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Southern charm and Asian aesthetics meld seamlessly at the Mandarin Oriental, located on 15 floors of a high-rise building in the tony boutique-filled Buckhead neighborhood. Beyond a striking marble lobby, the 127 rooms feel like home—albeit a luxurious one—thanks to interiors by renowned architect Robert A.M. Stern. Plush carpets, large working desks, velvet-upholstered armchairs, and high definition LED televisions join bathrooms finished in black-and-white marble, with twin vanities, sunken tubs, and Atelier Cologne bath products. Whether you want to swim laps in the 60-foot swimming pool or simply unwind in the private English garden, the hotel is like a cocoon from the outside world; guests of the spa are welcomed with seasonal tea and an o-shibori, a Japanese steamed towel, before indulging in their massages and facials. But should you need to leave the bubble, the shops in Lenox Square are walking distance from the hotel, and free car service is available to take you within a two-mile radius.

There’s a pleasing bit of cognitive dissonance happening at Meliá Hanoi. Housed within a green-glass, part-cylindrical tower, the hotel tempers sleek European-style hospitality (think streamlined gray and cream furnishings and high-tech amenities like flat-screen TVs and satellite channels) with touches of local influence: depictions of pagodas and traditional gateways figure in giant murals along the walls and central column in the lobby, and lantern-inspired pendant lighting hangs in the guest rooms. The hotel sits in theHoan Kiem district, within walking distance of the lake and the Old Quarter, making it an ideal base for urban exploration, but there’s also plenty on site to keep you occupied, from the Mediterranean buffet and the palm-fringed outdoor swimming pool to the fitness center and Marquee Club, a nighttime haunt that attracts young Hanoians intent on drinking and dancing into the wee hours.

Iguanas swim here in the ocean, which, separated only by a line of palm trees, nearly laps right up to the front of La Casa de Marita. The three-level building began 20 years ago as a house, literally Marita’s house. It has continued to expand over the years, adding a room here and a wooden deck there. The idea was not to create a large hotel, but a family-friendly inn that’s just friendly and comfortable enough that everyone feels welcome. They’re short of being luxurious, but the colorful, funky rooms have clay-tile floors and are equipped with eclectic wooden furniture; those on the ocean side have small balconies crisscrossed with hammocks. An on-site restaurant caters mostly to hotel guests, often preparing buffet dinners or beachside tables for groups or special occasions. There are a few chairs and tables with umbrellas on the beachfront, which doesn’t sound like a lot, but here, it is all one needs.

Fans of Georgia O’Keeffe should definitely book a stay at this quaint adobe hotel in her old painting grounds. Not only is there a well-stocked gift shop where you can buy O’Keeffe prints and books, the property arranges tours of her home and studio, and is located near the Ghost Ranch retreat center and the White Place rock formations, both of which the artist loved to paint. Wood-beam ceilings and New Mexico antiques adorn rooms. Request one of the cottages with wood-burning Kiva fireplaces, or if you come in winter and book economy like I did, you’ll likely get upgraded to a nice room with a gas fireplace. My best meal in New Mexico was also enjoyed here. I ordered trout stuffed with corn pancakes and a chardonnay from nearby Black Mesa winery. My partner’s chili rellenos with green chili and Monk’s Ale—brewed at the Christ of the Desert Monastery about an hour away—were also tasty. It was a lovely introduction to the beautiful state.

The mountainous Coron Island, just northeast of Palawan, is part of the officially designated ancestral domain of the indigenous Tagbanua people (possibly descendants of the original inhabitants of the Philippines). They steward the land and sea, and control access to the island, much of which is off-limits to visitors. There is still plenty to attract travelers to the area, though: a small, sleepy town and clear lakes; limestone rock formations; and white-sand beaches. Those lucky enough to be welcomed into a Tagbanua community can learn about their culture and how they spearfish, as well as the special techniques for harvesting octopuses, seaweed, and sea cucumbers. For snorkelers, Siete Pecados offers rich coral reefs and the chance to spot dugongs, giant hawksbill turtles, and baby sharks. Divers can also hope to get a glimpse of puffer fish, eels, and giant clams. As well as the diverse marine life, there are numerous Japanese shipwrecks from World War II on view underwater. Add in the visibility of up to 80 feet, and this area is a superb playground for diving enthusiasts.

