Cradled by the Carpathian Mountains, this staggering stretch of Romania has laid the foundations for countless legends. Oak forests fade into pastures of graduated green, wolves stalk the misty escarps and, amid the terracotta rooftops, turrets and spires soar skywards. It’s long been the land that time forgot, immortalised in Mr Bram Stoker’s Gothic novel and its innumerous spin-offs. However, a slow and steady wind change is under way, driven by artisans, farmers and winemakers intent on bringing the region’s edenic valleys and slow-living ethos to the attention of clued-in, seen-it-all travellers. For a front-row seat to the shifting story, settle in at one of Bethlen Estates’ handsome guesthouses on the fringes of slumberous Criş. Seductive in their symmetry, these painstakingly restored hideouts are a lesson in admirable restraint.

Raw beauty characterises this wave-lashed Italian archipelago above all else. A hydrofoil whoosh from Sicily’s northwestern tip, the three islands are a feast for the senses, miniscule yet wildly elemental and much the same today as they were a century back. Long-abandoned quarries and sea caves lend an idiosyncratic quality to Favignana’s enticing coastline. When the wind eases off, the shallows are as clear as glass and just above them, segueing into the tufa stone, you’ll glimpse four-bedroomed Zu Nillu. No less captivating are the two further-out Egadi isles – beautifully bare Levanzo with its rippling limestone crags, and Marettimo, where heat-baked pine hangs heavy in the air. Apart from boating and swimming, there’s little to do in these remote parts, but that, of course, is the very idea.

Far removed from the Côte d’Azur’s splashy social whirl, once-sleepy Saint-Rémy-de-Provence is cementing itself as a go-to for in-the-know Parisians looking to slow the pace without going entirely off-grid. A gentle hum echoes out from leafy Place Favier and into the warren-like streets. Fountains gurgle as starch-shirted waiters glide past parasolled tables, pouring pale rosé beside plates of fleurs de courgette. It’s all very civilised without feeling the least bit stiff. Beyond the town’s crumbling 14th-century walls, sunflower-studded fields stretch out in every direction, and it’s here that you’ll find the famous Saint-Paul-de-Mausole monastery, where Mr Vincent van Gogh painted “Irises” and “The Starry Night”. There’s a handful of well turned-out spots to bed down, too, but our pick is Hôtel de Tourrel, an absurdly sophisticated stay with original herringbone parquet underfoot and custom mid-century pieces at every turn.

A place of emerald rice paddies, temples half engulfed by jungle and vast sandy swathes, empty but for the occasional fisherman, ravishing Phú Yên province flies blessedly under the radar, swerving the snap-happy hordes synonymous with Vietnam’s well-trodden stretches. Lean into its outrageous levels of natural beauty with rambles along the surreal basalt rocks that rise up from the Da Dia Reef, and check in to Bãi San Hô, the freshest addition to Zannier Hotels’ knockout line-up. Spilling out of the dew-drenched foliage and onto the warm sand, here you have a tropical idyll reassuringly in tune with its surrounding, a superb jumping-off point for horizon-broadening beachy pursuits.

When it comes to off-the-beaten-path adventures, Namibia is near impossible to top. A stark land of dunes and desert-adapted predators, its expanses are as unforgiving as they are immense. In the eerily empty Kaokoveld (one of the planet’s last remaining wildernesses), the silence alone is enough to knock you sideways. Ochre plains rear up into mountains etched by the elements and silhouetted on the horizon are the smudges of nomadic Himba settlements. From tracking endangered black rhino to zipping about in turboprop Cessnas, the steep-sided valleys deliver jaw-slackening encounters by the bucketload, and Hoanib Valley Camp makes for an unbeatable base. Desert lions roam the dust-blown landscapes and, while they’re notoriously elusive, twilight drives with masterly trackers will better your chances of a sighting.

It’s the go-slow mood you notice first on this breezy Bahamian isle. A mere speck on the map, a few miles from untamed Eleuthera, here you have a sun-licked idyll of the very best kind. And though it is, on the face of it, your archetypal tropical haven – with its sherbet shores, comically blue water and cheery calypso soundtrack – Briland, as its fondly known to locals, is not a see-and-be-seen sort of place. Rather, it’s somewhere to hit pause and loosen up. There’s a lived-in air that keeps it from entering postcard territory. Crowing roosters run amok, criss-crossing the pastel porches, and you’ll want to rent a beaten-up golf buggy (the islanders’ wheels of choice) for navigating the dusty roads. As far as dream digs are concerned, Bahama House takes first prize and sticky, blue-skied days are best spent bumping between Dunmore Town and the beach, where you’ll sprawl lazily, ice-cold Kalik in hand.

Not all that long ago, the sliver of land running parallel to the Hamptons held little appeal, the obscure sibling of the better-known southern peninsula. Fast-forward a few years and Long Island’s North Fork has emerged as a low-fi, refreshingly unpretentious alternative. Record shops sit beside locally beloved oyster shacks, artist-run galleries dot the winsome waterfront towns and a slew of low-intervention wineries have sprung up between the marshes and rolling farmland. A clever reimagining of a 1950s beachside motel, a stone’s throw from Greenport, Sound View exemplifies the North Fork’s laid-back appeal with simple, modernist aesthetics and rope-strung decks licked by the salty sprays of the Long Island Sound. There’s no denying the allure of the soft-focus summer months here, but it’s every bit as enticing in the off season, when the waves break louder and swirling banks of fog cloak the shoreline.