Dry lips

In addition to major festivals, other national holidays such as Republic Day, Independence Day, and Gandhi Jayanti, as well as election days, can result in “dry days.” These are designated days where the sale of alcohol is prohibited not only in liquor stores, but in restaurants, bars, and hotels. These are state, not nationwide, government mandates, so while Holi is no longer a dry day in Maharashtra, Uttar Pradesh upholds a zero-alcohol policy. For travelers who want to battle their jet lag with a relaxing glass of wine, note that five-star hotels are generally exempt from this rule.

However, some states and union territories enforce a complete or significant prohibition of alcohol year-round, and are referred to as “dry states.” These include Gujarat, Bihar, Nagaland, and Mizoram. While travelers can sometimes avail a temporary permit to drink alcohol in states like Gujarat, India’s longest standing dry state, the process is often cumbersome.

Your passport or visa won’t take you everywhere

Make sure to research where you can and can’t travel within India as a foreigner, as there are restricted and protected areas all across the country. For example, the Andaman and Nicobar Islands require foreigners to hold a Restricted Area Permit (RAP) along with a valid passport and visa. And even with those, the North Sentinel Island remains restricted to all. Parts of the Northeast like Sikkim, Arunachal Pradesh, Manipur, Mizoram, Nagaland, and areas near the Line of Control with Pakistan, particularly along the border of Jammu and Kashmir, require such permits.

Not everything is a bargain—and not everything should be

There’s getting a fair price, and then there is taking advantage of people. In India that is a two-way street. Time and time again, I see travelers pay highly inflated sums for trinkets, but are surprised by how much intricate craft can cost. It’s important to remember India is lined with craft corridors, where centuries-old techniques are upheld by local artisans. These are luxury goods that require meticulous, time-consuming work: authentic Kolhapuri chappals can take months to make, while a handwoven Pashmina scarf can take up to a year. Remember: You’re purchasing an heirloom that is worth its price and deserves to be valued—just like the artist who made it.

While haggling with hawkers for trinkets is fair game, goods like saris (seen above, in Rajasthan) may seem expensive but are actually fairly priced luxury goods considering the time and craft that goes into them.

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You’ve probably heard of the Bazaruto Archipelago. The chain of islands off the southeastern coast of Mozambique is widely regarded as one of Africa’s—if not the world’s—most beautiful coastal regions. It’s one of many reasons the Southern African country made our best places to go list this year. On Bazaruto and Benguerra islands, ultra-luxe retreats have quietly welcomed in-the-know travelers in recent years, as Mozambique’s tourism has steadily increased. But as justified as the “untouched paradise” label is on the archipelago, what many visitors overlook is the small coastal town on the mainland, which deserves all the same accolades, but without the luxury price tag.

I’ll admit that when I first visited Mozambique, I had my sights firmly set on Benguerra Island. And as magical as it was, I’m so pleased I tagged on a few days to spend some time in Vilanculos. This underrated town is predominantly used as a jumping-off point for the archipelago—it’s just a 10-minute helicopter transfer away, or 20-to-60 minutes by boat, depending on which island you’re going to.

Suffice to say, it’s easy to overlook Vilanculos, and many tourists do. But here, on this small slice of Mozambican coast, you’ll find a vibrant, authentic stay that is blissfully tourist-free, and much more affordable than the neighboring islands.

Fishing boats on the coast off Mozambique

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Firstly, you don’t miss out on the paradise-like atmosphere on the mainland. You’ll find white-sand beaches that stretch for miles, often wonderfully quiet but for fishermen bringing in their daily catch along the shoreline, and traditional dhow boats bobbing on the water. It’s easy to spend your entire time in Vilanculos simply enjoying the beach, but beneath the calm waters lies one of the richest marine ecosystems in the Indian Ocean—snorkelers and divers can enjoy pristine coral reefs teeming with life. Depending on what time of year you visit, you could swim with dolphins, whale sharks, manta rays, turtles, and even endangered dugongs (the waters between Vilanculos and the archipelago support the last viable population of dugongs in the western Indian Ocean).

