My first trip to Fiji, I loved it so much, I stayed an extra two weeks. These are the islands I was searching for. Yes, it boasts popsicle-blue waters of the Pacific, serrated mountain ridges, and relatively cheap accommodations. But the terrain in French Polynesia is far more volcanic and lush, the countries of Tonga and Vanuatu even more budget-oriented. Travelers come to Fiji for the people.

Come to the Caribbean and you’re treated like a rich American or European, preyed on by the locals who look at you as a dollar sign. Come to Fiji and you’re treated like a local having a drink at the pub. “Bula” is more than a trite platitude uttered by Fijians as they walk past you. Stroll down a sidewalk and this pleasant sounding greeting becomes a mesmerizing chant spoken by Fijian after Fijian as they look you in the eye with a glint of pride. Surprisingly, the people are just as curious about your life as you are about them. I’ve had Fijians invite me into their house to drink some of that nasty mouth-numbing kava, Fijian chiefs cook me up a feast for nothing but conversation in return. It’s kind of funny when you think that these are the same descendents of people who chased Captain Bligh and almost had him for dinner, while Fletcher Christian jumped ship to be with the lovely ladies of Tahiti. Now the tables are turned. The Fijians are much friendlier than the often aloof Polynesians.

Like French Polynesia, you have to get off the main island of Viti Levu to see the genuine Fiji. Make this a rule of thumb for any country that has more than one island: DO NOT STAY ON THE ISLAND WHERE YOUR INTERNATIONAL FLIGHT ARRIVES! Each time I visit Fiji, I encounter groups of travelers who have only stayed in around Nadi on Viti Levu and are inevitably disappointed. Knowing that intimate Fijian villages and remote islands are less than an hour away, it pains me to meet these people.  Staying in Nadi is like visiting Manhattan and only circling the one block radius around the Port Authority Bus Station. A seemingly endless array of mass-produced duty-free shops and hotels line the congested streets. The jarring sound of planes coming and going from the international airport are heard even in the early hours of the morning. Nadi should strictly be looked upon as a starting point, a place to catch up on your sleep before departing the next morning.     

A short flight from Nadi is Fiji’s first capital, Levuka, Ovalau, a unique microcosm of a nineteenth-century South Pacific village. Of the original fifty stores and hotels built in the 1840s, only one establishment retains its original name, but the town looks exactly as it did over a century ago. The only difference being the row of weather-beaten shops and clapboard houses are now inhabited by a small community of extremely gracious Fijians rather than the European immigrants who first built these structures. Levuka is also home to The Royal Hotel, the oldest operating hotel in the South Pacific, built in 1852.  Entering from the front porch and encountering the rattan chairs, ceiling fans, potted plants, and a large stained oak bar, it’s easy to imagine former guests Rudyard Kipling and Robert Louis Stevenson relaxing with a glass of bitters or playing a game of snookers. To this day, a single room is $15 US a night including complimentary tea and toast.

Another one of my favorite Fijian getaways is Taveuni, “The Garden Isle” of Fiji. Taveuni’s verdant terrain abounds with indigenous flora like the Tangimauthia, a rare type of climbing vine adorned with a colorful array of flowers. The Tangimauthia can only be found at Lake Tangimauthia, a volcanic lake hidden inside the island’s mountainous interior.  Many guides will offer their services to take you to this lake.  Resist the temptation!  It was the most arduous hike I have ever attempted. See the story I wrote about the experience in The Boston Globe. Taveuni is also renowned for its rainbow-colored reefs and exceptional scuba diving. The white and reddish-pink coral provides a dramatic backdrop for the dazzling array of sealife—turtles, barracudas, moray eels, grey sharks, colorful butterfly and clown fish.
   
