The Taubman's dramatic facade; photos by Nicole Pensiero

Looming large amid the many Beaux Arts and Federal-style buildings in downtown Roanoke, Va., the striking Taubman Museum of Art really stands out.

Designed by Tennessee native Randall Stout –– a protégée of celebrated architect Frank Gehry –– the Taubman’s dramatic steel-and-glass façade is strongly reminiscent of Gehry’s Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain.

Stout designed the 81,000 square-foot Roanoke facility to “evoke the drama of the mountainous landscape and the gritty industrial-area building culture.” Perhaps. But the design spoke to me on a purely visceral level: I immediately wanted to check out the inside.

The two-story museum’s varied permanent collection spans works by American masters, such as Winslow Homer and Maurice Prendergast; regional artists from the Southeast and the immediate vicinity; and folk and so-called “visionary” artists.

A contemporary gallery at the Taubman

During a recent visit, I especially enjoyed the offbeat wearable “Soundsuits” by Chicago-based artist/dancer Nick Cave (not to be confused with the broody rock star of the same name), which enjoyed a three-month run through the end of 2011.

Currently, the Taubman is showcasing “Watch It! Video Art,” a survey of pioneering video artists, such as Laurie Anderson, William Wegman and Nam June Paik, through Feb. 9; “In the Moment: Light, Vision and Memory,” a survey of 125 years of photos from The Roanoke Times newspaper, through March 4; and “Metempsychosis: The Power of Transformation,” which pairs dissimilar works to spur conversations about art and the world around us, through May 1.

Although the Taubman’s current home is only about three-years-old, the museum’s history can be traced back to the mid-’60s, when the city opened a fine arts center. That facility in 1980 morphed into the Roanoke Museum of Fine Arts, and three years later moved from a location outside the city to downtown’s Center in the Square.

The move to the current downtown site  –– and construction of the new building –– was meant to raise the Taubman’s profile, but due to financial issues, the museum has scaled back its ambitions to have more of a regional focus.

Still, for any Roanoke visitor, the Taubman is not to be missed.

Winemaker Pasquale Chiapparini; photos by Marla Cimini

After receiving a coveted invitation to the Masters of Food and Wine event held at the Park Hyatt in Zurich last autumn, I immediately started daydreaming about the sensational dining experiences ahead.

I knew enough to anticipate succulent –– and sustainable –– menus and the stunning Alpine scenery. However, I didn’t expect to fall for Swiss wines, and with good reason. They are rarely exported, even to other European countries. Instead, Swiss winemakers are content to make small batches and sell them locally.

However, most of these wineries love to welcome visiting foodies, with the enthusiastic winemakers as behind-the-scenes personal guides. It’s good news for travelers seeking culinary adventures, as there are many worthwhile wineries located just outside Zurich. It’s an easy jaunt to spend an afternoon touring a boutique vineyard and returning to the city in time for dinner.

Zurich Lake bouillabaisse

My wine journey started at The Masters event, which was created by Frank Widmer, executive chef at the Park Hyatt and the author of The Chef and the Cowboy. Widmer crafted a series of dinners to showcase food and wine pairings from the region. He brought the Swiss wines to table by inviting representatives from the Young Swiss Winemakers Association to provide personal introductions to their bottles.

Later, I went directly to the source with my group. During a visit to the boutique Chiapparini Vineyard, we were treated to an old-school lesson on bottling, corking and labeling the wine by hand, under the watchful eye of vintner Pasquale Chiapparini, president of the winemakers group.

We somehow succeeded in performing the challenging tasks without breaking either glass bottles or expensive equipment. After an afternoon of “working” in the winery, we participated in a bit of wine tasting, featuring Pasquale’s wonderful light reds, Sorein (which means “so red” in language) and crisp, citrus-noted whites, Soweiss (which translates to “so white”).

Old school wine corking

Afterwards, we enjoyed a special picnic on Chiapparini’s sunny terrace hosted by Widmer. The wines were a perfect match with a  lunch menu that inclued hearty sandwiches featuring mozzarella cheese and pesto, and Scottish salmon with sweet kumquat marinade on whole grain breads, as well as the requisite Swiss chocolate pastries for dessert.

