My dream trip changes according to my mood. Sometimes I dream of seeing the Northern Lights—from a hot tub near the Arctic Circle. Other times, I imagine myself staying in one of those glass-bottomed bungalows in Tahiti, a giant sunset touching upon the waves in front of me and a school of fish swimming beneath my feet. But I’ve got to admit, once I saw the five amazing dream trips that Travelocity is giving away right now, I’m considering changing my mind to riding a wine train through Chile, exploring New Zealand’s fjords, shopping atop the Alps in Switzerland, taking photographs along the beaches of Cape Town in South Africa, and experiencing what a space shuttle launch might be like at Kennedy Space Center in Florida.

While L.A. residents fight the smog and sit in traffic, many do not seem to know that just 24 easy miles away lies the island resort of Catalina. In contrast to the giant city that lies across the Pacific to the east, Catalina Island has always been something of an anachronism, where golf carts outnumber cars, the clocks move on “island time,” and a herd of buffalo still roams.

Imagine monitoring a meerkat population in the Kalahari. Picture tracking black sea turtles in Baja California. This summer, you could take a volunteer vacation with our partner Earthwatch Institute and work side by side with scientists who are doing important research in the field.

Alright, I admit it. Last weekend I went to see the movie Hot Tub Time Machine, and while I’m not going to say it’s the most brilliant movie ever made, it did succeed in making me laugh—and that’s really all I could ask for on a gloomy and rainy Saturday night. In the movie, a group of guys check into a rather rundown ski hotel and find that the hot tub on the back deck has transported them to the year 1986 when neon was still in style, the Talking Heads were “letting the days go by,” and the Russians were the “enemy.” Don’t worry, I haven’t spoiled any of the plot.

When I told people I was going to Mexico and NOT staying on the beach, a look of sincere confusion would cross their faces. "Oh, so you're going to Mexico City, then?" they'd ask. "No, San Miguel de Allende." San Miguel...what?

Neither a sun-soaked beach nor a mega-metropolitan center, San Miguel is nestled in the heart of central Mexico and is a colonial gem. Perched more than 6,000 feet above sea level, this UNESCO World Heritage Site is hands down one of the most charming destinations I've ever visited and it offered me a peek into the sleepy villages of Mexico's past.

Like you, I'm sure, I have a HUGE list of places to see and things to do before I die. And every trip, I try to cross one off my list. So when I found out that I'd be going to Maui with my husband's family, I immediately began to research surfing lessons. For years and years I have wanted to give this sport a whirl and finally I would have my chance.

What I love about travel is the way it expands your worldview. I admit that I have occasionally felt like I had it hard here in the U.S. But all it takes is a trip beyond our borders and I remember how very lucky I am.

And inevitably when the citizens of my host country open their arms and welcome me, treat me like a guest in their beautiful country, I am humbled anew. Travelers are acutely aware that the world is not a collection of different people and countries, but rather a global community where people rely upon one another. And they understand that the gift of travel comes with responsibilities.

Last week, a star performer at SeaWorld tragically killed its trainer before a live audience. The star in question was a killer whale named Tilikum, who was captured in the wild off the coast of Iceland many years ago. Since his capture, he has been made to perform for audiences in theme parks in Canada and the United States. While debates may rage about whether or not creatures like killer whales should be kept in captivity and turned into performers, there’s no question that seeing such an animal in its natural habitat is an incomparable—and elusive—experience.

I’ve never been much into the Olympics, but after a trip to Vancouver and Whistler in January I caught a bit of a bug. Anxious to keep the spirit alive as I waited for the Games to begin, I planned an early February trip to Lake Placid, NY, home to the 1932 and 1980 Winter Games and a place both entrenched in and proud of its Olympic history. From ‘Miracle Monday’ specials at the famous Dancing Bears Bar to the photos of champion Olympians past hanging on the walls at the High Peaks Resort to the signs all over town wishing ‘good luck’ to local Andrew Weilbrecht, member of the US Olympic Alpine Ski Team -- the Olympic ties practically hit you over the head at every turn in this tiny town in New York’s Adirondacks.

Today is Groundhog Day, which always seems the unofficial point at which most people take a look at Old Man Winter, shake their fists, and say, okay man, enough is enough. It’s clear to me, however, that none of those people have been to Mammoth Mountain, set in the Sierra Nevada, where the fun of winter is very much alive, embraced, and holding sway.