You might also be a fan of the late author Douglas Adams, who wrote Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency and the genius dictionary of made-up words, the Meaning of Liff.  In 1992, he wrote a book called Last Chance to See, a travelogue about his journey to visit animals on the verge of extinction.  Although the book has dated (some rare creatures have now completely vanished), I’m struck at how ahead of his time Douglas Adams was.  Not only did he give us the meaning of life (the number 42, in case you forgot), but he foresaw the sad reality that a modern bucket list is not so much about doing something before you die, but before it disappears.  

I write these words in the midst of a second unprecedented heat wave in a normally mild British Columbia summer.  The first claimed over 500 lives in just three days, a staggering number that’s largely slipped under the flood of the 24-Covid news cycle.  Meanwhile hundreds of wildfires are burning in the interior, smoking our skies sepia, evacuating thousands of people and torching the entire town of Lytton, a popular destination for river rafting.  Scientists estimate over a billion marine animals cooked in the first heatwave, and more are undoubtably boiling in their shells this weekend as the temperature and humidex approach the mid 40°Cs.   Climate change has come home to roost, and techno-evangelism (technology will save us!) suddenly rings a little hollow for Pacific Island nations soon be underwater, communities going up in flames, loved ones burying their dead or biodiversity battered by urban encroachment, poaching and agriculture.   I know you come here for good news, but since I’m a pragmatic optimist, we have to accept that the near and far future will suffer increasingly extreme weather events, causing unparalleled environmental, financial and cultural devastation.  All I can hope is that this finds you in a safe and stable nation with enough progressive foresight and resources to prepare for this eventuality.  All I can hope is that my bucket list books do not become works of history – much like Last Chance to See -  a review of destinations that also no longer exist.  Unfortunately,  not much has been gained in thirty years since Douglas Adams sounded his convincing warning bell, and so much has been lost.   

My new ‘Bucket Listed’ column for Canadian Geographic Travel combines commentary with my travel recommendations.  Each column is short and punchy and well worth reading, especially my second column about Indigenous tourism.   My joyous and poignant Celebration of Canada column was sunk by the sombre nature of this year’s Canada Day, which coincided with horrific discoveries of residential school graves,  sparking outrage at the nation and Catholic church’s complicity in an obvious attempt at cultural genocide.  It’s a heavy topic for non-Indigenous Canadians to grasp, which is why I highly recommend reading Peace Pipe Dreams: The Truth about Lies about Indians which uses a lighter touch to help us understand the many challenges and injustices that Indigenous communities face today.  Next,  I explored risk tolerance with a column entitled:  Is it Safe to Travel Again?  before jumping into practical tips for planning bucket list road trips and revealing some of my favourite, less-known experiences in every province.  

Speaking of road-trips, I recently returned from a little adventure of Vancouver Island with the kids, ticking off some must-do experiences along the way.  The new Malahat Skywalk was spectacular, with a few unexpected offerings (like a slide, boardwalk and adventure net) to elevate the experience well above just another roadside attraction.  I’ve long heard about caving on Vancouver Island, so I’m a little shocked it took me so long to get to the Horne Lake Caves.  I just assumed they were typical show-caves, but it’s more aligned with my best spelunking adventures abroad:  hardhats, overalls, scrambling, twisting, ducking and climbing.   Letting the kids hammer away for fossils under the guidance of an enthusiastic and experienced dinosaur museum curator was a stroke of genius, and we finished off at a fun camping festival in a forest near Courtenay.  After 60 days of no rain, the heavens opened up and drowned us with the heaviest rainfall in years, soaking the thirsty fields and farms, and maintaining my 85% record of a mud-soaked fiesta whenever I camp at a festival.  The Canadian government should just drop me off with a tent, a band and a DJ in the country’s most drought-impacted regions:  statistical probability will take care of the rest.  You can read about my Vancouver Island road-trip in my latest post on the newly relaunched www.canadianbucketlist.com
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​Finally, I want to give a shout-out to the team at Great Canadian Trails, who are also passionate about remarkable Canadian outdoor adventures.   You don’t need to be a hardcore backcountry explorer, cyclist, hiker, or paddler to experience the joys of a true bucket list adventure.  GCT offer guided and self-guided tours that take care of all the logistics and make these kind of adventures far more achievable, accessible and enjoyable than you’d ever expect.   We’ve been working together for years, they’re great people, and I’m thrilled they’ve managed to endure the challenges of Covid to emerge even more determined to help me build your lifetime highlight reel.    

