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Washington Square Park is only a fraction of the size of Central Park, but it is as almost as much of an icon of New York as its much larger counterpart uptown. It’s likely because it sits in the heart of Greenwich Village, and has thus served as a backdrop for many events in the city’s history. In the late 19th century, it was one of New York’s most fashionable addresses (that period was captured by Henry James in his 1880 novella Washington Square, later the basis for The Heiress, a play that was also adapted into a movie). The arch along its northern side dates to 1892 and was designed by Stanford White to replace an earlier one, in wood and plaster, erected in 1889 to mark the centennial of George Washington’s inauguration. When Greenwich Village became the haunt of artists and writers, the park was a green space for the city’s counterculture; folk singers and street performers are still a common sight, and the park is also frequently used for political protests and rallies. On sunny days, especially during the academic year, the park is filled with NYU students, neighborhood residents, and tourists taking in the scene.

Michael and I take the lead up a scree-choked stream draining from the Gangjam glacier. Two hours of climbing through talus brings us to ice-blue seracs rising like frozen waveforms from the mottled glacier. An hour further, in the cirque beneath the black wall of Kailash, we begin to sink up to our knees in sun-softened snow. Michael’s altimeter reads 17,500 feet, and above us, the mountain’s north face rises in a 4,000-foot vertical thrust of glazed rock, capped by a treacherous overhanging white cornice. Jaws gone slack, we lift our eyes in awe toward the Throne of Shiva. “How about it, bro? Break out the crampons?” “Jesus! I am not seeing a good route on that wall,” Michael replies, and we both laugh. Kailash remains one of the few legendary mountains on this planet left unclimbed—out of reverence. “And look at that freakin’ cornice!” Michael adds “Nevé ice for sure. Like frost on a windowpane. Won’t hold your points for shit.” There were rumors, nearly a decade ago, that the legendary Austrian mountaineer, Reinhold Messner had surreptitiously planned to bag Kailash, a task which he certainly had the skill and resources to accomplish. But when Messner saw the Precious Snow Mountain for himself, he realized what a desecration it would be to set crampons on its face or boots on its summit. He’s since become a vocal proponent of keeping Kailash off-limits to climbers in perpetuity.

What began with Azul y Oro—chef Ricardo Muñoz Zurita’s high-end university “refectory”—is now a multi-restaurant group famed for an almost museum-like reverence for traditional Mexican cooking in all its infinite variety. The downtown iteration, called Azul Histórico, is a gorgeous space in the courtyard of a 17th-century colonial palace (once inhabited by descendants of the Emperor Montezuma) and is now one of the Centro’s most sought-after tables, terribly romantic beneath its tree-and-candlelight canopy. Menus are seasonal and themed—often focusing on cuisine from Mexico’s regions and states—and are sure to present some delicacies even most Mexicans never knew before. Ask questions and swing just beyond your comfort zone. Out-of-towners and locals alike love the flair with which dishes emerge from the kitchen, in extravagant, eye-catching Mexican pottery.

Most people recognize Eugene, Oregon as the home of the “Oregon Ducks” because of the sports programs at the University of Oregon. But Eugene is so much more. Take for instance the Inn at the 5th, a luxury boutique hotel built and owned by the Obie Company who developed the 5th Street Public Market next door. The hotel reminds me of the “Little Engine That Could” an endearing 1930’s children’s book teaching the value of hard work and optimism. And the Inn at 5th presents those core values to guests in a stylish and polished package.

Baseball had nothing to do with the naming of Fenway Park: The stadium gets its moniker from the nearby Back Bay Fens, a stretch of saltwater marsh in the heart of Boston that was landscaped into a park by Frederick Law Olmsted. The Fens are among the wilder parts of the Emerald Necklace, 1,100 acres of parklands running from the Charles River to Brookline that include familiar spaces like the Boston Common and Boston Public Garden but also less-traveled (by visitors, anyway) sections like Olmsted Park, Jamaica Pond, the Arnold Arboretum, and Franklin Park. The arboretum, part of Harvard University and established in 1872, is one of Olmsted’s most unaltered terrains, with paths running up and around 261 acres of woodland interspersed with a curated collection of trees, plants, shrubs, and vines native to New England.

