San Cassiano's village hotel since 1850, rebuilt from the foundations up and reopened in July 2025 as a fully-fledged Aman, with interiors by longtime Aman collaborator Jean-Michel Gathy. The arrival here has nothing to do with the building and everything to do with what surrounds it: La Varella and the Conturines rising directly behind the property, jagged limestone that turns rose-pink at dusk in a phenomenon locals call the enrosadira. Three generations of the Pizzinini family ran this hotel before Aman's involvement; their presence remains, woven into a property that now operates at an entirely different register.

Fifty-one rooms and suites face either the village or the forest, with floor-to-ceiling windows that make the Dolomites peaks feel like part of the room's furniture rather than a view beyond it. Dining runs in three distinct directions: family-style Italian on The Grill's terrace, Japanese shabu shabu at Enju, and breakfast in the Heritage Room overlooking the treeline. Direct access to Dolomiti Superski's twelve hundred kilometres of pistes defines the winter season; summer opens the same terrain to hiking and cycling. The property includes designated family wellness areas alongside its adults-focused spa — a hotel built for the full range of who might arrive at this particular village, at this particular altitude.

Ten tents built directly onto a field of granite boulders at the southern edge of the Namib, the world's oldest desert, inside a private 5,600-hectare reserve where the nearest town is over an hour away. The design draws on the 1920s, the era of British explorers arriving in southern Africa with steamer trunks and a determination to be comfortable regardless of where they'd landed — antique furnishings, a telescope on every private deck, a cigar lounge with a billiards table that would not look out of place in a colonial-era gentleman's club. The boulders themselves do the real work: the tents simply sit among them, raised just high enough that the desert reads as endless in every direction.

Dinner moves around the property depending on the night — breakfast on top of the Sonop Dune, five-course gala dinners under a sky with no light pollution for hundreds of kilometres in any direction, an open-air cinema where the screen competes, not always successfully, with the stars overhead. Zannier Hotels Sonop holds Three MICHELIN Keys, the only property in Namibia to receive the distinction. The infinity pool faces directly into the desert's vastness, with nothing — no fence, no structure, no other hotel — interrupting the view to the horizon. This is what isolation looks like when isolation has been treated as the entire design brief.

The only hotel built inside Brazil's Iguaçu National Park, close enough to the falls that the sound reaches the property before any view does — a low roar that builds for the entire two-minute walk from the rose-pink colonial facade to the first viewing platform. Iguaçu is wider than Niagara and taller than Victoria Falls, a horseshoe of two hundred and seventy-five individual cascades spread across nearly three kilometres of Atlantic rainforest. Guests staying inside the park gain access before the gates open to day visitors and after they close in the evening — a version of the falls that almost nobody else gets to see, without the crowds that define the daytime experience.

Portuguese colonial architecture, restored to its original grandeur, houses a hundred and seventy-six rooms decorated with paintings of local flora and fauna by Brazilian artist Ludmilla de Montes. Itaipu Restaurant works in Brazilian-international register; Ipê Grill handles a poolside churrascaria; Bar Tarobá serves a Devil's Throat cocktail named for the most powerful section of the falls, audible from the bar's outdoor veranda. Cataratas Spa sits between the rainforest and the cascades, close enough that the sound of falling water becomes part of every treatment. The hotel's gardens, thick with orchids and fed by the falls' own spray, make the short walk back from the viewing platforms feel like a second arrival rather than a return.