Opinionated trips, curated by us and drafted by our AI. Filter by what you want to do, how long you have, or how you want to get there.
25 picks across the catalog.
Old streets, new restaurants, the kind of walking that earns dinner.
Gaudí in the morning, vermouth at noon, dinner at 10pm. Barcelona is the rare European city where you can skip the museum line, eat like you mean it, and still see the thing everyone flies here to see. Four days gets you past the Ramblas tourists and into the neighborhoods that matter.
A city at 7,000 feet where the light actually does what the paintings say it does. Canyon Road galleries, green chile on everything, a hotel that's been here since the railroad came through. Santa Fe is the Southwest destination that doesn't try to be Sedona.
Three hours south on I-35, Austin stops being a tech-bro punch line the second you check into the Carpenter Hotel and walk to Launderette for dinner. East Sixth is still a mess, but Rainey Street after 10pm and Franklin's at 9am are both worth the specific effort.
A Michigan harbor town that figured out how to be a beach destination without losing its mind. Galleries on Water Street, a dune climb that earns the lake view, and a hotel that used to be a chain saw factory. Two hours from Chicago and it feels like you crossed a border.
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Two hours up I-95 to the Maine coast city that figured out how to be a food town without turning into a food scene. Lobster rolls that locals actually eat, a walkable peninsula, and a harbor that still works for a living. Stay at the Press Hotel in the old newspaper building and eat like you mean it.
Direct from Dulles to a city that runs on bicycles and brown cafés. Stay in the Jordaan, eat Indonesian food better than you'll find in Indonesia, spend an afternoon at the Rijksmuseum that doesn't feel like homework. Amsterdam rewards the long weekend more than the blur-through.
A direct flight to Heathrow and you're in a city that earns its density. Borough Market at 9am, the Tate Modern at 3pm, a pub in Clerkenwell that's been there since 1720. London works because you can walk between centuries in twenty minutes.
Forsyth Park at 7am, lunch on a wraparound porch, dinner somewhere that wasn't a carriage house in 1820. Savannah works because the grid itself is the itinerary — twenty-two squares in two miles, live oaks doing all the work. You don't need a ghost tour. You need a long weekend and shoes you can walk in.
Forty minutes from DC to a colonial port town that still works as a port. Stay at the Naval Academy hotel where the midshipmen's parents stay, eat rockfish at a restaurant older than the republic, walk the brick streets to the harbor and back before checkout.
Colonial Williamsburg is still there, and it's still good — better, actually, when you're the one choosing to go. Stay at the Williamsburg Inn, where the lobby fireplace has been lit since 1937. Walk Duke of Gloucester Street at 8am before the interpreters clock in. This is the version of Williamsburg your teacher couldn't afford.
Four days in the world's northernmost capital — a city that runs on geothermal heat and closes its restaurants at 10pm. Blue Lagoon is fine but the city pools are better. The Golden Circle is a rental car cliché. Stay in town, eat fermented shark once, drink coffee four times a day.
Four days in Rome is the right amount of time to stop rushing. Trastevere at dusk, a real trattoria where the waiter doesn't have a printed menu, the Borghese Gallery on a Tuesday morning when everyone else is at the Colosseum. Book the flight, skip the tour groups, eat the cacio e pepe.
Six hours door-to-door if you take the overnight, which you should. Wake up on the Rue de Rivoli, walk to Broken Arm for coffee, spend the afternoon at Merci or the Rodin Garden depending on weather. This is the trip for people who think they've outgrown Paris weekends.
A direct flight to a city that out-eats, out-museums, and out-drinks most European capitals for half the price. Roma Norte mornings, Centro Histórico afternoons, and enough tacos al pastor to redefine your relationship with pork. Stay at a Condesa hotel where the courtyard matters more than the lobby.
Sand, oysters, the kind of porch where the day just goes.
Gaudí in the morning, vermouth at noon, dinner at 10pm. Barcelona is the rare European city where you can skip the museum line, eat like you mean it, and still see the thing everyone flies here to see. Four days gets you past the Ramblas tourists and into the neighborhoods that matter.
A city at 7,000 feet where the light actually does what the paintings say it does. Canyon Road galleries, green chile on everything, a hotel that's been here since the railroad came through. Santa Fe is the Southwest destination that doesn't try to be Sedona.
A Michigan harbor town that figured out how to be a beach destination without losing its mind. Galleries on Water Street, a dune climb that earns the lake view, and a hotel that used to be a chain saw factory. Two hours from Chicago and it feels like you crossed a border.
Two hours up I-95 to the Maine coast city that figured out how to be a food town without turning into a food scene. Lobster rolls that locals actually eat, a walkable peninsula, and a harbor that still works for a living. Stay at the Press Hotel in the old newspaper building and eat like you mean it.
Direct from Dulles to a city that runs on bicycles and brown cafés. Stay in the Jordaan, eat Indonesian food better than you'll find in Indonesia, spend an afternoon at the Rijksmuseum that doesn't feel like homework. Amsterdam rewards the long weekend more than the blur-through.
