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Surrounded by 40 pristine sand- and grass-topped acres, endless water views, and the sound of crashing waves, Bekal Fort—the largest fort in Kerala—feels like it rose up from the sea. In fact, it was built some three centuries ago as a defense post, lingering evidence of which includes the old ammunition storage areas and the cannon windows lining the outer walls. Today, visitors can wander around the complex, climbing up the observation tower, strolling around parts of the original walls, venturing out to the waterside walkways, and picnicking on the main lawns. (Along with the history and scenic beauty, the filming of some hit movies here has made the fort even more popular with domestic tourists.) After exploring the site, head down to the beach for some sea air and views of the fort from a different vantage point.

While walking around Florence, have you noticed something different about some of the street signs? Clet Abraham is a French artist who stealthily alters traffic signs with graphic stickers that transform a DEAD END sign into a crucifix or a ONE WAY arrow into Pinocchio’s nose. In the artist’s jumbled studio in San Niccolò, you can learn a bit about his process and purchase a sign of your own. If the original works are too pricey, there are also vinyl stickers and T-shirts bearing his whimsical designs.

Art-loving hikers and Instagram-posting skiers are fond of the Engadine Valley’s unique sgraffiti, decorative murals found on the exterior plaster or stucco walls of chalets and other buildings. They range from 500-year-old pastoral scenes to 20th-century brutalist depictions of railroad workers and hoe-clutching farmers. Typically, these works are made by scratching through the building’s surface to reveal a sub-layer of a contrasting color. Some of the best sgraffiti are found in the most remote villages, and generally, the closer you get to the Italian border, the more you’ll see. Engadine native Josin Neuhäusler is a sgraffito artist who also gives tours of the works.

Climbing uphill from the port, the streets of Vigo’s casco vello, or old town, retain their authentic flavor because locals still live above the neighborhood shops, taverns and tapas joints. The narrow streets open up to sunny little squares, including one at the cathedral, Santa María de Vigo (also called La Colegiata). Note the street names in the casco vello: They still often correspond to the wares offered there (buy a hat on Rúa Sombrereiros or baskets on Rúa dos Cesteiros).

The charm is simple—and highly photogenic—at this 1947 property, where old western actors like Roy Rogers used to get away between takes. When new owners bought the ranch in 2016, they began renovating bit by bit, outfitting the rooms with vintage-inspired Smeg refrigerators, turntables, Coleman lanterns, and Pendleton wool blankets. The accommodations vary wildly, ranging from four original knotty pine–paneled cabins to midcentury-modern rooms in the lodge to a glass-and–corrugated metal duplex called the Hatch House, which Lloyd Russell designed in 2008. There’s even an option to stay in a remodeled 1960s Airstream, which features a live-edge wood bar with copper inlays. True to its original intent, the 11-acre ranch is laid-back and without pretense, the kind of retreat where hikes in neighboring Joshua Tree National Park stand in for a spa day, and guests make their own meals in the antique kitchens and at the outdoor grills. The real magic happens at sunset on the observation deck, and is best enjoyed with a BYO cocktail.

Once the sacred retreat of King Kamehameha, who unified Hawaii, Ko Olina now also welcomes guests to the new Four Seasons Resort Oahu. Chef Ryo Takatsuka marries local flavors to Capri’s at this romantic restaurant, where outdoor tables soak up views of the sunset and stars. Wine Spectator gave it a 2017 award of excellence for its list, which runs especially strong on French, Italian, and Californian vintages. But don’t let that distract from its superb cocktail options like the Pompelmo (gin, grapefruit oleo, aromatic bitters, and egg white) or the Spritzer della Casa (Aperol, strawberries, Cocchi Americano Rosato, and basil tincture, finished with prosecco). The bar also serves an indulgent array of nonalcoholic drinks, including the Tutti Santi (Oahu passionfruit and Hawaiian honey graced with lime and sea salt).

You enter Mister Jiu’s off of Waverly Place and step first into the dark and dreamy bar, a perfect place to pause for one of the restaurant’s inventive cocktails. With the mood set, follow the hallway, which gives way to the light and bright dining room that overlooks the lanterns and Chinese signs of Grant Avenue. Chef Brandon Jew and his talented team buzz around the open kitchen, whipping up small and large dishes of organic, locally sourced meat, fish, and vegetables. The cuisine makes modern versions of old classics: instead of the usual white doughy wrap, pork buns here are served on Dutch crunch rolls; hot and sour soup is served with Dungeness crab; and shui jiao dumplings are filled with lamb. Banquet-style dining is encouraged—how else will you get to test out that old-school Chinese restaurant mainstay, the lazy Susan, built into each round teak table? A prix fixe menu and à la carte ordering are available. Within six months of opening, Mister Jiu’s earned a Michelin star.

Set in a gorgeous space with high ceilings and a relaxed colonial vibe, Cookhouse operates under the guidance of renowned chef Jean-Georges Vongerichten. The focus is on intense flavors and textures from vegetable juices, herbal vinaigrettes, and broths, with lots of fish and veggies on the extensive menu. Much of the wide-ranging Continental fare has an Asian twist, from the lightly fried calamari with a citrus dipping sauce to black-truffle-and-fontina-cheese pizza; roasted cod with spicy herbal coconut broth; and kale salad with lemon, mint, and green chili. Cookhouse occupies one of the huge old buildings of the former Tanglin Barracks, a base built in the 1860s for Singapore-based British soldiers that in the past decade has become an upscale dining hub.