Even if you’re not taking part in a Masters or other special event, Swiss winemakers will do their best to arrange a day or an afternoon visit to their  vineyards. I can also recommend Bechtel Wines, which is known for its Merlot, Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc; Weinhof Juno, which specializes in Pinot Noir and Zweigelt, an Austrian red grape; and Weingut Schwarz, whose proprietor, Andreas Schwarz, focuses on Pinot Noir and Riesling.

Pasquale Chiapparini can set up a visit to his winery or connect you with others. Don’t be concerned by the wineries’ websites being in German –– the owners speak English. Besides, the sound of a cork being pulled on a favorite bottle doesn’t need much translation.

The question of how to turn a fluorescent-lit, dingily-painted Kyoto school into something entirely new, but still connected to education, led to one clear answer: an ‘edu-hotel’.

The 29-room Hotel Kanra, which opened late last year, sports a mission to help guests understand its historic Japanese home, weaving subtle lessons through design.

Inspired by Kyoto’s famous classic machiya, or long and narrow shops, guests rooms are similarly shaped. The concept is also reflected “by the use of natural materials such as volcanic stone, cedar, and paper — all of which express Kyoto tradition.

As one might expect from the designers responsible for Tokyo’s first boutique hotel, Claska, guest rooms and public spaces skillfully merge Japanese motifs with contemporary style through the use of timeless touches like sliding doors, washi paper hangings, tatami mats and, everywhere, clean lines.

Rooms feature minimalist white bedding and blond woods, and their linear layout evokes those of Kyoto’s shops. Guests walk along a passageway lined with a wash-basin and a writing desk. Beyond the bed, a tatami-matted area awaits.

Colors and textures — the greens of moss and matcha tea, the bumpiness of rocks — connect with the city’s visual vocabulary.

Through it all, gentle instruction is at work. One good example is the variety of grid patterns used on sliding doors. In Kyoto, explain the designers, customers can tell what kind of business a store is by the grid design, so this is a subtle cultural lesson.

The work of local artists, too, is important, since Kyoto remains a center for craftsmanship.

Photos courtesy of the hotel

Lighting designer Chiaki Murazumi created the white fabric lamps that glow gently in the lobby.

An artisan named Michiko designed, then photographed, the pressed flower images that adorn guest room walls. She’s also responsible for the ikebana arrangements that lend flare to bathrooms.

Most eye-catching is a lighting installation that hangs from the ceilings of the lobby and first floor restaurant, The Kitchen Kanra.

Designed by Tokyo-based American artist Alexander Reeder, the angular panels are programmed to respond to the season and time of day, as well as the sounds and movements made by passersby.

With a full slate of courses available — on everything from cloth wrapping to Kyoto dialects — and a charming in-room notebook detailing such traditions in every room, the hotel takes its educational mission seriously.

For guests, “back to school” has a most welcoming ring.

The waiting room in Vienna; photos by Ramona Zacharias

You may not have to delve into your subconscious to fully appreciate the significance of the Sigmund Freud Museum in Vienna, but you will have to use your imagination.

The building at Berggasse 19 housed Freud’s living quarters and office for nearly 50 years before he fled with his family to London in June, 1938, following the Nazi takeover of Austria.

Freud died in London a little more than a year later in September, 1939, at the age of 83.

Several decades later, his daughter, Anna, who was also a pioneering psychoanalyst, donated many of her father’s possessions –– but not his famed psychoanalytic couch –– to establish the Vienna museum.

Although the Vienna site features Sigmund Freud’s waiting room couch, the more famous sofa, as well as the majority of Freud’s collection of Egyptian, Greek, Roman and Oriental antiquities, are on display at another, larger Freud Museum in London.

The more sparsely decorated facility in Vienna is still highly atmospheric, however. Climbing the stone steps, seeing the “Prof. Dr. Freud: 3-4” sign on the door –– the numbers referred to the hour he reserved to see his patients every day –– and standing in the waiting room conjures up a sense of the groundbreaking work that transpired within those walls.

