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Chances are that if you’re not a Hollywood power-type or a member of the glitterati, ( and you’d know if you were), you won’t be attending the Oscars unless you are a “ seat-filler” that slips into place when the star has to go to the loo or out for a ( gasp) smoke. Don’t worry,you can party like a star at several venerable hotels that have figured prominently in Oscar worthy films, or just check-in put your feet up and turn on the T.V. and watch the Academy Awards with a splash of bubbly in one hand and some nibbles in the other. No need for a sealed envelope here, the clear winner-the grand dame who always plays herself is ... The Plaza in NYC. The Plaza also contributed to a motion picture “ first.” Director Alfred Hitchcock went on site with his star Cary Grant to New York’s The Plaza, to film key parts of the 1959 classic North by Northwest – the first time a crew, director and cast assembled on site to make a picture. Prior to this, movies were shot Hollywood soundstages and rarely on location. The Plaza has ”starred” in many motion pictures including Breakfast At Tiffany’s (1961); Barefoot In The Park (1967); Funny Girl (1968); The Great Gatsby (1971); Plaza Suite (1971); They Way We Were (1973); Home Alone 2 (1992); Scent Of A Woman (1992); Sleepless in Seattle (1993); Almost Famous (2000); and The Great Gatsby (2013).

This is my favorite Scottsdale resort because it gets Southwestern style down without being kitschy or over-done. There are no cheesy dream catchers or Kokopelli statues here – just a color palette as bright and breathtaking as a desert sunset. Four Seasons Resort Scottsdale is perched in the city’s northern half, and surrounded by miles of Saguaro cacti and rugged rocks. Its location adjacent to Pinnacle Peak Park is perfect for hikers and if you crave more of an adrenaline rush, check out the high-octane tours from Arizona Outback Adventures. At Proof, the resort’s American canteen, dinner is practically a cross-country road trip with home-style comfort food inspired by, and sourced from, the 50 states. Plus, there’s a hearty list of wine, microbrews, and small batch and craft distilled American spirits. The Spa at Four Seasons also celebrates the resort’s sense of place with treatments like the Sonoran Honey Body Polish and Jojoba and Prickly Pear Polish.

West Randolph Street in Chicago’s West Loop has become a new home to the city’s culinary talents. Stephanie Izard first drew crowds cooking dishes like roasted pig face at Girl & the Goat (the restaurant pictured above). She then opened Little Goat, a retro diner, across the street. Graham Elliot Bowles keeps it simple at his casual g.e.b, where each dish has no more than three ingredients. On a more elegant note, the prix-fixe menu at Grace, from chef Curtis Duffy, features dishes such as kampachi with coconut, lime, basil, golden trout roe, and pomelo presented in a cylinder of frozen ginger water.

Centuries-old catacombs decorated with human bones pepper the crypts at this Franciscan monastery dating to 1774. Decked out in impressive Spanish Baroque architecture, the canary-yellow church and monastery also house a remarkable library with some 25,000 antique texts (some predating the Spanish Conquest) and are flush with romantic courtyards and cloisters. Don’t forget to look up: A magnificent Moorish-style cupola, carved of Nicaraguan cedar in 1625, oversees the main staircase.

Part of the ‘Leading Hotels of the World’ group, Gleneagles is a destination in and of itself for visitors to Scotland. From their website, “Set within the gentle beauty of 850 acres of Perthshire countryside, this five star [resort] is home to three championship golf courses, a sparkling, award-winning spa and an exhilarating array of outdoor activities.” Fancy learning Falconry? You can. Anxious to become an accomplished equestrian? You can do that too. Want to golf in the footsteps of greats like Jack Nicklaus or Adam Scott? Of course, you can do that as well. Fancy a full day being pampered in a spa? ESPA can sort you out. Don’t know how to make traditional Scottish ‘tablet’ or Christmas Pudding? One of the accomplished chefs can teach you with a cooking demonstration in the grand kitchen. Even those who love to shop, and can’t fathom a trip without a few luxury brands, will find the arcade inside Gleneagles well-stocked to please. Built in the decade where Art Deco was all the rage, today’s Gleneagles still exhibits much of its original architectural detail as well as furniture and lighting. Yet modernity and old world details mix reasonably across guest suites as well as common areas to give the hotel a balanced, elegant feel that’s both welcoming and jaw-dropping at the same time. Be sure to leave time for a meal at the Andrew Fairlie-helmed restaurant on site which is one of only eleven restaurants in the UK to have two Michelin stars.

