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Some zip line parks are one-and-done—you arrive, sit for orientation, take a single (if exhilarating) ride, and get back in the car. Not so at Sky Safari, located at St. Kitts’ Wingfield Estate. Here, you start with a training run on a short zip line, then head into the jungle for the main attractions: four more lines that run over the lush canopy of slumbering stratovolcano Mount Liamuiga. The first three lines, named The Boss, Mango Tango, and Brimstone Blast, measure up to 1,400 feet long, while the fourth is a dual zip line that crosses over a river and ends near the ruins of a historic sugar plantation. As you soar, you’ll reach heights of 250 feet and thrilling speeds of up to 40 miles per hour.

Crawfish season is a big deal in Houston. But for a truly unique experience, head to Crawfish & Noodles in Chinatown. This easy-to-miss restaurant, tucked away in a strip mall on Bellaire Boulevard, is well worth the drive for its spicy mudbugs alone, served piping hot. If you want to eat like a local, order the blue crab, snow crab, or literally anything with noodles. There can be a wait during peak hours, so plan your visit accordingly. We also recommend taking the time to explore the rest of the neighborhood when you can. You simply can’t beat dim sum in Houston’s Chinatown on a weekend morning.

Less than an hour from Guadalajara, Lake Chapala—Mexico’s largest lake—offers a relaxing respite from the big city. Visitors can enjoy drinks or a meal at one of the many restaurants on the pier, watch the sunset from a sandy beach, or rent a boat to the Island of Scorpions for a different view. There are plenty of boutique hotels around the lake should you be interested in an overnight stay.

To get to Lake Chapala, catch a direct bus—they leave every 30 minutes from Guadalajara’s Old Bus Central. The air-conditioned ride through the mountains of Jalisco takes somewhere between 45 minutes and an hour, depending on traffic, and costs approximately US$5 for a round-trip ticket. Once you arrive at the Chapala bus station, the lake is about a 10-minute walk away on the main street.

Around 11,000 humpbacks—a quarter to a third of the global population, by some estimates—visit Hawaii from November until early May. They migrate here to mate and give birth. Intensely focused on procreation, these marine mammals don’t eat and can lose up to a third of their body weight while frisking in warmer waters. Nonetheless, the gray giants remain impressive, reaching 52 feet long and weighing up to 40 tons. That bulk doesn’t deter them from spectacular aerial displays of breaching and slapping the surface with their heads, fins, or tails, though! Boat tours like Captain Dan McSweeney’s Whale Watch Learning Adventures remain popular, but you can also spot these amazing creatures off the western Kohala Coast or Holoholokai Beach Park, and from campgrounds in Waipiʻo or Pololū valleys.

The sea has always played a big part in the lives of the people of Gothenburg. When you want to relax from city life this is where you go. A tram ticket will take you all the way out into the southern archipelago to enjoy the harsh beauty of the gray granite cliffs. Pack your swim gear and a book and head to an island such as Vrångö, Brännö, Styrsö, or Vargö. Take a walk to find your own private cliff or bay and then dive into the sea. It might be cold, but the cliffs are perfect for warming up against with their smooth, round shapes and ability to keep the heat from the sun. For a Swede, the combination of sea, cliffs, and solitude is bliss. Hungry? Bring a picnic or visit a restaurant like Brännö Värdshus or Vrångö Värdshus.

Like any great city, Buenos Aires has its Museum Mile. For art, standouts include the National Fine Arts Museum (MNBA), with its mix of Argentine and European pieces, as well as the Buenos Aires Latin American Art Museum (MALBA), highlighting the works of Latin American artists. Walk the boulevard between the MNBA and MALBA to see some of the city’s most luxurious real estate. From the MNBA, cross Figueroa Alcorta and swing by the University of Buenos Aires Law School and Floralis Genérica, a 65-foot, stainless-steel kinetic sculpture representing a massive flower. Follow Figueroa Alcorta to Castilla, then turn left into Grand Bourg Park, a stately, if petite, plaza surrounded by imposing palaces, or take a right into Palermo Chico with its circular streets, grand mansions, and palaces.