The remaining rooms in the apartment contain family photographs and personal effects, including a portion of Sigmund Freud’s antiquities collection and signed copies and first editions of his works.

Another section of the permanent exhibit offers video footage of the Freuds from the 1930s that’s narrated by Anna. The library, with some 35,000 volumes, claims to be the largest collection of works on psychoanalysis in Europe.

For anyone who’s ever sat on “the couch” or has been guilty of a Freudian slip, a visit to Freud’s Vienna home will put everything in perspective –– or give you someone to blame.

A visual odyssey, the hotel’s reception is a striking contrast of colors and textures — white Venetian plaster against black glass walls, glistening marbled surfaces, and shocking pink corridors.

In a moment of awe, when it seemed as if Hollywood glamour surrounded me, I realized I had fortuitously happened upon a live pre-run of a fashion show, with runway models at every turn.

I chose a camouflage print sofa in the “Pink Parlor” to watch the spectacle, all the while becoming more enthralled with the hotel’s extraordinary décor and eclectic style.

I began to contemplate various perfect occasions for a getaway at the g: a mother/daughter celebration, a special anniversary or a girls’ trip.

With unique appeal, the award-winning g hotel and spa was designed by celebrated Irish milliner Philip Treacy. Known for his originality and exquisite hat designs, Treacy draws inspiration from the landscapes and seashore of his native County Galway in a contemporary, sensuous style intended for pure comfort.

Photos by Ann Yungmeyer

Down to every detail, the g is a designer’s paradise — from the Connemara bred seahorse tank to the overall effect of thematic art, reflective light and bold color. As befits Treacy’s work for royal families and noted celebrities, a hat theme runs throughout the hotel decor. A photo of his first hat design in the form of a tall ship is displayed at the reception, and arrangements of hydrangea in the shape of a hat grace the salon tabletops.

The g has a first rate restaurant featuring local cuisine by an award-winning chef, and its state-of-the-art ESPA spa facility is a draw for locals and visitors alike. The spa offers a roof top bamboo garden and clever packages such as pajama parties, hide and sleep, and spa adventure for men.

Facing Galway Bay, the hotel is a short walk to the city center. Galway City offers much to see and explore including the  Spanish Arch, St. Nicholas church in the medieval center, countless traditional Irish music pubs, excellent restaurants and shopping. Summer buzzes with activities from the famous Galway Races to arts and cultural festivals.

Popular day excursions include taking the ferry across Galway Bay to the Aran Islands or a short drive to the dramatic Cliffs of Moher. The Burren, south of Galway City, is one of Ireland’s most fascinating natural landscapes, a mix of glaciated limestone plateaus and hills among fertile valleys and ancient stonewalled pastures.

While the natural beauty, culture and music of traditional Ireland are most often the focus of a visit to Galway, it’s hard to beat a few days of flamboyant style and modern luxury at the g.

Big Chalkers street experience; by Kristin Freese, courtesy of DesignPhiladelphia

As the United States –– and former manufacturing hubs like Philadelphia –– try to redefine themselves for the post-industrial age, design can offer a path to a sustainable future, says Hilary Jay, executive director of DesignPhiladelphia, a city-wide festival running from Oct. 13-23.

“We’re not the workshop to the world anymore,” Jay says. “Hopefully, we can be a strong resource for innovation.”

The 11-day festival, which is held during National Design Week, seeks to highlight the city’s contributions through a range of interactive events, lectures, studio tours and workshops, with the larger goal of promoting a conversation about design’s role in our lives.

Ahead of the event, Jay discusses why design should matter and what she hopes to accomplish with the seven-year-old festival.

Which came first –– Philadelphia being on the national design map or the event helping to establish the city’s design bona fides?

DesignPhiladelphia is working toward bolstering Philadelphia’s reputation as a city of innovation and vibrancy. By having all these events at the same time, we’re showing the strengths of the city’s economic, social and educational power.

Design is as simple as a paper clip, as complex as an urban plan and as political as a flag. Any given city has a need to make design and information central to its future.

Sustainable greenhouse at the American Philosophical Society; by Brent Wahl, courtesy of DesignPhiladelphia

You’re also able to marshal the city’s educational resources, since the event is presented in partnership with University of the Arts.

