The Philippines offers some of the best warm diving in all of the Indo-Pacific region. The water is warm enough to be comfortable in a dive skin or thin wetsuit; the visibility is generally very good year-round; and there is an incredible variety of marine life. One of the most
There’s an abundance of healing and nurturing spas in Puerto Vallarta
Spring comes slowly in the Highlands of Scotland but as sure of the Old Man of Storrs stands, it does come. Lambing season begins, wildflowers bloom and waterfalls run swiftly as mountain ice melts. Skye, 639 square miles in the Inner Hebrides chain of islands, has only 16 inhabitants per
Sailing along Europe’s Danube River conjures images of historic castles, rolling vineyards and UNESCO World Heritage towns. With flowers in bloom, spring is a great time to visit. Fewer crowds compared to summer means easier access to popular attractions along with money saving opportunities. A Danube River Cruise offers a
Located steps away from one of Aruba’s most beautiful beaches, Eagle Beach, Amsterdam Manor Beach Resort is a generational family property. The Van Schaijk family built the resort in 1989, starting with only 49 rooms. Architect Jan Hubert leaned into the Dutch colonial appearance, embracing intricate finishes and dormer windows,
After a colder than usual winter for most of the U.S., spring is finally here and it’s time to leave our dens of hibernation and head outdoors. For a new type of playground, consider the Lake ErieIslands of Ohio.
Dream or reality? Is reality nothing but a dream? A pure product of our imagination? An illusion? The line between the two is often blurred. On the eastern edge of the Musashino plains, where much of western Tokyo lies, is the Sekiguchi Plateau, a scenic spot famous for its wild Camellias, since the fourteenth
The smell of salt air hits our senses like a savory spice. We are at the edge of downtown Puerto Vallarta. Does the name sound familiar? This is the small fishing and pearl-diving village that became famous due to a movie made in the 1960s called “The Night of the
“Duck,” I shouted to my son, who pedaled his blue-colored cruiser bike a few feet behind mine. I’d rounded a corner on the dedicated cycling path and ridden into a curtain of Spanish moss hanging from an ancient oak. The lacy light green moss brushed my forehead, but given his
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