Forsyth Park at 7am, lunch on a wraparound porch, dinner somewhere that wasn't a carriage house in 1820. Savannah works because the grid itself is the itinerary — twenty-two squares in two miles, live oaks doing all the work. You don't need a ghost tour. You need a long weekend and shoes you can walk in.
Four days in the world's northernmost capital — a city that runs on geothermal heat and closes its restaurants at 10pm. Blue Lagoon is fine but the city pools are better. The Golden Circle is a rental car cliché. Stay in town, eat fermented shark once, drink coffee four times a day.
Trees, trails, fires, fewer people. The cabin kind of weekend.
Out and back. The whole point is leaving.
Stay in the city you live in. Book the hotel your out-of-town friends always ask about, eat the dinner you've been saving, walk home through the park at midnight like you're the only one who knows it's there. One night as a guest in your own city resets the month.
One night in the Hudson Valley, ninety minutes from Philadelphia, for a sculpture park that earns the drive. Five hundred acres of Calder and Serra and di Suvero, then dinner at a farm-to-table spot that doesn't announce itself. You're back in Philly by Sunday lunch with the kind of day you'll reference for months.
Forty minutes from DC to a colonial port town that still works as a port. Stay at the Naval Academy hotel where the midshipmen's parents stay, eat rockfish at a restaurant older than the republic, walk the brick streets to the harbor and back before checkout.
Three nights, one new country. Done by Sunday night.
Seven nights in a city where breakfast is standing at a zinc bar, lunch is three courses at 2pm, and dinner starts at 9:30pm in Trastevere. Stay in Monti for the first half, switch to Trastevere for the back half. The Pantheon at 7am before the crowds. Carbonara at Flavio al Velavevodetto because you tasted the version tourists get and knew there had to be a real one.
Gaudí in the morning, vermouth at noon, dinner at 10pm. Barcelona is the rare European city where you can skip the museum line, eat like you mean it, and still see the thing everyone flies here to see. Four days gets you past the Ramblas tourists and into the neighborhoods that matter.
Direct from Dulles to a city that runs on bicycles and brown cafés. Stay in the Jordaan, eat Indonesian food better than you'll find in Indonesia, spend an afternoon at the Rijksmuseum that doesn't feel like homework. Amsterdam rewards the long weekend more than the blur-through.
A direct flight to Heathrow and you're in a city that earns its density. Borough Market at 9am, the Tate Modern at 3pm, a pub in Clerkenwell that's been there since 1720. London works because you can walk between centuries in twenty minutes.
Four days in the world's northernmost capital — a city that runs on geothermal heat and closes its restaurants at 10pm. Blue Lagoon is fine but the city pools are better. The Golden Circle is a rental car cliché. Stay in town, eat fermented shark once, drink coffee four times a day.
Four days in Rome is the right amount of time to stop rushing. Trastevere at dusk, a real trattoria where the waiter doesn't have a printed menu, the Borghese Gallery on a Tuesday morning when everyone else is at the Colosseum. Book the flight, skip the tour groups, eat the cacio e pepe.
Six hours door-to-door if you take the overnight, which you should. Wake up on the Rue de Rivoli, walk to Broken Arm for coffee, spend the afternoon at Merci or the Rodin Garden depending on weather. This is the trip for people who think they've outgrown Paris weekends.
A direct flight to a city that out-eats, out-museums, and out-drinks most European capitals for half the price. Roma Norte mornings, Centro Histórico afternoons, and enough tacos al pastor to redefine your relationship with pork. Stay at a Condesa hotel where the courtyard matters more than the lobby.
Drafted by our agent, kept on the list when they hold up. Labeled honestly.
Stay in the city you live in. Book the hotel your out-of-town friends always ask about, eat the dinner you've been saving, walk home through the park at midnight like you're the only one who knows it's there. One night as a guest in your own city resets the month.
Seven nights in a city where breakfast is standing at a zinc bar, lunch is three courses at 2pm, and dinner starts at 9:30pm in Trastevere. Stay in Monti for the first half, switch to Trastevere for the back half. The Pantheon at 7am before the crowds. Carbonara at Flavio al Velavevodetto because you tasted the version tourists get and knew there had to be a real one.
Two hours south, the desert city that got food right before Phoenix did. Sonoran hot dogs at midnight, a tasting menu in a converted gas station, and a mid-century motel with a pool that photographs better than it has any right to. Stay downtown, walk 4th Avenue twice.
Red rocks that photograph better in person, a spa town that earned it, and hiking that starts at your hotel door. Three nights gets you past the vortex tour buses and into the version of Sedona where the light at 7am is the main event.
Six hours west of Austin, a town of 1,700 people has better art installations than most cities and a taco truck that closes when it closes. Three nights gets you past the Prada hoax and into the version of Marfa where you're up at sunrise for the light, not the Instagram.
One night in the Hudson Valley, ninety minutes from Philadelphia, for a sculpture park that earns the drive. Five hundred acres of Calder and Serra and di Suvero, then dinner at a farm-to-table spot that doesn't announce itself. You're back in Philly by Sunday lunch with the kind of day you'll reference for months.
