Three Perfect Days: Buenos Aires
Story by Justin Goldman | Photography by Graciela Cattarossi | Hemispheres May 2017
Starting October 28 (subject to government approval), travel nonstop between New York/Newark and Buenos Aires with our year-round daily service. Buenos Aires will be our 14th South American destination served nonstop from the United States.
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Imagine a city that has the energy of New York, the architecture of Paris, the café culture of Rome, the beautiful people of Los Angeles, the steakhouses of Chicago, the theaters of London, the wines of Napa, the nightlife of Miami, and the friendly spirit of Sydney. That seemingly mythical place your mind has conjured? It's real, and it's called Buenos Aires.
Argentina's capital hasn't always had it so good. The Dirty War of the 1970s and '80s casts a long shadow here, and the economy is still reeling from a meltdown in 2001. Yet these trials have done little to dampen the spirit of the locals, or porteños, who are affable, passionate, open-minded, cultured, and endowed with a seemingly bottomless appetite for pleasure. They are also famous for their, shall we say, self-confidence, but visit BA and you'll likely come away thinking that this attitude is justified.
In which Justin eats a contender for World's Best Steak, learns about Argentina's gods and monsters, and drinks gin in a flowershop
My first morning in Buenos Aires starts in the most classically porteño of places: a café. The interior of La Biela, in the tony Recoleta neighborhood, is decorated with images of the racecar drivers who hung out here in the 1950s. I'm outside, in the shade of a 200-year-old rubber tree, watching a parade of high cheekbones and skinny jeans while munching on a toasted ham and cheese sandwich and tea with steamed milk.
Life is good at La Biela, but just across grassy Plaza Francia stands a monument to the hope that the afterlife might be even better. Passing under a columned gateway bearing the inscription “ Requiescant in pace," I enter the Cementerio de la Recoleta and its labyrinth of mausoleums—some with gothic spires, others with Italianate domes and stained glass—where centuries of Argentina's elite are interred. It's easy to get lost here, but all you need to do to orient yourself is look for the crowd, which inevitably gathers around the most famous tomb of all. Eavesdropping on a tour, I learn that Eva Perón, Argentina's revered former first lady, died of cancer in 1952 at the age of 33, and that her body spent the following decades in transit from here to Italy to Spain (to keep her out of the hands of both her fanatic followers and her husband's political rivals) before it was finally laid to rest in the Duarte family mausoleum in 1976. Evita's tomb is relatively modest, but the burst of flowers that adorns it reflects the country's continued devotion.
After a couple of hours of cemetery-wandering, I'm feeling a need for my own (temporary) resting place, so I stroll a few tree-lined blocks back through Recoleta, below the balconies of Parisian-style apartment buildings, to the Alvear Palace Hotel. The 85-year-old Belle Epoque–inspired lodging would fit in next to any of Europe's finest palace hotels, with its finely woven rugs, expanses of marble, and sharp-dressed staff. In my suite, I take a minute to ponder a painting of hunting dogs over the sofa before moving on to a more modern amenity: the TV on the wall above the bathtub, which I tune to the previous night's soccer highlights as I slide into the water.
Luciano Bullorsky, president, Tours by Locals
Refreshed, I head back out, skipping the hotel elevator for the corkscrewing marble staircase. I'm ready for lunch, and in Argentina that means I'm ready for beef. A short cab ride takes me to hip Palermo, home to Parrilla Don Julio, considered by many to be the city's finest steakhouse. The dining room is lit with wagon-wheel chandeliers and lined with wine bottles signed by the people who emptied them. Opposite the door, for all to see, stands the
parrilla, the restaurant's 10-foot-wide grill. I sit and watch the meat sizzle, steeling myself with a decanter of 2008 Mendoza Malbec. My waiter brings an appetizer of tender sweetbreads and a plate of heirloom tomatoes, followed by the star: the bife de chorizo, an imposing slab of sirloin steak. He lays down a bowl of chimichurri sauce, but the meat, cooked jugoso (medium-rare), is so rich and buttery that it would be a crime to put anything on it. When the dessert of plum ice cream arrives, I wave my napkin in surrender.
After lunch, I meet up with BA native Luciano Bullorsky, president of the international guided tour company Tours by Locals, and Fabian, one of his guides. I'm hoping to understand this city's history a bit better, so they've agreed to take me to the Parque de la Memoria, along the Amazon-wide Río de la Plata. We move slowly up the brick riverwalk, past a series of street signs that allude to the right-wing junta that ruled from 1976 to 1983, and the atrocities it committed during the Dirty War. Along with the people who were “disappeared" were those who were forced to flee. “In those years, like 200,000 people emigrated from the country, and many of them stayed [abroad]," Luciano says. “And most of the people who left had higher education."
“We like to say, 'God is everywhere, but his office is in Buenos Aires.'" —Luciano Bullorsky, president, Tours by Locals
As we walk, the wind picks up to a howl. We reach the end of the pathway and a wall bearing the names of desaparecidos. From here, we can see El Monumental, the stadium that hosted the 1978 World Cup Final. “The stadium and the ESMA, which was a clandestine prison, were just five blocks away from each other," Fabian says. “People were killed there at the same time we won the World Cup."
That was heavy, so on the drive back to the city center, my guides cheer me up with stories about Diego Maradona, perhaps the greatest soccer player who ever lived. “El Diego," as he's known here, was a kid from a Buenos Aires slum who won Argentina the 1986 World Cup almost singlehandedly—ask any Brit about the “Hand of God" or the “Goal of the Century"—and was also notorious for his hard-partying lifestyle. “We love him for this," Fabian says. The Pope may be an Argentine, but to the people here, Maradona is a god.
We stop-and-go along Avenida 9 de Julio—16 lanes wide yet still choked with traffic—pulling over just short of the iconic Obelisco de Buenos Aires. I say goodbye to the guys and hop out in front of the Teatro Colón, which was built in 1908 and remains one of the world's great opera houses. At the entrance I meet Eduardo Masllorens, an architect and historian who worked on a renovation of the theater that cost $100 million and saw it close from 2006 to 2010. He shows me around, starting in the auditorium, which, with a capacity of nearly 2,500, is the second-largest of its kind in the world and is one of the top five in acoustic quality.
Tango dancers at La Catedral
Eduardo, who is 70, cracks jokes constantly, telling me about people who ask if Mozart performed here and relating the city's historical pretensions (“Buenos Aires was the Dubai of the 19th century"). Recounting the end of the architect who designed the auditorium, he says, “He died in a very operatic way—he was shot in the face by the husband of a 'friend.'" He's also full of interesting facts: The
theater was financed by 35 wealthy families; the sound quality is best in the standing-room-only balcony, or “the hen house"; the seats are filled with horsehair, as they were in 1908. What I don't need him to tell me is how beautiful this place is. Standing on the stage, looking out at the gilded balconies and frescoed ceiling, makes me want to belt out an aria of my own.