It might be a part of the Colorado River—a man-made reservoir carved out of the river in 1960—but everyone calls the body of water bisecting Austin Lady Bird Lake. On hot summer days, scores of walkers and joggers move along the lakeside paths through nearby Zilker Park, but you can also take to the water by canoe, kayak, water bike, or stand-up paddleboard. You can’t swim here, but the left fork (heading west) in the river will take you to Barton Springs Pool, a popular Austin hangout, where you can splash in the water to your heart’s—and body temperature’s—delight.

Never has a yummy treat been mired in such controversy as the Whoopie Pie. First, how did this burger-shaped cake with the sugary cream filling get its name? Does the name come from the exclamation that schoolchildren shouted upon opening their lunch bags to discover these delights? Or does it come from the Amish farmers, who were rewarded with these portable “pies” in their lunch boxes? My vote (and Pennsylvania Dutch lore) favors the school kids. But wait—there’s more controversy! While I am one hundred percent certain that these little cakes called pies originated in my lovely state of Pennsylvania, it seems that the state of Maine has also laid claim to their origin, even going so far as to name the Whoopie Pie as its “official state treat.” Other research points to somewhere in New York state as their birthplace. We may never know… There was a time not long ago when Whoopie Pies felt much like a prized local secret because no one outside of Pennsylvania had ever heard of them (excepting, I guess, some of those Mainers). These days, though, you can even find Whoopie Pies in the bakery sections at Trader Joe’s and Whole Foods. But the most authentic and delicious version can only be found at the Amish bakery Beiler’s in the Reading Terminal Market. My personal favorite is the pumpkin flavor, but the chocolate is also delicious. Or maybe try the oatmeal, or the red velvet. Better yet, try one of each—they’re portable!

Reservations required—and no wonder. The tours at the Neon Museum sell out months in advance. A walk through the museum’s famous “Boneyard” (where neon goes to die) is fascinating, from motel row to the first integrated casino (one that shut almost as soon as it opened), and the Stardust, with its nuclear testing-inspired font. All of this comes alive thanks to the museum’s famous docents, all art history buffs with loads of family history or other personal anecdotes.

The trek to the HOLLYWOOD sign may be the most famous L.A. hike to outsiders, but if you’re looking for downtown views, celebrity sightings, and a typical L.A.-style glamour hike (not necessarily strenuous, but very fashionable), the 3.3-mile Runyon Canyon loop is your best bet. You’ll still get a great view of those giant letters, but you’ll also be able to spot the who’s who of the Hollywood Hills, with plenty of locals out on their routine pre-Sunday-brunch ritual. (And there are lots of grade-A brunch spots nearby, such as the Griddle Café, if you too are in search of a pancake-heavy menu.) The trails are dog-friendly, and dog-loving Angelenos take full advantage, so your pooch will have no shortage of company if you decide to bring him along.

You really can’t ask for fresher beer than they serve at the Pike. This huge pub is actually built around the equipment that is brewing the next batch as you drink. It’s the brainchild of Charles Finkel, whose passion is evident in this glorious shrine to beer, with his collections of bottles, ads and vintage merch covering every square inch of the place. When we visited, he was actually putting up some beer-themed stamp collections on one of the few remaining patches of uncovered wall; we got chatting, and in his enthusiasm he insisted on taking us down to the basement for a tour of the workfloor. Charles just adores what he does and you can taste it in the microbrews, a selection of lovingly crafted beers that you’ll struggle to find outside the Pacific Northwest. I loved “Naughty Nellie,” a golden ale that slips down rather too easily, but there’s more than a dozen types to choose from not to mention seasonal varieties (we visited at Halloween, when a special Pumpkin ale was on tap). A good way is to buy the tasting menu, which includes around eight of their flavours (although beware, some of them are fairly strong and might go to your head). The Pike’s easiest to find if you approach it from 1st Avenue, through Pike Place Market, although we stumbled onto it in Post Alley, where you can get an elevator up to the pub. We stumbled upon it when we were just gasping for a drink—but we got so much more.