Travel’s appeal is broad and encompasses varied experiences -adventure, food, history, romance – but I’ve always felt it keenest with the sense of discovery, of being absorbed in unfamiliarity.  It’s personally invigorating to have to decipher a new set of rules, laws and cultural norms.  Locals around us seem perfectly at ease, but we can’t shake the feeling that we are other, visitors, not from around these parts.  Travelling alone further isolates us outside our comfort zones, as there’s nobody to share our experience with, no one to point out the wonders and absurdities. Disorientation can be challenging and difficult, which is why it’s not for everybody.   I recall quite vividly my first few steps within it, in London 1997.  I’d moved to the city on a two-year work permit with lofty ambitions to excel in online media.   Tubing around, just another faceless face in a sea of commuters, I’d never felt so empowered and helpless at the same time.   Several years prior,  I had bought a small Robin the Boy Wonder figurine at a flea market in Grahamstown, South Africa (now Makhanda).  Bashed, scarred and a little bashed and bruised, it quickly became a lucky charm and has joined me in the over one hundred countries I’ve visited since. ​

Alone in London, I popped into a pub near Angel to steel myself with a flat pint and escape the sensation of being overwhelmed.  In my daypack was a little black notebook with addresses of companies to drop off my resume, and the Boy Wonder of course, anything to increase my odds.  For reassurance, I grasped my figurine and noticed that Boy Wonder was pointing to his eye, as if to say: “open your eyes, look around, observe.”  And so I did: noting the sticky carpet beneath my feet, pot lights reflecting off brass beer taps, the clientele of day-drinkers and office skirters.  I penned these observations in my notebook, which I still have somewhere, and a travel writer was born.    I now have dozens of these same little black notebooks (bought from the CNA newsagent in South Africa, others just don't cut the mustard)  filled with scribblings and interviews, observations and thoughts.  Viewers around the world have seen me writing in these same books in almost every episode of my TV show (Word Travels is now available on Prime Video in Canada).  This week, I finally went travelling again, but I had forgotten my black notebook, its virgin pages eager to capture thoughts as I wandered about aimlessly.    I was opening my eyes in a new world that felt alien and awkward yet fascinating and alluring at the same time.   Most bizarre of all, this strange new destination was downtown Vancouver, the city where I live.  ​

It’s been well over a year since I strolled the blocks of Granville, Davie, Hornby and Howe. This used to be my hood.  In a former life I could tell you the names of most of the stores, and a funny anecdote to go along with them (I think I snogged someone in the alley behind The Moose / that’s the joint where I ate late-night soft-shell crab with a rock band, etc).  These days I live and work 25 minutes’ drive away in a forested suburb, and even if Covid hadn’t come along, there’d be little reason to visit the music venues, offices, restaurants and coffee shops that line these particular blocks.  Since leaving my apartment downtown, I’ve been harbouring an image of downtown Vancouver’s urban liveliness: it’s vibrant streets jiving with crowds and colour.   Today, I found an inner city ravaged by the pandemic.  Almost every third store was boarded up, tagged with graffiti or heartbreaking farewells from its broken proprietors. Homeless were sleeping in shoddy entranceways (wasn’t that an upmarket restaurant? wasn’t that a boutique?) some were shooting up as I walked by.   Coffee shops were open but empty, except for the Starbucks on Howe which was boarded up and gone for good (a Starbucks closing, in Vancouver?) ​

There was an unusual abundance of street parking, and the few people walking around – some masked, some not - carried a heaviness about them, a sense of sorrow and guilt.  Among this decay towered proud new condos that didn’t exist a year ago.  Unlike Toronto or Montreal, construction has never ceased in development-mad Vancouver.  The hip art gallery and cheap-eat restaurants on the corner of Robson and Seymour have been bulldozed, awaiting another glass tower jammed with million-dollar 600 square-foot studios.  Opposite the city library -  looking even more ancient than its bold Coliseum-influenced design - new buildings are transforming the city’s skyline, including a massive development in the former post office to ironically house a new headquarters for Amazon.  The streets were familiar, but everything else?  I may as well be walking Doha or Dallas or Derby or any other modern city I’ve yet to visit.  ​

Tragic as it was discovering the cracking shell of my own city, I was nonetheless jolted by the nostalgia of discovering some place new, alone and lost, with only my thoughts for company.   I may not be going anywhere for some time yet, but even if Boy Wonder is gathering dust on top of my bookcase, it continues to remind me, and all of us, to keep our eyes open as we observe the changing world around us. 