I thank Eduardo for the tour and hop a cab to Colegiales, on the other side of Palermo, for a culinary show. The car drops me in front of a white colonial building that's home to the restaurant i Latina. Opened by three Colombian siblings in 2012, it serves a pan–Latin American tasting menu that incorporates ingredients and techniques that run the gamut from Mexico to Argentina. My seven-course meal includes Peruvian Nikkei ceviche, quail in Oaxacan mole, braised pork in a Colombian coffee and sugarcane reduction, and an Ecuadorian chocolate truffle, each paired with an Argentine wine. At the end of the meal, chef Santiago Macias, one of the founders, stops by to offer a sort of cooking class. “All the countries of Latin America have different types of corn and different techniques to use it," he says, pointing at an ear of corn tattooed on his arm. “So on our menu we have arepas, we have cornbread, we have tortillas. But also, Latin America is mestiza [mixed]. Here, the root is the fusion—our different roots."
Parque Tres de Febrero
Speaking of roots, my next stop is Florería Atlántico, a flowershop in upscale Retiro, near downtown. Inside the store, a crowd of young people laugh and chatter as if they've been enjoying more than the blossoms. I glance at a woman in the corner, and she swings a door open and motions me toward a staircase, which I descend to a basement that's crammed with stylish people sipping cocktails beneath a chipped ceiling. I head for an open spot at the bar, which has been ranked among the 50 best in the world, and order the house specialty: a gin infused with Argentina's signature herbal stimulant, yerba mate, and mixed with tonic and grapefruit. I don't normally drink any of those things, but one sip and I find myself knocking them back. I hope the yerba mate doesn't keep me up all night. Or, on second thought, I hope it does.
In which Justin meets Argentina's mothers, goes on a graffiti tour, and finds BA's most secretive speakeasy
Those mate-gins succeeded in keeping me up, and I could sure use some coffee to kick-start day two. I blearily make my way down to the Alvear Palace breakfast buffet. The array of fruits and cold cuts and breads is impressive, but I keep things simple with a couple of medialunas, BA's beloved croissants, and a cup of cafe cortado. C'mon, joe, do your magic.
It's a lovely morning so, despite feeling a bit crudo, I go for a stroll in this city's version of Central Park, Parque Tres de Febrero, named for the date in 1852 when Argentina overthrew one of its (many) dictators. I wander past a row of fountains that feel lifted from the Jardin de Tuileries and around a green lagoon dotted with pedal boats. As droves of runners and cyclists buzz past me, I begin to understand how the people here can eat and drink the way they do without needing to get their stomachs stapled.
At the edge of the park, a railway track runs atop a series of brick archways, each of them housing a shop or restaurant. By now I've burned off the medialunas, so I take a seat at one of these, the lovely open-air café Naná. As a train rattles overhead, a waiter brings me an Aperol spritz. Suddenly, I'm feeling splendid, and I enjoy an early lunch of fried potatoes with caramelized onion and ricotta, burratta with pancetta, and a paella-esque dish with shrimp, calamari, and ham.
Santiago Macias, chef, I Latina
From here I head to the nearby Museo de Arte Latinoamericano de Buenos Aires, commonly known as the MALBA. The museum, in a blocky modern building, celebrated its 15th anniversary last year with a reimagining of its permanent collection. The resulting show,
Verboamérica, explores the responses of regional artists to 20th-century sociopolitical shifts, featuring everything from Pop Arty posters about Peruvian agrarian reform to an Eduardo Gil photo of a Patagonian hovel to a José Clemente Orozco painting of Mexican soldiers at a lonely outpost.
The exhibition has made me want to learn about one of Argentina's—indeed, one of the world's—most famous protests, so I take a cab to Plaza de Mayo, the city's main square. It was here in 1977, in front of the Casa Rosada, the seat of the national government, that a group of women marched in defiance of the dictatorship, demanding to know what had become of their missing children and grandchildren. The Madres de la Plaza de Mayo, as they became known, still demonstrate here once a week, and I see them now, a small group of elderly women in white head scarves slowly circling the central Pirámide, calling out the names of the disappeared, responding to each one, “ presente." It's a strange scene—tourists jump in front of the madres to snap photos, and there's a larger economic protest just off to the side—but there's still something inspiring about the perseverance of these brave women.
“It's difficult to define Buenos Aires on only one thing. You'll find people who are really open-minded and people who only want to eat at parrillas. In a way that's good, because you can find any kind of restaurant." —Santiago Macias, chef, I Latina
There's a more upbeat historical location just a few blocks away. Café Tortoni was founded in 1858, and it soon became a hangout for the city's intelligentsia (a table in the back is occupied by lifelike statues of the writers Jorge Luis Borges and Alfonsina Storni and the tango singer Carlos Gardel). Aside from its cultural significance, it's a gorgeous space, with stained-glass ceilings and Tiffany lamps. It also has a long line of tourists out front, but the staff takes a welcoming approach to the clamor: As my waiter serves me coffee, he snatches my phone off the table and snaps a photo of me. Who needs a selfie stick?
From here, I cab back across town to a residential complex in Colegiales, where I meet Myriam Selhi, a French-Canadian who has lived in Buenos Aires for 11 years and works as a street art tour guide for Graffitimundo. The walls behind the complex's busy playground are covered with giant murals. In one, two minotaurs do battle; in another, a gaucho rears his horse in the manner of Napoleon Crossing the Alps while spraying paint in the air; in a third, Evita shares space with miners, condors, and other Peronist symbols. As we walk past these murals and others, Myriam provides the historical context of graffiti in Argentina. During the prosperous 1990s, many Argentines could afford to travel to cities like New York and Barcelona, where they were exposed to street art. When harder times came, they began to use tagging as a form of protest.
Café Tortoni
“In December 2001, Argentina went bankrupt," Selhi says. “Everybody lost two-thirds of their life savings. In 2002, because of this crisis, 50 percent of the population of Argentina was living below the poverty line. Protests were everywhere, and people would tag—not punk kids or angry teenagers, but middle-class people. So graffiti in Argentina is a super-middle-class phenomenon."
We stop at the house of a street artist that is decorated with a doll-like mural in the colorful, cartoonish muñequismo style. As we admire it, a man in a cat mask peers down at us from a window. “Yeah, those guys do that," Myriam says, laughing. We continue through the local flea market, its walls covered in graffiti, including an ax-wielding blond woman that Myriam terms “Hello Kitty meets ax murderer." Our last stop is in Palermo, at Graffitimundo's space, Galería Union, which houses stencils and paintings by some of the artists whose murals we've just enjoyed.
I'm a bit arted-out and ready for a nap. Fortunately, Home Hotel, where I'll be spending tonight, is just a few blocks away. The 20-room boutique property is unassuming on the outside, tucked amid cafés, bars, and private homes in trendy Palermo Hollywood, but the interior is überhip (one of the owners is an English record producer). The lobby furniture is mod, there are bags designed by artist Nicola Costantino on sale, and the pool deck is lushly overgrown with flowers and ivy that climbs the rear of the building. My poolside suite has a '70s feel (flowery wallpaper and a pink shag rug), with futuristic touches like electric curtains. I hit the switch on the drapes and dive into bed.
The winding marble staircase at the Alvear Palace Hotel
It's dark when I wake. I walk back through Palermo Hollywood, across the railroad tracks and past an alley where a drum troupe is loudly rehearsing. In Palermo Soho, I cruise by Plaza Julio Cortázar, surrounded by discotheques, and eventually reach Nicky New York Sushi. I'm not sure if the name is inspired by the Manhattanized moniker of the neighborhood, but the restaurant goes all-in on the concept, with a fake NYC address (109 W. 78th Street) and walls lined with white subway tiles. The food, it turns out, is more Nicky (Nikkei?) than New York—top-notch salmon and tuna
tiraditos, ceviche, and nigiri.
