It's the hard knock life.

When you tell people you're skiing in Aspen, make sure you say it with an obxonious fabulosity. Casually allude to a private charter jet. And then book your room at the Sky Hotel, a cute little Kimpton boutique with cute little price tags. It's a block or two from the gondola for Ajax Mountain, and has an onsite ski rental. There's also a heated pool, wi-fi, a daily wine reception, and really annoying music on the website. Check their specials page before you book -- right now they're running a Pumpkin Sky promotion, which gets you a double room with daily lift tickets for $275 a night. If you don't plan on leaving the lodge, it's even cheaper.

Pack extra socks.

I whine as soon as the temperature dips below 70, and yet I'm counting the minutes until Quebec's Ice Hotel re-opens so I can spend a regret-filled night shivering on a bed of deer pelts. The hotel is carved from ice every year and stays open from January through April, when it melts. I don't know if I'm more attracted to the transience and imminent destruction, or the vodka bar. I mean, they serve drinks in ice shot glasses!

Keep in mind, this is more of an experience than a hotel. Rooms start at $200 per person -- check their site for early-booking discounts -- but for the five-star price, you're getting communal bathrooms, a partially frozen staff, and a thermostat that's stuck at 25 degrees. (Thanks, nature.) If you must be pampered, maybe skip the overnight stay; day tours are available for $15.

Get ready to relax, or not.

I'm obsessed with Rio de Janeiro because it has two of my favorite beach bonus features: topography and overcrowding. Seriously, as much as I love a nice secluded beach, I kind of love battling for an empty patch of sand. Ipanema Beach has chilly water and rough currents, but the view makes up for it. (Besides, Rio's other popular beach is Copacabana, and if we're talking about beaches that inspired songs, "Girl from Ipanema" is the clear winner.) Rooms at the Best Western Sol Ipanema start at $150 USD for a double with breakfast included. Except to pay waaaaay more during Carnival, and don't bother waiting for low season -- the hottest month is February, but it only beats the dead of winter by seven degrees.

Aurora or bust.

I'm obsessed with the Northern Lights. I've read the scientific explanation a few thousand times, but it makes zero sense to me and frankly, I don't really care. It's pretty. The lights are most visible between October and April; for the best chance of viewing, shack up as close to the Arctic Circle as possible. And since the lights aren't exactly reliable, may I suggest Iceland? At least you won't be bored and freezing if Aurora Borealis goes on break.

Simple bare necessities.

It's been awhile since I updated, because I needed to take some time off to focus on more important things. Like processed meats. I just got back from Munich and other assorted Bavarian cities, where I ate about sixteen pounds of sausage. Best find: The super-simple hotel room at the Hotel Royal, near Munich's main train station. It was only 159 Euros/night during Oktoberfest, which means it's practically free during any normal time of year. The room pictured must be their presidential suite, because our room was the size of...well, a bed. And nothing more. But it's sparkly clean, centrally located, and the continental breakfast rocks the Alps. Seriously, free bratwurst? Dang!

It's electric.

I have a minor fear of shorting out my entire hotel, but after reviewing old vacation photos, I've realized that traveling without hair appliances is not an option. So for my upcoming trip to Germany, I decided to invest in a proper adapter and surge protector. I've seen models sell for upwards of $50 at Sharper Image, but I went with the Franzus All-in-One from Adorama instead -- a much more wallet-friendly $12.85 (plus shipping). Bonus: It adapts to outlets in the UK, Europe, Asia, and parts of Africa, so I can plug in anywhere without blowing a fuse.

It's better on a Monday.

What happens in Vegas is usually overrated. Seriously. The hotels are tacky, the buffets are nasty, and the Strip is packed with weekend warriors desperate to have some sort of craaazy thing happen to them.

But I can't hate on Vegas completely, because it does have two things I love: neon, and $1 margaritas. And even though last night's VMAs made me want to stab myself in the eye, they also made me want to stay at the Palms. Maybe that's because the show was basically a two-hour commercial for the Maloof digs. Whatever, I'm sold. But I'll skip the $329 weekend rate -- and the corresponding crowd -- and stick with the midweek discounts, which start at $129 on Sundays. Same hotel, same fab lounges, fewer desperate tourists. Triple play!

Nice jail cell.

I love re-imagined buildings -- hospitals that become apartment buildings, banks that become restaurants, train terminals that become hotel lobbies. So I'm newly obsessed with Boston's Liberty Hotel, which opened yesterday in the former Charles Street Jail. They've cleaned up a little -- rooms have LCD TVs and Molton Brown toiletries. (I'd pocket a few bottles of shower gel. Hey, you're already in jail.) The exercise yard is now a courtyard; the drunk tank is now a bar called ALIBI; and the doorhangers say "Solitary" instead of "Do Not Disturb." The only downside: unless you spring for one of the 18 rooms in the historic building, you'll probably be sleeping in the new 16-story tower across the courtyard. But you can still toast the cell-block dwellers at the casual restaurant, Clink. Of course, it'd be nice if they got their reservation system up and running so I could list the rates; you get bathrobes, so it must be a little pricey. If you'd only known, you could've robbed a bank in 1989 and stayed for free.

