a few displays of the award-winning chef’s creativity—but he shares the stage with pastry chef Meg Galus, who centers her masterful desserts around one main ingredient of the season (like summer’s Blackberry, with huckleberry, black sesame, and crème fraîche, or autumn’s Pear with wattleseed, pistachio, and buckwheat).

In Singapore, black and whites refer to the colonial-era bungalows of that color combination built here by the British for married officers and civil servants. The oldest date back to the 1890s and the newest to the 1940s. About 500 or so survive today, and most are owned by the government and rented on a monthly basis. Naturally, clusters of black and whites were built near military installations, from Tanglin to Sembawang, Portsdown Road, and Alexander Park. The higher your rank, the larger your house; some are quite grand. The white paint was used for its cooling properties and the black trim contains creosote to ward off termites and other insects. To see a string of them, from the Tanglin Mall (at the junction of Tanglin, Grange, and Napier roads), walk south about a half a mile along Tanglin Road and you’ll witness several on the left side of the road.

Celebrated Austin restaurateur Larry McGuire (Jeffrey’s, Perla’s) turned his passion for style and design into a second career when he purchased this retail brand. With locations on hip South Congress and near the Whole Foods flagship, By George sells chic clothes for men and women (think brands like Our Legacy, Protagonist, and Jenni Kayne). The home-goods section of the store gives the chance to outfit your dining room (oak bowls, scented candles), pamper your four-legged best friend (plush, round dog beds), and, since it’s Austin, broadcast music anywhere in your house with a speaker designed to look like a classic Marshall amplifier. If you’re lucky, your visit might coincide with a pop-up from a local restaurant.

You might expect austerity and modesty at a kaiseki restaurant in Kyoto, but that’s not what you’ll find at this remarkable jewel box of a place secreted away inside the South Congress Hotel. Brightly illuminated white panels with black stripes surrounding the 12-seat dining room echo Japanese shoji screens. The room looks like something out of a Stanley Kubrick film, and knife-wielding chef Yoshi Okai plays to the design with mischief and edginess. His menu of more than 20 dishes balances artistic presentation and bold flavor, from raw Japanese sea bream to jiggly mounds of Hokkaido uni. The dishes may look like something you’d get in Japan, but the colorful service from the tattooed chef (who moonlights as a rock-and-roll singer) feels uniquely Austin.

Diners fill the seats on the nightly at this Avondale eatery, where wife-and-husband team Beverly Kim and Johnny Clark dole out American-meets-Korean cuisine with big-time twists and turns (done with such genius that they’ve already earned themselves a Michelin star and several James Beard nominations). Kick things off with their take on a Whiskey Sour (made with Amaro Sfumato and rooibos tea), then delve into the main event: leek pancakes with squid and smoked trout roe, hanger steak with black garlic and dragon beans, and, of course, the bi bim bop, a rotating house specialty cooked in a stone bowl with flavors like burdock root, Korean soy sauce, and ginseng.

Crowds may swarm upon it daily from sunrise onwards, but exposure hasn’t dulled the impact of the largest religious monument in the world. Commissioned by King Suryavarman II in the 12th century as the centerpiece of the mighty Khmer empire, the structure is inspired by Hindu sacred design and is estimated to have taken around 30 years to build. The biggest surprise upon visiting might be learning that the vast complex of spires, moats, frescoes, cloisters, and balustrades was constructed in such speedy fashion. You won’t be alone while witnessing it, but sunrise over the iconic temple remains one of the essential experiences in Southeast Asia. A return in the afternoon when the camera-toting hordes have dispersed is also advisable.

Long considered one of the top hotels on Oahu, the Kahala has always been a particular favorite among the type of guests who travel with their own security detail. A number of past U.S. presidents, plus kings, queens, princesses Grace and Di, a handful of Nobel Peace Prize winners, rock stars, and movie stars, all have slept under its venerable roof at some point during the hotel’s 50-year history. The see-and-be-seen set moved on long ago, but privacy seekers still make a beeline here. They’re drawn less by the property’s fabulous beach (though that’s reason enough to stay here) than by its exclusive location—in a well-fortified cul-de-sac in the ritzy Kahala neighborhood. But there’s a warm and fuzzy side to the hotel, too. A pod of dolphins has full-time residency in the hotel lagoon, and visitors of all ages can swim with them (for a fairly steep fee). Rooms have a preppy beach house vibe—raffia ceiling fans, linen loveseats—and many come with heart-stopping sea views.