The real trick comes at the meal's end (when your waiter asks if you want to see the wine cellar, say yes). A hostess in a black cocktail dress takes me back to a room of wine racks and pulls a mirror open to reveal a submarine-style steel door. She turns a wheel-lock and ushers me into a bar straight out of the 1920s. The walls of The Harrison Speakeasy (named after an apocryphal Prohibition-era New York bar owner) are lined with mirrors and black-and-white portraits, classic jazz plays on the stereo, and the cocktail list includes the creative Mr. Bukowski (Jim Beam, Stella Artois, coffee, Angostura bitters, and tobacco syrup, poured into a beer bottle that's then pumped full of chocolate smoke). On the bottle's label is a Bukowski quote: “We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us." I think Henry Chinaski would have liked it here.
In which Justin goes running in a nature preserve, catches a street-fair puppet show, and discovers tango
Between all the food I've eaten and all the time I've spent surrounded by athletically inclined porteños, I'm starting to feel ashamed of my physique. So I start today by slipping on my sneakers and hitting the trails in the Reserva Ecológica Costanera Sur. At the eastern edge of the city, this environmental preserve separates the trendy, formerly industrial port neighborhood Puerto Madero from the Río de la Plata. I jog my way through low-lying marshland, expecting to find a peaceful reprieve from the bustle of the city, but the constant bird calls are so cacophonous I might as well be sweating it out amid the traffic on Avenida 9 de Julio.
My run comes to its conclusion at the front door of the Faena Hotel, a fortresslike red-brick former grain mill that impresario Alan Faena converted into Buenos Aires's most stylish digs. As I enter the long, red-carpeted front hall, a bellman in a white cape and top hat hands me a bottle of water. Now, that's what I call service!
Myriam Selhi, guide, Graffitimundo
After soaking my muscles in the claw-foot bathtub in my room, I head back down to El Mercado, the Faena's brunch spot, which takes its flea market theme to heart. Cabinets and walls are cluttered with tchotchkes, and the tableware is mismatched, as if each set has been cobbled together from market finds. The food is classic Argentine: I start with beef empanadas and carrot salad from the self-serve buffet, after which my punkily green-haired waitress brings me several courses of meat: chorizo and blood sausage, tenderloin, flank steak, and pork ribs, all cooked on the
parrilla in the blue-tiled open kitchen. Is there Malbec? Of course there's Malbec. This isn't a brunch so much as it as an attack on dietary decency.
Post-binge, I go for a constitutional along the Puerto Madero waterfront, past disused cranes and red-brick warehouses that are now home to high-end restaurants. At the bottom of the riverwalk, I cross a bridge into San Telmo, BA's oldest neighborhood, which was mostly abandoned after a 19th-century epidemic of yellow fever but has since been repopulated by the hipster set. On Sundays, cobblestoned Calle Defensa hosts the Feria de San Pedro Telmo, a street fair that stretches at least a dozen blocks past antique stores and beneath the balconies of old French- and Spanish-style apartment buildings. I pick through stalls that hawk leatherworks, mate gourds, and figurines of soccer players, then stop to watch a puppeteer put on a show.
“Buenos Aires is fantastic because it lets you take part in everything. If you want to take a juggling class at 2 a.m. on a Tuesday, you can find that class. Once you learn to surf the chaos, it offers you a lot of freedom." —Myriam Selhi, guide, Graffitimundo
At the end of the fair, I reach the Museo de Arte Moderno, better known as the MAMBA. A thunderstorm is brewing, so I duck inside the brick building and wander through an exhibit of drawings by Argentina's greatest artist, Antonio Berni. I love the politically minded Social Realist images, but my favorite part of the museum is its black metal staircase, which winds up from the lobby like a coiled snake.
From the museum, I cab it back to Puerto Madero and my dinner spot. Set in a sleek, modern space overlooking the river, Chila has made the 50 Best Restaurants in Latin America list four years running. Chef Soledad Nardelli recently left, but her former sous chef Pedro Bargero has taken over, and the tasting menu hasn't skipped a beat. I have grilled Patagonian shrimp in a yogurt bisque, humita (a traditional corn, pepper, and pumpkin puree) from the north of the country, perfectly grilled Antarctic black hake with pesto sauce, and a flank steak tamal, all paired, of course, with Argentine wines. As I polish off the final glass, chef Bargero stops by my table.
“Ten years ago, Argentine food was not the best, but the gastronomy here has changed a lot," he says. “We try to use different products from all over our country. We try to use all organic produce. We're talking a lot with farmers and chefs, working together to make a new Argentine cuisine."
The Puente de la Mujer footbridge in Puerto Madero
The food scene might be changing, but this city's most famous contribution to world culture endures. The tango dates to the late 19th century, when waves of immigrants, many from Italy, settled Argentina (especially the southern BA neighborhood of La Boca). These newcomers, mostly men without families, melded the rhythms of Spain, Cuba, and Africa into a dance to help them while away their lonely nights. The tango, in all its complexity and sensuality, has become a global symbol for this city, and the flashiest example of it can be seen at the Faena's Rojo Tango show. In a red-draped room, two singers front a five-piece band playing slinky fiddle and
bandoneón music as five pairs of dancers put on an elaborate, acrobatic display. They whirl across the stage, atop the bar, around the audience, the men in impeccable tuxedos, the women in slit dresses, their legs flying about in wild yet precise chop steps. The audience is small, only a couple dozen patrons, but when the lights come on, it roars with appreciation.
Rojo Tango is impressive, but I also want to see a milonga, the bars where regular porteños practice this art. So I grab a cab and head to the quiet residential neighborhood of Almagro. I get out at a borderline-dilapidated building and go upstairs to enter La Catedral. The warehouse space is dark. The rickety walls and vaulted ceiling are covered with art. Makeshift tables are scattered before a hardwood floor crowded with couples who sway to a trio of guitarists and a singer belting out ballads. It takes two to tango, and all I've got two of is left feet, so I order a pint of the national lager, Quilmes, and watch. The dancers slide gracefully around each other, like water over smooth rock. This scene, above all, captures the spirit of Buenos Aires: soulful people wrapped in a sexy dance, in a building that feels like it could collapse at any moment. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
Hemispheres deputy editor Justin Goldman loves a good steak—but after this trip he's going vegetarian for a while.
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Learn moreCuba: A city filled with culture and heart
My favorite travel experience was visiting the beautiful city of Havana, Cuba. My strong curiosity persisted when the U.S. and Cuban governments finally agreed to cooperate on U.S. citizens traveling to this previously forbidden place. Reviewing the documents, I learned we could go in under the "Humanitarian" category, as the borders had not been opened to come and go as any American pleased. A group of us gathered, including some of my Boston-based colleagues and my three sons. We purchased a ton of toys and goodies for the children of Cuba.
Upon arriving in this fortress of deteriorating concrete, old buildings and damaged structures, we found an amazing city full of culture and heart. The Cuban people were glowing with an unmatched happiness and welcomed us with open arms. They were friendly, hospitable and very excited to see us, the Americans. They are extremely proud of their city, which despite the broken sidewalks and crumbling walls, was insanely beautiful. The colorful buildings and the colorful working vintage Chevys are among the amazing things to see. They are so proud of their old cars. Out of necessity, they have learned to work on their own cars with very simple tools. If the car breaks down while driving, they simply get out, open the hood, twist and bang and get it running as they know how to do. No one honks at them if they are in the road. This is just their way. The insides of the cars are simple, yet they maintain them as their prized possessions. They all, however, have music! They love driving proudly through the streets in their shiny old cars with music pouring out the open windows. Riding in many of them, each "taxi" was a new experience of its own.
