An Ideal Maine Island Getaway, the Inn at Diamond Cove
When the owners of the Portland Harbor Hotel decided to create a new property from the former barracks of circa-1896 Fort McKinley, I was intrigued enough to include it in a round-up for Yankee Magazine on the latest New England resorts to debut. Unfortunately, the Inn at Diamond Cove was already closed for the season when I wrote the article. I finally paid a visit to the property over the weekend and came away impressed. As soon as you board the Casco Bay Ferry in Portland and start cruising to the islands, the stress of the mainland is washed away by the salty sea breeze. Thirty minutes later, you arrive at Great Diamond Island and are whisked away to the hotel past a vast village green that was once the military parade. We dropped off our bags in the spacious room and began to explore the island. Children were biking and skateboarding on the paved trails to an indoor basketball court, bowling alley, tennis courts, and outdoor pool. We strolled through the forest to find an exquisite beach where sea glass and its soft edges could be spotted all over the sand. A lone kayaker and whole parade route of ducks, some who looked like they were just hatched, drifted by as we skipped rocks. This is just one of the five beaches on island available to hotel guests. We also wandered past blooming lilacs and sweet honeysuckle lining the summer estates to see Sunset Point on the western shores of the island. When we returned back to the hotel, we dined on tasty blackened bluefish paired with lobster hash.
With full kitchens in each room, families could easily spend a week in summer here. Portland Paddle leads guided sea kayaking and SUP jaunts, a tennis pro is on staff for round robin tournaments, and a yoga instructor teaches both outdoors and indoors. This is the perfect place to unwind and relax far from the crowds.
We head over to nearby Waltham all the time for the authentic Mexican fare at 
My perfect day starts with hiking shoes and ends with a pair of water shoes. Yesterday morning began with a hike on Middle Head, a sliver of a peninsula jutting out into the sea. Even if you’re not staying at the Keltic Lodge, where the trailhead is located, take this hour-long round-trip hike, part of Cape Breton Highlands National Park. Across the waters to your right are the towering bluffs of Cape Stormy, an apt name for this ominous spit of land. Perched atop your own headland, the cliffs of Middle Head plunge straight down to a boulder-strewn coastline. Waves crash against the rocks, spewing foam into the air. As I reached the tip of the peninsula, where numerous signs were posted warning folks to avoid getting too close to the edge, a bald eagle flew overhead. 
Everyone seems to go to Africa on safari. And yes, after spending the past week finding lions poking their manes out of the bush, watching a leopard gnawing on a goat high up a tree, and seeing family after family of giraffes, elephants, and warthogs, I can attest to that exhilarating feeling of wild abandonment. But as cute as those animals are, you have very little connection. It’s the people who make Africa a special place, especially in Kenya. From the high-end safari owner who feels it’s her civic duty to provide a water well, schooling, library, and HIV prevention education to a large slum in Nairobi even though she already employs many Kenyans on her payroll. Or the Maasai villager on the Tanzanian border, who after performing a tribal dance in headgear and dress, asks me if I’m on Facebook. He’ll happily send me pictures of the lions, he notes. Or the insightful safari guide, who received his college education in the States after a California professor visited Kenya and was quickly enamored with his brilliance. I turned him on to the African dance tunes of Deep Forest. Or the General Manager of a resort in the shadows of Mount Kenya, who being from India, taught me a secret of dealing with travel dysentery. Always eat yoghurt the first day of visiting a country, especially in places like India or Mexico, known for their laundry list of stomach ailments. Most of all, there are those smiling faces of young children in Nairobi schools and the Maasai villages. The ones I love to pass out “heart” stickers to. These people are the reason I return to Africa. Sure, I love Simba and Pumba like the rest of us, but it’s to the Kenyan people that I say asante sana for a wonderful trip. Hope to see you again soon!
When I think of the ideal Canadian property, I imagine a small timber lodge cut from rough-hewn spruce right next to a running river where you can walk out in waders and fly-fish for trout. A chunk of pristine wilderness thick in a forest of old growth pines, hemlocks, and stately birches, so far from civilization that the night sky twinkles brightly. A boutique resort that caters to your every whim, from dinners of fresh lobster and scallops probably caught off the coast of Nova Scotia that day, to a hot tub, sauna, massages, and guitar strumming around the fire pit at night. Throughout my years of Canadian travel, I must have stayed at over 250 resorts in the country, but it doesn’t get much better than the 
Our go-to tour operator in Mongolia, 
The big news out of the Granite State is the opening of the first phase of the