You could expect no less than to find a bustling fish market in a seaside town. Explore the isles of this market that houses fishermen and farmers alike and watch the morning’s catch being descaled right in front of you.

Opened in 2011, Reykjavík’s Harpa Concert Hall and Conference Centre is not only the most significant classical music venue in Iceland (home to the Iceland Symphony Orchestra and the Icelandic Opera), but also one of the country’s most striking examples of modern architecture. Located close to the old harbor, the building was part of a larger development meant to breathe life into the downtown district (the plan was abandoned due to the subsequent economic crash, but funds to complete Harpa were found). The coruscating, eye-catching facade was designed by Icelandic-Danish artist Olafur Eliasson, and the spacious interior has four handsome halls, the largest of which can accommodate up to 1,800 seated guests. There are also smaller conference rooms dotted throughout the building, and the ground floor hosts a record shop, café and restaurant, and other public areas. In addition to classical concerts, the venue holds music festivals, pop shows, art exhibitions, and more.

Cat Street, also known as Upper Lascar Row, is the purr-fect place to browse for kitsch and curios that make great gifts for friends back home. In contrast to the expensive antiques sold along the parallel Hollywood Road, colorful Cat Street is a fun jumble of the quirky: snuff bottles, silk slippers, embroidered things, vintage jewelry and clothes, old propaganda posters, and Chairman Mao–themed everything. The bustling-market vibe appeals even to nonshoppers. (Wondering about the name? Back in the 1920s the area was known for markets that sold secondhand and sometimes stolen goods; the people who bought the hot property were called cats, and so a nickname was born.)

Berggasse 19 is the address of a modest house on a modest street, but it was there that much of the modern world and culture were changed forever. For nearly 50 years, the Freud house—now, officially, the Sigmund Freud Museum—was the home and office of the legendary psychoanalyst, until 1938 when he finally departed for London as Nazi forces were descending on Vienna. The rooms are filled with old books, antiques, personal artifacts, and correspondence, though not the famous couch (which is now at the Freud museum in London). In 2019, the house will undergo a yearlong €4 million renovation to its facade and exhibition spaces. If you walk the Ringstrasse over to the Burgtheater area, you can see the University of Vienna that was once the General Hospital where Herr Professor worked for many years.

As you take in its dome made of gold-filigree laurel leaves, the utter modernity of the Secession Building stuns you. Joseph Maria Olbrich’s glorious exhibition hall just off the Ringstrasse is more than a century old, and is one of the most beautiful legacies of the great intellectual and artistic period known as fin de siècle Vienna—when the city’s coffeehouses were frequented by the likes of Freud and Klimt and the architect of the day, Otto Wagner. Not many cities can claim their own art movements, but the Vienna Secession was a reaction to the staid art of the late Hapsburg empire. “To every age its art, to every art its freedom” proclaims the inscription (in German) on the facade of the building which also has a 112-foot-wide, 1902 Beethoven Frieze by Gustav Klimt.

Those who just stumble upon the Hundertwasserhaus apartments in the Third District will likely be wowed by the buildings. Friedensreich Hundertwasser’s funky, mid-1980s organic housing complex is weird and gorgeous with a wavy, eclectically painted facade that looks like something out of a cartoon. With trees growing on its terraces and roof, it’s the antithesis of staid imperial Vienna. A freethinker if there ever was one, the artist, architect, and environmentalist Hundertwasser could be called Austria’s Gaudí. Visitors can learn more about him in the ground-floor café. Nearby, Hundertwasser designed the Kunst Haus Wien art museum out of an old Thonet furniture factory, while up the Danube Canal an incineration plant’s chimney got the Hundertwasser treatment with trippy colors and a funky golden ball on top.

Cacao beans’ scientific name is theobrama cacao, which translates into “drink of the gods.” Casa Cortés in Old San Juan will truly please any god with its Cortés chocolate concoctions. This welcoming café fuses modern style of its seats and dishes with the antique charm of walls covered in Cortés chocolate molds and a short history of chocolate on a collage of artwork that exudes nostalgia. The menu features mouth-watering items such as a baguette filled with Brie, chocolate, and a hazelnut spread; a blood orange and passion fruit cheesecake topped with a chocolate mousse; and an Argentinian ice wine. I opted for the mallorca (a sweet bread dusted with powdered sugar) stuffed with Ibérico ham, Manchego, chocolate, and a guava spread, accompanied by a European hot chocolate that was to die for. My meal was perfect, but I’m sure everything I didn’t get to taste was just as amazing. That’s what you get when your chocolate comes straight from a nearby farm. While I waited for my food, I watched a video on chocolate production. There’s also a museum (unfortunately, I was unable to see it, but you can bet I’ll be back there next time I come home to my beautiful island) and some products for sale. Make sure to take a little piece of Casa Cortés with you for future indulgences—they advertise one chocolate tablet as being enough for two beverages.