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Louis XVI grandeur facing the Tuileries, with a Philippe Starck hand.

The world's great Impressionist collection inside a Beaux-Arts station.

A quietly radical tasting menu that changed how Paris eats.

A 33rd-floor washi-and-stone lobby floating above the Imperial Palace.

Tokyo's oldest temple, reached through a lantern-hung market street.

Six alleys of tiny bars, most seating six people at a squeeze.

Thousands of vermilion gates climbing a forested mountain.

A green corridor of towering bamboo that hums in the wind.

A discreet TriBeCa townhouse with a lantern-lit underground pool.

Five thousand years of art along the edge of Central Park.

The warm, flower-filled benchmark for American dining.

Art Deco Mayfair at its most self-assured, since 1856.

A power station turned free temple to modern art.

Whitewashed walls, bone marrow on toast, nose-to-tail cooking.

A 2,000-year-old dome with a hole open to the weather.

A salumeria where the tables sit between the cheese counters.

Gaudí's unfinished basilica, where the light does the work.

A long marble counter, white-jacketed waiters, faultless tapas.

Twenty acres of walled gardens inside the ramparts.

Cobalt-blue walls, cactus beds and Yves Saint Laurent's ashes.

Cathedral, mosque, museum, mosque again — 1,500 years of it.

Turquoise-tiled meyhane doing meze and rakı properly.

828 metres of tower, and the desert laid flat beneath it.

Emerald terraces cut by hand into a river valley.

Entered across a bridge into a lotus pond, above the Ayung River.

Enrique Olvera's mole madre, aged well past a thousand days.

The Casa Azul, left much as Kahlo lived in it.

Two glass cable cars to a granite dome above the bay.

White Deco façade facing the most famous beach in Brazil.

Milk-blue geothermal water in a black lava field.

Sheer cliffs, waterfalls and seals in a rain-fed fiord.

The direct route up Table Mountain — steep, sunny and unforgettable.

Pillowed glass windows above the harbour, atop a converted grain silo.

Africa's largest contemporary art museum, carved out of grain tubes.

Warm, sheltered coves shared with a colony of African penguins.

Victorian manor turned candlelit dining room with a lantern-lit garden.

Three floors of speakeasy: boxing-club décor, deep sofas, long drinks.

Basement jazz club with small plates and a house band that swings.

A former prison that now houses the Constitutional Court.

Vineyard lunch on a terrace facing the Simonsberg.

Colonial-era hotel beside the red-and-white lighthouse.

A restored 18th-century house on Praça Luís de Camões with the city's best rooftop.

José Avillez's two-star room, and the making of modern Portuguese cooking.

Manueline stonework at its most extravagant, carved when Lisbon ruled the sea routes.

The Sersale family's villa-turned-hotel, still the coast's benchmark.

Four hundred candles, one Michelin star, and the whole bay below.

Eight kilometres of cliff path, five hundred metres above the sea.

Whitewashed cave suites cut into the caldera wall.

Forty years of island cooking, away from the caldera crowds.

A catamaran along the volcano rim, hot springs and a swim at Red Beach.

A 16th-century palazzo on the Grand Canal, with Tiepolo frescoes intact.

Eight thousand square metres of gold mosaic, best seen when it is lit.

A walled vineyard on a lagoon island, and a kitchen that cooks it.

Red velvet, oil paintings and the opera house across the road.

The Habsburg collection — the world's finest Bruegel room among it.

Austria's most decorated kitchen, in a glass pavilion in the Stadtpark.

Thirty-eight rooms inside a Moorish palace, within the Tivoli gardens.

The restaurant that rewrote what Northern European cooking could be.

Modern art in a sculpture park above the Øresund, 35 minutes up the coast.

A red-brick grande dame where the Amstel meets the canal ring.

Rembrandt's Night Watch, Vermeer's light, and a building worth the ticket alone.

Two stars on the 23rd floor, with the whole flat city laid out below.

All-suite colonial landmark, restored and still the city's grandest address.

Supertrees, a cooled cloud forest and a nightly light show over the bay.

Three-star French cooking inside the old Supreme Court.

A riverside hotel since 1876, and still the standard others are judged by.

The reclining Buddha, and the birthplace of Thai massage.

Royal Thai cooking from old palace recipes, served without apology for the chilli.

Quiet luxury in Gangnam, with a 76th-floor city view from the lounge.

The Joseon dynasty's main palace, under the granite ridge of Bugaksan.

Korean fermentation — jang, doenjang, ganjang — at three-star precision.

Low-slung on Campbells Cove, looking directly at the Opera House.

Six kilometres of clifftop path past four beaches and two ocean pools.

Peter Gilmore's dining room, three storeys above the harbour.

Belle Époque Recoleta — Louis XV furniture, Egyptian cotton, real silverware.

One of the three finest acoustics in the world, and a tour that proves it.

The parrilla that turned Argentine steak into a pilgrimage.

Zermatt's original grand hotel, with horse-drawn transfers from the station.

A cog railway to 3,089m, facing the Matterhorn the whole way up.

A 1900s farmhouse on the piste, with the Matterhorn filling the window.

The sail on its own island, and still the city's defining address.

A Michelin-starred tasting menu served against the aquarium wall.

The hour when the towers light and the desert heat finally drops.

The canal house on the Prinsengracht, and the rooms behind the bookcase.

The unmarked door that started Amsterdam's cocktail habit.

Gilded spires and mirrored glass, and the Emerald Buddha at the heart of it.

Sixty-three floors up, with the Chao Phraya turning gold beneath you.

Three Michelin stars in a gilded Grand Siècle room off the Champs-Élysées.

Tapestried, candlelit and gloriously unmodern, on the Place des Vosges.

The tiny Rue du Nil room that started modern Paris dining.

Inaki Aizpitarte's bare-bones room, still the most quietly influential in Paris.

A ryokan stacked seventeen floors high, with hot-spring water beneath it.

The Lost in Translation hotel, high above Shinjuku with the city at your feet.

Aman's younger sister — the same calm, with a livelier pulse.

Mid-century Japanese modernism, rebuilt lantern for lantern.

A cliff carved into terraces, with a lift down to its own beach.

Grilled mozzarella on lemon leaves, reached only by boat.

The Terrace of Infinity — marble busts, and the whole Gulf of Salerno below.

Sixty-two steps up to a striped Arab-Norman façade above the piazza.

Rome's only three-Michelin-star table, above the whole city.

A family trattoria a step from the Pantheon, unchanged for decades.

Dinner on the sixth floor, looking straight down the Spanish Steps.

Two-star cooking with no theatre and no weaknesses.

Three-star British cooking, dressed in wit rather than gold.

Mayfair club style, with the best Indian cooking in London.

The pink room, the art, the pods — London's most theatrical lunch.

A calligraphy-wrapped torus that is Dubai's best building.

Wind towers and sandstone lanes — the Dubai before the oil.

A private pool among the dunes, forty minutes from Downtown.

A one-dirham wooden boat ride through the city's working heart.