The Traveler’s Architect

Shot on my phone

A few more pages.

José Ignacio, the Hamptons of South America.
Meagan in a pink beanie on a ridge above the El Chaltén valley at sunrise, Patagonia
El Chaltén, Patagonia. A sunrise hike to see the mountain the Patagonia logo was made from.
A driver in a white shirt and straw hat at the wheel of a vintage American car in Cuba
The driver we hired for the whole week to take us around Cuba. He barely spoke English and we got by.
A handwritten note and a glass of wine on a counter, the chef at work behind
A secret chicken omakase in Chinatown. I’ll tell you where if you ask.
Teddi the French bulldog looking out of a plane window beside Meagan’s open laptop
Teddi is living her best life. Someone’s gotta work, so this Frenchie can fly first.
A welcome board with a handwritten greeting, a glass and a necklace on the table, Cape Town
The welcome note waiting in the room in Cape Town.
A room draped in plum velvet and hung with dozens of lit chandeliers, Casa Malca, Tulum
Casa Malca in Tulum, Pablo Escobar’s old home turned into a boutique property.
Meagan laughing in a selfie with her guide in a beaded hat and bright woven poncho, Ausangate trek, Peru
My guide on the Ausangate trek, the most positive person. He gave me cocoa leaves and boiling water to help with the altitude sickness.
Hole in the Wall, an open-air bar on stilts over the water in Roatán, seen from a boat, jungle behind
Hole in the Wall in Roatán, Honduras. Only reachable by boat, and the owner lives off the grid with the monkeys as his family.
An asado over an open fire at the opening-weekend night market in José Ignacio, Uruguay
Opening weekend in José Ignacio, the Hamptons of South America.
A corner café and bar in Buenos Aires, a painted facade with a chalkboard advertising tango nights outside the door
A local spot in Buenos Aires where people dance tango all day. Most visitors just watch a show. A professional dancer taught us, brought us here, and we got to join in.
A bartender in a red jacket handing over a frozen daiquiri at El Floridita, Havana
El Floridita in Havana, where Hemingway did his drinking.
A bartender in a straw hat and glasses peeking over a row of cocktail shakers at a zinc bar with brass name plaques, Trattoria dell’Arte, New York City
Trattoria dell’Arte in New York City has been around since the 1980s. You become true friends with the bartender, Benjamin, and if your cousin visits enough she gets her name on a gold plaque and her own bar seat.
A rooster walking past a lounge chair on a St. Barts beach, sunbathers behind
St. Barts is a boat ride from St. Martin, where you can afford a great place to stay. I know a guy with a boat who will take you over to Nikki Beach, Eden Rock and La Guérite. We can do it all.
The Saloon in South Philadelphia, a brick Italian restaurant and bar with a giant antique clock and a crowded bar
South Philly is known for its Italian roots, and The Saloon is the one place I need you to promise me you will go.
A man in a white apron behind a counter stacked with pizza, Villa Ortúzar
A locals-only pizza counter in Buenos Aires that a food blogger walked me to. The best thing I ate that week, for $8.
The pool at Palacio Nazarenas, Cusco
Four days hut to hut through the Ausangate range, then a butler at the Belmond in Cusco.
The patio at Sullivan’s Fish Camp at dusk, string lights, papel picado flags and a neon Fresh Fish sign, Sullivan’s Island, Charleston
Sullivan’s Fish Camp on Sullivan’s Island in Charleston, my favorite beach in the US. I ate there every night, became friends with the chef owner, and still go back to visit.
Two pisco sours on the bar at Maido, Lima
Maido in Lima, one of the top restaurants in the world. This one is worth planning your trip around.
Emmett’s on Grove at dusk, string lights on a Greenwich Village townhouse block
Emmett’s on Grove at 5 on a weeknight, before the line forms. Sit at the bar, have a martini and a bar pizza, and make new friends.
A small ceviche bar in Barranco, Lima, walls covered in football flags and photos
A locals-only ceviche bar in Barranco, Lima. Zero English, football on the TV. I couldn’t read the menu, so I pointed at the table next to me and said I want that.
Two smiling shuckers behind the street counter at Randazzo’s Clam Bar on Arthur Avenue in the Bronx
Skip Little Italy in Manhattan, it’s a trap. Ask me how to get to Arthur Avenue in the Bronx for moments like this: oysters and clams shucked fresh on the street for $10, with complimentary white wine (they say it’s fish juice) in plastic cups.
A brass Relais & Châteaux plaque on a blue wooden wall
Relais & Châteaux properties are some of my favorites. They always have a sense of place, and they earn it through being unique, not through being the most bougie.
A bartender in a waistcoat making a spritz at Bar Pisellino, New York City
Bar Pisellino in the West Village is a New York City classic. Some of the best spritzes and espressos in the city, and great people watching.
Three martinis in thin-stemmed glasses on the bar at 888, Nashville
888, Nashville. The bartender knows his stuff, and I adore a skinny stem.
The neon sign of Angeloni’s at night
Angeloni’s, a dive off the strip in Atlantic City. Peanut butter whiskey with a side of M&Ms and a cigarette. Total 1970s.
A dark wine cellar in Mendoza, racks on both sides
The cellar at a winery in Mendoza. A private tour with the owner, and bottles so old they had permanent dust.
Meagan at the window of an old empanada shop in Buenos Aires
The famous empanada spot in Buenos Aires a local made us go to. No frills, amazing.

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