Tucked into a fold of the coastline, Cadaqués feels gently removed from the rest of the world. Whitewashed houses catch the light, narrow lanes wind without much direction, and the sea is never far. Salvador Dalí lived here, which explains a certain artistic character. Allow at least one decision to be made purely based on where it looks good for lunch.

Leave the coast for Empordà, where vineyards and wild herbs set the tone. Walk it with perfumer Ernesto Collado, who treats wild herbs, dry grasses and sun-warmed leaves as something with a story to tell. By sunset, you’re distilling your own perfume, just as wine finds its way in. You leave faintly scented and quietly pleased.

Running along Catalonia’s 200-kilometre coastline from Blanes to the French border, the Costa Brava wastes little time making you forget where you came from. Catalan leads conversations while Spanish politely follows. What began as a working coast of stone villages and trade routes now moves at its own pace. Lunch starts late, ends later, and plans tend to dissolve somewhere in between. Distances are short, decisions stay flexible, and the so-called wild coast reveals itself to be surprisingly calm.

There’s surreal – and then there’s Cono de Arita. At over 3,400 metres above sea level, the Salar de Arizaro stretches across more than 1,600 square kilometres, making it one of Argentina’s largest salt flats. From its vast, mineral-white surface rises a near-perfect 200-metre cone that shifts with the light, and quietly plays with your sense of depth.

Welcome to nature’s sculpture park, somewhere between desert and moon. The Piedra Pómez landscape is all wind-carved forms, pale volcanic rock and soft, shifting sands. It’s quiet, almost theatrically so, with shapes rising like frozen waves or abstract installations. Here, getting a little lost is part of the aesthetic.

Argentina and Chile may share its edges, but the Puna de Atacama feels like a world of its own. High above 3,200 metres, this remote volcanic plateau stretches across borders in striking layers of colour. Distances run long, air runs thin, and everything feels pared back to the essentials. Life here follows both landscape and belief: Pachamama, Mother Earth, is quietly honoured in everyday rituals, like a simple yoki bracelet worn for protection. Give it time, and the place reveals itself, slowly, and entirely on its own terms.

The UNESCO-listed Ilulissat Icefjord offers front-row views of calving glaciers at its most impressive while the nearby Icefjord Centre reveals the story behind the ice.

Visit in the darker season and the sky puts on a neon show. Aurora borealis are most common from the end of September to early April.

Greenland is gloriously simple on the map and gloriously not-simple on the ground. Many places connect by boat or small aircraft, and weather gets a vote in every plan. Allow Cosa to choreograph the logistics, guides and timing, leaving you free to focus on the experience. Pack layers (yes, even in summer), embrace flexible timing, drink some of the world’s cleanest tap water and accept invitations to a kaffemik (coffee, cake and conversation). Here, nature – not the clock – sets the schedule.

The true heart of Peruvian cuisine beats strongest in the family kitchen. Imagine yourself in the Sacred Valley, learning to layer a perfect causa rellena beside a local grandmother, using her recipe passed down through generations. Picture discovering the secrets of the ají amarillo, the golden chili that blesses so many dishes with its sunshine hue. These moments transcend cooking. They are authentic connections – to stories of migration, resilience, and profound pride. Here, every flavour carries a memory, and every dish you share is an invitation to belong.

The Atlantic Ocean Road, or Atlanterhavsveien, may only be 8.3 km long, but it packs in more drama than most highways on earth. Leaping across eight bridges between Kristiansund and Molde, it’s part rollercoaster and part movie star (yes, James Bond raced across it in No Time to Die). Its crown jewel, the Storseisundet Bridge, is nicknamed “the road to nowhere” for its impossible curves that look like they’ll fling you straight into the sea – but don’t worry, it doesn’t.