Despite the gorgeous architecture and the classic cars, it truly was heart-warming getting to mingle with the Cuban people and learning their way of life. They are a beautiful people with beautiful, happy hearts ready to greet every American.
When it came time to hand out toys and gifts, we carried our toy bag through the streets, and it was apparent to us the children did not live with much. The delight and smiles on their faces were unimaginable. Their gratitude was evident, and my only regret was that we did not have enough for every child we saw. I thought my heart would explode at their excitement and appreciation.
Havana, Cuba is a travel must. It is an unbelievable place with an unbelievable story.
I left Cuba with a new realization of what it is like to live in a closed nation. I found a vibrant society of happy people full of fun, music and culture. I came home with a love of Havana and its people forever in my heart.
It was a trip of a life time and an experience we will never forget.
7 family-friendly activities to celebrate fall
Go apple picking
Apple picking combines outdoor fun with delicious and healthy snacks that can be used in a variety of ways, making it the perfect fall activity for adults and children of all ages.. Though you'll find countless orchards around the country worth visiting this season, New England is widely considered a prime apple picking destination with over 120 varieties found in the region. It can be argued that the variety they are best known for is the McIntosh apple. This type of apple and many more can be found at Honey Pot Hill Orchards in the lovely town of Stow, Massachusetts, so be sure to stop in and take home a bushel that you pluck from the trees yourself. Picking times are from 9:30 a.m. until 5:00 p.m. daily, making it easy to schedule a trip.
Meanwhile in California, apple season runs until the end of November, giving you plenty of time to pick a few baskets of Red Delicious or Gala apples before winter. Riley's at Los Rios Rancho in the city of Yucaipa is one of the largest farms of its kind in Southern California and has been welcoming apple pickers to their 10,000-tree farm for more than 100 years. If you're considering a visit, you might want to plan to be there on November 23, since that's when they're hosting their famous Apple Butter Festival this year.
Visit a pumpkin patch
If there was a fall mascot, it would be a pumpkin, so to celebrate the true essence of the season, it's hard to beat a trip to a colorful pumpkin patch. A pumpkin patch is more than just a place to find the perfect candidate for this year's prize-winning jack-o'-lantern, it's a wonderful way to create cherished new memories with your children or friends. The Great Pumpkin Farm in Clarence, New York, is perfect for pumpkin picking, but also offers weekend activities throughout the fall, including scarecrow making lessons, cider brewing demonstrations, pumpkin pie eating contests, and live music and barbecues.
If you're traveling through the Midwest this season, hop aboard a vintage farm wagon at Polly's Pumpkin Patch in Chilton, Wisconsin, and make your way out into their scenic fields where you can pick as many pumpkins as you want for only $3 each. Other activities at Polly's include a livestock petting zoo, a 40-foot slide and a popular corn cannon that lets older kids launch corn cobs at targets for cash prizes.
Enjoy a harvest festival
An annual tradition in America that dates back to 1613, harvest festivals are outdoor celebrations that coincide with the growing and reaping seasons we all enjoy. Filled with food, fun, music and dance, you haven't truly experienced the wonder of the fall season until you've participated in a local harvest fest. The good news is that there are plenty to choose from around the country this year. Two of the most popular are the Autumn at the Arboretum festival in Dallas, Texas, which runs until October 31, and the incredible North Carolina Pecan Harvest Festival in Whiteville, North Carolina, which ends on November 3. Both of these festivals have been drawing huge crowds for years.
For a harvest fest that's slightly spookier, head to Wisconsin where you'll find the classic Jack O' Lantern Days celebration in the cozy town of Fish Creek, and the Halloween-themed Zombie Days festival on the coast of Chequamegon Bay. Ghoulish activities include an undead musical show, a zombie pub crawl and a traditional harvest festival pumpkin parade. The scary fun lasts from October 26 through October 27.
Hit the trails
Hiking is more than just great exercise; it's an excellent way to bring the whole family together during the fall. And since the leaves are changing colors, it's also a great way to snap some incredible nature photos. So lace up your hiking boots, grab your kids and your camera, and find a trail that's right for you. If you're looking for suggestions, Sterling Point Trail in Vermont and Rome Point Trail in Rhode Island are impossible to beat when it comes to picturesque fall hiking.
On the opposite side of the country, the trails at Dry Creek Falls in Portland, Oregon, were voted one of the most photogenic hiking spots on the west coast by BuzzFeed, and it's easy to see why once you've been there. Covering a distance of just over 4 miles, this beautiful trail is perfect for all skill levels, making it a solid choice for families with kids.
Roll in the hay
Hayrides and corn mazes are traditional fall activities that have never gone out of style, and for very good reason. There's just something wonderfully nostalgic about introducing a new generation of children to the simple pleasures of wandering through an overgrown corn maze, and with so many participating farms scattered across the country, there's a plethora of options to choose from. The Johnny Appleseed corn maze at Shady Brook Farm in Yardley, Pennsylvania, and the popular horse-drawn hayride at Papa's Pumpkin Patch in Bismarck, North Dakota, are two of the best.
In honor of Halloween, the massive haunted hayride at Fear Farm in Phoenix, Arizona, brings an assortment of ghosts, goblins and ghouls to life from early October until the first week in November. Filled with sinister special effects, creepy costumes and macabre makeup, this Hollywood-worthy hayride is recommended for adults and children over the age of 12. With five terrifying corn mazes to choose from, Fear Farm certainly lives up to its name!
Up, up and away
Hot air ballooning during the fall is a dazzling way to experience the season in all its natural splendor. After all, how else can you get a spectacular birds-eye view of the colorful trees as their leaves change from green to golden orange? Balloons Over Letchworth, located near New York's Letchworth State Park, offers astonishing views of the surrounding area, including majestic waterfalls and stunning forests. Best of all, they offer a variety of family tour packages, so you'll find just what you're looking for, regardless of the size of your group.
If you're visiting Southern California's wine region this fall, reserve a balloon ride with the fine folks at California Dreamin'. Their friendly FAA commercial licensed pilots will take you and your family on an unforgettable balloon voyage high above the vineyards of Temecula wine country.
Pitch a tent
Though typically associated with summer, in many ways the fall is truly the best time of year to go camping. Thanks to the cooler weather, there are few — if any — insects to bother you and your family. Plus, there are less people claiming all the best spots, so you should have no problem picking a prime location to pitch your tent. And when it comes to toasting marshmallow for s'mores over an open campfire, everyone agrees that they simply taste better when eaten on a brisk autumn night.
For the ultimate fall camping trip, book a spot at Earth First Farms in southwest Michigan and set up your tent in an actual organic apple orchard. The 49-acre farm provides campers with complimentary firewood and plenty of fresh produce to pick.
Getting there
Regardless of where you plan to celebrate the fall, book your flight at united.com or by using the convenient United app, and share your story on social media with the #UnitedJourney hashtag.
Weekend inspiration: Omaha
We spent most of our time in the newly revitalized, historic district of Blackstone and found numerous restaurant and entertainment gems around every corner.
