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Golf and sunshine are the main magnets that draw visitors to Palm Springs, but a 10-minute ride will take you up into a snowy evergreen forest. The Palm Springs Aerial Tramway climbs up to a mountain wilderness at 8,500 feet (2,590 meters). The Swiss-built tram floats over Chino Canyon and is the only rotating tram car in the Western hemisphere. From the top, look out over the irrigrated grids of Palm Springs and the other Desert Cities of the Coachella Valley, which descends to below sea level. Across to the northeast, beyond the San Andreas Fault, are the low mountains of Joshua Tree National Park. A network of hiking trails branches out from the tram chalet into the San Jacinto Mountains National Monument, which includes the highest peaks in Southern California. (Winter weekend crowds can be crazy; you’ve been warned.)

By all means, eat some grits ‘n’ greens down South...but don’t fall into the trap of thinking that all local food is fried when traveling in the region. Check out Manuel’s--one of the culinary highlights along the Savannah River in Hammond’s Ferry, SC. Originally from Lyon, chef/owner Manuel Verney-Caron has created a neighborhood gathering place that features local produce from literally just up the street at “Blue Clay Farm.” This community garden is one of the centerpieces of the “New Urbanism” that has built this pedestrian-friendly neighborhood near the site of a late-18th-century water crossing. Jog along the river, stroll on sidewalks within ‘conversation-distance’ of front porches, kneel down among the chickens and ducks--and make sure to end up at Manuel’s. The residents of Augusta, GA have voted Manuel’s as having the best bread in the city--you can chew on his loaves in restaurants around town and buy them at the Saturday morning Farmer’s Market at the Riverwalk. Technically, though, Manuel’s is out-of-city and out-of-state--but it’s a quick jaunt to North Augusta, SC. Go to the source, and there’s much more than bread: duck confit and croque-monsieurs are served along with burgers and pulled-pork BBQ at lunch; a more substantial taste of France can be indulged at dinner in this bouchon-inspired interior. Most visitors to Augusta come for The Master’s Golf tournament; leave the chain-restaurants around the Augusta National--the drive to SC is worth it.

Slightly sweet, with pleasantly salty mineral umami--that’s what the yellow-orange goo from sea-urchins tastes like. The fresher the better for this roe--and if you visit the coast of Jeju island, the legendary “haenyo” women divers will have just plucked these spiny balls from the sea floor minutes before your arrival. Wildly popular with visitors from nearby Japan, where the delicacy is called “uni,” Jeju islanders call it “gusal;" mainland Koreans refer to it as “seong-geh.” I had just had some in a bowl of seaweed soup for lunch when my wife and I accompanied my mother down to the rocky cove beneath Seongsan Ilchlulbong crater to watch the haenyo emerge from the sea. My mother, who is Korean, had just retired, and was visiting a corner of her own country that she had never seen. Volcanic Jeju-do is a subtropical island with a culture distinct from the rest of Korea--"the island of wind, women, and rocks.” The haenyo are dwindling as younger women seek urban jobs; many of the divers are in their 50’s and 60’s and still dive without oxygen tanks, harvesting shellfish cooperatively... My mother struck up a conversation with one of the women as my wife and I soaked up the salt air. The haenyo, still dripping in their wetsuits, were spooning out the roe--and suddenly, a couple of spoons were being waved in our faces--a free sample! Fresh from the sea-floor, served by living legends--not a taste that fades quickly...

Don’t go looking for Casa Grande, the national monument of pre-Columbian ruins, in Casa Grande, the sprawling exurb of a town about halfway between Phoenix and Tucson. You have to drive about 20 miles away to the small town of Coolidge to find the site. This may not be the most scenic stretch of desert, it must be said, but the destination is worth the detour. The Hohokam culture built this complex of dwellings and irrigation canals—one of many—late in their tenure here. Erected in the 1300s, this particular site was abandoned by the mid-1400s—the end of perhaps a thousand years of irrigated agriculture in the Sonoran Desert. The network of villages and canals continue to fascinate archaeologists and urban planners. The “big house” (Casa Grande was named by the first Spanish explorers in the area) stands about four stories tall. In the 1930s, the current shelter was built to protect it from further erosion. (Look carefully: you might catch a glimpse of the resident horned owls.) The timbers needed for construction came from the mountains about 50 miles away; at the time there were no pack animals, and thus no wheeled vehicles in this desert—makes you think... The surrounding ballgame-courts show influence from Mesoamerica. Desert civilization in North America is often thought of as a recent phenomenon—take the 20th-century explosions of Las Vegas, Phoenix, etc. Dig deeper, and get off the interstate. The past is not remote, and this is an easy day trip from Tucson.

