It’s high tide and the water is warm, the food smells delicious and the ti’punch has my head spinning just so. It’s a lazy Thursday afternoon: I’m ready to slip into somewhere very comfortable… and I hear Le Petibonum fits perfectly.

Let me tell you how I wound up at this fabulous gem, part beach bar, part oh-so-good French restaurant. Martinique has been overhauling its image, marrying its classic ambience with a je ne sais quoi youthful spirit. Having covered most of Martinique’s lush tropical lands and the exciting new developments in the capital, Fort de France, I went out in search of what sounded like a fabled place. I’d heard very intriguing stories about the proprietor of this beachside bistro and I needed to find out for myself. Was the restaurant and its chef/owner a myth? Were these tall tales about a scantily clad restaurateur? I had questions!

A little off the main road, down a bumpy stretch of land, lay more than I had anticipated. I wound up on a dark-sand beach, with an erection of red canvases shielding guests from the sun, wooden barrels as side tables and a view of the Caribbean Sea. I’d asked for beachfront, toes-in-the-sand and I got exactly that… and saw the stories come to life. Owned and operated by Guy Ferdinand, also known as Chef Hot Pants! Yep, he wears his chef’s coat and hot pants… that is all. His shock of wavy grey and black hair, brilliant smile and hospitable demeanor can’t distract you from the fact that he is wearing only the shortest shorts and a chef’s coat: They simply add to the flair!

The stories were true. He presented nouvelle cuisine that he had whipped up for the day’s menu. Always creating new dishes and delivering them with a combination of French and Caribbean flourish. He asks me to tell him what was in the dish. I try to detect the ingredients, my eyes closed and mouth full, and manage to nail a few off the tip of my tongue, but the complexity of his dishes leave room for him to expound upon his process. My fish had been sous vide – vacuum-sealed with herbs and spices then poached to perfection. Ooh la la.

What really took my eyes upward – and they may or may not have given a light flutter – was the fresh new dish he presented next. A mason jar filled with delectable goodness, too complex for me to dissect and describe. I believe it was heaven warmed over! You name it, Guy can prepare it… but the trick is to be at his mercy.  I opened my mind, eyes were ever so slightly squinting so as to not appear rude as I stared at nothing but his banging shorts.  I mean, they’re right at eye-level when you’re seated and he starts to excitedly describe what he’s about to bring to the table…it’s, right, there – but I digress.

Take a day and head over to Le Petibonum; it’s on the beach on the island’s west coast called Carbet. Swim, eat, drink ti’ punch (the local rum “cocktail…” you’ll have it everywhere you stop and it’s potent). Some say drink it warm, others with an ice cube, some say watch out, others slam it back… try it and you decide. It’s potent! I bid you adieu as it’s time for me to get up from the table because the music is calling me to dance.

And that never changes on Martinique.

I touch down in Hong Kong at 9pm after an 18-hour flight from Toronto. I had slept the majority of the last leg and woke up to the wheels of the plane touching down on the tarmac. Still a bit dazed, I cleared customs, grabbed my bag and hailed a cab. My driver skillfully weaves in and out of traffic as I stare out the window: The city rapidly approaches and the buildings grow from specks of light on the horizon to towering giants standing steadfast on both sides of the street, like a parade barricade, ushering me into the heart of the bustling metropolis.

I checked into my hotel in Wan Chai, a district that sits just outside of Central Hong Kong and is a little more rough-and-tumble, especially at night when the streets come alive with late-night dining options and all walks of life. I love parts of cities with character, so I always stay in Wan Chai. The hotel is beautiful – black and white granite everywhere, accented with gold light fixtures and neon blue lights… very Hong Kong.

The only problem is the place is virtually void of life, save for the cute girl behind the desk who checks me in. I walked past the bar for a drink before going to my room, but there is no one there, so I head upstairs. I lie down for a minute and try to trick myself into sleeping, but I’m back in one of my favorite cities and there is no way my mind is letting me sleep. I try to recall the bars I’ve been to near my hotel for a drink. Once primarily known as the red light district, Wan Chai has some excellent – and interesting – nightlife options that get better and wilder as the night progresses, but then it hits me: There is only one place to go in Hong Kong when you want a lively party any hour of the night.