When we arrived in the Blackstone district we sat down with one of the men in charge of the revitalized neighborhood, Matt Dwyer, and were really impressed with his absolute commitment to bringing the best of the best to the historic district while still keeping everything all local. What he and his partner have created is an idyllic, historic district with a wide variety of locally run, high quality restaurants, shops and entertainment.
Here's what we wound up doing during our weekend in Omaha.
Friday evening:
If you want a great pizza and beer joint head to Noli's for artisan pizzas without an expensive price tag. The owners of Noli's are committed to maintaining New York City standards for their pizza creations and actually hired a water expert to filter their water to the exact filtration standards you find in the Big Apple. Their claim, "it's all about the water" rings true – their pizzas are awesome and definitely compete with some of our old pizza joint haunts in New York.
After dinner, stroll down the block to Cone Flower. At first it sounds like an odd name until you try their ice cream. They have, hands down, the best ice cream I've ever tasted and have coined the phrase "farm to cone."
Pro tip: Splurge on the sugar cone. It tastes like a light short bread cookie and will cause tingles down your spine.
Saturday morning:
Head down to Bob's for a creative version of an American classic donut. Some of their flavors include fruity pebbles and vanilla confetti. Then grab a coffee at the hipster Archetype coffee and enjoy your morning newspaper.
Saturday afternoon:
Stop by Omaha's Old Market for some upscale shopping and art gallery visits. Omaha's Henry Doorly Zoo is also known as one of the best zoos in the country.
For lunch, head to the brewery Crescent Moon to try what Draft Magazine has deemed one of the best beer bars in the U.S. The Reuben sandwich was created in Omaha in the 1920s, and this restaurant uses the original recipe to create a true masterpiece.
Saturday evening:
Blackstone Social Club is the perfect place for a pre-dinner cocktail. For dinner, we highly recommend stopping by Mula for some awe-inspiring Mexican fare. We highly recommend the salsa flights, the queso and any taco.
Across the street, Blackstone boasts some fantastic karaoke at Renos Karaoke. You can rent your own themed room to keep any embarrassment to an absolute minimum. We recommend the island room, but have a few drinks on their back patio first.
Sunday morning:
Brunchers know that one of the best places to go in Blackstone is Early Bird. Try to be an early bird and go when they open because the restaurant fills up quickly. If you are in need of the "hair of the dog" after a late Saturday night, their Bloody Marys are incredible. If you're looking for a healthy way to finish the weekend, their avocado and egg toast is the perfect choice.
Sunday afternoon and evening:
In the afternoon, stop by our wing and balloon mural on the side of the gorgeous Bouquet flower shop on Farnam street. If you're looking for an adventure, go next door to Ponderosa Cyclery and Tour Shop and book a bike tour in the area.
You can also experience Omaha's wildlife at the Lee G. Simmons Conservation Park and Wildlife Safari, where you can drive through the park and see wild elk, bison, cranes and antelope as they walk up to your car.
For an afternoon snack, Corkscrew Wine and Cheese is the place to go. They have hundreds of bottles of wine and fancy appetizers to choose from. End the evening across the street at the Blackstone Meatball restaurant. All the ingredients are locally sourced and you can choose the type of meatball, the side and the sauce.
Now all that's left is to take a shot of the stunning sunsets you'll experience almost every night in Nebraska.
We unveil a new state-of-the-art flight training center in Denver
"This state-of-the-art flight training center symbolizes the investments we're making in our people and our company, both in Denver and throughout our network," said our CEO, Oscar Munoz, who headlined a ribbon-cutting ceremony on October 9 for the facility, the largest such flight training center in the world. "In addition to providing industry-leading training for our pilots, flight attendants and other vital work groups, this facility will become a thriving center where we foster the professional culture, commitment to safety and dedication to customer service that's at the heart of the United success story we are seeing take shape."
Our flight training presence in Denver goes all the way back to the early 1940s, while the current campus was opened in 1968 with four buildings, expanding to six over the subsequent years. Recently, we broke ground on a seventh building which, when completed, will bring the size of the campus to nearly 540,000 square feet, with space for eight more flight simulator bays. In the five decades since its opening, pilots have participated in more than half a million training events, totaling approximately two million hours of training time.
No translation necessary
That movie turned this bar into a mecca for film fans, and in a way it provided the reason for my maiden voyage to the Land of the Rising Sun, as well. Only I'm not here as a cinephile. I've crossed 13 time zones to drink Japanese whiskey—a phenomenon I was awoken to by Bill Murray's Oscar-nominated performance. You know the one: “For relaxing times, make it Suntory time."
"My love for brown spirits and my lifelong fascination with Japan were inevitable bedfellows."
When I first saw Lost in Translation, 15 years ago, my reaction to that line was probably exactly what Coppola intended: Japanese whiskey? Bill's really selling out… As a recent college graduate whose budget couldn't handle much beyond the occasional bottle of Maker's Mark, I had no idea how wrong I was. In fact, Suntory, the maker of the now famed Yamazaki, Hakushu, and Hibiki whiskeys, was just launching itself into the global consciousness. In 2003, the Yamazaki 12-year won a gold medal at the International Spirits Challenge, and from 2010 on, Suntory whiskeys raked in golds, with the company winning Distiller of the Year four times. In 2014, Whisky Bible author Jim Murray called the 2013 Yamazaki Single Malt Sherry Cask the best whiskey in the world. Bottles from Suntory and its main competitor, Nikka, became nigh unavailable in the U.S. (The cheapest bottle of that 2013 Yamazaki Sherry Cask I can find online is $3,500.)
A vintage Nikka Whiskey logo
During the years that Japan's distillers were rising like the sun over the Pacific, I was busy fostering a determinedly American predilection for bourbon. While I systematically worked through the ever-shifting catalog at my excellent neighborhood bar—The Page in San Francisco—Pappy Van Winkle was going from a $15 pour I'd order when I was feeling mildly indulgent to a symbol of the cruelty of supply and demand. I visited Kentucky on several occasions, tasting my way down the Bourbon Trail, from Clermont (the home of Jim Beam, which Suntory bought in 2014) to Loretto (my beloved red wax–topped Maker's) to Lawrenceburg (Four Roses, William Faulkner's favorite, which another Japanese company, Kirin, bought in 2001) to Frankfort (Buffalo Trace, where Pappy is made, along with another of my regulars, Eagle Rare). And when I crossed the pond to Ireland, my two must-visits were James Joyce's house (as a thank-you for “The Dead") and the Jameson distillery (as a thank-you for the many, many shots I've taken after Giants playoff victories).
My love for brown spirits and my lifelong fascination with Japan—which I owe to my Kurosawa-worshipping father—were inevitable bedfellows. So, finally, this spring, I decided to make my way across hemispheres to learn exactly what makes Japanese whiskey so good—and to drink as much of it as possible.
A jazz band at the New York Bar in Tokyo
Naturally, I've started at the New York Bar. I'm seated at a long communal table, listening to a jazz singer do the Eagles' “Desperado" (it was Simon & Garfunkel's “Scarborough Fair" in Lost in Translation) as the manager, Moritz Kam, sets four single malts in front of me: a Yamazaki and a Hakushu from Suntory, a Yoichi and a Miyagikyo from Nikka. “What is notable about Japanese craftsmanship is the aim for perfection," he tells me, before offering a lament I'll hear often this week: “Even in Japan, you are not able to find some of the vintage whiskeys."
