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My guide, Paco, a.k.a. Francisco de Santiago, 46, is a full time tour guide, and also a former child chess champion and bullfighter (“that was many kilos ago”), orders a flight of artisanal mezcal samples at our first mezcalería of the evening, and instructs me on the proper way to taste the purest of agave drinks. “You spread the mescal on top of your hand, like this, then wait for the alcohol to evaporate, then smell it for citric, floral, or smoky tones.” After smelling, a sip, then another for good measure, you take a bite of orange slice dipped in crushed maguey worms and sea salt. After that, we dive into the city’s tacos and street food, beginning our night with two cups of esquite—boiled corn kernels mixed with lime, chili pepper, and mayonnaise, which we bought from a father-son team who have been working the same street corner for 22 years. I booked my 4-hour “late-night taco and mezcal tour” with Eat Mexico Culinary Tours. Francisco de Santiago of Mexico also runs Every Angle Tours ([email protected], tel. 55-2086-0851, $85–145 per person, depending on tour, includes food, beverage, transport, guide); all kinds of specialty culinary tours, or an all-day Frida Kahlo tour of the city.)

The Thompson Hotel, Toronto, opened in 2010 as a modern, translucent glass building soaring above its low-rise, red-brick neighbors and staking a claim as a symbol of glitz and glam in the King West neighborhood. Thanks to its fashionable in-house bars and restaurants, the hotel is a popular fixture both with locals and with the Hollywood set who visit each September for the TIFF film festival. The acclaimed Studio Gaia team designed the rooms, which have bold, dark-wood flooring and hot accents of orange playing off cool white walls. Heated marble floors in the bathrooms, spacious tubs, and sheets with high thread counts all contribute to the sense of luxury, and floor-to-ceiling windows ensure that rooms are flooded with natural light. After check-in, guests can use their room key to access the private elevator up to the rooftop bar, with its 360-degree views of the city. The rotating menu of seasonal cocktails is especially delicious.

Ever heard of a bonut? Neither had we until we visited Biscuit Love, a cult-favorite breakfast spot in Nashville‘s happening Gulch neighborhood, where morning queues often exceed an hour on weekends. And bonuts—deep-fried biscuit dough slathered in lemon mascarpone and balanced on a sticky heap of blueberry compote—are just one of the many hits on the menu. The restaurant had its origins in 2012 as a food truck, where husband-and-wife team Karl and Sarah Worley’s made-from-scratch biscuits made them an overnight success. In January 2015, they opened a brick-and-mortar restaurant, where Karl mans the stoves and Sarah runs the front of the house, making sure patrons get their Southern classics while they’re hot. Be sure to order a bonut, along with the sweet-and-spicy Chronic Bacon, shrimp and grits, and the off-menu Nasty Princess, a biscuit topped with Nashville-style hot chicken, gravy, pickles, mustard, and honey.

The concierge at the hotel was skeptical. The cab driver was amused and skeptical. Lucha libre, or Mexican wrestling, is clearly an unsophisticated embarrassment, tantamount to telling a visitor to the U.S. to watch Keeping Up with the Kardashians. Attending a match, though, is a way to see a side of Mexican culture not found in museums or historic churches, but one that definitely uses some of the same mythology, iconography, and pageantry seen there. The crowd shouts, chants, and laughs through performances featuring dancing girls, inept referees, men in lavish and ridiculous costumes (a caveman with a plastic club, fur boots, and a skimpy loincloth), and some honest-to-God astounding feats of athleticism. Matches—loud and funny and thrilling—take place on Friday nights and occasionally during the week. Tickets can be bought in person at the arena, but arrive early to avoid a long line and use your time to shop the stands set up outside for handmade lucha libre wares (wrestling capes, masks, T-shirts, onesies for infants).