I head back downstairs and take the five-minute taxi ride into Central to a small cobblestone L-shaped street just outside of SoHo known as Lan Kwai Fong, lined on both sides with trendy bars and restaurants. Lan Kwai Fong is Hong Kong’s premier dining and entertainment district and is known around the world as a top party destination: Think the miniature, Far East version of Bourbon Street, minus the Mardi Gras beads.

Much like Bourbon Street, Lan Kwai Fong street’s high concentration of bars, street performers and nonexistent open container laws make it the ideal place for a raging street party where expats, locals and tourists alike come together to hop from bar to bar, listening to live bands play incredible renditions of top 40 and classic rock hits, while dancing away the night well into the morning. Drink specials and all night happy hours are widely available… which makes a night on the town a little easier on the wallet (unlike most other areas of Hong Kong), but harder on the head the next morning.

The bursting popularity of the city’s party pocket has created a dramatic rise in new restaurants over the last few years greatly increasing the availability and quality of dining options in the area. Now boasting over 100 bars and restaurants, Lan Kwai Fong has everything you need for a night on the town from dinner to drinks to live entertainment.

Lan Kwai Fong should be your first destination for a night out in Hong Kong. Keep an eye out for me, I’ll likely be street side at Schooners Bar drinking an ice cold bottle of San Miguel beer or out on the dancefloor at Insomnia, playing air guitar to a Filipino rock & roll cover band.

In the middle of London, you expect a hodgepodge of lanes, terraces and places. The thing I least expected was to find, on one of those smaller quainter “side streets,” a brilliant boutique hotel called San Domenico House, with service that surpassed most 5-star properties I’ve visited. The bedding, the tea, the room service, the lighting, the comfort… it’s a melding of the old and the new, a difficult combination to blend so tastefully. This could have been a concoction of catastrophic proportions, a cocktail of shenanigans and cacophony… yet they pulled it off in a quiet understated manner.

But breaking the “rules” is probably my favorite part of discovering this treasure: If you’re looking for a restaurant, there isn’t one… but you can get room service. A bar – there are countless hip spots within a block or two of the hotel. Spa? Check: Sloane Square.

Why am I going on so much about something that seemingly has so little? Because I’m questioning whoever came up with the 5-star rating system that demands all those things I just mentioned…. All the things I love, all the services I’ve grown accustomed to, jaded by and – quite frankly – numb to, I realized I didn’t need. They simply checked all the boxes that were supposed to be in the best of the best places.

What ultimately counts, for me, is the authenticity, the safety, the genuine hospitality. In a very subtle way, I discovered so much about myself here. Initially I’d asked, “How will I do without these ‘things’? What am I supposed to do with myself in a sitting room that recalls a sophisticated library of a bygone era? It’s just off the reception area and there are crystal stem glasses, thirsting for a cocktail, decanters designed to hold spirits… but no bartender. Teas from all around the world are neatly arranged on a tea tray… but no cups, nor any hot water. How do I take these inanimate objects and fill them with the goodness I’ve grown accustomed to?

No sooner did an inquisitive scowl cross my face than a member of staff appeared at my side. I asked for a cup of tea and within three minutes, a full tea service was laid before me – biscuits and all the trimmings, including a fresh rose. As I sank back into the overstuffed couch, I began to realize what mattered most to me was this: service in a rich and inviting setting.

My scowl was replaced by a smile of contentment and I grew more curious about the hotel itself.  At check-in, they’d mentioned a rooftop terrace with views of Chelsea… What’s a rooftop without the relentless thumping of “DJ blah blah blah” and the hum of you-know-who chatting about what’s-her-name? I’m here to tell you, it’s everything… and nothing! Plush rooms, great service, staff that serves you breakfast in bed… for me, that’s swanky!