My first glass contains one of the most coveted whiskeys in the world: the Yamazaki 18. It's smooth, oaky, a little sweet, with a profile somewhat reminiscent of a Macallan. The Yoichi and Miyagikyo are peatier, smokier, while the Hakushu pushes those characteristics even further, leaving a lush layer of oil on my tongue. While each stands out from the others in subtle ways, I can't help but think they're siblings who started in the same home but took different paths to success.
Scotland is, of course, where all of the world's whiskeys can trace their roots. But the fathers of Japanese whiskey, Shinjiro Torii and Masataka Taketsuru, hewed closer to the original than anyone else (even spelling the word à la the Scots, without the “e"). The story begins in 1899, when Torii opened an imported-wine shop in Osaka. A few years later, he produced a popular sweet port wine and funneled the profits into building a distillery just outside Kyoto.
High-quality water feeds a pond at the Yamazaki Distillery
I learn all this from plaques inside that very distillery. I've taken the Shinkansen bullet train two and a half hours from Tokyo to the ancient imperial capital to visit Yamazaki, the birthplace of Japanese whiskey. At the entryway, I'm greeted by a tour guide, who explains that Torii built the distillery here in 1923 to take advantage of the local water and climate. “Yamazaki water has been famous for its pristine quality since ancient history," she says, “and the damp and misty and humid environment is very suitable for aging whiskey in casks."
We continue inside, past the mash tuns and fermentation tanks, where malt, much of it imported from Scotland, is turned into the spirit's base, wort. We follow the pipeline of fermented liquid to a long hall where two rows of copper pot stills of varying shapes and sizes (each of which imparts a different flavor) distill the wort down to new-made whiskey—what we in the States call moonshine. As we walk, my guide breaks down Suntory's history. “Shinjiro's dream was to make a whiskey that would suit the taste of the Japanese," she says, “because when he started the business, he imitated Scotch whiskey, and Japanese were like, Oh, this is too peaty—we don't like this."
Copper pot stills at the Yamazaki Distillery
That first whiskey, 1929's Suntory Shirofuda (“white label"), may not have been a world-beater, but in 1937 the company put out a second one, Kakubin, which sold well throughout Japan. In the 1960s, highball bars began popping up, specializing in what has become Japan's signature cocktail—a diluted, highly carbonated whiskey soda. Highballs continued to grow in popularity into the 1980s, and in 1984 Keizo Saji, Torii's son and successor as Suntory president, put out the first Yamazaki single malt. The high-end Hibiki blended whiskeys (which contain both malt and corn liquor) followed in 1989. In 1994 came the Hakushu single malts, which are made at a gorgeous distillery in the Japanese Alps and are now nearly as prized as Yamazakis.
Our next stop on the tour is the aging warehouse. Yamazaki uses several types of cask: American white oak, Spanish sherry casks, French wine casks, and mizunara, an oak that grows on the northern island of Hokkaido. Whiskeys are aged in the different casks for years—sometimes as much as three decades—and then the blenders combine them. A common misconception is that single-malt whiskey comes from single casks; actually, expressions from various casks are blended to make a more complex final product.
At the end of the tour, I meet Shinji Fukuyo, Suntory's chief blender and the creator of the gold medal–winning Hibiki Japanese Harmony. Fukuyo got into the business while in college because one of his professors noted that he “seemed to like whiskey"; he worked at Hakushu and then at Morrison Bowmore in Scotland before coming to Yamazaki. As we stand next to a floor-to-ceiling window, looking out on a hillside bamboo grove, the bespectacled 57-year-old takes me through the tasting process for his brainchild.
Suntory Chief blender Shinji Fukuyo
He lines up 10 slim bottles ranging in color from pale flax to deep amber. Two are grain whiskeys, two are Hakushu malts, six are Yamazaki malts. (Two of the latter are aged in sherry casks.) He offers notes as we sip and spit in the same fashion as Suntory's blenders. The sherry cask whiskeys taste “like dried fruits." The grain whiskeys are “similar to bourbon—calm, sweet, easy to drink." A heavily peated Yamazaki is medicinal, “like you were in a hospital." A mizunara-aged Yamazaki has a “very elegant, spicy top note, an important aftertaste for Japanese Harmony." Finally, a whiskey aged in French oak wine casks is “the best sweet—mild, like a strawberry." I'm jealous when I discover that Suntory's blenders taste 200 to 300 whiskeys a day in search of the ideal combination of these flavors. The proportions are always changing, because each vintage—indeed, each cask—can taste different from the last.
As the country's whiskey has grown more popular overseas, Fukuyo says Japanese people have increasingly come to treasure it. “We have drunk whiskey for a long time, but now we've got a lot of awards, and foreigners can come to Yamazaki, so Japanese people ourselves are starting to get proud of Japanese whiskey.
The Yamazaki Whiskey Museum
After profusely thanking Fukuyo, I head downstairs to the Yamazaki Whisky Museum, where hundreds of bottles from across the whiskey color spectrum are lined up on backlit shelves. There's also a tasting counter, where I order a Yamazaki 18, a Hibiki 21, and a special Yamazaki aged in a type of cask called a puncheon. As I bring them over to an empty barrel-top table, an elderly Japanese man in a rather Scottish getup—argyle sweater vest and newsboy hat—comes over. He speaks a bit of English, and he tells me his name is Genji and he used to work as a tour guide here. (He's retired but still carries his old business card.) “I come here every day," he tells me, to have a drink and chat with tourists. He points out his favorite whiskey on the menu, the puncheon cask, and when I motion toward that very dram in my flight, he smiles broadly. I have one of the bartenders snap a photo of us, and I promise Genji I'll come back to Yamazaki soon.
I've flown halfway around the world to drink Japanese whiskey, and now I'm going a little farther. After a night perusing the eight-page whiskey menu at Bar Cordon Noir—a smoky, jazzy place just around the corner from Kyoto's bar-lined Pontocho Alley—I find myself touching down in Sapporo, Hokkaido's largest city. Here, I meet Emiko Kaji, who's giving me a tour of the Yoichi Distillery, the original home of Japan's other major whiskey maker, Nikka.
The Yoichi Distillery
It's the last week of April, and while Kyoto was warm and humid, here the skies are gray, with daytime temperatures dipping into the 40s. (While cherry blossom season has come and gone in Kyoto and Tokyo, the sakura have yet to bloom in Sapporo.) That's not to say it isn't beautiful; the train ride from Sapporo to Yoichi—broken up by a phenomenal sushi lunch at Masazushi in the small city of Otaru—skirts the rocky coast of the Sea of Japan, with snow-blanketed mountains rising all around.
There's a reason Masataka Taketsuru chose to open his distillery here. The Nikka founder, who was born into a Hiroshima sake-brewing family, had moved to Scotland in 1918 to study chemistry (i.e., distilling). There, he met a Scottish woman, Rita Cowan, who he married and brought back to Japan—an international romance that was the basis for Massan, a hit TV series that aired on NHK, Japan's national broadcaster, in 2014 and 2015. Taketsuru began working at the Yamazaki Distillery in 1923, but he had a fundamental difference in philosophy from Shinjiro Torii. While the Suntory founder wanted to produce a whiskey for the Japanese palate, his counterpart was determined to make authentic Scotch whiskey.
