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When I stepped into the grand lobby of Québec’s Le Château Montebello, I felt like I was entering Paul Bunyan’s living room. Giant timbers braced a three-story-high ceiling, and a massive fireplace in the center radiated warmth in all directions. After checking in, I joined the guests gathered around the six-sided hearth and sank into a leather club chair. I spent the rest of the day by the fire, sipping hot toddies and napping, as the comfort of the crackling flames sent me and the other fireside dozers snuggling deeper into our cushions. I had come to ski some of the 65,000 acres of wooded backcountry that neighbor the resort, but the château was so welcoming, I found it hard to leave.


Often described as the world’s largest log cabin, the lodge and two other main buildings were constructed in 1930 from 10,000 red cedar logs and 500,000 handmade wooden shingles. The houses and the vast surrounding forests were long owned by the politically prominent Papineau family, and until 1970, the estate remained a private nature retreat for Canada’s upper class. As I walked through the château’s halls, the intricately carved banisters and exposed beams reminded me of the great western lodges in the U.S. national parks—only without any grumpy tourists demanding to know where the animals are.

In the guest rooms, deluxe amenities such as flat-screen TVs and rain-dome showerheads upstaged anything found in Yellowstone or Yosemite. Despite the modern perks, rawhide lampshades and other rustic details helped my suite retain its frontier appeal. When I got up to pull the plaid drapes closed that night, I watched a horse-drawn sleigh pass by, glowing in the moonlight against the dark ribbon of the frozen Ottawa River.

Without fresh snow to ski the next morning, I was left to explore the lodge’s other activities. I opted out of getting scrubbed with maple sugar at the spa or unsuccessfully flirting with French-Canadian women by the fire, and instead devoted the day to learning the inscrutable rules of curling. The château has an indoor ice rink dedicated to the sport, a national favorite that’s best described as a combination of shuffleboard and falling down a lot. My instructor was Henri, a kindly sexagenarian who, like many in Québec’s western Outaouais region, seemed more comfortable speaking French than English. As it turns out, kindly reassurance sounds the same in either language. But as my backside repeatedly hit the ice, Henri’s patient polyglot insistence that I was doing “une belle job” grew progressively less convincing.

After my rough-and-tumble day, I dined in the white-tablecloth Aux Chantignoles restaurant. Québecois cuisine dominates the menu, and I followed a dinner of tender venison osso buco with a slice of Québec’s famously sweet and jiggly sugar pie—think pecan pie sans pecans. Snow fell just in time for me to ski through the nearby forest on my last day. I spent a long afternoon there, gliding among stands of birch, pine, and spruce in the rolling Laurentian Highlands. Now and again, I paused to admire one of the countless frozen lakes, their smooth surfaces dotted with tracks left by moose and white-tailed deer. I skied in the silent wilderness until just after sunset. As the scent of a wood fire began to tickle my nose, I grew eager to cozy up by the hearth again. I turned back toward the château’s stone chimney, its rising plume of smoke signaling for my return.
This appeared in the November/December 2010 issue.

With well over a thousand lakes, Switzerland is blessed with its fair share of stunning bodies of water. The most extensive, however, is Lake Geneva (also known as Lac Léman), where you can bask in seductive views and amazing sunsets. It’s practically impossible to take your eyes off the shimmering water when driving down the mountainside or gazing out a train window, especially in the upper regions of Montreaux and Vevey. Other recommended viewing points include the banks of Lausanne, where bobbing swans and crystal-clear water calm the soul, and the Château de Chillon, a castle three miles from Montreux. Of course, you could also enjoy the views from the lake itself, where steam boats, ferries, and private yachts roam freely.

Blue John has been a favorite of canyon explorers for many years, but it became widely known after a large boulder fell and trapped climber Aron Ralston’s arm. (He survived, and his story was told on film in 127 Hours, starring James Franco). Where Ralston got caught, and the route to get there, is not particularly scenic; that said, there are a number of other beautiful spots to see in the canyon, many of which are linked via the East/Main Fork Loop. There are a few rappels and technical gear is required, but you can hire a guide if you want to explore with an expert by your side.

Locally owned and operated, Martha’s offers tasty, home-cooked food from the pleasant covered porch of a private home, in a roadside location handy to Sugar Beach and numerous attractions. Martha’s draws resort guests out of their comfortable rooms and creates a delicious detour for those on their way to visit nearby Sulphur Springs. Plates—heaped with breadfruit balls, fish cakes, panfried chicken or pork, or creole shrimp, and accompanied by at least three to four sides—are served at picnic tables. The prices are quite reasonable.