Two hours on Amtrak and you're in Park Slope or Williamsburg without touching Manhattan. Coffee roasters that ship nationwide, a natural wine bar where the bartender remembers your second glass, oysters at a corner spot that doesn't take reservations because it doesn't need to. Brooklyn is the weekend move when you want a city trip that doesn't feel like sightseeing.
Mass MoCA in the morning before the busses arrive, a long lunch at Allium, James Turrell's sky-space at sunset. Three nights in the Berkshires is the culture weekend that doesn't make you choose between the museum and the hike — you do both, then eat dinner somewhere that sources from farms you drove past.
Two hours up the coast, you walk off the bus into a port town that got serious about food before anyone else was paying attention. Lobster rolls that cost what they should, a small hotel overlooking Casco Bay, and a Friday night that ends at Eventide around 9pm because that's when the oyster counter gets good.
Two hours north of Atlanta, a riverfront city that fixed itself without turning into Asheville. Rock City if you're into that, but the real move is the St. Elmo neighborhood for dinner, a night at the Dwell Hotel, and a morning coffee at Velo that makes you wonder why you don't leave town more often.
Gaudí in the morning, vermouth at noon, dinner at 10pm. Barcelona is the rare European city where you can skip the museum line, eat like you mean it, and still see the thing everyone flies here to see. Four days gets you past the Ramblas tourists and into the neighborhoods that matter.
A city at 7,000 feet where the light actually does what the paintings say it does. Canyon Road galleries, green chile on everything, a hotel that's been here since the railroad came through. Santa Fe is the Southwest destination that doesn't try to be Sedona.
Three hours south on I-35, Austin stops being a tech-bro punch line the second you check into the Carpenter Hotel and walk to Launderette for dinner. East Sixth is still a mess, but Rainey Street after 10pm and Franklin's at 9am are both worth the specific effort.
A Michigan harbor town that figured out how to be a beach destination without losing its mind. Galleries on Water Street, a dune climb that earns the lake view, and a hotel that used to be a chain saw factory. Two hours from Chicago and it feels like you crossed a border.
Two hours up I-95 to the Maine coast city that figured out how to be a food town without turning into a food scene. Lobster rolls that locals actually eat, a walkable peninsula, and a harbor that still works for a living. Stay at the Press Hotel in the old newspaper building and eat like you mean it.
Direct from Dulles to a city that runs on bicycles and brown cafés. Stay in the Jordaan, eat Indonesian food better than you'll find in Indonesia, spend an afternoon at the Rijksmuseum that doesn't feel like homework. Amsterdam rewards the long weekend more than the blur-through.
A direct flight to Heathrow and you're in a city that earns its density. Borough Market at 9am, the Tate Modern at 3pm, a pub in Clerkenwell that's been there since 1720. London works because you can walk between centuries in twenty minutes.
Forsyth Park at 7am, lunch on a wraparound porch, dinner somewhere that wasn't a carriage house in 1820. Savannah works because the grid itself is the itinerary — twenty-two squares in two miles, live oaks doing all the work. You don't need a ghost tour. You need a long weekend and shoes you can walk in.
Forty minutes from DC to a colonial port town that still works as a port. Stay at the Naval Academy hotel where the midshipmen's parents stay, eat rockfish at a restaurant older than the republic, walk the brick streets to the harbor and back before checkout.
Colonial Williamsburg is still there, and it's still good — better, actually, when you're the one choosing to go. Stay at the Williamsburg Inn, where the lobby fireplace has been lit since 1937. Walk Duke of Gloucester Street at 8am before the interpreters clock in. This is the version of Williamsburg your teacher couldn't afford.
Four days in the world's northernmost capital — a city that runs on geothermal heat and closes its restaurants at 10pm. Blue Lagoon is fine but the city pools are better. The Golden Circle is a rental car cliché. Stay in town, eat fermented shark once, drink coffee four times a day.
Four days in Rome is the right amount of time to stop rushing. Trastevere at dusk, a real trattoria where the waiter doesn't have a printed menu, the Borghese Gallery on a Tuesday morning when everyone else is at the Colosseum. Book the flight, skip the tour groups, eat the cacio e pepe.
Six hours door-to-door if you take the overnight, which you should. Wake up on the Rue de Rivoli, walk to Broken Arm for coffee, spend the afternoon at Merci or the Rodin Garden depending on weather. This is the trip for people who think they've outgrown Paris weekends.
A direct flight to a city that out-eats, out-museums, and out-drinks most European capitals for half the price. Roma Norte mornings, Centro Histórico afternoons, and enough tacos al pastor to redefine your relationship with pork. Stay at a Condesa hotel where the courtyard matters more than the lobby.
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Louisville as home base, three distilleries picked for character over Instagram potential, a dinner at Jack Fry's that makes the case for Southern dining at its least showy. Kentucky whiskey tourism is everywhere now — this is the trip for people who want the bourbon without the bus tour.
