Travel & Leisure

(and other lessons learned riding shotgun through Asia’s culinary hot zones with chef Jean-Georges Vongerichten)

The streets of Old Bangkok glisten with rain, giving the narrow Portuguese-built trader lanes a clean, freshly showered appearance.

For a moment, the city seems content to enjoy the calm. Men linger in doorways to smoke cigarettes. Women peer through blinds before emerging on stoops. And intermittent beams of noonday sun cast random spotlights on noodle carts, spice stalls, and, briefly, a Frenchman holding two fistfuls of aniseed to his nose.

He looks enraptured, as if seeking transcendence through scent.

I Fish, Therefore I Am

Finding purpose in the other part of your life—the part when you’re not working—is a man’s toughest challenge. And why I’m drawn to the sheer optimism of fishing

We are sitting here a bit anxiously at the private sectorof the Petropavlask Airport, waiting to fly 120 miles or so up Russia’s Kamchatka peninsula to a wondrous fish-filled section of the Zhupanova River, where every cast, it would seem from the stories of other fishermen, brings a strike. This last leg is the nervous-making one, taking place as it does in converted Soviet-era army helicopters. There are eight in our group, and to be honest, we are all more tense about the risk factor on this part than we’d like to admit, for the phrase Soviet chopper does not necessarily conjure up great confidence. In the weeks before we were to leave, a number of friends called in, a bit edgy on our behalf. And more poignantly our wives asked, “Do you really want to do this?” My daughter and her pal Ellie Berlin, the daughter of our group’s leader, Richard Berlin, have exchanged their own private anxieties.

My Wild Blue Wander

Learning to fly antique planes gives me a thrill or two and lessons in fear control. But the best part has been finding a through line to my father's wild heart.

I fly the old open-cockpit biplanes and single-wing planes that my father flew, from the same airstrip 12 miles south of our hometown of Athens, Alabama, where he first flew them in the 1940s. Such aircraft are rare anywhere, but to have them in such strength—there are dozens within 25 miles of my hometown—makes me a very fortunate man. I try to deserve that by visiting my father and flying every chance I get. 

How I Found My Second Act

“I downsized my career, dropped out of the rat race, and discovered happiness in an Irish potato field”

I was at Dublin Airport—rumpled and red-eyed, but ready to start my new life. I stepped outside, looking for my ride. It was raining. Better get used to it, I said to myself. I eventually found my brother-in-law, who had come to pick me up. As I climbed into his car, I noticed its scent: Eau de barnyard filled my nostrils. Better get used to that as well. As the muddy green countryside flashed by, I wondered, not for the first time and definitely not for the last, if swapping my go-go New York existence to live in a cottage in the middle of a potato field on a farm in Ireland, a stone’s throw from my in-laws’ house, was a huge mistake.

Ahh Finder

The new breed of guy-friendly wellness retreats will make you rethink the term spa

The term destination spa used to conjure up the image of women sitting around getting clay facials and munching on spa cuisine (read: rabbit food). Now that men have caught on to the health benefits of rubdowns, the spa industry has coined a new term: spa lodge. It’s a place where the vibe is backcountry, the workout is on the trail, and the wind-down is on the massage table or in the lounge. The differences between the sexes emerge on site, says Susie Ellis, president of SpaFinder. Women want to be pampered; men want to relieve back pain and lower their golf scores. With that in mind, here are America’s best destination spas for men.