Said to be the oldest structure on the island, Wallblake House is also the only surviving 18th-century plantation home that has been restored and that can be toured. Located in the Valley, capital of Anguilla, the 1787 property was once part of a 97-acre sugar and cotton plantation. Bestowed to the Catholic Church in 1976, it was abandoned until it was finally refurbished in 2004. The main home, which suffered a fire at the hands of the invading French forces, and the outbuildings are intact in design. Though the house is currently used as a rectory, tours can be arranged by emailing in advance.

On most days in Prague, it feels like every tourist in town has gathered on the Charles Bridge. And for good reason — this 14th-century cobblestone span crosses the Vltava River, connecting the Old Town with the Lesser Town (Mala Strana) and providing picturesque views of both sides of the river, medieval churches, towers, and Prague Castle on the hill. King Charles IV commissioned the bridge in 1357. The bridge has 16 arches and protected by towers on either end: the Old Town Bridge Tower in Old Town and the Judith Tower and Lesser Town Bridge Tower on the Mala Strana side. The bridge is lined with 30 large statues of religious figures and luminaries, dating from the Baroque era to the present day The best time to go is at dawn, sunset or after dark after the crowds have thinned and romance is in the air.

Encyclopedic is one way to describe L.A.’s oldest art institution. Sprawling is another. The Los Angeles County Museum of Art opened in its current Miracle Mile location in 1965 and has not stopped growing, becoming the largest museum in the western United States. Its 135,000-piece collection spans 6,000 years of art. It also includes some of the museum world’s most photographed outdoor sculptures, such as Michael Heizer’s mind-boggling Levitated Mass and Chris Burden’s Urban Light. The museum hosts some 40 exhibits per year, plus a dynamic schedule of events, such as Tuesday film matinees and picnic-friendly Jazz at LACMA (held weekly on “summer” weekend nights—which in L.A. means April to November). While anyone can join free tours throughout the day, docents also lead customized experiences for a fee, which will take you through the galleries before or after hours to marvel at artists as wide-ranging as Henri Matisse, Ai Weiwei, Diego Rivera, and Catherine Opie. Kids are also catered to with a special gallery, Sunday activities, and a free membership, which includes entry for them plus an adult guest any day of the year. Pro tips: Plan to spend several hours at the museum, fueling up on wood-fired pizza midway through the day at Ray’s & Stark Bar. And if you’d like to experience the outdoor sculptures without the crowds, go early in the morning or on Wednesdays, when the museum is closed and gloriously quiet.

Step off the beaten path that leads to Jim Morrison’s grave at Père Lachaise and head instead to the lesser-known, yet extraordinary Montparnasse Cemetery. Locals bring metro tickets to leave on Serge Gainsbourg’s grave in honor of his song “Le Poinçonneur des Lilas (The Lilas Ticket Taker).” Nearby rest the poet Baudelaire and eternal lovers Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir. A married couple by the name of Pigeon share a tomb that is as surprising as their family name. Susan Sontag opted for a minimalist grave, while artist Niki de Saint Phalle chose a rainbow-colored mosaic cat for the grave of her assistant Ricardo. Brancusi’s The Kiss sculpture stands at the head of his grave. Stop at a guardian’s kiosk when you enter the tranquil space and ask for a map of the luminaries who have made this their eternal resting place.

As you enter Barcelona‘s famous Mercat de Sant Josep de La Boqueria from La Rambla, one of the first stalls you encounter is Tocineria Marcos, purveyors of Iberico ham and a stunning array of other cured, cooked, and fresh meats. It’s just one of the dazzling displays of delicacies in this, the most famous of Barcelona‘s 40 or so food markets. (Another favorite, and slightly less touristed, is the beautifully remodeled Mercat de Santa Caterina, short walk away.) La Boqueria dates back to 1217; a pig market was conducted here starting in 1470; and the current metal roof was built in 1914. There’s no better place to shop for a taste of Catalan culture.

A 40-minute drive from Dubrovnik, past panoramas of the Adriatic and green Konavle fields, brings you to this fertile valley, the region’s agricultural backbone. At Đivanović Mills, you can learn how flour was milled 500 years ago. Follow the forest path to the nearby restaurant of Konavoski Dvori for a taste of their famous trout dish and for the cool breeze off the Ljuta River. (Calling the mill in advance is recommended.)