There are seven schools in the city that all have design programs. It’s an amazing conglomerate of educational possibilities. There’s also the desire to keep people here once they’ve been educated, so retention is part of the issues we’re hoping to help sway.

What kinds of experiences can people expect to find among the more than 150 events?

They really go from extremely immersive events like Not A Vacant Lot [a five-day series of parties, performances and cultural events on an empty downtown lot] that’s sort of a happening, to things that are more particular to someone’s interests.

We have the Scarlett Alley event [in Old City], where we’re having a great jewelry designer, Alexis Bittar –– you can talk to him, and he does really gorgeous, sculptural pieces.

We have the Build a Chair, Build a Neighborhood event [to make chairs out of old pallet crates] that Web design firm P’yunk Ave. is doing –– it’s a very different energy and places design on the street. An innocent bystander can walk by and say –– “What the heck is that?” –– and think about how design impacts their lives.

The Big Chalkers event on the Benjamin Franklin Parkway seems perfect for anyone who ever had a box of Crayolas.

Those things are four-feet-tall! To see people in business suits marking up the sidewalk at lunchtime is pretty funny. It reminds you we can have fun in our lives, and design is not so serious.

Politicians aren’t usually known for their design savvy. Why did you decide to recognize Philadelphia Mayor Michael Nutter as the first Design Champion?

He’s invested in the idea that our creative community is going to make a change and help pivot the city to another place besides hot dogs and Rocky and cheesesteaks.

He’s put his power into place into a variety of things that are very much design-oriented, from adding the Office of Arts, Culture and Creative Economy when he got elected, hiring Gary Steuer [as chief cultural officer] and creating a cabinet level position for that office, to creating an Office of Sustainability and [authorizing] our new bicycle lanes.

We’re really changing, and it’s evident to people who are living here.

Photo by Brett Shoaf

For culturally minded visitors, San Diego makes it easy. Some 15 museums are located in one beautiful urban space: Balboa Park, a jewel located in the heart of the city. Established in l868, and encompassing almost 1,200 acres, the park hosts 13 million visitors annually.

They come to explore everything from  art to history to zoology.

Known as the Smithsonian of the West, the park offers the added attractions of eight gardens, walkways, hiking trails, an IMAX domed theater, and the Spreckels Organ Pavilion, where free Sunday concerts are held at the world’s largest outdoor organ.

And there’s still more — a separate area of Balboa Park acts as the site of the famed San Diego Zoo.

I  began my exploration with a guided walking tour that left from the Visitors Center. As we strolled along El Prado, a wide, palm-tree lined walkway, we learned about the park’s wide-ranging flora. Our guide pointed out a huge Moreton Bay fig tree, one of the largest trees in the U.S. (The tallest tree in the park is a 180-foot-tall eucalyptus, he added.)

The museums, too, are impressive in their diversity. One building alone houses the Museum of Photographic Arts, the Model Railroad Museum and the San Diego History Center.  Most of the Spanish Colonial buildings date from San DIego’s 1915-1916 and 1935-36 expositions.

The Mingei International Museum focuses on folk art, while the San Diego Museum of Art,  the city’s largest art museum offers an outdoor Sculpture Court Café, a delightful place to relax.

Another highlight was the Old Globe Theatre, which is actually three theaters. The best known one is the Old Globe, a circular building which looks just like the original in London and hosts summer Shakespeare festivals. But there’s also a larger open air theater and an arena stage.

The theater complex is situated behind the Museum of Man — one of the park’s most striking buildings. Built in 1914, it’s the tallest structure in San Diego. Its tower is crowned with a beautiful tiled dome.

Photo by Richard Benton

The next day, I visited the world-famous San Diego Zoo, home to more than 4,000 animals, including exotic and endangered species like the giant panda. (You can find them in just three other American zoos.)

Since the Zoo covers a large expanse, I began with a guided bus tour. It’s also an accredited botanical garden with 6,000 different trees and plants, I learned: including numerous banana trees, from which the Zoo’s gorillas daily feed.

