This is the Travel Take, where Matador’s writers and editors make the case for their favorite travel hacks, tips, and personal tics.
I’m in Rome, I whisper to myself. Hours earlier, I had been sitting on the Spanish Steps drinking a clumsily ordered espresso (I wanted a latte). Now, I’m wearing a black dress with a constellation pattern, ascending the steps to the Michelin-starred restaurant attached to my hotel — my first encounter with such esteemed luxury. The windows overlook the sparkling city with its rusty red domes. I’m totally smitten and I am about to eat what has been officially sanctioned as one of the best meals in the world.