Northwest of Taveuni, Matangi is one of the many small offshore islands with a limited amount of bures (thatched huts), perfect for romance, not so great for writers traveling solo. I was hired by Bride’s Magazine to write a story on the resort and ended up on Matangi with four other couples, all celebrating their honeymoon! At dinner, I remember trying to act comfortable while everyone around me was kissing, wrapped arm-in-arm, feeding each other. I begged them to please get me off the island within 24 hours or I’d be dangling from a noose from that Treehouse Suite.
 

I’ve been thinking a lot about the South Pacific this week. Perhaps it’s the frost on the windshield of the car this morning forcing me to deal with Father Winter or flee to the tropics. The South Pacific is like Africa, one of those places that gets under your skin, coaxing you to return as often as possible. Unlike the majority of the Caribbean isles, which can only boast about their stretch of sand, the South Pacific isles are jaw-dropping jagged peaks rising straight up from the ocean and bathed in emerald green overripe foliage. It’s as close as paradise gets for me.

I wrote my first travel article, “Learning to Scuba Dive in the Cook Islands,” almost 20 years ago. Soon, I would make the South Pacific my area of expertise, returning as often as possible. This is especially true of French Polynesia, a mere two hour flight past Hawaii. Perhaps, I was fed too much Fletcher Christian as a boy and wanted to follow in the footsteps of Captain Bligh. Or maybe it was the languorous women Gauguin painted after entertaining them in his House of Debauchery.

All I know is that when I first arrived on the island of Tahiti and its bustling city of Papeete, I would have been happy to be back in Boston scraping the ice off my sidewalk. There were traffic jams, pollution-spewing cars, far too many uptight Frenchmen, and tuna sandwiches at $20 a pop. If Fletcher Christian saw present-day Tahiti, he might have returned with Bligh.  Their major site, The Gauguin Museum, had no original works by the artist (another ironic twist is that Gauguin’s masterpiece, Where Do We Come From?  What Are We?  Where Are We Going? (1897-98), is right down the road from me in Boston). Across the way, the Harrison Smith Botanical Gardens, a collection of tropical plants from around the world founded by a former MIT physics professor, was not in the least bit memorable. I wanted to get lost in raw nature, not take a walk through some manicured garden.

Then my wife and I made the wise move to head to Raitea. For me, authenticity in travel often goes hand-in-hand with a solid connection to the people of that community. Within 15 minutes of paddling on a winding river that snaked through Raitea, we came upon a group of kids diving off a tree swing into the water. They were so excited to see us that they insisted on showing us the small thatched huts they lived in, sat us down on a mat, and served us fresh papaya from the fields behind them.

On another trip, a 16-day cruise aboard the freighter ship Aranui brought us the Marquesas. 750 miles north of Tahiti, the Marquesas are the most remote islands in the world, farthest from any continent. Immense green mountains pierce the clouds overhead on many of the twelve islands, retaining the savage beauty that inspired Gauguin to live his final years and be buried on Hiva Oa. A young 22-year-old sailor named Herman Melville was so enraptured with the island of Nuka Hiva that he chose to jump ship and live with cannibals rather than continue his voyage. You can read about it in his first book, Typee. One of the most stunning natural sites I’ve ever seen was the Bay of Virgins on the island of Fatu Hiva. Towering, storm-worn basalt rises from the ocean’s depth forming a v-shaped buttress that’s illuminated by the sun. In the distance, serrated ridges and impassable gorges stand as a monument to the centuries of volcanic fires that formed this fantastic landscape.

When I returned from my trip to the Marquesas, I met a couple who spent their entire honeymoon solely on the island of Tahiti. It made me want to cry. It reminds me of a backpacking trip I took to Newfoundland, where we went off the trail less than 100 yards to look straight down at a magnificent fjord. Our guide knew it was there, but unfortunately none of the other hikers did and kept on walking. My hope for writing this blog is to steer travelers in the right direction so they don’t spend their entire time in French Polynesia on the island of Tahiti.
 

