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Easter Island is a strange, remote, and magical place. After a full day of wandering around this tiny island, we were fortunate enough to witness an absolutely breathtaking sunset over the Pacific. The “beach” here is made up of pitch black volcanic stone. I found it to be utterly fascinating.

The belly button of the world lies eighty miles northwest of Athens, where the southern slope of Mount Parnassus, cut deeply by cascades feeding the River Pleistos, drops precipitously into the Gulf of Corinth. High above the ravine in a cleft between the Phaedriades, or “Shining Rocks,” a natural amphitheater was shaped by wind, erosion, and tectonic turbulence over the intersection of two underground faults. This is the omphalos—the spot believed by ancient Greeks to be Gaia’s own navel. Homer called it “Pytho,” because it was here that the Earth Mother gave birth to a female serpent. “Why is it the serpent is always a woman?” The goddess/serpent appears in everyone’s mythology, I remind KB as we approach six massive columns re-erected where the western pediment of Apollo’s temple once stood. “Yeah,” she replies, kicking a loose a chunk of limestone across the weathered foundation, “along with the ‘hero’ who kills her.” KB’s sinewy, suntanned legs straddle one of the pedestals at the entrance to the sekos—Apollo’s inner sanctum—and her belly button taunts me between the waistband of low-slung hiking shorts and the hem of her tank top. “Both Apollo and his twin sister, Artemis, whacked the serpent goddess,” I remind her. “Naturally, the locals erected a temple here to commemorate his bravery. It was named after a cult that worshiped the sun god in the form of a dolphin—Delphinios—Delphi for short.” “How do you remember all this stuff?” KB asks.

On a rocky plateau overlooking the Dead Sea lies the 2,000-year-old cliff-top fortress of Masada. Next to Jerusalem, it is the most popular destination for tourists visiting Israel. In addition to its sheer natural beauty, Masada is also the setting of one of the most powerful and tragic stories in Jewish history. During the First Roman-Jewish War in 73 or 74 C.E., 960 Jewish zealots—men, women, and children—committed suicide on top of the mountain rather than submit to capture by the Romans. Among the ruins are the Northern Palace, an ancient synagogue, and a Roman-style bathhouse with mosaic floors. The ascent to Masada can be done by cable car or by walking up the Snake Path, a moderate climb which should take around an hour.

The custom-designed Jaguar Truck is a one-of-a-kind experience. After a scenic ride on the truck, you’re dropped off to ride a tandem bike through the jungle. Don’t worry about sweating; at the end of your ride awaits a natural pool, called a cenote (these pools were sacred to the Maya). Take a dip before heading onward to a beach, where you can indulge in more splash time before lunch is served.

This Cuzco corner presents a notable juxtaposition between ancient Incan and Spanish colonial architecture. Since the Incas worshipped their sun god, Inti, above all others, this temple in their imperial capital was the most important of the entire realm. It was here that they brought the idols of all peoples they assimilated, to offer them representation as they demanded allegiance in Cuzco. When the Spanish arrived, they tore down much of the temple and built a monastery on top of it. However, the walls that do remain provide stunning examples of pre-Hispanic engineering, particularly the rounded outer wall that can be seen from Avenida del Sol.

A maze of narrow medieval streets wind up and down this village perched along the Grande Corniche. The ruins of a château are now an exotic garden, and the 18th-century neoclassical Notre Dame of the Assumption church is a national monument. Spectacular views inspire artists and artisans, and their galleries fill the village. Exceptional restaurants like the Château Eza are happy to welcome guests for a drink or a Michelin-starred meal as they relax and savor the scenery.

Conquistadors built Panamá Viejo, the first European settlement on the Pacific Coast of the New World, in 1519. The original site was abandoned in 1671 after Henry Morgan’s pirates attacked and the residents relocated down the coast. This second settlement, now called Casco Viejo (old town), is the historic district of Panama City. Together, both locations make up a UNESCO World Heritage Site. At Panamá Viejo, visitors can explore an archaeological site with famous ruins, while Casco Viejo is abuzz with the markets, cafés and nightlife found along its narrow streets and in its classic waterfront buildings.

Deep in Berlin‘s Grunewald Forest, Teufelsberg (literally, Devil’s Mountain; the name comes from the nearby Teufelssee, or Devil’s Lake) was once the site of a Nazi technology college. After the war, it was decided that the school would be buried beneath rubble and debris left in the city after the war, and the resulting man-made hill rose to more than 300 feet; during the cold war, American troops built a base on top from which to spy on East Germany. Since the wall fell, the base’s radar domes have become graffiti-spattered ruins and a haunting pilgrimage for urban explorers, street-art fans, and those seeking great views over the Grunewald and the Havel River. The hill is also used as a ski slope and sled run in winter; paragliding aficionados and picnickers enjoy it in summer. The website has official tour options.