I compiled this definitive list with two very simple rules: 
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a) The items mentioned below should be available to members of the paying - and no doubt occasionally insane - public
b) To qualify, the thought of each dish should make my stomach swill over, my throat seize up, my nose twitch, and my eyes rattle.

This list demonstrates that we will devour whatever we are culturally conditioned to consume, and whatever creature with the distasteful misfortune to be around us if we are hungry.  Presenting my global menu for those of iron will and titanium gut: ​

Deep Fried Hairy Spiders
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Personally, I just didn’t have the stomach for arachnoids when I was travelling by bus through Cambodia.   A popular roadside snack, the large spiders are eaten in big bites, or pulled apart, leg by leg, and consumed like French fries.  Black bug juice dribbles down the chin as you reach the best part of meal, the pincers and the bulbous back.   All the poison is removed when the spiders are fried, and apparently the appeal lies in its crunchy-chewy texture.   Along came a spider, and sat down beside her, and so Muffin just ate the damn thing. ​

Honorary Mentions: Lutifisk is a fish Norwegian weapon of mass culinary destruction.  Laos Snake Whiskey is sold with farm-bred cobras at the bottom, some with scorpions for extra zing.   We should also leave room for cockroaches, haggis, and cuy (deep-fried guinea pig).  And how can I forget my delicious fruit bat stew in beautiful New Caledonia? ​

All this to say:  The experience did not live up to your expectations.   The higher your expectations, the higher the chance that the destination or activity will disappoint you.   Reality simply can’t compete with your imagination.  And I can’t blame anyone for having an imagination stoked by the most perfect of all scenarios.  On television shows, in travel articles, in books (ahem), you rarely see or hear about crowds, costs, and crap weather.  The sky is mostly blue, and the animals always show up.   It is very rare that everything comes together exactly as it does in the brochures, and yet the marketing of peak experience does no favours to your expectations.  You’re being set up for disappointment, so better to have no or limited expectations to begin with. ​

The global bucket list took another hit this month with the chaos surrounding One Ocean Expeditions.  I’ve worked with this Squamish-based company for several years, having visited Antarctica, crossed the Northwest Passage in the high Arctic and more recently taken my mom and daughter to remote islands in the Atlantic on their wonderful boats, guided by their wonderful crew.  I’ve recommended the company at dozens of talks and in my books, and was shocked to hear they’ve been shipwrecked with financial difficulties.  Passengers were left stranded shortly before an Antarctica sailing, most support staff have left the company, and information from the permanently closed head office to hundreds of out of pocket clients has been cryptic and scarce.   The source of the issue appears to have been the damage that occurred to one of their Russian leased vessels in August 2018.    There are competing claims as to who was responsible and should foot the bill, and as a result the Russians withdrew their ships from One Ocean’s service.  This sent the company scampering to fill exist bookings on their single remaining ship, and in all likelihood broke the sea camel’s back.   The company’s mysterious restructuring has been devastating for their amazing staff and crew, many of whom are owed tens of thousands of dollars in wages.  It has been devastating for passengers around the world who have footed up to $14,000 per ticket, and have no travel insurance recourse to get their money back.  It has been devastating for the Royal Canadian Geographic Society, who benefitted from One Ocean as a major sponsor, and it has been devastating for polar tourism.  One Ocean did vital, generous and important work for the Arctic and Antarctica, supporting scientists, educators, communicators and students.  I remember telling passengers that One Ocean did not just help us tick Antarctica off our bucket list, the company had helped us become ambassadors for a truly incredible, vulnerable and oft-misunderstood eco-system.  Despite hope that a new financial partner will save the day, the damage to the brand and betrayal of trust of both clients and crew is, in all probability, fatal.  Despite some wild rumours swirling around, I do believe One Ocean had a wonderful heart. Operating at the mercy of the roughest of natural elements, it just needed a better business brain.  Here's hoping for smooth waters and easy sailing ahead for passengers, crew, company and the polar region itself. ​