Award-winning Nautilus offers seasonal cocktails, over 20 wines sold by the glass, and an extensive list of mezcal, beer, and sake. Warm and friendly, this is the kind of place where you’ll no doubt meet the folks sitting next to you at the bar. Owned by a threesome who know their way around the industry, the lively, hip scene almost feels like you’re at a cool friend’s cocktail party.

This “Palace Greatly Blessed by Heaven” was once the heart of Korea. It was the power center of the Joseon dynasty (1392–1897), and was originally built in 1395—some new digs for a new dynasty. Like the Forbidden City in Beijing, the palace is a complex of buildings—a throne hall, the king’s living quarters and more—a sort of city inside a city, accented by gardens and pavilions. The Japanese flattened the place in the 1590s, and the site remained a ruin until a complete reconstruction in 1867 brought back more than 500 buildings. At the Gwanghwamun Gate, soldiers, beautifully costumed in red robes, still perform the changing of the guard. Seoul has other palaces, but this is the one to see if your time in town is limited.

Architecture lovers flock to the Huangpu River’s western side to stroll the Bund, a waterfront tourist magnet in central Shanghai. There’s a glorious mishmash of late-19th- and early-20th-century styles here, from Gothic revival to art deco. Walk by the Fairmont Peace Hotel—first opened in 1929 as the Cathay Hotel—to behold its copper pyramid roof turned aqua with age. (Talk about aging gracefully.) Then hit the marble-floored HSBC Building (No. 12) to admire the domed ceiling’s eight mosaic murals, with frescoes depicting the 12 zodiac signs.

Glendalough, or Gleann Dá Loch in Irish (which means “valley of two lakes”), is a quiet, picturesque valley near the Wicklow Mountains. Its 6th-century monastic settlement founded by St. Kevin is one of the most important in Ireland, and it’s surrounded by dewy grass and heather, lush hills, mossy rocks, and an impressive variety of wildlife. Monastic City itself includes the remains of ancient stone churches, a priests’ house, a stone fort, and a 100-foot round bell tower. The cemetery is fascinating with its lichen-covered headstones tilted every which way amid unkempt vegetation. Generations of Irish family histories are contained in this small plot of land, which is an integral part of this site. Glendalough is about 90 minutes’ south of Dublin and makes for a worthwhile day tour that includes sightseeing and hiking followed by a visit to a cozy local pub.

Hailed as one of the country’s first true boutique hotels, Hotel San José started its life as a 1930s tourist court and became a 1950s roadside motel before falling into disrepair in a bad part of town. In the mid-1990s, Liz Lambert bought it and transformed it into a minimalist, mid-century–inspired hot spot, the first of her distinctive Bunkhouse hotels, and the South Congress neighborhood changed with it. Although it’s now a must-visit for out-of-town hipsters (and its bar a hangout for trendy locals), the hotel stays true to its roots; a majority of the furniture was made by local artisans from reclaimed wood and Texas leather, the three most affordable rooms have a shared bath, and Lambert’s experience renovating the hotel and contributing to the neighborhood’s gentrification prompted her to make the documentary The Last Days of the San Jose.

Nowadays, SoCo is Austin’s hottest neighborhood, and Hotel San José is in the heart of the action, hosting local and touring bands in its courtyard and parking lot, and offering some of the city’s best coffee at Jo’s, its affiliated café. Plan to spend at least one evening making new friends over Shiner Bocks at the long tables in the courtyard lounge.