So, in 1934, Taketsuru decamped for Hokkaido, where the cold climate, rocky seashore, oak forests, natural reserves of grain, and peat bogs all reminded him of his wife's homeland. As I walk two blocks through a biting rain from the Yoichi train station to the distillery, I feel as if I'm at a crossroads where Japan and Scotland meet. The facility's exterior looks like a stone-walled Scottish castle—but with Eastern-style pitched red roofs.
Charring a barrels in the cooperage at the Yoichi Distillery
At Yoichi, I get to see some of the more industrial aspects of production. This is the last distillery in the world that heats its stills with coal, and in the stillhouse I watch as a safety-suited employee shovels coal into the furnace below one of
the six two-story-tall copper pots. “It's like a kettle on a direct fire, so it's very difficult to control the flame," Kaji says. “Our craftsmen have to look after the flame every seven or eight minutes from morning through evening. It's a tough job, but we stick to the coal fire because it makes a distinct flavor."
From here, we walk across the campus to the cooperage. In a space the size of a racquetball court, I watch as a cooper, Hiroaki Nishizawa, hammers the steel rings off a freshly charred cask. He sprays water into it, motions me close, and waves his hands over the top of the barrel, wafting a heavenly vanilla, banana-ester smell into my face. I'm woozy. Then he rolls another barrel onto a steel rack in front of an industrial torch. When he flips the switch, the barrel begins to slowly rotate, and when the torch turns on, a firestorm ensues, bursting into and out of and around the barrel in a hypnotic hail of sparks. After about five minutes, he flips the switch off. I ask Nishizawa, who has been a cooper for eight years (he shoveled coal prior to that), how he knows when to stop.
"When the torch turns on, a firestorm ensues, bursting into and out of and around the barrel in a hypnotic hail of sparks."
“There's no clear written manual," he replies. “I learned from my senior. Now we use a machine, but before that everything was done manually, so it was very difficult to do it right."
While the demonstration is spellbinding, I'm beginning to wonder when I can get a drink. As if in anticipation of that question, Kaji waves me toward the tasting bar, which is lined with tartan-patterned place mats. I want something I won't be able to get in the States, and the bartender brings three limited-edition single malts, each named after its flavor profile: Sherry & Sweet, Woody & Vanillic, and Peaty & Salty. The first is dark amber in color, and as I'm about to say that it reminds me of Macallan (which is also aged in sherry casks), bagpipe music comes on the stereo. The second has a strong bourbon character, thanks to American oak casks. The third is very peaty and salty (truth in advertising!), heavily influenced by the sea, surely the closest to what Taketsuru was going for. I posit that it's like three different musicians playing the same piece of music, and Kaji nods
A worker shovels coal into a fire to heat a still at the Yoichi Distillery
For my last sample, I try a limited-edition Nikka Coffey Grain, a higher-proof variation on the distillery's best-seller in the U.S. This one has an even stronger bourbon characteristic than the Woody & Vanillic, as it's made from corn. It's interesting, I say to Kaji, that one of the best-selling products from the Japanese distillery most closely associated with traditional Scotch-style whiskey isn't really a Scotch-style whiskey. I wonder, is it an advantage for Japanese distillers that they don't have as long a history as the Scots and the Kentuckians? That there's more freedom, less of a demand that they adhere to tradition?
“Yes, we have a lot of freedom to be more flexible and to experiment," she replies. “We don't need to stick to tradition. [But] we firmly believe that innovation starts from tradition."
Visiting Japan's most hallowed distilleries is a great way to learn about what makes the liquor here so good, but there's only one way to really get at the heart of a place's drinking culture: visit its bars. So, upon my return to Tokyo, I head for Shot Bar Zoetrope. Hidden on the third floor of an unassuming building on a quiet side street in the otherwise neon-blasted neighborhood of Shinjuku, this might be the single best place in the world to drink Japanese whiskey.
Atsushi Horigami pours a dram at Tokyo's Zoetrope Shot Bar
The bar is tiny—about the size of a New York City studio apartment, with a half-dozen or so stools at the bar, plus a couple of tables. When I walk in early in the evening, an old black-and-white Hollywood film is playing silently on the far wall, and there are only two people inside. One of them is Atsushi Horigami, who opened Zoetrope 12 years ago. He looks a bit like a middle-aged Pat Morita in a Hawaiian shirt, and he's standing in front of an astonishing wall of whiskeys that contains difficult-to-find bottles from all over Japan. Why, I ask him, did he fashion this tiny portal to heaven on earth?
“I like whiskey," he says. “Basically, I am a geek. Before I opened this bar, I visited so many other whiskey bars, but always the bartenders didn't know about Japanese whiskey."
Horigami estimates about 70 percent of his customers are foreigners, and right on cue three more Americans walk in. As he's seating them, I start chatting with the other guy at the bar, who's named Steel. He's in his mid-20s, with long hair and a blackout arm tattoo, and it turns out he's a bartender at Minneapolis's acclaimed Esker Grove restaurant. Much like me, he's come to do a drinking tour of Japan. So, what does he think of the whiskey?
“Hopefully, it'll be the next big thing in America," he says. “It's some of the best whiskey I've ever had, especially for cocktails. Once people try it, they're not too deterred by how expensive it is—they usually want to stay on it. People come in and ask about it all the time. They're like, 'Ah, Japanese whiskey,' and I'm like, 'Man, I only have Toki'"—an export-only Suntory whiskey made largely for highballs.
It's not a problem that's going away anytime soon. While Japanese companies are working on newer products, like Toki, Hibiki Japanese Harmony, and Nikka Whisky From the Barrel (which Nikka began exporting to the U.S. this spring), the aging process required for vintage whiskeys makes it impossible to ramp up supply in a timely fashion. For that exact reason, earlier this year Suntory discontinued the very bottle Murray is shilling for in Lost in Translation: Hibiki 17.
But, as I sit at the bar at Zoetrope, talking with my new friends and sipping whiskeys from Fuji Gotemba and Mars Shinshu—two smaller distilleries whose products are also (surprise!) exceedingly difficult to find abroad—I try not to focus on the privations that my fellow Japanese whiskey lovers and I will face in the years to come. Instead, I take heart in the good news: that a shared love of whiskey has helped connect me and these two bartenders from opposite ends of the planet. We don't need a translator. As Murray tells Scarlett Johansson: “The whiskey works."
America's most haunted locations
New York City, New York
The Merchant's House Museum may be Manhattan's most haunted place. People inside the 1832 NoHo historic home have reported being touched by ghosts. Halloween-themed events and tours are scheduled throughout October. Over at Landmark Tavern, an Irish restaurant and saloon in Hell's Kitchen, three ghosts — a sailor, a retired soldier and a little girl, all traced to the 19th century — have been spotted by patrons.
Los Angeles, California
The Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel has attracted celebrities since its 1927 opening — some living, some not. Marilyn Monroe has been seen dancing in the ballroom, a ghost has appeared on a security video and guests have been locked out of rooms from the inside. In Long Beach, guests on The Queen Mary, a luxury cruise ship-turned-hotel with year-round paranormal tours, have experienced chilling encounters in the pool area and recorded unexplained banging on engine-room pipes.