Opened at the mouth of the Singapore River in 1928 to celebrate 100 years since Singapore‘s British founding, the Fullerton Hotel was, at the time, the largest and most expensive building in the Lion City. It served as the General Post Office, Exchange, Chamber of Commerce, and Singapore Club before undergoing a $320 million refit to open as a hotel in 2001. Visually, it’s a showstopper, with coffered ceilings, cornices, and marble floors—a Palladian building in stark contrast to the neighboring bland office towers. The atrium lobby is refreshingly bright, with a grandness of scale that brings drama to the arrival experience. Rooms have vanilla-colored walls, and some open to the atrium. The 25-meter infinity pool is almost theatrical, with Doric columns rising behind. Leisurely afternoon tea is a fine excuse to linger in the atrium lobby and appreciate the airy space’s tranquil qualities.

Yes, Hauz Khas Village is perhaps most known for its artsy vibe, boutique shops, and trendy restaurants. But before it became a lively commercial district, Hauz Kaus was (and remains) a 13th-century historical complex with a mosque, tombs, and an Islamic seminary. Take a break from the bustle of shopping and dining to explore the sites from Muslim royalty, then spend some time at the charming lake with its swans, ducks, and other wildlife.

Poland’s Baltic coastline spans nearly 480 miles, with Gdańsk at its center. The area, along with the adjacent Pomerania region, holds many treasures, including the imposing Malbork Castle, the lovely town of Toruń (famous for its gingerbread and Gothic architecture), and, on the far western edge, the new, beautifully sculpted Philharmonic Hall Szczecin. If you only have time to visit Gdańsk, be sure to see Długi Targ (the Long Market), the European Solidarity Center, and Oliwa Cathedral with its famous pipe organ.

Myrtle Allen is Ireland’s answer to Alice Waters: The centenarian chef has lobbied the Irish parliament for better food policies, earned some Michelin stars, and, 50 years ago, opened a restaurant called the Yeats Room in the town of Shanagarry, an hour east of Cork City. She eventually added bedrooms upstairs and called it Ballymaloe House, and her sous-chef-turned-daughter-in-law, Darina Allen—who has written canonical Irish cookbooks and helped lead Ireland’s Slow Food movement—tacked on the Ballymaloe Cookery School and farm two miles from the main house.

This is thus the seat of Ireland’s food royalty, and it shows. The restaurant spins flavorful dinners out of whatever comes in from the farm or East Cork’s fishing boats, and the cookery school has become known the world over for teaching expert and novice chefs to make pizzas, ferment pickles, cook baby food, and grow fruits, vegetables, and herbs. Even without all that, the ivy-fronted house—and cabins and cottages on the farm’s grounds—make for a simple, pleasant country retreat.

All I could say to myself at the Hotel Christopher was: “I don’t ever want to leave this place.” It was just before the Christmas invasion of celebs and sycophants to the tiny island of Saint Barthélemy or St. Barths. For a confirmed curmudgeon, even I was surprised by my response: I loved every moment at the Zen-like Christopher. Between the infinity pool overlooking the Atlantic and our oceanfront room, where we listened endlessly to the breaking waves and enjoyed daily views of the setting sun, nirvana was never far. Pool boys and girls, servers and greeters, all accessorized in Hermés orange, created an atmosphere of sophisticated yet relaxed luxury. One afternoon, with a glass of the hotel’s signature ice tea in hand, I overheard a fellow guest whisper into her phone, no doubt in response to, “What’s the hotel like?” “Dynamic and tranquil,” she responded. Indeed, since the hotel is located just 15 minutes by car from the island’s capital, Gustavia, we had no problem to-ing and fro-ing “downtown” -- whether to catch a bite, do some shopping, or just people (and yacht) watch. The picture-perfect beaches of Saline and Gouverneur are an even shorter drive from the hotel. But back to the Christopher -- which is what my husband and I said to each other every few hours. Frankly, if we hadn’t gotten married two years ago, we would have done it there. As it was, we were celebrating our anniversary; curmudgeon or not, I can’t imagine a more perfect spot.

Thanks to renovations following Hurricane Irma, the Christopher now features several large villas as well as a newly designed restaurant.