We zipped by the 7.5 acre Elephant Odyssey, where we caught glimpses of these 12,000-pound animals. Not only do these thirsty creatures drink 30-50 gallons per day, our guide also noted that they get a daily pedicure.

Other areas we passed included the Polar Bear Plunge, Monkey Trails, and Gorilla Tropics.

When the tour was over, I followed signs to re-visit a few areas and get close-up views of the animals in their habitats. They seemed entirely undisturbed by the visitors peering at them with cameras pointed.

After two days, I’d still barely scratched the surface of Balboa Park’s multi-faceted offerings, but the beauty of the natural — and man-made — gems whet my appetite for future visits.

The line at the White House; photos by Beth D'Addono

Editor’s note: This is the first in an occasional series of guests posts from Unchained Travel, Beth D’Addono’s global guide to locally owned places to eat, drink, play and sleep.

Locals have long debated what makes the sandwiches so special at White House in Atlantic City, N.J.

Maybe it’s the bread, fresh Italian loaves straight out of the oven from Formica Bros. Bakery across the street.

Or maybe it’s the over-sized fillings of deli meats and cheeses.

Whatever it is, White House has been a lines-out-the-door operation since 1946.

Supposedly even Ol’ Blue Eyes had sandwiches delivered to him when he came to town.  The White House owners are definitely fans of the Chairman of the Board –– don’t miss the wall of fame shrine that includes photos and even a framed towel used by Francis Albert himself at his last AC appearance. Awesome relic.

Naturally, the subs are HUGE –– two-handers –– so depending on your hunger, a half ($7 for a turkey sub) will do you. Or go for the gusto, and spring for the $12.60 White House Special, jam-packed with Italian meats and cheeses and dressed with hot peppers, lettuce tomato and onions.

With more than 20 million subs sold, they’re doing something right.

Vibe: No frills is giving this place too much credit. But it works.

The Crowd: A real mixed bag, from business types to teens, tourists –– the line is always interesting. But don’t wait on it if you’re taking out, elbow through and head to the back to order.

Best Bets: The tuna with provolone is my favorite.

And for Dessert: If you can possibly save room, go across the street to Formica where the cannoli are piped to order and the filling is thick, sweet ricotta spiked with chocolate chips.

Stands the Church clock at ten to three?

And is there honey still for tea?

Rupert Brooke, the English poet who penned those yearning nostalgic lines, would surely have approved of the lavish afternoon tea served Saturdays and Sundays at Toronto’s Fairmont Royal York. After all, it’s been a tradition ever since the hotel opened in 1929.

At that time, “The Dowager of Front Street’ was the tallest building in the British Empire. Winston Churchill was among its first guests, and it’s been a favorite of the glitterati ever since. Queen Elizabeth has stayed here three times — in the Royal Suite, naturally. So have entertainers like Frank Sinatra and Justin Bieber, Cary Grant and Antonio Banderas.

The Lobby dazzles still with chandeliers, travertine pillars, a hand-painted ceiling — and lots of lions, sprawling everywhere from the rugs to the pedestals. Feeling hungry rather than regal, my daughter and I climbed marble stairs to the Library Bar, a large clubby space filled with an agreeable clinking of tea-cups and the gentle strumming of a guitar.

Photos courtesy of Fairmont Royal York

Once seated, we were offered a “fine selection of loose leafs [sic] teas .“ No tea-bags here. An affable waiter soon arrived with our choice, a large pot of Empress 1908 Blend. Next came the first of three courses, a crumpet, topped with fresh berries and a drizzling of butter and Grand Marnier sauce. Then a plate of finger sandwiches: lobster and mango salad, smoked Nova Scotia salmon, smoked turkey breast, and, cucumber, of course.

The grand finale, a three-tiered tray, fairly groaned with cranberry scones and clotted cream and preserves, honey and white chocolate madeleines, and strawberry cheesecake squares.

From May to September, there’s another treat, an après-tea tour — some 14 stories above ground. Way back in 1998, an employee suggested installing an herb garden on the roof. Now the 110 cooks, apprentices, and Chef David Garcelon enthusiastically moonlight as gardeners, tending the seventeen raised beds and planters. This oasis in the sky is surrounded by high rises, which shelter it from the wind, creating an urban micro-climate.