When you hear the phrase, “summer in southern Arizona,” naturally your thoughts will tend toward heat and sunshine. Most wouldn’t think of mounds of fresh produce at a farmers’ market in the desert city of Tucson. But the arrival of the monsoon coincides with nature’s edible bounty, even here in the desert. The nearby Santa Cruz valley is actually one of the oldest continually-farmed regions in North America, with agriculture dating back four thousand years! Heirloom beans, squash, chiles, and tomatoes are still grown. The nearby higher elevation lands near Willcox are known for their orchards and even a few vineyards. Mesquite flour is made into cookies and tortillas. Prickly pear cactus is made into jams and frozen treats. All this is available throughout the week at various farmers’ markets around Tucson. The biggest one is on Sunday morning in the neo-colonial courtyards of St. Philip’s Plaza. And, if you’re curious, you’ll get language and cooking lessons, too. On a recent Sunday morning, my wife and I asked what some curious looking greens were. The answer? Purslane, or “verdolagas” in Spanish. They grow like weeds once the monsoon rains begin, and they contain more omega-3 fatty acids (think fish oil) than any other leafy plant. In a salad, or sautéed or stewed, they’re great. Who knew? Farmers’ markets are always a great place to get a vibe for a city—a cross section of people and produce. And, even in the desert, it is possible to shop and eat local.

La Casa de Don Juan knows how to do breakfast. An instant hit when it opened, the restaurant initially focused entirely on the most important meal of the day with dishes like pancakes, huevos divorciados (two fried eggs, separated on the plate by refried beans), chilaquiles (eggs, scrambled or fried with crisp strips of tortilla and topped with salsa), and several other Mexican favorites. Its café de olla—a traditional cinnamon-sugar coffee—might be the best in all Los Cabos. Everything tastes like the most incredible home cooking, and the space itself more resembles a two-story residence than a traditional restaurant. The menu and hours have now extended to include lunch. Opt for the prix fixe menu or à la carte on taquitos (rolled tacos), cochinita pibil (slow-roasted pork), or chile relleno (a poblano chile stuffed with cheese and then batter fried).

Lovers of Vienna’s homegrown early-20th-century Wiener Werkstätte design style will want to visit the Café Schwarzenberg: It was the preferred haunt of Josef Hoffmann. The illustrious architect who cofounded the Werkstätte drafted many ideas there that came to fruition. Opened on the Ringstrasse in 1861, the café takes its name from the nearby square that is itself named for the Prince of Schwarzenberg, a prominent Austrian field marshal in the Napoleonic wars. Guests are treated to huge vaulted windows under high ceilings and those who sit outside on the terrace enjoy views of the illuminated Karlskirche dome while they sip their Einspänner coffee with its dab of whipped cream on top.

As ubiquitous as “mandu” (dumplings) may be in Korea, when in Seoul, seek out their Mongolian lamb-filled ‘ancestors.’ One theory says that meat-filled dumplings were introduced to the Korean peninsula during the Mongol invasions of the 14th century. If that’s the case, then “buuz” (Mongolian dumplings) have made a comeback in the 21st century. In recent decades, tens of thousands of Mongolians have immigrated to South Korea, and the neighborhood just to the west of the new Zaha-Hadid-designed Dongdaemun Design Plaza has become home to a Central Asian village. Seek out the Cyrillic lettering and look for “Ulaan Baatar” restaurant, on the second floor of an otherwise nondescript building in an alleyway. A plateful of “buuz” would make a hearty meal, but it’s best shared. Hand-cut noodles, al dente, stir-fried with carrots and mutton are another option. If you want a break from the seemingly non-stop chile-garlic-soy palette of Korean food, but still want a ‘local’ flavor, this is your fatty chance. My wife and I were the only non-Mongolians when we had lunch here. We followed the example of the other diners and ordered salty milk tea to go with our food. I couldn’t bring myself to dunk my dumplings in it, though, as everyone else was doing. (Beer and Fanta are also available.) By subway: at “Dongdaemun History and Culture Park” station, take exit 12, walk west and turn left at the next corner; look for the 10-story building with cyrillic lettering on your right.

In the foothills of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains north of Santa Fe, the village of Chimayó has become famous for its adobe church, “El Santuario,” whose side chapel’s dirt floor is reputed to have healing powers. Every Good Friday, tens of thousands of pilgrims make their way to this “Lourdes of the Southwest.” Others descend upon this valley for more temporal reasons. Just down the road from the Santuario is the century-old adobe home that houses the “Rancho de Chimayó,” a New Mexico institution. Owned by the Jaramillo family, this restaurant is known for its carne adovada--pork that has been stewed to tenderness in red chile. You may or may not believe in the power of the dirt in the Santuario’s floor, but the taste of this valley’s chile will have you convinced that the terroir--the taste of place--deserves its venerable reputation. Get the “combinación picante” so that you can sample a tamal, rolled cheese enchilada, beans and posole along with the carne adovada. And don’t use all of your sopaipilla (the steaming square of puffy frybread) to soak up the chile; save a corner so you can douse it with local honey as a dessert... Chimayó is an easy forty-minute-drive from Santa Fe, on “the high road to Taos.” Across the road from the restaurant is a B&B, run by the same family as well.