A mere ninety minute drive from the neon lights of the Las Vegas strip leaves you in the arid desert of southwestern Utah. It’s a geologist’s dream of twisting red rock walls, craggy peaks, monoliths, buttes, and further east, when you reach Bryce National Park, the colorful standing pinnacles they call hoodoos.  First stop across the state line is Snow Canyon State Park, just outside the growing spa and retirement hub of St. George. Canyon walls looked like they’re clumped together from a playdough kit, curving like a snake around each bend. It’s a prefect place for a hideout. At least, that’s what the producers of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid thought when they filmed part of the movie here. Take a nature walk, a worthy introduction to such desert flora as the white cliff rose flower, the ancient creosote bush, juniper trees, prickly pear cacti, and the silvery leaves of old-man sagebrush. 

Less than an hour away is the towering cliff walls of Zion and the canyon walls that slice through the jagged rock. Another ninety minute drive and you reach the spires of Bryce. While you spend most of your time in Zion looking up in awe at the canyon walls, at Bryce, you peer down at the hundreds of hoodoos that line the amphitheater. Inspiration Point is an apt name for the peach, apricot, tan, white, red, and orange rocks that stand at attention like congregants at church. On the Queen’s Garden Trail, stroll down a dusty stone path for a closer look. Behind every hoodoo is another fantastic wall, arch, grotto or cliff to gape at. “It would be a helluva place to lose a cow,” Ebenezer Bryce supposedly said on first sight. 

Pack plenty of sunscreen, hats, and water. While Bryce is at an elevation of 8,000 to 9,000 feet, Zion is half that elevation and thus significantly warmer. Try to do most of your walks before or after the hot part of the day, noon to 3 pm. We found the shuttle service in Zion to be excellent, but we opted for our car in Bryce because the bus followed a more circuitous route. Best Western is truly the best out west. The pool at the Best Western Zion Park Inn overlooked the majesty of Zion. Best Western Ruby’s Inn was the first hotel built in Bryce and sits right outside the park boundary.
 

Highway 1 from LA to San Francisco is the sort of road you see in car ads and movies, one that begs to be driven in a red convertible. It has stomach-dropping turns, wide, clean beaches, and cliffs that plunge to the frothing ocean. No wonder this highway is one of America’s unofficial pilgrimages. First stop north of Santa Barbara is the Danish town of Solvang. Try the pastries at Danish Village Bakery, owned by the same family for four generations, and featuring a yummy almond-raspberry tart. Spend the night at the sleepy hamlet of Avila Beach, staying at a room overlooking the water at Avila Beach Lighthouse Suites.

The next morning, tour Hearst Castle and see the dreamy blue-tiled indoor pool, inlaid with 22-karat gold. No wonder Cary Grant visited the estate more than 40 times.  Four miles north of Hearst Castle, a must-stop is the beach of Piedres Blancas to watch hundreds of large elephant seals lounging, grunting, wrestling, and diving into the Pacific. 

Continuing north, the mountains of Los Padres National Forest rise above the Pacific and the road becomes a mix of ups, downs, and hairpin turns as you enter Big Sur.  A quarter-mile walk at Pfeiffer Burns State Park leads you to the precipitous rock, waterfalls, and wildflowers of this rugged paradise. For lunch, stop at Nepenthe to dine on nachos while overlooking the stunning surroundings. The next two nights are well spent in Monterey, to visit one of America’s most innovative aquariums, bike along the waterfront past seals, and dine at seafood restaurants on the street coined Cannery Row.  San Fran is another two hours north.

The California Travel & Tourism Commission puts out a Road Trips magazine that describes in detail other great road trips in the state. Here, you’ll find a 5 to 6-day itinerary that continues on Highway 1, north of San Francisco, through some of the world’s most magnificent Redwoods (Avenue of the Giants), stopping at small artsy communities and wineries. This part of the state is still very wild and undiscovered. 
 

