Calatrava's City of Arts and Sciences connects old Valencia with the Mediterranean both symbolically and geographically. His creations alighted at the moment that the waterfront was preparing itself for the spotlight of the America's Cup—the combination was a two-pronged plan to integrate land and sea. The wide promenade reminds me of Miami Beach at the beginning of its gentrification. Retirees sun themselves, fashionable new mothers push the latest strollers, and old sea dogs congregate for banter and beer. Farther back from the water is the neighborhood of El Cabanyal, a former fishing village of Art Nouveau buildings with wrought iron terraces, polychrome tiles, and dilapidated but beautiful facades. Once threatened with demolition, they are now being restored, and El Cabanyal is one of the city's up-and-coming neighborhoods.

It is here in the tangled backstreets that I find my own Holy Grail. Bodega Montaņa is what most Spanish bars only try to imitate, a Valencian institution since 1836 where locals and visiting foodies convene for excellent but inexpensive wines by the glass and a constant stream of small dishes. I order super-slim slices of acorn-fed jamón Ibérico, marinated anchovy fillets, and red peppers bursting with béchamel, and toast my good fortune at seeing a new architectural icon and eating at a seventeenth-century bar—all in one day.

CORNWALL

Miles of wild coastline with superlative surf
A new wave of top seafood restaurants

I am on a bluff overlooking a huge bay where a wide curve of white sand ends in emerald water, reminding me of the wild Australian coast. The waves are long and gentle, and a handful of hunky kitesurfers bob on the water. Apart from them and a few windswept locals walking their dogs, the place is empty. Our group of six students and two instructors carry our boards down the sand dunes and limber up before making our way into the chilly surf. I gamely swim out to the break in my wet suit. As I catch my first wave of the day I can't help but be surprised that we have Sandy Acres, a pristine beach near the popular resort town of St. Ives, almost to ourselves.

Cornwall, the dramatic southwest tip of England, is blessed with a unique combination of bucolic countryside and beaches perfect for water sports. The weather is warmer and the days sunnier here than anywhere else in the United Kingdom, and over the past few years the Cornish coast has been experiencing a new incarnation as one of the hottest surfing spots in Europe. As soon as you get near the sea, the sight of battered 1970s VW vans with surfboards strapped to their roofs is as commonplace as the herds of sheep grazing alongside stone farmhouses. And following in the sport's wake has been a new generation of accomplished but low-key restaurants and beachfront cafés (some owned by celeb chefs like Jamie Oliver and Rick Stein), as well as notable hotels and B&Bs. Here, too, is a burgeoning arts scene that's grown out of a tradition of writers and artists seeking inspiration along this coast, in old stone towns set against deep-green rolling fields. The crowds have become almost too much to handle in summer: The tiny fishing villages are snarled by traffic, the hotels fully booked for months. The off-season (especially spring and fall) is the perfect time to visit: The crowds disappear, the beaches empty, and the hotels and restaurants start running specials. All of which is a boon for surfers like me, who know that wave conditions are optimal during these months.