With only 48 hours to spend in Istanbul, you really don’t want to have a bad meal. Doing my research before we left, one place that kept turning up with names like “Best Meals of 2012,” My Last Meal on Earth Would Be,"—plus recommendations from trusted friends—was Çiya. After a leisurely morning wander around the seaside neighborhood of Ortaköy, we hopped on a ferry, grabbed a glass of hot tea, and headed to the Asian side of Istanbul. In Kadıköy we found young buskers playing traditional music on almost every corner, and vegetable and fish sellers shouting the praises of their wares. And all of the sidewalk cafes were full. Çiya is spread out over three locations. We had the difficult choice of choosing one of them. We picked Çiya kebap. We ordered a thin and spicy lahmacun—a kind of turkish pizza—to start and then moved on to our meaty mains: Ayvalý Taraklý, an intense dish of tiny lamb chops smothered in a pomegranate and fresh quince sauce; a classic kebap plate with hand-minced lamb with lots of fresh mint; Kağıt Kebap, a spicy hand-minced lamb and hot chili pepper kebab. We were seated on the second floor with a view of the original Çiya Sofrasi, and we watched as plates from the two restaurants were passed back and forth. After all that food, the sun broke through the clouds, and we headed back out to the streets—to the crowds of Sunday shoppers and the sounds of the muezzin call.

Kiyomizu-dera on Mount Otowa is one of the most famous temples in Japan, a place that appears in every sequence of Japanese travel photos. The landscape is all cherry trees and forest; it is among Kyoto‘s loveliest spots. The current structure dates to 1633 and is one of 33 temples on a pilgrimage circuit in the Kansai region dedicated to Kannon, the Buddhist goddess of mercy. The circuit runs from the south of Wakayama north to the Sea of Japan. You’ll see pilgrims carrying nokyo-cho—books stamped to record the visit—and monks busily inscribing in calligraphy. The temple, set against a steep hill and constructed on huge pilings, is a UNESCO World Heritage site.

We were lost. My driver had picked me up from Hotel Alvear in Buenos Aires two hours ago, maybe more. It was hot in the car; the A/C had only two settings “off or ice blast.” I opted for a rolled-down window. We were on a jutted, dusty road that went on for several miles with no signage. He pulled the car over and made a call to Buenos Aires for clarification. After a rudimentary exchange with me in Spanish we continued slowly. Teens in a car behind us, not happy with our progress, tooted and gave us the universal sign of displeasure as they passed. My driver found the estancia La Bamba de Areco gates and after announcing ourselves at the intercom, were told to wait. In a few minutes, what a sight coming at us through the allée of plane trees; a gaucho galloping full speed on a beautiful mount. Still astride, she dispatched the gate and motioned for us to follow by car as she loped ahead. It was to be an amazing day. I was told that the owners, a French couple (a Parisian designer and an owner of an English Polo Team) purchased the crumbling estate five years ago carefully restoring and re-imagining the estancia. A series of superbly decorated rooms and suites offers entre to this privileged Argentine lifestyle to visitors. Love for polo or riding is optimal, not required. But a love for peaceful luxury, inspiring location, attentive staff, appreciation of the opportunity to be a part of a disappearing culture, and love of fabulous wines and food is a must here.

Make a reservation at one of Delhi’s highest rated restaurants, featuring a range of modern and classic cuisine. From the iconic, cutlery-free dishes at Bukhara to the Michelin starred dim sum and dumplings at Yauatcha, top chefs have made their mark in India’s capital. The award-winning restaurants offer intimate dining spaces, views of Delhi’s skyline, and live jazz bands.

Hardly a “shack,” the stylish and cosmopolitan Ortega is a superb place to dine in New Zealand‘s capital city. Of course, seafood is a major focus on the menu, with highlights including lobster-and-prawn ravioli, or sautéed paua (New Zealand abalone) with braised pork cheek in an unctuous Asian-style sauce. Befitting its location in the best craft-beer city in the land, Ortega sports a beer list that’s diverse and well-considered, combining top drops from Wellington makers like Garage Project, Tuatara, and ParrotDog, and other excellent beers from around New Zealand and the world. Booking ahead for one of Wellington’s best restaurants is recommended, especially on weekends.

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.