Situated roughly halfway between Da Nang and Nha Trang, Qui Nhon is a quiet coastal town with a curvy beach that is refreshingly low-key. It doesn’t get the hordes that visit Nha Trang to the south (the stretch of sand isn’t quite as alluring here), and certainly lacks the development that is a feature of Da Nang’s beaches, resulting in a city that is remarkably unaffected by the unstoppable reach of tourism—note the number of fishing boats that still dot the water here. There are some fine Cham ruins in the vicinity, including the Thap Doi (meaning Double Towers) and the Banh It Towers, as well as the Long Khanh Pagoda, constructed by a Chinese businessman in the 18th century.

Guidebooks often lack the practical pieces of advice that could save travelers some rather unpleasant moments, in the Greek Islands one such nugget of wisdom I missed in my reading was that after a late night fueled by Ouzo it is not ideal to ride in a high speed ferry. Thankfully the ferry ride from Mykonos to Naxos is a short one at under an hour. I was greeted at the terminal by part of the family that runs Hotel Grotto, a small retreat perched on the edge of the Aegean sea that would be my home while in Naxos. After weeks competing for beach chairs and being corralled down tight marble alleys in some of the more frequented islands, Hora (also known as Naxos Town) proved the perfect place to relax and experience Greece at a slower pace. Upon arriving to the hotel, the bags were taken out of my hand and replaced with a glass of wine made by “Pappa” along with local olives as I was led out to the pictured patio. The view from patio of the hotel is of the Portara, believed to be the beginning of the Temple of Apollo dated back to 530 BC and is an ideal spot to pack a picnic from the local grocery, and watch the sunset before heading into town for the night. On the walk back to the hotel rising above the town is The Venetian Castle Kastro. During the day it serves as a museum offering tours, on Sunday nights after sunset it hosts traditional music and dance made easier by the accompaniment of Kitron,a liqueur indigineous to the area.

Color, shape, and naked geology: Northern Arizona appeals to the senses in the most elemental ways. Agnostic hikers, secular scientists, souls searching for spiritual energy — all end up in Sedona, seeking and finding. Mid-week in this red-rock country, we found a few days of calm: early morning trails around town, and afternoons in galleries seeking shelter from summer thunderstorms. Weekends bring crowds from Phoenix, just two hours to the south, but away from pavement, you can still get away into the elements.

Surely one of the most extraordinary imperial relics of Morocco, the Palais Bahia (“the brilliant”) doesn’t disappoint. Built at the start of the 19th century by architect El Mekki for Si Moussa, the then chamberlain of Sultan Hassan I, the palace showcases a wide range of architectural styles hinting at the chamberlain’s playful spirit, especially after his son inherited it and added his own brand of flamboyant glamour to the place. Women’s quarters bedecked with crimson-and-mustard–striped ceilings, a marble-tile courtyard the size of a soccer field, and extensive salons lined by stained-glass windows are just some of the features of the 20-acre space. In 1912, General Lyautey, the governor of French protectorate Morocco, moved in and added creature comforts such as fireplaces and central heating. In so doing, he attracted a number of illustrious guests, among them the writer Edith Wharton. She described the palace this way: “They came, they built the Bahia, and it remains the loveliest and most fantastic of Moroccan palaces. Court within court, garden beyond garden, reception halls, private apartments, slaves’ quarters, sunny prophets’ chambers on the roofs, and baths in vaulted crypts, the labyrinth of passages and rooms stretches away over several acres of ground.” Follow Wharton’s lead and don’t miss it.

The city’s iconic wood-paneled Tram 28 rambles along a 4.3-mile route from Campo de Ourique to Praça Martim Moniz, navigating tight turns and steep inclines as it passes some of Lisbon’s most endearing attractions. Originally commissioned in the 1930s, these classic Remodelado trams were in fact enlisted for their ability to handle Lisbon’s hilly terrain. They can get painfully crowded—wait times can be outrageous in the high season—so catch an early ride (5:40 a.m. most weekdays, or 6:45 a.m. on Sundays) for unobstructed views of hilltop neighborhoods like Graça and the Alfama.

We picked up some gyros to-go during our stroll through the historic Plaka neighborhood below the Acropolis. Thespidos street was particularly memorable for the cafe we stopped at and discovering Brettos bar, which we decided to come back to enjoy as the end a lovely evening.

Atop St. Paul’s Hill sit the ruins of St. Paul’s Church, built by the Portuguese and consecrated in 1521. Malaysia’s oldest church was first Roman Catholic, then Dutch Reformed and ultimately used by the British to store gunpowder. Missionary St. Francis Xavier was briefly interred here (after three weeks his remains were sent to Goa, in India, where they can be found to this day); an open grave marks the spot where he was buried. Adjacent to the church is the Porta de Santiago, all that’s left of the Portuguese fortress A Famosa; built in the early 16th century after the Portuguese took control of Malacca, the fortress was used by both the Dutch and the British.