Chicago, Illinois
One stop on Chicago haunted tours is Hull-House Museum, a National Historic Landmark and the inspiration for the horror movie “Rosemary's Baby." Jane Addams, the social activist who lived there, is among those who saw ghosts in its rooms. Another stop is the Congress Plaza Hotel, where the more than 1,000 guestrooms have been occupied by presidents and celebrities as well as ghosts — including the hotel's former owner, Al Capone — that move objects and slam doors.
Washington, D.C.
Abe Lincoln was spotted in the White House for decades after his assassination, not surprisingly in the Lincoln Bedroom and the Oval Office by a First Lady and a visiting queen, among others. Close by is Lafayette Square Park, a national historic landmark where the ghost of “Star Spangled Banner" writer Francis Scott Key's only son — murdered there by a jealous husband — haunts the grounds along with other ghosts.
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Guards at Eastern State Penitentiary routinely tortured inmates, whose ghosts now get even by spooking caretakers and visitors with cries and whispers. Even Al Capone said a ghost haunted him while he was imprisoned there. Equally spooky is Fort Mifflin, a Revolutionary War fort and battlefield with year-round paranormal programs. Resident spirits include a faceless man and ghost dogs.
New Orleans, Louisiana
The French Quarter is packed with haunted bars, hotels and mansions including the notorious LaLaurie House, an 1832 home where the owner's wife, Delphine, allegedly murdered a young slave girl. Delphine and the victim have both been seen in the mansion. Also in the Quarter is Hotel Provincial, a former Civil War hospital where guests have heard the ghosts of Confederate soldiers conversing at night.
San Francisco, California
Some visitors to the old prison on Alcatraz Island have seen ghost prisoners walking the cellblocks and heard voices in the old inmate cafeteria even when it's empty. In the city's Haight-Ashbury district, birthplace of the hippie movement, many have heard running footsteps on the sidewalk outside Janis Joplin's old Ashbury Street house, where a man was shot in the head while fleeing a gunman in 1969.
Charleston, South Carolina
A headless torso and the ghost of a student who died leaping off the roof have haunted guests at the Battery Carriage House Inn. Another beautifully restored, but equally haunted, early-19th-century building in Old Charleston is the Dock Street Theatre. Its ghostly residents include a woman killed by lightning nearby and actor Junius Brutus Booth, the father of Abe Lincoln's assassin, a former audience member who's been seen watching rehearsals from the balcony.
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
Many visitors to Gettysburg Battlefield, where 8,900 Civil War soldiers died in a 24-hour period, say they've seen and spoken to “ghost soldiers." Some have even captured audio and video recordings of screams and cannons. Nearby at Farnsworth House Inn, a former Union general's home scarred by more than 100 bullet holes from the battle, nightly ghost walks are offered. To date, 14 apparitions have been seen.
If you go
Visit united.com or use the United app to plan your haunted-city getaway.
7 rejuvenating wellness destinations to rest & relax
Sedona, Arizona
Middle-of-the-desert outdoor oasis
Perfect for: A healthy getaway to unwind in nature's magnificence
Sedona's magnificent scenic red rock formations, canyons and vortexes have long attracted outdoor enthusiasts and casual hikers. The Native Americans believed this was a spiritual place of healing and renewal. It's since become one of the United States' top wellness destinations. From spiritual centers and alternative healing centers to traditional massage and spa treatments, Sedona is quite literally an oasis in the desert for wellness travelers. It's just a 90-minute drive from Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport (PHX).
Amelia Island, Florida
Family-friendly island getaway
Perfect for: A relaxing family trip with activities for all ages
Dad wants to golf. Mom wants a spa day. The kids want to play in the surf. Cater to everyone and head to Amelia Island, a quick 30-minute drive from Jacksonville International Airport (JAX). Experience spectacular sunrises, abundant native wildlife and 13 miles of beautiful, uncrowded beaches. Visit during the annual wellness festival in November, stay at one of Amelia Island's health-focused resorts, or simply enjoy Amelia Island's beaches and family-friendly activities, which include a pinball museum, aquatic center and pirate-themed park.
Taghazout, Morocco
Surf-and-yoga retreats galore
Perfect for: An energizing trip packed with surfing, yoga and beach time
Kick off your day with sun salutations on the beach, then hit the surf. Or just relax with a drink in hand in this leisurely, laid-back beach town where the sun shines nearly all year round. Taghazout is Morocco's premier surf destination, attracting seasoned surfers and total newbies alike. Taghazout has plentiful surf and yoga retreats, many which allow you to customize your class schedule depending on how energetic you're feeling. When you're surfed out, head to one of the local hammams to relax in the traditional Moroccan steam baths. To get there, fly into Agadir – Al Massira Airport (AGA), and take a 30-45 minute taxi or bus ride to Taghazout.
Calistoga, California
Hot springs getaway in the heart of wine country
Perfect for: Completely unwinding while soaking in scenic Napa Valley views
With more than two dozen spas and resorts, Calistoga has been called the spa capital of Northern California. The small town is walkable, charming and close to many wineries, though this isn't primarily a wine destination. Most everyone is here to relax in the geothermal waters and mud baths. After a few minutes of soaking in mineral-rich 100-degree thermal waters, you'll realize why. Add a massage or mud treatment, and you'll wish you'd booked a longer stay. Calistoga is a two hours' drive from San Francisco International (SFO) and Sacramento International Airports (SMF). It's a 30-minute drive from Charles M. Schulz Sonoma County Airport (STS).
KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa
Spiritual Buddhist retreat
Perfect for: A restorative and contemplative stay away from it all
Practice mindfulness and meditation in the supremely tranquil Buddhist Retreat Centre. Choose from guided group retreats and workshops, or do your own thing and design your own solo experience. The retreat center stands on 300 secluded acres of well-manicured gardens, forests and valleys, with many peaceful paths for contemplation. Walk through raked zen sand gardens, visit the Buddhist shrine and enjoy the natural surroundings. There's even a well-stocked library where you can read and listen to recorded talks from visiting teachers. Lodging is simple but comfortable. The all-vegetarian meals are freshly prepared, featuring organically grown produce. Though the retreat center feels rural and isolated, it's just a two-hour drive from Durban International Airport (DUR).
Traben-Trarbach, Germany
The upscale holistic healing resort
Perfect for: Detoxing and resetting your body to get back on track
Feeling tired, overworked, stressed or burned out? Germany's luxurious Ayurveda Parkschlösschen resort specializes in one of the world's oldest holistic approaches to help your body feel its best. Choose from personalized programs that target different conditions and ailments. With massage treatments, cleansing therapies, nutritious meals and more, your stay here is all about helping you feel healthier and more energetic. Ayurveda Parkschlösschen is in Traben-Trarbach, a two-hour drive from Frankfurt International Airport (FRA).
Goa, India
A yoga-centric wellness destination
Perfect for: Deepening your practice in the country where yoga was born
Goa is one India's friendliest destinations for Westerners to study yoga, and it caters to all experience levels and forms of the practice. Travel here to pursue your 300-hour teaching training, or stay at one of the wellness-themed resorts with optional beachside yoga classes. If you don't want to go all-in on yoga, the region also has many incredible beaches, waterfalls and wildlife sanctuaries. Goa International Airport (GOI), the region's major airport, is located in the city of Dabolim.
Getting there
United Airlines flies to these places or to airports within a two-hour drive. For details and to book your trip, visit united.com or use the United app. Don't forget to share your story on social media with the #MyUnitedJourney hashtag.