One of my most memorable afternoons was spent exploring Vilanculos town with a local tour guide, which was arranged by my hotel, Saudade. I learnt about the history of the town—how the indigenous Chopi people built their lives around the sea, and how, around the 10th century, the Mozambican coast became part of a vast trading network linking East Africa with Arabia, Persia, and India. Arab and Swahili traders sailed these waters on dhows, stopping along the coast to exchange goods such as ivory, gold, and spices.

It never did, of course, but it’s only now, three decades on and returning to Parkgate, that I think I’ve stopped accepting it as just “that place that thinks it’s by the sea but isn’t.” The truth is that this place is far stranger than I ever gave it credit for at an age when, understandably, silting wasn’t as important as sex, cider, and cigarettes.

But silting is at the root of why Parkgate, with its ice cream parlor and long promenade, offers a wide view of mud and marsh where its seaside should be.

Sitting on the eastern edge of the Dee Estuary, Parkgate in the 18th century was a busy port with a sandy shore that was used as a departure point for ships sailing to Ireland. But the estuary, which had been silting up since the 11th century, had different ideas. What used to be open water was heading towards alluvium, and oblivion.

St. Thomas’ Church, in the parish of Neston

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By the early 19th century, ships could still sail from Parkgate, but navigation became increasingly difficult thanks to the ever-growing mudflats, salt marsh, and sandbanks. By the turn of the 20th century, the sea was effectively gone, the village stopped functioning as a port and began its long and continuing afterlife.

Seeing a place stripped of its reason for existence, through no fault of its own, is to view the unsettling beauty of absence. I’m reminded of pictures I’ve seen of the drained Aral Sea in Russia; except that was a manmade disaster, prompted by a warped Soviet cotton planting experiment.

Cord grass ripples across these languorous northern marshes and, while ships lay wounded and stranded in the former Aral, all that remains of the old Parkgate are some very old photographs, showing frigates, sand, and some very fetching Victorian bathing attire.

I buy a cone from Nicholls ice cream parlor and look at the marsh stretching out like a soft, silvery pelt towards North Wales. But sucking at vanilla here is like taking popcorn to a cinema without a projectionist or waiting for a lover who has long since left you. The cone crunches in my mouth; the palimpsest of former sea is beyond indifferent to the fate of those left behind when it shrank, then vanished.

Parkgate was an important port, but silting up of the Dee estuary has made it now a small distance from the sea.

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I know I’m in Toronto when everyone stands at the crosswalk waiting patiently to cross. While people often compare Ontario’s capital to New York, Toronto is a standout destination in its own right. After all, it’s the fourth-largest city on the continent, and the most multicultural of them all—the city is home to five major sports teams, over 140 different languages, and some of the world’s most beloved Canadian exports—we’re looking at you, the Weeknd. And while it’s true that come winter, it can get so cold you can’t feel your face, that’s still no excuse to rush past the traffic lights.

I’ve lived elsewhere and picked up habits along the way, like jaywalking—but my hometown quickly reminds me it plays by its own rules. Toronto is the city that raised me, the place where I first discovered my love for great restaurants, fine art, and most importantly—kind people. So if you’re interested in feeling like a local from the start, consider these unwritten rules—the small details that make navigating Toronto a little easier.

Read our complete Toronto travel guide here, which includes:

There’s two t’s in Toronto, but we only pronounce one

At some point in Toronto’s storied history, we dropped the second T. Tor-on-to to visitors became Tor-ono to locals. The silent letter feels like a shared understanding among everyone who lives here—one of those, if you know, you know moments—and if you don’t, well, we can hear it.

Pick the right “J” when visiting

That would be June or July, not January. A slightly sad but undeniable fact about Toronto is that it truly shines in the summer. Long afternoons and spontaneous plans unfold on patios and in parks across the city. Anticipated street festivals like Salsa on St. Clair and Dundas West Fest bring cuisine, culture, and rhythm to warm days and lively nights. Then there’s the Harbourfront and the Toronto Islands, where you can sit on the boardwalk watching boats dock or spend a relaxing day just offshore (more on that later).

Consider the traffic when planning anything

Here’s the thing: Toronto has bad traffic—really bad. Gone are the days when rush hour was neatly contained to 5 p.m. Now, congestion can strike at almost any time of day. The Gardiner Expressway, the Don Valley Parkway, and Highway 401 are regularly at a standstill—and that’s before you even consider Allen Road.