I’m not one to skip breakfast, especially in Italy, where thoughts of cappuccino, pastries, and local ham tend to rouse me early from slumber. But on my first morning at the Hotel Sant’Angelo, in the old quarter of Matera, I was having a hard time dragging myself from the creature comforts of my cave. Staying in a cave, it turns out, can be surprisingly pleasant. There was just one small window high overhead, but the room and adjoining bath were in no way dank—a testament to the natural ventilation that keeps the caves cool and comfortable. The wavy contours of the white tufa-rock walls conjured a feeling of being enveloped in some primordial womb. Yet there were modern amenities: luxurious linens, Internet service, a telephone. Fred Flintstone never had it this good. I might have snoozed until noon, were it not for an impatient mate eager to see the sights. We had arrived in the village the previous night after a long drive across the treeless plains of the Basilicata region, located at the instep of Italy’s boot. Matera is an enchanted world of Stone Age splendor. Known as the sassi (Italian for stones), the bisque-colored hilltop cave homes comprise one of the oldest continuously inhabited places on earth, according to UNESCO. The caves have provided shelter for more than 7,000 years. A millennium ago, shepherds inhabited them and carved churches into the rock; during the Renaissance, the area prospered and elaborate buildings were carved out, the excess tufa sculpted into ornate facades. By the early 1900s, the sassi had fallen into neglect. Families and their animals crowded into the caves for warmth, and disease was rampant. When writer Carlo Levi brought this tragic state of affairs to light with his 1945 book Christ Stopped At Eboli, the Italian authorities moved residents en masse to modern housing—leaving the sassi abandoned, save for the occasional crew brought by film makers (Pier Paolo Pasolini and Mel Gibson among them) in search of a biblical-looking backdrop. It was only in the 1990s that the Italian government encouraged people to move back. Residents revamped the cave dwellings as homes, restaurants, and inns. When the Sant’Angelo opened in 2004, it was the area’s first luxury hotel. The 19 cave rooms are sparsely but tastefully appointed with rustic wooden furniture. Some carved decorations—crosses, hearts, an owl—date back hundreds of years. Fossilized shells embedded in the walls reveal that the region once lay underwater. Eventually, my fiancé and I did emerge from our cave to wander the town’s ancient alleys. A local guide named Dora Cappiello took us into some of the 150 chiese rupestri (rock churches), where she pointed out wine troughs and frescoes of San Nicola, the patron saint of local shepherds. We also visited a cave dwelling that had been restored to resemble its state when the caves were equal parts manger and living space.
Simple, delicious meals punctuated our explorations. The curvy walls of Baccanti, a cave restaurant, created a private nook where we feasted on silky pappardelle pasta with a cinghiale (wild boar) ragu, accompanied by a dry, fruity red aglianico from the nearby Vulture wine region. Tired and sated after a full day, we headed back to our cave—on moonless nights, a flashlight or trail of bread crumbs is advised for the stumble back to the hotel—where the promise of a deep, sound night’s sleep awaited. —Amy Cortese Hotel Sant’Angelo, 39/0835-314010, from $211 for a double. This appeared in the March/April 2010 issue.

Superlatives abound at the InterContinental Los Angeles Downtown. The 73-story structure is the tallest building west of Chicago and, at 889 rooms, the largest InterContinental in the Americas. Opened in 2017, the hotel was also downtown’s first LEED Gold Certified building for Building Design and Construction. All that record setting is matched by a big personality and plenty of luxury, too. Inspired by architectural historian Reyner Banham’s book Los Angeles: The Architecture of Four Ecologies, the hotel features light fixtures based on schematic maps of L.A.’s freeways, hand-painted murals, and billboard-style headboards with city scenes.

Club Level suites are stocked with Le Labo Santal 33 amenities, customized with guests’ names. And on the 71st floor, bathrooms are cheekily decorated in Marie Antoinette and cowboy themes. The Versailles-inspired restaurant La Boucherie is an American steakhouse with a French twist. In the restaurant’s VIP Starlight Booths, diners enjoy wine-paired chef’s tasting menus along with jaw-dropping views. Another restaurant, Sora, is the place for intimate Japanese omakase. Be sure to order the 1100 Feet—an original blend of liqueurs reflective of L.A.’s confluence of cultures—at Spire 73, the Western Hemisphere’s highest open-air bar. Pro tip: Book the Presidential Suite, and you’ll be rewarded with another kind of epic view—an infinity bathtub that fills from the ceiling.

Located in Jardines del Pedregal, an elegant suburb on the outskirts of the city, Tetetlán is worth the trip. Originally the horse stables of a home designed by Mexico’s most influential architect, Luis Barragán, the space was recently restored by an art collector who lives next door. It is many things: a café serving shade-grown local coffee, a showcase for local designers, a restaurant serving creative Mesoamerican dishes, a yoga studio, a hotel for visiting artists who are asked to donate a book to Tetetlán’s extensive collection, and a listening library. But it’s the space’s design that’s truly breathtaking: glass floors look down on the area’s local purple-black volcanic rock, and the sun pouring in from skylights is warmed by rafters painted in Barragán’s signature pink.

