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Looking for a great afternoon or evening hike, high above the clouds of the East Bay? Need a few good labyrinths and a volcano to make it desirable? It so happens, I’ve found your place. Located on the border of Oakland and Contra Costa, the parking for Sibley is on Skyline Boulevard. This is a Regional Preserve and is managed by the East Bay Regional Park District. All the perks of hikes in this part of the Bay are here and include a great network of trails, soaring views and many a grassy vista. It also claims an extinct volcano and at least four or five labyrinths for potential meditation. You have two major continental plates to thank for the geological grandeur and a few thoughtful locals for the peace of mind, found within.

Snorkel, fish, relax and recover while you’re in Panama on Contador Island, in the Pearl Islands Archipelago. These beautiful boats are ready for hire (in hugely affordable fashion) once you’ve left Panama City and landed on this enchanting island. With Air Panama there appear to be two or three short (45 minutes) flights a day that will get you there from Panama City. Be sure to pack your swimsuit, a good book and some sunscreen. This is a very small island and you can explore land on foot or by a rental scooter to see it all. In Spanish, Contador means ‘the one that counts’, and it’s easy to make your day on the island count with a local rental boat. Your captain (that will inevitably also be fishing while you’re moving) are a reliable way to go and find nearby remote snorkel locations. Be sure to agree on the price before you head out for your big day on the water.

Also known as the Papenoo Valley, the Maroto Valley is a magical place once inhabited by ancient Polynesians. If you go with a guide -- I recommend Marama Tours -- you’ll be able to learn about the history of the area as well as learn to forage like they did in the past. The above photo is of a local fruit called noni, whose juice gets rid of mosquito bite itch. A few other natural remedies the group learned include lime can be a deodorant, coconut juice aids digestion and taro is good for strong bones and teeth.

Visible from anywhere in Kailua-Kaneohe are the three peaks of Mount Olomana. The majestic peaks are named after a mythical Hawaiian warrior and offers more than spectacular views from all angles. To reach your destination from Honolulu you take the Pali through the Kalanionaole Highway and look out for the Luana Hills Country Club. You can park right outside of the club as the entrance to the hike is just a quarter mile from the entrance. The peaks are challenging, with steep drop-offs and some rock climbing, and are only for experienced hikers. The first peak offers the highest views and the third is the most dangerous of all the peaks. Make sure you do your research and talk to locals about likely conditions. That said, it’s been my favorite hike on Oahu so far and it offers unforgettable views of the city. Bring some snack and water with you to sit atop one of the peaks and have a quick picnic.

Maison Dandoy has been baking delicious treats in Brussels since 1829 and you’ll find their famous shops scattered around Brussels. Step inside, and you’ll be greeted by the sights and smells of crunchy biscuits (cookies) looking much as they have since the shop began. The beautiful packaging makes Dandoy cookies a great gift (even if it is for yourself). Be sure to try the traditional Speculaas (or Speculoos); a spicy, crunchy gingerbread cookie, popular throughout the lowlands. While the Dandoy shops can be found all over, only one is home to the Dandoy tearoom. In my opinion, it is well worth seeking out for arguably the best waffles in Belgium. There are two types of waffle here—Bruxelles (Brussels); rectangular and flaky and Liege; rounded and baked with sticky sugar. How best to eat a waffle in Belgium is hotly contested. Locals swear waffles should be topping-free. I however am a sucker for the stewed cherries and vanilla ice-cream. However you order yours, just don’t ask for a “Belgium Waffle.”

The atmosphere is heavy, the decibel level very low, and the wooden decor both comforting, and inviting. People in this café are either locals reading the newspapers while sipping a cappuccino, or, like me, tourists who just visited the Anne Frank House - which is just around the corner - and need a down time to collect their thoughts. The Café de Oude Wester is a natural stop after an emotionally-draining couple of hours, which puts in perspective everything we know about the atrocities of World War II. How some lucky people live through it, how the city was affected by it. Was this very café the scene of nazi meetings, did it participate in hiding Jews? What these walls must have seen and heard throughout these years. The warm smiles of the staff and the aromas emanating from the kitchen are a welcome invite back to the 21st century - as if they knew exactly what was on the minds of customers.

Not far from Kelowna driving along Lakeshore Drive and passing aging vines of lush with grapes for harvesting, sits the goats of the Camelis Alpine Goat Cheese Artisan. Exiting the vehicle you hear the playful singing of goats in the distance sensing the arrival of someone new. On a fall day the blue Okanagan Lake and the autumn colours create a visually robust cornucopia and you can’t do anything but drink it in. The gift shop is similar to an old fashioned western candy store as the entire building is a converted farmhouse. To my right is a display of local olive oils and vinegars. To my left is an enticing display of house made goat cheese gelato and before me is an array of goat cheeses that I didn’t know existed. From goat cheese with delicious ribbons of mouldy blue, a goat cheese that mimics a camembert and a yogurt cheese ideal for spreading there is a cheese to match all tastes. Open from May 1st - October 31st.