When planning anything in this city, it’s not enough to check the distance: you also have to factor in traffic. And if there’s a sporting event or concert, take public transit. Your ride will likely take longer than a flight to Montreal.

Subway etiquette must be applied at all times

Ah, the subway. Public transit in Toronto is not our strong suit. Line 1, the Yonge-University line, is shaped like a U. Line 2, the Bloor-Danforth line, runs east to west, and there are two smaller lines, but they’re not very important.

Dates: November 13 through December 24, 2025

Why we love it: If you say “holiday market” to a New Yorker, chances are they’ll direct you to the bustling Union Square Holiday Market. With 185 vendors spread across concentric half-circles of booths, we’re not exaggerating when we say you can find the perfect present for everyone on your list at this sprawling pop-up. Some buzzy vendors to look out for this year? Wicked Heathens handmade crystal jewelry, Meow Parlor’s cat beds, and make sure to save time to explore the many food purveyors for snacks, like Rubyzaar’s absurdly delicious torched hot chocolate. Pro tip: As the city’s most famous market, it can get quite crowded on nights and weekends, so try to opt for daytime weekday visits if possible.

Printemps New York Holiday Market

Location: 1 Wall Street, New York, NY 10005

Dates: Every Friday through Sunday in December

Why we love it: Paris import Printemps opened its first department store in New York this year and, as is no surprise, both its selection of goods and interior design are stunningly chic. Happily, you can take a bit more of that French magic home with you this December, when the store launches its first weekend holiday market. Four stations will be scattered around the first floor selling everything from mulled wine and spiced Old Fashioneds to beautifully boxed gift sets of nougat, chocolate, and candy. Keep your eye out for a massive Arc de Triomphe, too—made entirely out of gingerbread.

The first weekend of December sees the Brooklyn Navy Yard transform into Wallabout Wonderland for an eighth season of local vendor takeover.

Courtesy of Brooklyn Navy Yard Development Corporation

Wallabout Wonderland Holiday Market

Location: Brooklyn Navy Yard, 63 Flushing Avenue, Brooklyn, NY 11205

A couple of years ago, I spent a weekend in Columbus, Ohio. I promise this isn’t the setup to a smug New Yorker’s unimaginative quip (“longest weekend of my life”). Those were a charmed 48 hours. A few things were on my side: I was escaping parental responsibility (our oldest was applying to high school, a fraught time) and the weather was unexpectedly beautiful (70 degrees in late October, disturbing but delicious). I was in town for work, but my work is, if I’m honest, not difficult. Turn up at the public library and talk? That would take but one hour out of a whole weekend. I had time to kill.

Like many Midwestern cities, downtown Columbus has grand architecture dating to a boom time long passed. There were few people around, which felt like a shame on such a beautiful streetscape. But the downtowns of such cities, even when seemingly vacant, remain cultural hubs; the Columbus Museum of Art was a five-minute walk from my hotel. I’ve had the joy of learning that many smaller American cities are home to beautiful art collections, and it’s a particular high when traveling to discover a masterpiece I hadn’t expected. That Saturday I was thrilled by a grisly Paul Cadmus and a monumental Helen Frankenthaler, two artists I so love. It was like running into old friends.

But I was as fidgety as a schoolkid on a field trip; the sun beckoned. As is common with American cities, Columbus is designed for cars, not people, but I wanted to walk. I had recommendations from Chris, an old friend who had moved home to Columbus, and I had my phone, which could provide both a map and a ride, should I run out of sidewalk.

Chris advised me to explore German Village, a well-to-do historic neighborhood with handsome old brick buildings and elegant houses. There I found that sense of vitality I had been missing downtown—it turns out pedestrians and cyclists would rather congregate on small beautiful streets. I’ve never been able to resist a used bookshop, which is how I found myself in The Book Loft. This bibliophile’s labyrinth is the kind of joyfully chaotic place where it would be easy to while away hours without buying a thing. But I had more to see. When I had walked enough to deserve a snack, I joined the queue of customers spilling onto the sidewalk outside Fox in the Snow Cafe. I bought a cinnamon roll so big that eating it required privacy, so I fled to nearby Schiller Park, where there are pickleball courts and lake views and what I most needed: a comfortable bench to be alone with my massive pastry.