Also known as the Reunification Palace, this Vietnamese landmark was constructed on the site of an old French-colonial governor’s residence. It has a remarkably varied past; it housed Japanese officials during World War II and was later the home of the president of South Vietnam during the Vietnam War. The imposing, broad, angular building played a seminal role in Vietnamese history: It was here on April 30, 1975, in an episode that came to be known as the Fall of Saigon, that a North Vietnamese army tank smashed through the gates, symbolically ending the Vietnam War. A tour of the palace is a step back decades in time—you’ll encounter grand, formal rooms used as banquet halls, reception rooms, and government offices. You can also navigate through basement tunnels and former bunkers.

If there’s one thing synonymous with Korean cuisine, it’s barbecue, known as bulgogi. In Seoul, dining at a barbecue restaurant is a communal affair. Friends gather around a table and order generous portions of marinated beef or pork, which servers then grill right in front of them. For an elevated experience, visit one of Maple Tree House’s four locations. Each outpost boasts a sleek, contemporary atmosphere and uses only quality cuts of meat. The barbecue-averse can enjoy traditional dishes like noodles, stews, and bibimbap, while first-timers will be relieved to find a friendly bilingual staff who can walk them through the process.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art—or, commonly, the Met—is one of the world’s great museums, alongside the Louvre, the British Museum, and a handful of others. It would be easy to devote an entire week’s visit to the museum alone, and realistically you probably won’t get far beyond a few exhibitions and galleries at one shot. The Costume Institute’s temporary shows are always popular, while others will (like the museum itself) focus on a range of regions and periods—at any one time there may be temporary exhibitions on an Italian Renaissance painter, miniatures from Mughal India, and Polynesian carvings. The Temple of Dendur, a roughly 43' x 21' x 16' temple that dates to around 15 B.C.E. and was given by the government of Egypt to the United States in 1967, is one of the museum’s most photographed (and Instagrammed) works. The 34 period rooms, including a 12th-century cloister, English parlor and a Shaker “retiring” room, are among the museum’s other highlights. On summer evenings, site-specific installations make the rooftop terrace is a favorite place for drinks. The general admission of $25 for adults, $12 for students, and $17 for seniors is a suggested one for New York residents, as well as students from New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut. Whatever you pay also includes same-day entry to The Met Cloisters.

Throughout his life, African-American artist Noah Purifoy reimagined junk as art, using found materials to create sculptures inspired by Southern California’s culture and landscape. Some of his best-known pieces were made out of charred debris from the 1965 Watts riot, and he worked tirelessly to bring art programs into the local community and prison system. Then in the late 1980s, Purifoy moved to the desert, where he spent the last 15 years of his life creating his original and distinctive magnum opus: a series of large-scale sculptures sprawled across 10 acres of sandy red earth in the Mojave. The space redefines the notion of a museum, with an atmosphere that’s both meditative and reminiscent of Mad Max. While the found items are evident upon close inspection, the impact of the pieces themselves—with such titles as “The White House,” “Band Wagon,” and “Ode to Frank Gehry”—is deeply moving. The museum is open all day and free (though donations are encouraged), but you can also schedule a one-hour group tour or a private tour with a docent. Pro tips: Visit as early as possible or at sundown to avoid the scorching heat and experience the place at its most picturesque. Bring water and watch out for snakes.

For a place that’s best known for its buttermilk biscuits, Juniper & Ivy seems improbably swanky at first. Picture curtained-off banquettes, modern light fixtures, and painstakingly turned-out patrons. But the upscale/down-home contrast is exactly the point. Trendsetting chef Richard Blais, of Top Chef All Stars fame, is known for starting with American classics—say, buttermilk biscuits—and elevating them (in this case, with individual serving domes full of biscuit-infusing alderwood smoke). Similarly, the New York strip steak deviates from the norm with crispy sunchokes and mushroom sofrito, among other touches. Then there’s the semi-secret menu item: the so-called In-N-Haute burger, made from a blend of short rib, brisket, chuck and dry-aged beef, then wrapped and seared in cheese before landing on an egg bun next to a heap of salt-and-pepper-dusted fries. Although you’ll be tempted to order something from the wine collection that spans two stories—if only to see the sliding library ladder in use—you should at least consider one of the cocktails, and particularly the Salt of the Earth: mezcal, tequila, Ancho Reyes liqueur, beet juice, lemon juice, mole bitters, honey, and cracked salt. This magenta elixir is almost too pretty to drink. Almost.