Vancouver’s serene waters serve as the perfect playground for kayakers and stand-up paddleboarders. Newbies can book two-hour “tasters” at Ecomarine’s Granville Island or Jericho Beach locations, while more adventurous paddlers—of any level—can jump right into tours, like the summer sunset excursion along the scenic shores of False Creek (a protected inlet) and English Bay (part of the Strait of Georgia). While most tours last a half or whole day, Ecomarine also offers more hard-core expeditions, like the weeklong trip to Haida Gwaii. This craggy, rain-forested archipelago is often referred to as Canada’s Galápagos for its vast number of endemic species. It also has a wealth of First Nations heritage sites just waiting to be explored.

There’s almost always a wait at this Mexican eatery, but it’s worth it. Located just off the northwest corner of downtown and within easy striking distance of a number of hotels, the flagship location serves around 700 hungry guests a day. When Ramon and Maria Cardenas opened the restaurant in 1985, it seated only 18 guests, but that location eventually burned down. After reopening in its current location to great fanfare, they’ve since opened a second location, the Red Iguana 2, just a few blocks away. Most recently, they launched “Taste of Red Iguana” in the new City Creek Mall, serving their classic meals food-court style.

For a satisfying mid-afternoon snack, seek out one of the city’s ubiquitous walk-up counters. Nni Franco U’ Vastiddaru is typical, serving classic street food like arancini (stuffed rice balls) and panelle. The latter is a Palermo specialty: These chunky, chiplike fritters made of chickpea flour are simple yet addictively delicious, with a spritz of Sicilian lemon.

This brightly colored shopping center that is part of the Playa Dorada tourism complex houses a mix of stores. There are the typical souvenir outlets hawking T-shirts, knickknacks and beach hats, along with shops selling handicrafts made of beads, leather and straw. You can also score local rum, coffee and cigars at decent prices. Feel free to haggle for bargains; it’s expected here.

Mexico City is full of architectural masterpieces, but there is nothing like the experience of being inside a Barragán-designed home. Very few are still in good shape and open to the public, including Casa Luis Barragán (the architect’s former home and studio that’s the only private residency to be named a UNESCO World Heritage site). Once you’ve visited this more famous house, get in touch with the owners of Casa Gilardi and ask for a tour. The last project Barragán completed before he died, Casa Gilardi is known for the huge jacaranda tree decorating its interior courtyard, and for a striking hallway with vertical apertures that bounce sunlight against brightly painted yellow walls and out into an electric blue room with an indoor pool. The artist James Turrell spent a month living in the house, taking black and white photos to study Barragán’s use of light.

The Waldorf Astoria Los Cabos Pedregal is a majestic resort that sits at the spot where the Pacific Ocean and the Sea of Cortéz meet. All 119 rooms have an ocean view, complete with binoculars for whale-watching, as well as a private plunge pool, a fireplace, a rain shower, and a welcome bottle of Clase Azul tequila. Decorative accents include tasteful local art, such as hand-embroidered pillows, ceramic sculptures, and hand-forged metal light fixtures. On the service side, every guest is assigned a round-the-clock personal concierge. The relatively small number of rooms keeps the vibe intimate and creates a sense of privacy throughout the property.

These fun slot canyons are just under 30 miles from the town of Escalante down the unpaved Hole-in-the-Rock Road. Easy day—or even half-day—adventures, the canyons are carved from the iconic red Navajo sandstone and are usually completely dry. There’s some light scrambling involved, but nothing kids can’t handle. However, the walls get so narrow at some points that most adults need to turn sideways to get through. For the ultimate experience, connect the two slots by going up one and down the other.

Fushimi Inari Taisha on Inariyama mountain is dedicated to the Shinto gods of rice and sake, but Inari is also the god of merchants and that brings a lot of businesspeople to worship here. Everyone else stops by to see the thousands of vermilion torii, or gates (each of which is funded by a Japanese company). They lead to the main shrine, which was built in 1499. Walking underneath the gates is like passing through a fiery tangerine tunnel, and visitors leave behind tiny torii replicas as part of their prayer.

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.