The old city of Dubrovnik has been heralded as one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, and you’ll find few tourists who disagree. Reaching the bell tower and heading towards the fish market, you’ll start to see hand painted wooden signs and arrows directing you towards “Cool Drinks.” Follow them. You’ll arrive at a lovely café tucked into the stones, with an incredible view of the blue-green shimmering waters of the Adriatic below. Forgo a seat here and walk down the steps to a few more cliffs that are even more secluded. From this peaceful vantage point, you can watch lone fishermen in their rickety boats, marvel at the rich jewel tones of the waves, and feel the heat of the fading daylight as you realize that you really did come here to get away from it all.

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Start at the southern wall of Pueblo Bonito where the morning sun warms your face at first light. The night chill will fade as a soft wind tosses your hair and whistles through the ruins. Today the sun will rise over you anchored to the solstice marker on top of Fajada Butte in the center of Chaco Canyon. Carved into the canyon floor is a path 15 centuries old that guides him from one pueblo to the next. The wall beside you delineates that path. What mystery will you explore today? There are petroglyphs behind Pueblo Una Vida to decipher. Hidden about are perhaps more bones of Mayan warriors and of the macaws they hand-carried from southern Mexico. Hundreds of footpaths converge here, some 30 feet wide, depositing pottery shards, arrowheads, and other signs of commercial trade from thousands of miles away. Archaeologists explain who brought what from where, but only departing travelers can begin to guess why.

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Arkansas is known for its diamonds in the rough, and Kelts Pub might be the crown jewel of foodie finds. That Kelts exists at all is as wondrous and unlikely as Altus, Arkansas’ role as a haven for mid-America vintners. Altus is simple and quaint, nestled at the terminus of a winding, tree-lined road that’s a charming contrast to scrubby pastures and chicken shacks. Kelts occupies an unassuming steel abode on Main Street, its corrugated exterior belying the cozy enchantment inside: lacquered dark wood tables and mismatched chairs, a carved wood bar with Murphy’s and Guinness on tap, walls and rafters festooned with "footie" scarves and attic ephemera. The quiet lilt of ubiquitous Irish music keeps time with the sizzling of the surprisingly eclectic, seriously gourmet pub grub cooked just beyond an old bookcase stuffed with faded tomes as enchanting as Kelts itself. A nouveau "old country" gastronomic journey in all its Gaelic glory awaits you there.

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You’ve been hiking volcanoes, surviving steep mountain curves on chicken buses, and processing the concentrated poverty surrounding the city’s landfills in a country still healing from decades of war. After traveling for hours by primitive roads watching the clouds of dawn dancing in valleys of lush green mountains, you finally arrive at Semuc Champey. The tranquil, turquoise pools and waterfalls here have everything you need to do nothing. The multiple-layered pools flow gently with clear mountain water, while the Cahabon River rushes underneath. Orange butterflies swirl, birds swoop, and people laze. Hike the trails above to get a panoramic view of the dazzling pozas, but you will mostly find yourself lounging around on the edge of the water. If you have monkey bones you might jump off the side of the cliffs. But be forewarned: if you stay too long, you will begin to wonder if another world even exists outside this oasis in the land of the quetzal.

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If you only have three hours to see San Francisco, here's my advice: skip Fisherman's Wharf (lame), bypass Chinatown (crowded), and postpone the Golden Gate Bridge (freezing cold). Instead, find your way through the trash-strewn streets of the Tenderloin, San Francisco's desperate skid row, to the bastion of Glide Memorial Church where all are welcomed to the unruly Sunday Celebration. The house built by civil rights legend Cecil Williams has had help from celebrated guests like Bono and Warren Buffet and has been a solid advocate for the city's gay community, so these are not your grandpappy's sermons. But while Cecil leaves the brimstone for the haters, he brings plenty of fire in the form of music. The Change Band and Ensemble Chorus are packed with some of the hottest jazz, soul, and gospel musicians in the Bay Area. The roof will be raised, the spirit summoned, and regardless of your beliefs, you will leave reinvigorated, seeing the troubled people on the Tenderloin streets as though for the first time.

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Rome sizzles in August. Let the crowds flock to the Mediterranean, while you head inland. Take a day of respite from your Eternal City wanderings to revive at Lago Bracciano, a 22-square-mile volcanic remnant filled with clear fresh water a mere 20 miles from the city. This carefully protected gem serves as a reservoir for Rome and remains one of the cleanest lakes in Italy. Take a dip, laze in a lounge chair under an umbrella, sail, or board an electric boat (motorized crafts prohibited) to tour the water’s perimeter. The serenity of the surrounding woods, gardens, and olive groves will envelop you. Be sure to linger over the fresh-grilled catch and a bottle of white wine dining lakeside. Grant yourself a special dispensation from the overwhelming historic and cultural demands of Rome to decompress in the Italian countryside.

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Exhaling, you can almost see condensation from your breath linger in the humid climate. No matter. You’re not here to worry about the heat; you’re here to eat delicious gelato in the shade of the Pantheon. Surrounding you are travelers from all over, and despite the crowd, it is a peaceful place. They, too, are looking in awe at 2000 years of history in a massive domed building. As you lick your gelato—from Della Palma or San Crispino—you ponder the words on the façade: M•AGRIPPA•L•F•COS•TERTIVM•FECIT. Meaningless to those not versed in Latin, but you laugh as you already know it means: “Marcus Agrippa, son of Lucius, Consul for the third time, built this.” Even when the last lick of gelato is gone, hours can be spent people watching, listening to the gentle splashing of water from the fountain, and realizing that these moments in front of a Pantheon are only a blip compared to its long history.

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Originally built as a fortification, Dubrovnik’s stone walls still encapsulate the city today, leaving the Adriatic’s spectrum of blues eternally knocking from outside—and throngs of summer tourists baking in the season’s sun inside. But the city’s best spot for relief from the heat and crowds is neither within its walls nor in the sea outside. Marked only with a wooden sign boldly claiming “Cold Drinks with the Most Beautiful View,” Buza Bar is entered, literally, through a hole in the wall. Cross through in the evening and you’ll likely emerge to Frank Sinatra greeting you from the speakers hidden in the cliffs surrounding a winding staircase. At its base, you’ll find neither crowds nor pretense, only the most basic needs: a cool sea breeze, candle-lit tables, comfortable chairs facing the sea, and friendly servers delivering well-priced drinks in small plastic cups. Settle into the bar’s blissful darkness and discover that it easily backs up its sign's claim.

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A raucous contrast from the slick, see-and-be-seen nightclubs of surrounding WeHo, the tiny Kibitz Room serves up the stuff of dive-bar dreams, nightly. That classic bar scene that seems to only exist in movies—down-home ambiance, surly bartender with a heart of gold, grizzled cougar nursing screwdrivers in the corner booth and barking out classic rock requests that the house band actually knows and plays well—is what the Kibitz Room is really like. In other words, it’s legendary, and one of the neighborhood’s hidden treasures. The strong-pouring bar staff doesn’t bat an eyelash at the freaky behavior, and are more likely to flash the side-eye at someone who texts on their bedazzled cell phone than at a sixty-year-old man wearing a sequined cape (but that guy basically lives there). Really though, everyone is welcome, and in LA you’re hard-pressed to find a dive as real as that.

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