After crossing dramatic mountain passes and driving alongside large, scenic lakes, we pull off the Trans Canada Highway to explore The Enchanted Forest and adjacent Skytrek Adventure Park.  With various high ropes courses through the tall forest trees, the latter is catnip for kids and adults channelling their inner gibbon.  The former is eccentric and certainly bizarre.  Dozens of tiny and not so tiny fairy tale houses have been built on the forest floor, complete with a castle, a giant climbing a tree, mermaids, wooden horses, and mischievous forest elves.  A passion project that has been a popular, quirky roadside attraction for half a century, my young kids embraced Enchanted Forest with sheer, unadulterated delight.  Happy kids, happy parents, and happier still that both these attractions are less than a half hour’s drive from downtown Revelstoke, where our room at the Regent Hotel awaits. ​

Revelstoke Mountain Resort is famous for the highest vertical run on the continent, but is embracing its four season possibilities.   This means world-class mountain biking, and for my bucket list, the longest alpine rollercoaster in Canada.   Taking the gondola up to mid-mountain, my family soaked in the stellar mountain views and fanning Columbia River, before hopping into yellow go-cart like contraption connected on a narrow single rail. My wife and I each put a kid in our laps and strapped in for a thrilling 1.4 kilometre descent.   The Pipe Mountain Coaster twists, curves and whoops its way 279 metres down the mountain, through forest and breathless dips at speeds of up to 42 km/hr.  A simple mechanism allows us to brake and go at our own pace, and most first timers will take it easy.   Get the three-ride pass (or more) and you’ll soon dispense with the brakes altogether, hitting the hell-yeah! controlled maximum speed that ensures it’s safe and fun for the whole family.    “Faster Daddy!” yelled my daughter, and who am I to argue? ​

Feet away from the exit point of the coaster is newly opened Aerial Adventure Park, where you can easily spend two hours navigating fifty different balance and height obstacles, rising four stories above the ground.   Graded like ski runs into green, blue and black difficulties, climbers are safely harnessed throughout the entire contraption. Watching brave little kids take on swinging rings or a knee-shaking four-story jump should add some pep to your steps.   Fortunately, great food and craft beer awaits the victorious in the village regardless (and for the kids, ice-cream). ​

​A Pirate Battle

River rafting is another popular summer activity in Revelstoke, with various companies offering grade three runs.   For younger kids, consider Wild Blue Yonder’s River Pirates Tour, complete with pirate costumes, face paint, bush battles and fun tales of yaargh!   Downriver from the impressive hydro dam, we drifted on the glass mirror of the Columbia River, listening to Captain Jack’s brogue as he recounted the myth of the man-eating moose.  My daughter - made-up with face paint, bandanna’d, and now known as Jolly Lips Sue - had a blast.  Nobody got wet, and foam sword battles continued back in our comfortable family suite at the Regent.    

Fortunately the sword stayed behind when we checked out the old world Railway Museum, although the knives came out when my three year-old had his thermonuclear meltdown when we told him it was time to leave the large, warm wading pool at the Aquatic Centre.  We packed a lot into just three days, and could have easily spent a week exploring this underrated wonder of the BC interior.    It’s all right there in the very name of the town, where families can revel in the stoke of it. ​

Modern travellers have developed an insatiable thirst for jet fuel, much to the detriment of previous modes of travel: ships and trains.  While ships have evolved into cruising palaces, trains have far more limitations when it comes to the size of their carriages.  Yet as a means to discover a new destination in a comfortable, relaxing pace, I'm a sucker for an epic train journey.  Sit back and watch the world pass you by as we track down the world’s best train journeys. ​

The Ghan  
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With its vast distances and sparse population, Australia is tailor made for an epic train journey.  The Ghan, named after the late 19th century Afghan cameleers that  created the route, traverses almost 3000 kilometres north to south and vice-versa from Adelaide through Alice Springs to Darwin.  The 3 day/2 night crossing caters to a range of budgets, from the twin Red Service Sleeper Cabins with their compact  lounge chairs (folding into sleeping berths), to the 25 en-suite Platinum Cabins, with in-cabin dining, attentive stewards and twin or double beds.   Beginning with the ridges and plains of South Australia, the landscape transforms into the red earth and sweeping skies of the Central Australian outback.   Day or multi-day excursions are on offer from Alice Springs, before continuing into the more tropical regions of Northern Australia.   The train runs twice a week in each direction June to August, and once a week during the remainder of the year. ​