Ett Hem isn’t a hotel. After all, its name means “a home” in Swedish. And the kitchen is open to guests at all hours, to snack on its stash of homemade cakes and healthy treats, and to pour a glass or two of its world-class wines and fresh-squeezed juices. The hotel’s winding collection of airy, stylized rooms—decorated with an elegantly comfortable combination of modern and curated vintage that belongs on the pages of Architectural Digest—act like a designer friend’s living room and library, their comfortable chairs beckoning guests to relax with a glass of wine and a good book. An airy conservatory (similarly outfitted) spills out onto a secret garden, a hidden oasis in the lively city, and a gourmet, farm-to-communal-table dinner results in new friends and fascinating conversations. Each of the 12 rooms in the 1910 Arts and Crafts house feels like a private appartement, decorated in celebrity designer Ilse Crawford and owner Jeanette Mix’s signature style. So, no, Ett Hem isn’t a hotel, because it’s so much more.

A mile-long strip of soft white sand frames Friendship Bay on Bequia’s southern coast. The water here is consistently calm, making it perfect for swimming and snorkeling. You’ll likely have much of the beach to yourself—except for, perhaps, the area in front of the Bequia Beach Hotel, which welcomes non-guests to its lively beach bar.

The Tuamotu archipelago – 78 coral reef atolls spread north and east of Tahiti – are just remote enough they’ve not been spoiled by excessive tourism. There are a few high-end hotels, but just a few. Instead of tourism, the local economy is still focused on businesses that go back centuries: Fishing. Coconuts. And black pearls. Lots of black pearls.

A few minutes from the shops, galleries, and restaurants of Sedona, but tucked away along the banks of quiet-flowing Oak Creek, L’Auberge de Sedona is one of the Southwest’s most romantic hideaways. It has red-rock views, as every accommodation in Sedona must, but its French-country-inn style, in the land of adobe architecture, and its leafy, creekside location, are what define it. Through a series of chefs, its restaurant, Cress on Oak Creek, has maintained a stellar reputation, in no small part because of the romance of dining at a table that in some cases is practically in Oak Creek. And the spa, L’Apothecary, with at least one seasonally offered treatment requiring guests to wade in up to their ankles, draws much of its essence from the creek, too. Extensive renovations done in 2011 included the redesign of the 58 rooms and cottages, and the addition of 29 more, many with fireplaces, private decks, and—because romance matters—outdoor cedar-lined showers. Still there, and still popular, are the early morning duck feedings and the nighttime telescope sessions with a professional astronomer.

This brilliant, partially covered amphitheater offers views not only of the stage but of the stunning Sangre de Cristo and Jemez mountain ranges in the distance. The world-renowned opera company presents five works in repertory each summer. Book well in advance, and don’t miss the elegant tailgating in the parking lot (some participants go as far as white table linens and sparkling wine) before the performance. A picnic can be ordered (at least 48 hours in advance) for pick-up two hours before performances, or you can cobble together your own basket of goodies from local restaurants. Tablecloths not included.

Famous since its 1998 opening as the place with the dancing fountains (further immortalized in the final scene of the 2001 film Ocean’s Eleven), the 3,933-room Italian-themed Bellagio is a Las Vegas icon. There is a fantasy feel about it, with its five courtyard pools, its indoor botanical garden and conservatory that change with the seasons, its lobby-dominating Dale Chihuly blown-glass flower sculpture, and its eight-acre lake, out of which rise the fountains. Yet following a 2015 upgrade, it also feels as modern as any hotel on the Strip. The Bellagio still does a few things the old-fashioned way: Along with the expected celebrity restaurants, there is a buffet (a long-cherished Las Vegas tradition) brought up to modern standards with an all-you-can-drink alcohol option. Throughout the hotel, service is tops, shopping is high-end, the Cirque du Soleil production O draws ’em in, and—another Las Vegas tradition—a casino with nearly the area of two football fields makes it all go ‘round, which is no doubt why everybody has to be out of the pools by 7 p.m.

Crashing waves serve as the soundtrack to your stay at Elbow Beach, situated on 50 lush acres along Bermuda’s rose-hued southern coast. Decorated with exposed beams, tiled floors, and neutral color schemes, the spacious cottage-style rooms are the portrait of coastal elegance—think coral-emblazoned throw pillows, wicker benches at the foot of the beds, and ocean or garden views through French doors. Polished-pebble paths lead the way to the spa, which offers treatments inspired by local ingredients, from a ginger-and-coconut scrub to a hibiscus bath. Grab a rum swizzle in the lounge, relax by the curving perimeter of the pool, or snorkel, swim, and kayak at the hotel’s private beach. You might also prefer to hit the pavement: Elbow Beach is mere minutes from the capital of Hamilton, Gibb’s Hill Lighthouse, and four 18-hole championship golf courses.