New York City’s Chinese and Chinese American populations total around 570,000, making this the largest concentration of Chinese outside the mother country. The first Chinatown in Manhattan dates to the 1870s, and while it continues to grow, it has also been joined by other Chinatowns, including one in Flushing, Queens. That is where Joe’s Shanghai opened its first location, in 1995—though the two in Manhattan, on Pell Street in Chinatown and West 56th Street in Midtown, will be more convenient for most travelers. You can expect a wait for a table, and when you are seated you may be sharing it with strangers. The restaurant can be noisy, and as soon as you have finished your meal, you’ll be encouraged to settle up and leave. In other words, people don’t come here for the atmosphere or the service. Instead, the excellent and generous renditions of favorite Chinese dishes, especially the restaurant’s signature soup dumplings, are the draw. The dumplings are served in bamboo steamer baskets and each one holds a pork or crab meatball in a hot broth, all wrapped up in a doughy package. It may prove to be the most flavorful moment of your trip to New York.

The name Nude Espresso might suggest something more racy than you find when you enter this Brick Lane coffee shop. However, if a perfect cup of coffee does it for you, then your pulse may race anyway. And not from the caffeine. Nude takes the creation of a good cup of coffee very seriously so this is the kind of shop for true connoisseurs, not those simply in need of a fix. From the website, “Obtaining the finest coffee is a labour of love. We scour the World hand selecting only the fittest, ripest green beans [...]. We grade them by eye and sort them before putting them through their paces [...]. Only then can they be tasted, blended and packaged, creating the perfect ingredient for a sublime sensory experience.” I couldn’t have said it better myself. Indeed, a cup of coffee at Nude lives up to the promise of being a sublime sensory experience. Nude really stands for stripping out anything unnecessary from the process of providing a truly excellent cup of coffee, and in simplicity that satisfies, Nude Espresso truly excels.

When traveling, I love to spend Saturday morning at the farmers market. There’s no better way to meet the locals and get to know the town culture. What produce do they love? What coffee do they sip? What’s the overall mood? One of the best Saturday morning farmers markets I’ve been to was in a giant park in Portland, Maine. The stalls were packed with reasonably priced, locally grown produce (of course, Maine blueberries were abundant). Despite the chilly morning temperatures, children played in a splash park and adults sipped locally made apple cider while listening to the various jazz musicians who had set up around the farmers market. Despite the crowds, parking was abundant (such a rarity!) as was the “Maine nice” that we found around the entire state.

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.

“Ready!” I grip the bar tightly and lean forward. “Set!” I bend my knees and my heart starts racing. “HUP!” Before I have time for doubts, I take a deep breath, and jump off the platform. The next 40 seconds are a pure adrenaline rush as I soar through the air on a flying trapeze—a thrilling introduction to my first class at the satellite Trapeze School N.Y. in the Navy Yard district of Washington, D.C. I try to stay calm and oriented as my teacher yells instructions to swing my legs and lift my knees up to hang from the bar. This simple move is the foundation for many tricks that we six beginners in the class get to practice many times. By the end of the two-hour class, I’m already doing flips into the net and performing basic catches with one of the instructors. I start to wonder if my childhood dreams of joining the circus are possible after all. Class is over, I’m tired and my legs already ache from the climbs up the ridiculously long trapeze ladder (for me, the scariest part of the class). The school’s motto was right: “Forget about fear. Worry about addiction.” The school offers a variety of trapeze, aerial, trampoline, and acrobatics classes for adults and children.