Up in the rolling hills of Colombia’s Caldas, Quindío, and Risaralda regions, some coffee plantations offer guest accommodations for visitors looking to lap up traditional coffee culture (pardon the pun). Many of the farms give tours that involve arabica picking, drying, and roasting…and that always wrap with a fabulous cup of joe. You’ll also see beloved cultural symbols: the Jeeps that serve as the region’s pack mules. (Local Jeep festivals, called Yipaos, celebrate the vehicles with contests—those that most artfully pack and haul the biggest loads win prizes.) Not far from the town of Armenia, the Parque del Café, a veritable coffee-themed amusement park, is a great option for those traveling with children.

An emblem of the new Vietnam, this 68-story skyscraper, named for a Vietnamese conglomerate and designed by Venezuelan architect Carlos Zapata, is easily identified in Ho Chi Minh City’s skyline—a helipad juts out from near the top, looking a little like a flying saucer crashed into the building. Upon completion in 2010, it was the tallest building in Vietnam; it can no longer claim that title (which now belongs to the Keangnam Hanoi Landmark Tower), but its construction remains an impressive achievement. The 49th-floor wraparound Saigon Skydeck offers expansive views of the river and the city’s concrete sprawl; you’ll find the same fine views at the somewhat pricey café-restaurant-bar Eon, located on floors 50, 51, and 52.

Every story about Chatham Bars Inn surely features the veranda, a wide porch with companionable groupings of wicker armchairs and table service that alleviates the need to fetch your own drink—so you never have to look away from the serene view of sailboats and swooping seabirds.

Chatham Bars Inn excels memory making and, in addition to spaces like the verandah that make you feel you’re part of a generous and grand tradition, this Cape Cod resort has created intimate places (a small library, a settee in front of a fireplace, a private deck outside your cottage, chairs arrayed around a fire on the beach) where your private traditions will be forged.

It faces the aptly named Pleasant Bay, calm waters sheltered from the Atlantic surf by barrier islands. And you’ll find it’s impossible to forget where you are: The fleet of sailboats and fishing boats and runabouts keep the ocean top of mind while the creative menus in the dining venues (centered around the catch of the day and the seasonal produce from their own eight-acre farm) are likely the most locavore of any property of this caliber.

Originally built as a private hunting lodge, the inn has been in business since 1914, which means many guests have been coming here since childhood. This curated version of a Cape Cod beach vacation is a decades-long habit for those guests—and one that new arrivals may be inspired to adopt. Pride of place is strong here and guests get caught up in it, too. While you don’t have to shuck the clams or dig the potatoes yourself (though those could probably be arranged upon request), you will never feel insulated from the experience of this distinctive part of New England.

Today, the fern-filled hillsides surrounding the Glenfinnan Monument regularly fill with camera-toting tourists, all eager to see the historic Jacobite Steam Train—which serves as the Hogwarts Express in the Harry Potter movies—breeze across the elevated stone viaduct. More significant than the train, however, is the monument itself, which serves as a striking tribute to those who fought in the Jacobite Risings.

Less than a year before the Battle of Culloden, Bonnie Prince Charlie raised his father’s Standard on this very land, marking the start of the Jacobite campaign. An army of 1,500 rallied around him, then marched as far south as Derby before the retreat that would seal their fate. In 1815, a nearly 60-foot monument was erected, with the long, kilted Highlander at the top representing the clansmen who gave their lives to the Jacobite cause. Travelers can make the dizzying climb to the top of the tower for unrivaled views of Loch Shiel, then tour the visitor center, which tells the story of Prince Charles and the 1745 Jacobite Rising.

In 1929, the man who would become Latin America’s most celebrated architect, Luis Barragán, built two houses for Sr. Ildefenso Franco to rent. Many years later, an architecture aficionado purchased and restored one of the houses, preserving its original tiling, floors, and finishes while adding contemporary furniture and local artisan textiles. The house, which features five private rooms, now operates as an Airbnb, giving guests the chance to stay in one of Barragán’s earliest works.

If you choose to stay here, be sure to check out the hidden room above the garage. Working during an era when the Mexican government endeavored to suppress the Catholic Church, Barragán—himself a devout Catholic—built the secret room as a place where priests could lead mass in the old-fashioned manner, by turning their backs to the attendants. The space eventually became the servants’ quarters and fell into disrepair, but has since been restored to its former glory, along with its lovely terrace.