A mere four-hour drive from New York City, Toronto, Cleveland, and a bit longer from Boston and Philly, the Finger Lakes of western New York are ideally suited for a summer or fall road trip in Eastern US. That’s exactly what my wife and I did this past week.  Start in Watkins Glen, where you hike through the famous gorge in the state park alongside a number of spectacular waterfalls. Watkins Glen is at the southern end of 38-mile Seneca Lake. Go for a sunset sail on a schooner and the next morning, head a wee bit south of the lake to kayak through a cattail-laden marsh and see countless herons, turtles, and beaver. The following day, we headed to nearby Keuka Lake to bike the 27-mile Bluff Ride on a quiet peninsula jutting out into the water from Penn Yan.

All of the lakes are surrounded by vineyards, so after a morning of adventure, you can taste wines the rest of the day. The area is known for its award-winning Rieslings and Gewürztraminers. The Reserve Riesling at Fox Run, the Semi Dry Riesling at Heron Hill and the Gewürztraminer at Dr. Frank’s stand out, but also try more unique offerings like the sweeter Red Cat at Hazlitt Vineyards, ideally chilled over ice on a boat in the lake, the Cayuga White Wine at Glenora, the exceptional ice wine at Heron Hill, and a surprisingly good pinot noir at Dr. Frank’s.

We stayed at the new Harbor Hotel in Watkins Glen, right at the water’s edge with an outdoor patio overlooking the marina for breakfast and dinner. In Keuka Lake, we were fortunate to book the Black Sheep Inn in Hammondsport. Owners Debbie Meritsky and Marc Rotman spent over 6 years refurbishing the rare octagonal-shaped house, celebrating its 150th birthday in 2009. The couple is perfectly suited as innkeepers, with Debbie, a former caterer in Cleveland serving sublime breakfasts like an egg sunny-side up, served over a bed of grilled Portobello mushrooms and freshly picked greens. She even makes her own organic soap, lavender and peppermint. Marc is an interior designer and his fine eye for detail extends to the moldings above each room, an apple-picking ladder used as a towel rack, and the cupola atop the house painted as a gold compass.

 

Road trips were designed with places like South Dakota in mind. Venture to Rapid City and you’ll have the chance to cruise with relatively little traffic, up and down the pine forests and granite passes of the Black Hills and through the awesome lunar-like landscape of Badlands National Park.  Add the most famous sculpture in the country, Mount Rushmore National Monument, and the herds of bison and bighorn sheep in Custer State Park (known for its great hiking) and you have a driving destination that’s hard to top. And all of these sights are in a state known for its affordability.  Whaddya waiting for?

See the entire route at Away.com.
 

Last year, I was asked by Away.com to design an idyllic route along the Maine coast from Portland to Acadia National Park.  The result is a weeklong jaunt that includes sea kayaking around Orr’s Island, sailing Rockport, hiking in the Camden Hills, biking around the island of Islesboro, and ending with canoeing and mountain biking in the northeast’s lone national park.  If you want to spot moose, whitewater raft down the Penobscot River, and hike mighty Mount Katahdin, add three days to this itinerary and include Baxter State Park. 

For the best lobster-in-the-rough joints, check out the round-up article my friend Hilary Nangle recently wrote in the Boston Globe.  My personal favorite is Lobster Shack in Cape Elizabeth, right down the road from the most picturesque lighthouse in New England, Portland Head Light.
 

My usual summer vacation with the wife and kids is a long driving trip, say along the California coast, inland to Utah’s five national parks, or from my house in Boston to the Amish Country of Pennsylvania. The kids are no doubt fighting over something in the back, my wife is getting nauseous from the drive, and I’m white-knuckling on I-95, weaving between far too many trucks. The vacation part kicks in only after we arrive at our destination. 

But in the western province of British Columbia, the various modes of travel are not relegated to the “How to Get There” section of the story. On the contrary, it’s often the highlight of the trip.  Last summer, I was downright giddy to learn from my wife that we didn’t need to rent a car at all in British Columbia. One could take a 3-hour train ride on the classic Whistler Mountaineer from Vancouver to Whistler, hop aboard a float plane for an hour-long jaunt to the port of Victoria, and ferry onward to Seattle. It turned into one of our favorite trips.