Qinghai–Tibet railway 
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China boasts the world’s fastest passenger train, the CRH380A running from Shanghai to Nanjing and Hangzhou at an astonishing 480 km/hr.  Think more rollercoaster and less leisurely train journey.  For less of a blur but all the thrills, consider the Qinghai-Tibet, an engineering marvel that connects the city of Xining to Lhasa, Tibet.   It’s the first railway to navigate the mountains and treacherous terrain that encompasses Tibet.  Once you cross the Tanggula Pass at 5072 metres above sea level, you’re officially on the world’s highest railway, rolling through the world’s highest tunnel, and stopping at the world’s highest railway station.  With stunning views across the mountains and permafrost, the journey is literally breathtaking.  At this altitude, breathing can become an issue, but the cold-resistant carriages were built for such challenging environments, and carry oxygen supplies on board for each passenger, along with an onboard doctor. ​

The Rocky Mountaineer 
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Repeatedly named as one of the world’s great train journeys by everyone from National Geographic to Conde Nast Traveler, The Rocky Mountaineer belongs to North America’s largest private rail service, running 1000 km through some of the world’s best scenery.  Unlike VIA’s Canadian, which continues onto Toronto, the Rocky Mountaineer is designed to showcase the glorious Rockies in all their glory, with guests seated in two-level glass-domed panoramic dome cars, while interpreters point out wildlife and sites of interest.   Guests spend the night in the company’s hotel in Kamloops before continuing their journey from Banff/Jasper to Vancouver, or vice versa.  Along with the outstanding meals, let the cocktails flow!  ​

The Trans-Siberia / Trans Mongolian Railway 
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When creating this list, I erred on this side of luxury, only because I’ve spent many days travelling on some of the world’s more challenging train rides, and while the memories are precious, I wouldn’t necessarily wish them on my readers.   Trains are great, but not when they’re scary, like the time I peed at gunpoint on the Russian-Mongolian border.  It took me three weeks to journey from Beijing to St Petersburg on two of the world’s most legendary rail networks.  Along the way I raced horses in Mongolia, swam in the world’s deepest lake, and was almost tasered by some corrupt cops.   Rudimentary carriages were OK, even if the attendants were smuggling starched clothing in our pillows.  Meals consisted of instant noodles, instant mash, and anything else we could whip up with graciously provided hot water.   I grew to appreciate the sneer of the attendants, and the taste of vodka, which was cheap and plentiful.   An incredible adventure, definitely.   But not for everyone.  ​

El ChePe 
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The Chihuahua al Pacifico Railroad, more affectionately known as El ChePe, carries locals and tourists over 400 miles through the Sierra Madre mountains and the magnificent Copper Canyon. Departing Los Mochis in the morning and arriving in Chihuahua late in the evening, the train crosses 36 bridges  (one at over 1000 feet) and 87 tunnels.   It stops at 13 stations along the way, allowing travellers to hop on and off to explore the region.   There are two classes to choose from, with the Primero Express offering a dining car as opposed to the Economico’s snack bar, but it’s the scenery that provides the tastiest fodder.    Mexico’s most scenic train chugs alongside stunning jungle, mountains, canyons waterfalls, and even high desert. ​

The Royal Scotsman 
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The Scottish Highlands are yours for the taking.  By yours, I refer to the 36 guests pampered in absolute luxury aboard the Royal Scotsman.  The train offers 2 to 7 night itineraries that take in the majestic Highlands, along with themed trips like the 4-night Classic Whisky Journey in conjunction with the Scotch Malt Whisky Society.  Enjoy gourmet bliss in the mahogany-panelled dining car, and make sure to pack a kilt for alternating formal nights (if you forget, you can still hire one).   Twin, Double and Single cabins are equipped with in-suite bathrooms, with the plush sofas in the observation car perfect to watch quaint villages and medieval castles pass you by.  ​

I was recently invited to speak at the annual leadership conference for Coast Hotels, which took place at the Coast High Country Inn in Whitehorse.   The theme of the event was Bucket List, and so naturally, I felt right at home.  Since it’s January, and Whitehorse is the most accessible northern city to see the aurora, especially from Vancouver,  I brought my Dad along for the ride.  It’s been his dream to see the aurora since watching an 80’s movie called St Elmo’s Fire, which doesn’t feature the lights at all, other than, as I write in my book, the “light going out of Ally Sheedy’s acting career.”   No offence to Ally Sheedy.  Or Andrew McCarthy, an actor in the movie who is now an editor-at-large for National Geographic.  #Everythingisconnected.   My Dad and I had previously spent five nights in Yellowknife and saw no lights, but we did kinda-sorta see the aurora (if you squinted just so) in Hay River after flying over with Buffalo Air, but never got the full razzmadaddle. Whitehorse would be another kick at the aurora can.   What’s more, Coast had arranged for attendees to tick off a full blown Whitehorse bucket list, including dogsledding with Muktuk Adventures (as featured in my books), slurping back the Sour Toe Cocktail brought down from Dawson City, and dipping in the thermal springs of the Takhini Hot Pools.   Throw in some elk sausage and Arctic Char from Burnt Toast, my favourite restaurant in the city, and you’ve got a comprehensive winter Whitehorse bucket list covered!  ​