They grow lavender, calendula, rapini, kale, rhubarb, six kinds of lettuce, tomatoes, horseradish, many herbs,, and edible flowers. They’re experimenting with two kinds of grapes and a fig tree. It’s totally organic, with compost from the garden refuse. All the vegetables, fruit and herbs are used in the hotel restaurants.

Photo by Mary Alice Downie

Three years ago, a different sort of royalty moved in permanently, in partnership with the Toronto Beekeepers’ Co-Operative. The cooks helped build and now maintain six hives with their queens. (A single summer hive may contain 60,000 bees.)

The honey is harvested twice a year. In 2010, they gathered 450 pounds – and again, with the lowest of carbon footprints, took it downstairs. The hives are green, reflecting the mood of the hotel.

Several sister properties such as le Chateau Frontenac and Hotel Vancouver, thinking the idea the bees’ knees, have installed apiaries and herb gardens of their own. And so. . . another fine tradition.

Some of the familiar ugliness of Tokyo remains — the overhead wires, stumpy ferro-concrete buildings, and rumbling elevated trains — but there’s a very apparent air of relaxed poshness, too. It’s a feeling I’ve encountered several other times in this sprawing metropolis, but nonetheless I’m instantly taken by casual-but-chic Daikanyama.

This charming neighborhood in Shibuya ward became hot with Tokyoites about a decade ago, shortly after those adjacent to it — Aoyama, Ebisu — took off. Gradually, a few high-end chains set up shop.

But they’re along the lines of Paul Smith and Vivienne Tam, too expensive for my blood, yet without the roll-your-eyes familiarity of other uber brands such as Chanel or Dior.

Naturally, though, it’s the little retailers that count. Like Kamawanu, located in an old wood building fronted by a traditional nori curtain and crammed from top to bottom with tenugui.

The shop offers more than 200 classic, contemporary, and seasonal designs — at Christmastime, I picked up one sporting a gift-laden Santa making his way down a Kyoto street. The Japanese use these bold, graphic cotton towels for wall-hanging, gift-wrapping, head-covering, and, of course,  hand-drying,

Moving through the neighborhood, I seek out other well-known retailers, like Loveless and Okura, the one selling fashion-forward clothes in a modern setting, the other leaning toward indigo linens and organic cottons set just-so amidst a rustic building.

Passing the music shop, Bonjour, a CD of Big Band classics remixed, Euro-style, grabs my attention — so I wander in and buy it.  Nearby — who knew? — I discover a branch of Mario Battali’s Eataly, the grocery store-cum-food mall of all things Italian. Located in two buildings wrapped around one of the courtyards that mark the area, the oils and noodles here seem exotic, given the context of sesame and udon so common elsewhere.

Still, of course, they’re not that exotic to me, so I push on. It’s those courtyards and passages that interest me the most, after all. Much of them come courtesy of architect Fumihiko Maki, whose Hillside Terrace complex dates from the late 1960s. Rising from both sides of the train station, these buildings are ripe for exploring, offering an eclectic mix of cafes and galleries, with the occasional surprise like a tony flower shop.

Photos by JoAnn Greco

Back at grade level, Daikanyama offers its own array of curving lanes and a plethora of places to take a break. I settle into Queen’s Collection Chocolate, and examine its exhaustive menu of hot chocolate. About $7 buys an entire experience.

Pick your chocolate, and add flavorings (such as caramel), then wait a bit for the ensuing masterpiece. I sit at a window counter, watching moms-and-strollers glide by and a pair of frolicking golden retriever puppies.

Soon, a white-aproned waitress offers me a tidy assemblage that includes a small porcelain pitcher of milk, an egg-shaped vessel that holds a votive candle burning under a bit of foamed milk, and another small porcelain bowl of chocolate chips. I mix everything up and indulge.

When I rouse myself, I hear train after train gorging itself of returning commuters. The once-calm streets fill with denizens walking into the controlled frenzy so typical of the rest of Tokyo. The sky is darkening — the bright lights of  Ueno? Ginza? Shinjuku? beckon, and I leave Daikanyama.