Mantova may sound familiar. It’s where Romeo was exiled from fair Verona in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. It may not sound like an obvious choice as an artistic hidden gem, but when Shakespeare wrote his play Mantua was a swamp land. The Palazzo del Te was built in 1526, commissioned by Duke Frederigo II Gonzaga and designed by Giulio Romano. The Palazzo itself is an embodiment of Gonzaga’s desire for love and struggle for power. It was built in two phases: The first phase of the Palazzo is rife with frescos of passion, love, and a whole lot of naked gods and goddesses. It was in these rooms where he would probably make believe he was as well endowed as Zeus and play out the sexual scenes with mistresses, of which he had many. The second phase was built in 1530 and in those 4 years Duke Gonzaga got his priorities in order. This time he meant business and aligned himself politically with Charles V—Holy Roman Emperor, aka Charles I King of Spain. Aside from its history, what makes the Palazzo del Te “quality travel” is its location off the beaten track, away from the crowds of tourists blocking your view of the Sistine Chapel or the colosseum. You get an intimate experience with a work of art, or in this case an entire building without being shoveled out (which was my experience at the Sistine Chapel). Give the small towns of Italy a chance, and help preserve lesser-known works of art that deserve it as much as the famous sights in Rome, Florence, and Venice.

Jama Masjid, India’s largest mosque, was commissioned by Shah Jahan, the same emperor who built the iconic Taj Mahal for his beloved wife, Mumtaz Mahal. Completed in 1656, the courtyard of Jama Masjid can accommodate 25,000 devotees. Visitors must comply with a dress code; traditional robes can be rented at the northern gate. The mosque is located in Old Delhi near other notable sites, including the Red Fort and Chandni Chowk market, so schedule extra time to explore the area. Note: No visitors are allowed during prayer hours.

Home to some 35 colleges and universities, Boston is a wicked-smaht city, and you’ll feel like a genius if you take your kids to the always entertaining Boston Museum of Science. For sheer thrills, nothing beats the museum’s Van de Graaff generator: This electrifying device creates crackling bolts of indoor lightning, and the one here is the largest in the world. It’s strictly look-don’t-touch, but much of the museum is comprised of hands-on exhibits that inform and entertain—including experiments in engineering, scientific methods, model building, and math where your kids can once again prove how much brighter they are than you. The museum’s butterfly garden, fossil exhibit, and quirky Colby Trophy Room appeal to all ages, and the Mugar IMAX Theater and Charles Hayden Planetarium provide immersive entertainment about the earth and stars when you’re done exploring the three floors of exhibit halls.

At the northern end of Prince William Sound lies the only spot in Alaska where a visitor can be surrounded on three sides by glaciers. Naming rights first went to the Harriman Expedition, an outing arranged by a railroad magnate who led artists and scientists here in 1899. Cheered on worldwide, this merry band started honoring Ivy League and eastern universities, including the Seven Sisters and two other women’s colleges, by naming glaciers after them. Expect splendid views of the Chugach Mountains, which contain about one-third of the state’s glacial terrain.

José Clemente Orozco, one of the “Tres Grandes” of Mexican muralists (along with Diego Rivera and David Alfaro Siqueiros), is one of Guadalajara’s most famous sons and unlike another one, the architect Luis Barragán, many of Orozco’s most important works are in the city (at the Hospicio Cabanas, the University of Guadalajara, and other buildings). It may come as a surprise, then, that there is no museum dedicated to the painter and his works in his hometown. You might think, given its name, that the Casa Taller José Clemente Orozco would be it, but the house and studio was only used briefly by Orozco on visits to Guadalajara in the last three years of his life.

After his death, in 1951, his widow decided to turn it into a cultural center. There is only one work by Orozco on display in the building (La Buena Vida). Painted for the exclusive Turf Club, it shows a scene of festive debauchery, complete with scantily clad female dancers. Except for some perhaps veiled criticism, it shares little in common with Orozco’s more typical scenes of revolution. While the Casa Taller is not the place to go to learn about Orozco or see his works, it should be on your list if you want to see current works by contemporary Mexican and international artists. Its galleries regularly house temporary installations and shows by current artists following in Orozco’s footsteps by creating challenging socially engaged works. Admission is free.