Few cities in the U.S. can claim to be ‘sandwiched’ by a National Park; Tucson might well be the only one. Saguaro National Park is divided into Eastern and Western divisions that flank the city--plenty of wilderness hiking within a half-an-hour’s drive from the middle of town. If you’re here, like most visitors, in the winter, a perfect half-day’s hike is up to Wasson Peak in Saguaro National Park, on the western edge of the city. Seven-miles round-trip with a nearly 2000-ft elevation gain: it’s a moderate climb with 360-degree views from the top. (You do NOT want to hike this in the summer; there is no shade.) At 4687ft/1428m, it’s low compared to some of the 9000+ ft peaks on Tucson’s other horizons, but the panoramas are unbeatable, and the trek up through a saguaro forest is unforgettable. There are several routes, but perhaps the most popular is the Kings Canyon trailhead--directly across the road from the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum. Hike the peak in the morning (give yourself around four hours so you can enjoy lunch and the view from the summit), and spend the afternoon visiting the animals across the road. (A new aquarium featuring the Sea of Cortez just opened; fall through spring also offer ‘raptor free flight’ demonstrations.) (From the top, the views: trail to the peak, looking south toward the distant Santa Rita mountains, looking over the NW part of the city to the forested peak of Mt. Lemmon in the Santa Catalina Mtns.)

In the middle of a metropolitan area of twenty million, Seoul’s historic Bukchon neighborhood has kept a traditional village feel. “Hanok"—traditional courtyard houses, with upswept tile roofs and latticed sliding doors—line the hilly streets. Some of them have been opened as small guesthouses. After a trans-Pacific flight, and then a bus ride into the city (from the new airport, built on reclaimed land in the Yellow Sea), I walked a few blocks up narrow lanes and through a wooden gate. I felt as if I’d stepped back into the Korean countryside of a century ago. A rooster and a rabbit shared the courtyard, filled with hydrangeas and herbs. A persimmon tree towered overhead. My room had sliding papered doors; a simple low bed and table; no TV...but free Wi-Fi! The friendly owner, whose family lives in one wing of the house, showed me the hot water machine where I could make instant ginseng tea and “ko-pi” (coffee). Not all hanok lodgings are so spartan. Behind the main courtyard of this house, a “sarang-chae” is also available—it’s like a mini-house (or casita), with its own private garden: rustic luxury. While staying here, I met an Israeli man and his Japanese wife on their way back to the Middle East, as well as a couple of professors of Indian languages from Seattle on their way to New Delhi. Bukchon is becoming more widely known as one of Asia’s urban gems. (For more information: http://www.seoul110.com/html_en/1.html)

Years before Punta del Este became a destination on the travel radar, Chilean artist Mario Irarrázabal installed one of the area’s most popular attractions, the public sculpture known as La Mano (The Hand). It’s also called Los Dedos (The Fingers), for its five fingers pushing up out of the sand on Playa Brava. Designed as part of an open-air sculpture exhibition in 1982, the fingers represent a warning, for the waters behind it tend to be rough. Many visitors are probably unaware of its meaning as they pause to pose for a photo with the hand.

One of the most iconic landmarks of Montevideo, the Palacio Salvo stands on the Plaza Independencia. The building was intended as a hotel when it was constructed in 1928, according to a design by the Italian architect Mario Palanti, but it never served that purpose and today is home to offices and private apartments. The building is closed to the public, but you can still admire its unusual neo-Gothic design from the plaza.

This 2.5-kilometer (1.5-mile) promenade along the vast Guayas River is part public park, part urban playground filled with restaurants, cafés, shops, a clock tower, an IMAX theater and even a Ferris wheel. From the docks, small boats leave on river tours or head to Santay Island, a wildlife refuge on the eastern side of the river. At La Rotonda, a statue of Simón Bolívar and José de San Martín commemorates their meeting in Guayaquil after the liberation of Ecuador from Spain.

Perhaps “boiled beef in broth” doesn’t sound quite as alluring as its German name of Tafelspitz. Yet Tafelspitz was the preferred meal of Emperor Franz Joseph, and it remains a favorite Viennese dish. There’s one establishment, Plachutta, that has cornered the market on fine Tafelspitz; the eponymous gastronome Mario Plachutta has raised his preparation of the modest rump cut served with roasted potatoes, minced apples, and horseradish to a gourmet level. The main restaurant sits on the popular Wollzeile shopping street just a block from the Ringstrasse, but the chef has also built a mini empire of jade-toned Plachutta restaurants—including one in a lovely Biedermeier cottage and another near the Schönbrunn Palace in Hietzing.