See the story I wrote on the trip for The Boston Globe.
 

America still hasn’t earned a spot in next year’s World Cup (held from June 11 to July 11), but after their surprising performance this past week in the Confederations Cup, including a win against mighty Spain, you can book your flight to South Africa. Tickets for the World Cup are already on sale for the many venues, which include stadiums in Jo’burg, Capetown, and Durban. However, looking at the list of host cities, I’d grab tickets at the Nelson Mandela Stadium in Port Elizabeth. Get your full of World Cup soccer, then head out on a 10-day jaunt that starts with the spectacular Garden Route and ends at one of the most majestic cities in the world, Capetown. Along the way, you can stop at the private game reserve of Amakhala to see the Big Five, visit the surfing capital of Plett, and snap photos of the cliffs and beaches along Jeffreys Bay. Then head inland from George to visit the ostrich farms and Cango Caves in Oudsthoorn and the award-winning wineries of Stellenbosch.

In Capetown, hike or grab the cable car to the top of 3,563-foot Table Mountain, then stroll down to the city center, called City Bowl.  Sure, you can try provincial fare like the dried jerky they call biltong or grilled springbok (a small antelope). Far more common are grilled fish and steak found at European, Indian, Japanese, and Malaysian restaurants.  Indeed, post-Apartheid Capetown is an incredibly cosmopolitan city, with chefs from all over the world opening new restaurants. Heading south to the Cape of Good Hope, be sure to lounge on Clifton’s white sand beaches (even during Capetown’s winter, temperatures are often in the mid-70s Fahrenheit), stroll through the intriguing sub-Saharan flora at Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens, and take a detour on Chapman’s Peak Drive, South Africa’s version of Big Sur. Lekka, mon.
 

Most Wednesdays, I’ll tackle a country, state, or province, and design a route that hopefully will whet your appetite and get you primed to book that trip!  This week, I’m tackling Costa Rica for Families and we’re going to do it in a week. 

Rent a car at San Jose’s International Airport and weave your way through the city north to the rim of Poas Volcano, where you can spend your first night at the Peace Lodge (www.waterfallgardens.com/lapaz-peacelodge.html).  The next morning, walk the grounds of the La Paz Waterfall Gardens and you’ll find five waterfalls, the largest butterfly observatory in the country, gardens filled with orchids, and a reptile area holding snakes and frogs. 

Then drive onward to the Arenal Observatory Lodge (www.arenalobservatorylodge.com/EN), perfectly perched at the base of the cone-shaped volcano.  Keep the kids up late to see the nightly light show of lava running down from the crater.  In the daytime, you can check out the hot springs in nearby Tabacon.  Then you have the long drive around the entirety of 25-mile long Lake Arenal to Monteverde.  The last hour or so is on a nightmare of a dirt road.  Simply slow down and enjoy the views of sloping pasture dotted with sheeps, cows, and horses.

Up in the Cloud Forest, book a villa at El Sapo Dorado (www.sapodorado.com) and reserve trips to go horseback riding in nearby farmland, an exhilarating zipline trip above the cloud forest canopy with the outfitter Selvatura, and a guided walk at the hotel’s private preserve, Sempero Tranquillo, with an expert naturalist.  If you’re lucky, you’ll spot the iridescent green resplendent quetzal color with its red belly and billowing two-foot long tail feather

The final three days I would spend at Manuel Antonio, a mix of rainforest and beach on the central Pacific coast that’s home to monkeys and those slow-moving sloths.  I would also consider ditching the car in nearby Quepos and flying back to San Jose, connecting to your international flight.  The drive back to San Jose goes through a mountainous pass on twisting roads behind rows of trucks spewing their diesel into the air.  Not a pleasant way to finish up that dream trip.

For an in-depth look at Manuel Antonio with the kids, check out my article for Away.com at http://away.com/features/family-travel-costa-rica-manuel-antonio-national-park-1.html.