Due to the heat of Vegas and our limited time, we decided to take the Grand Canyon Celebration 4-hour tour with Papillon Tours. Other tours we looked at consisted of bus and helicopter with a combination of boat rides or rafting—but it would have taken 12 hours of our limited time so when we saw the Grand Canyon Celebration tour with a 45-minute helicopter flight to the canyon (west rim), canyon landing with champagne lunch, followed by 45-minute helicopter flight back to Vegas we jumped at the opportunity. We booked online and got a $100 discount. Mike our pilot was informative and humorous and had us laughing the whole way. He also had a music soundtrack playing over our headphones which was perfect for the flight. The lunch was only 30 minutes which felt rushed but we understand this is by the agreement with the local Indian community, rather than the tour company. We loved it, even though we felt a bit of motion sickness on the way back!

I had one free night in Tokyo—only one chance to connect with a Japanese acquaintance from a dive trip on Midway Atoll 10 years earlier. Our mutual friend, Shintaido master Haruyoshi Fugaku Ito, suggested we meet at the Shinjuku rail station and walk around the corner to Fukuhachi (“Happy Eight”) in the district’s legendary yakitori alley (“Omoide Yokocho,” which apparently translates as something less savory). Operated for decades by Ito’s old friends Kazuko and Hatsumi Muraoka, Fukuhachi is a classic, serving grilled skewers of various meats, organs, and vegetables to mostly locals. Because of the connection through friendship, we were able to slip down a sub-alley and enter through the rear, squeeze ourselves into the back corner, and eat round after round of yakitori, washed down with lots of cold beer, and lots of laughs—a world apart from the supermodern high-rise glitz of the neighborhood beyond the alley.

Mama Tilly’s has a way with grilled food, a knack that has made it a longtime favorite in Laborie. (This little fishing village has retained its charm despite widespread tourism in the region.) The main courses—like grilled chicken, pork, mahi-mahi, lobster, conch (a local specialty), or other fresh catch of the day—are complemented by plentiful sides of plantains, rice, or potato salad. Wash it all down with the potent house rum punch. Everything’s served family style on wooden tables under the zinc-roofed porch or indoors. The atmosphere is chatty and friendly as folks come in and out to pick up their orders.

Cruising down the Garonne river onboard the AmaDolce, the first port we called on was Cadillac, located about 19 miles from the city of Bordeaux. Cadillac, founded in 1280, is a small fortified town, and I bet their charming Sunday market is probably just as old. The market occupies a number of streets in the town center–you won’t miss it. It’s a great place to try all sorts of local specialties (seafood, breads, cheese, sausages), and of course to people watch. The locals not only do their weekly grocery shopping here, markets are also a real social event in France. Friends catch up, stories are exchanged, laughter rings through the streets. Stock up on your picnic needs, as you’ll have no challenge finding a picturesque spot to sit down and snack along the Garonne.

No worries about the little goose pictured here, it already had a name by the time the buyer walked away from the stand. Definitely pet, not food.

In 2016, Ace added another link to its chain of ultracool hotels when it opened an outpost in a renovated 1928 building in the Central Business District of New Orleans. While the Ace employees here are just as edgy as their counterparts elsewhere, they temper that cool with the warm ease of New Orleans’s locals.

Guests enter the hotel through a lobby of mismatched low-slung sofas and vintage coffee tables set in conversation-friendly groupings beside a lovely and ornate wooden bar. Most of the furnishings and artwork complement the hotel’s dominant forest green hue, which itself seems to have been inspired by the color of the streetcars that trundle past on Carondelet Street. Afternoon and evening and late at night, the lobby bar is kept busy by hotel guests as well as a stream of others drawn here by the stylish vibe.

Join throngs of locals on the five-minute ferry ride across Victoria Harbour between the Tsim Sha Tsui cruise pier in Kowloon, on the mainland side, and the Central Pier on Hong Kong Island (a slightly longer ride goes to Wan Chai on Hong Kong Island). This is not just any ferry: The historic green and white Star Ferries have been moving the masses back and forth for decades, with the origins of the company going back to 1880 with the service of a single steamboat, the Morning Star. Today, the classic wooden boats make the trip many times daily, and a ride provides a great view of the city’s famous skyline and a whiff of nostalgia to boot.

One of Budapest’s newest hot spots for drinking, dining, and simply meeting friends takes its inspiration from New York City’s trendiest borough. BRKLYN serves up “street food” like burgers, tapas, and BBQ ribs, and drinks like gin cocktails and local wines, in a high-ceilinged, subway-tiled converted transformer station that can, and usually does, fill up and become a boistrous dance floor in the wee hours. In the heart of the Pest side of the city, BRKLYN has managed to capture at least some of the multicultural, creative, “open-minded” mix of its namesake. And yes, there’s even New York-style cheesecake.

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.