Paul Richardson

Greenland, with its massive wilderness and left-field gastronomy, is one of the world’s vanishingly few destinations where simply being there feels like endless adventure.

It has the thrill of being somewhere that seems to have miraculously escaped the 21st-century depredations of mass tourism, deforestation, and uncontrolled development.

I had been avoiding it all my life. Why? Partly because I was reluctant to join the tourist throng, fearful of being reduced to the level of a humble sightseer.

My three-day mission: to boldly go into the heart of the local cocktail scene, to ask whether it was deserving, and to learn something about modern mixology in the process.

They are meant to sink you gently into a deep well of blissed-out serenity. The trouble is that they usually have the opposite effect.

Spain’s fifth-largest city is rarely at the top of the must-visit list—despite medieval Mudejar architecture, a rambunctious tapas scene, and its own signature folk dance.

Jiménez de Jamuz may not be a name you’re familiar with, but it’s home to the iconic Bodega El Capricho.

Few things make me happier than the prospect of seeing rare creatures in their natural habitat, and the fact that this seemed to be possible in Spain only added to the thrill.

At more than 3,000 pages, “In Search of Lost Time” is a literary Everest, but in the midst of quarantine, one literary explorer decided to make the journey.