Sometimes an all-inclusive resort is exactly what you need: a week of zero decisions, mindless pool time and a steady stream of margaritas. Culture? No. Authentic food? Also no. But as writer Ariella Garmaise explains, this might be travel at its most honest: “Submerged in a world that is as fake as the potted palm trees dotting the lobby, there’s no need to make any virtual pleas to authenticity, and perversely, I am most myself.” Read more.

And if you’re flying economy on a long-haul flight this summer, well, best of luck. Our columnist Jane Macdougall laments the indignity of air travel (the phrase “packed like sardines” comes to mind) and asks: How much worse can this possibly get?

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