For dinner Chris and I went to the vegetarian restaurant Comune, where we sat at the minimalist bar and dispensed with several delicious and unfussy shared plates. That night I slept the sleep of the unworried. My short trip would end the following morning at the public Main Library, an elegant marble edifice that was originally an Andrew Carnegie project. Visiting a library can be as uplifting as going to a museum. This is the best stuff this country has yet come up with: places that belong to all people.

Everyone has their own reasons to travel; every trip has its own particular goals. For obvious reasons, big cities will always be the draw for most tourists. Sometimes, though, what you want is simple: a warm spell, an old friend, an oversized cinnamon roll, a long walk, some world-class art. As Columbus shows, there’s more than one place to find those things in this country.

This article appeared in the November 2025 issue of Condé Nast Traveler. Subscribe to the magazine here.

The best beaches in Puerto Rico are some of the most ideal places to soak up all the Caribbean glamour that earned this island the rather endearing epithet: “Isla del Encanto.” From the long stretches of reef swarming with candy-colored fish that you’ll find at La Parguera to the consistent waves that peel like butter off Pine Grove, there’s plenty to love about the beaches on this island. If you’re looking to flex your sea legs, you can even visit the uninhabited satellite island of Culebrita, where Tortuga swarms with green turtles who munch on seagrass and bask in satisfyingly warm waters. While we made some of our selections precisely for their remote locales a boat ride and hike (or two) away from the main island, others sit squarely within hotspots booming with some of the best restaurants, bars, and coffee shops in Puerto Rico. And to sweeten the pot even more, travelers from the States can visit the island and all its glorious beaches without a passport.

No matter where you choose to head along the nearly 700 miles of coastline, you can’t go wrong with an island that truly has no off-season: The best time to visit Puerto Rico is now and always. Below, we’ve gathered our picks for the best beaches in Puerto Rico—plus where to stay—with billowing palms, soft sands, and fabulous flora aplenty.

Read on for our complete Puerto Rico travel guide, which includes:

The days went by in a flurry of impressions, gleaned over the handlebars. There was the babble of snow monkeys in the trees near Kofu (a town that grows those extravagantly expensive fruits that are given as gifts). There were elegantly spired, tightly-packed Buddhist cemeteries in the midst of almost iridescent green rice paddies. There were mountain peaks densely packed with cypress and marked by absolute stillness, save for the piercing cries of Japanese Golden Eagles. There were restorative bowls of soba noodles at family-run roadside restaurants, elaborate kaiseki meals eaten wearing summer yukata robes, and Japanese snacks at the RAID rest stops. There were “shortcuts” down eerily abandoned country roads. There were memorable stays in new-to-me cities like Takayama (dubbed “mini-Kyoto,” without the crowds), where, in the sleek Hotel Wood, you find yourself immersed in the onsen with the same people you’ve been riding with, except you’re all now naked.

But there’s little room for shame on this trip: On another night, in the town of Kaga, we find ourselves in a small karaoke bar called Swing Club, singing Bon Jovi full-throat. Sauber discovered the place years ago and has been returning ever since. When we walk in, swelling the bar’s population, the septuagenarian proprietress—a former classical dancer in the Bon Odori tradition, wearing a leopard-print blouse—beams at him warmly. He doesn’t recall her name. “I have these experiences all over the world,” he tells me. “It’s not about names. It’s about interactions.”

The 5th-century Sakurayama Hachimangu Shrine in Takayama

Joao Maia / Alamy Stock Photo

So beguiling is this whole trip that several guests, joined by their partners, would be sticking around to do RAID’s other Japan itinerary, a less strenuous trip through the Southern Islands. Sauber says that in general, while some cycling experience is suggested, it’s also a chance for participants—typically already thrust out of their comfort zone by being in Japan—to expand their sense of self. Among the clients on that trip, he notes, is a 70-year-old woman, bringing her e-bike. “She’s super adventurous, she’s traveled all over,” he says. “RAID is about pushing people’s limits, stretching that elastic—creating an experience that actually challenges people.”

RAID Cycling leads trips in countries across the globe, including Japan. Rates for the 8-day Tokyo to Kyoto trip start at $6800, which includes lodging, transport and support during the trip, and all meals.