We arrived via Air North, which is the only airline I know that serves hot baked cookies, refreshments at the gate, and affordable flights to a northern city.   Settled into the Coast High Country Inn (which is owned by the same folks who own the Best Western Gold Rush Inn, so they have you covered), we took off for our first shot at seeing the lights at a remote aurora viewing cabin.  Fire pits were burning, the tent cabins were heated and cozy, and the sky cleared nicely.  The aurora report gave us just a 4/10 chance at seeing a 4/10 display, but sure enough, green waves began to pop on the horizon.  No fireworks, but fine enough.   That we threaded the needle on our first night in Whitehorse is a testament to Coast marketing director Sarah Kirby-Yung’s delightful optimism trumping my Dad’s northern lights jinx. 
“Can we tick this one off Dad?” I ask?
“Yes we can.”  
And so we did. ​

Racing a dogsled on a frozen river is pure bucket list too.  I’ve had the good fortune to dogsled with Muktuk Adventures filming an episode for my TV show, and researching a chapter for my book.  The happiest puppies on the planet were lined up and rearing to go on our arrival, and off they go, running along the side of the Takhini River, pausing only for breaks and cuddles from Muktuk’s caring staff.  Go dog go! It was the highlight of the trip for my Dad, which speaks volumes about the quality of the experience (and perhaps the performance of the aurora as well). ​

After finally getting a decent photo of Whitehorse's iconic wooden skyscraper, Tourism Yukon's Jimmy Kemshead drive us along the Alaska Highway to check out the Mount Sima Ski Hill outside of town,  and the scenic taiga on the drive to Carcross. Our final night featured a soak in the Takhini Hot Pools, a natural thermal spring located 25 minutes drive from Whitehorse.  It was a late night soak, well enjoyed by all and spiced (and chilled) with a half-naked roll in the icy snow.    As usual, the travel buzz moment came when I least expected it.   Our bus got stuck in the ice in Takhini’s parking lot, and while the driver revved and tried to roll free, the cold night sky burst forth with stars, falling meteorites, and the wispy dance of the aurora herself.  Not quite green, but a large distinct light flickering across the dark sky.   Eventually we managed to free the bus by lining up and pushing it out in reverse.   Rescuing a passenger bus beneath the northern lights in the Yukon?    Now that’s bucket list.  ​

The United States
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Similarly, the Eastern Seaboard of the United States lights up in the colours of autumn from mid-September to the end of October.    There’s plenty of charming road trips in the states of Massachusetts, Vermont, and New Hampshire, where a gentle paced traveller can appreciate the change of season through small villages, farms, and seaside towns along the way.  Michigan and Wisconsin are also known for their fabulous fall colours. ​

China
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China is so vast and there’s plenty to see away from the usual tourist hot spots of Beijing and Shanghai.   With temperatures cooling pleasantly, consider the south-western Sichuan province where the maple and birch trees strut their colours.    Domestic Chinese tourists love visiting places like Miyalou in October to enjoy the views, along with the Juizhai Vallley, where tranquil blue lakes compliment the “kingdom of colours”. ​

Spain
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Spain is much more than a beach holiday destination, especially as the sizzling summer temperatures begin to drop and the Mediterranean starts to cool.   It’s a great time to head south where it us perfectly warm and pleasant, and the cities of Granada, Cordoba and Seville are waiting to be explored.   Those summer crowds have dispensed, so it’s far easier to get around without making reservations, getting that great table on the patio instead of spending hours lining up.   Further north begins to get a little chilly around October. ​

South Pacific
Just because things are cooling down, doesn’t mean you need to pack a coat.   French Polynesia enjoys its best season in August to October, after the heat of the sweltering months, but before the rains kick in.  Tahiti, Bora Bora, the Society Islands  – there’s no shortage of escapes where you can find your own beach paradise.   You might want to stay clear of the Disappointment Islands though.    They really need to do something about that name.  ​