A short 30 minutes after the 8-seat plane touched down in Nantucket, a colossal silver tray was placed in front of me. I kicked off my sandals and with feet in the sand, tucked into a seafood platter of oysters, clams, and chilled lobster, right in time for an electric orange sunset.
Copenhagen wasn't yet awake as I tiptoed over cobbles in the historic center's colorful streets. The only sign of life was a florist fluffing pots of blooming flowers outside her small shop.
The pristine white tub was calling me: I couldn't resist an end of the day soak. Tossing aside a fluffy robe, I sank into steaming water, a whimsical rubber ducky already lost in a deep sea of suds. Instead of the flat-screen TV, I watched flames from the gas fireplace dance and reflect on marble.
Beyond the fascinating history of Athens and the fabulous whitewashed island villages, there is more to see in Greece.
The pitch-black room floods with light when I flip open the shutters. Stepping onto the balcony, I spot surfers catching waves in the Pacific. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifts up from the terrace below. It's my first morning at L'Auberge Del Mar, a getaway north of San Diego on the California coast.
The scene was one that could only be California: two pale New Yorkers fresh off the plane and a convertible with the top down. As I placed the car into gear, it was official: not only had we arrived in sunny San Diego, but we were about to check into the one hotel that has brought sophistication and sex appeal to the Gaslamp Quarter.
Opening the door to a boutique hotel in the Hamptons, I was met by a burst of color. In 2008, this historic 18th century inn was transformed into a showcase of Scandinavian cool.
With the strike of a match, the wood-burning fireplace in our suite leapt to life. A knock on the door delivered decadent hot chocolate to accompany the crackling fire. This was the perfect way to end a day of country pleasures at Blantyre, a turn-of-the-century summer home turned Relais & Châteaux hotel in the Berkshires.
My first day in our nation's capital began the same way as many of our political leaders: a knock at the door. Instead of paperwork, appointments, and phone calls, I opened the door to an elegant trolley delivering breakfast.
Tucked away in an oasis on the Upper East Side, I was far from the vast, impersonal hotels that sometimes pass for luxury in New York City.
From the moment I first stepped foot in Italy an infatuation began. Each city, from Florence to Venice, was more fascinating than the last.
Our European correspondent, Jessica Colley, visits the Mediterranean country of Malta and discovers authentic old Europe, sophisticated cuisine and golden beaches.
The fairytale forest of the Powerscourt Estate was lit by a bright twinkling of stars. Our twilight arrival to the 1,000-acre estate was a romantic beginning to an active weekend for two.
A serenity that can't be found in the city was revealed as the French Alps came into view on a crisp December day. The boughs of evergreen trees were heavy with snow and began to form a canopy over the road. I was approaching one of the world's most prestigious ski resorts, Megève, for a winter getaway with a twist. Not only has the quality of the landscape earned the destination such a reputation, but this winter resort has mastered the French art of living.
Pink lampshades cast a romantic glow over the ancient buildings lining the Grand Canal. Light danced on the water as the Vaporetto glided towards one of the most unique luxury hotels in Venice. Docking at Ca D'Oro, I gazed across the canal at the quiet Rialto fish market, which in a few hours would be bustling with life. Hotel Ca'Sagredo is located at the heart of the city, and was the ideal place to begin my exploration of one of Italy's most mysterious cities.