Positively ravaged.

It's always nice when a hurricane misses -- for obvious reasons, of course, but also because you get the same pristine beach resort at crazy low rates. Tulum is already back in biz after Hurricane Dean, and you can score a cabana at the cute La Zebra for $100/night. Rooms are simple, but think "boutique," not "shack." The new-ish cantina serves up charcoal-grilled meals, and they even have wi-fi. Might as well stick around until December.

No more arm length pics.

Despite the awkward product shot, I am obsessed with the QuikPod. (It is neither fast nor affiliated with Apple, so I'm guessing the name refers to its usage as a slightly more convenient tripod.) Basically, you attach the handheld stick thingie to your camera, set the self-timer, and snap a pic that actually contains your entire face and some scenery. "That's nice," you say. "But can't you just ask a friendly stranger to snap your picture?" Sure. Unless, say, you've just climbed Mount Everest and your sherpa is taking a water break. Or you're in a sketchy area that already has you clutching your makeshift fanny pack precariously. Or you just don't want some idiot stranger taking a picture of your nose and the Empire State Building. The QuikPod costs about $30 at Amazon -- worth it if you travel solo. (Need an excuse to spend more money? The LCD screen on the Canon PowerShot A630 flips and rotates, so you can preview your self-portrait before you snap it. Sweet!)

These are almost cute.

I sincerely believe that Crocs are the scourges of fashion. I have nothing against comfortable footwear, but I draw the line at wearing a $30 foam clog that looks like a cross between a wiffle ball and clown vomit. Croc devotees can wax rapturous all they want; at the end of the day, they're still wearing fugly shoes. However, I will admit that these "Cleo" sandals aren't entirely putrid. I'd still rather walk the entire Jersey coastline in five-inch heels than give in to the cult of Crocs, but at least this color combo is sunny and cute, and they (mostly) lack the Bozo-chic vibe. Score?

Neutral goes with everything.

I was feeling pretty good about my footprint until I took this quiz, which alerted me to the fact that it would take five planets to sustain my lifestyle. Agghh! Now, I will argue that there were no specific questions about home energy use. If I am going to live without A/C, give me some credit, dammit! But travel consumes a decent chunk of carbon (though apparently not as much as my voracious love of carne), so calculate your next flight's footprint at Carbon Neutral, then pony up a few GBPs to offset the damage. Voila! Guilt-free globetrotting.

We could go down to the harbor.

One good reason to go to Newport: By now, the store at left is probably closed, so you won't have to encounter the scary mannequins. Two more: Glitz and chowder. The glitz is found at the mansion tours (the Marble House is especially gaudy and fantastic.) The chowder is found anywhere near the harbor.

Thames Street is the only place to stay, and I say that with complete knowledge that Middletown is totally convenient and far cheaper. But the nightlife there consists of a Chili's and a Walgreen's, so stick with downtown Newport. I would sleep at the Red Parrot if they let me, but it's not a hotel, so they won't. The grand Hotel Viking, a few blocks off the harbor, will. (If you go to their webpage, turn the volume down or you'll regret it.) Their rack rates are $300 and up, but you can usually find rooms on Expedia for less than $200. If you're not having luck, try the nearby America's Cup Inn -- rooms are $179. A lot of them suffer from a serious case of ugly, but Room 305 lacks the floor-to-ceiling floral effect.

Glitch in the matrix.

I've been completely slacking on the posts recently, because I've been too busy dreaming of currywurst. More specifically, I'm planning a trip to Munich next month for Oktoberfest, but somehow all the museums and castles pale in comparison to the fab food selection there. I am a big fan of processed meats, and I suspect that Bavaria will be my wunderland. Back to reality soon! (P.S. I think Yahoo Travel is onto me -- they've listed Munich as "Today's Pick" for a week now.)

Not another shipwreck.

Jason Taylor is a sculptor and a dive instructor, which explains why he took his latest masterpieces and dumped them in the bottom of Grenada's Moliniere Bay. The result: Either the artsiest snorkeling trip you'll ever take, or the strangest art gallery you'll ever visit. In shallow water about two miles north of St. George's, the underwater sculptures are affected by everything from light refraction to coral colonization. On a narcissistic level, my favorite is "The Lost Correspondent"; otherwise I'd vote for "The Un-Still Life."

By the way, Grenada is in low season like the rest of the soggy Caribbean -- but it's located below the hurricane belt, so the sun is usually shining. I need to book a flight yesterday.