Rent (or borrow) another house and live another life Ty Warner Penthouse Four Seasons, New YorkĪlso, alcohol is for drinking-not Instagram.Superior Room Tierra Patagonia Hotel & Spa, Chile.Spring Villa Nayara Springs, Costa Rica.Prestige Suite Portrait Firenze, Florence.Paseo Suite Ojai Valley Inn & Spa, California.These hotel rooms have such preposterously covetable interiors and views so beyond, you’ll want to hole up all day in your bathrobe. Never leave the room (and don't feel bad about it)

Take it from us: Kid-free zones are made for a reason-guiltless third margaritas being one of them. When you’re on your second margarita before noon, nothing kills the buzz faster than the sounds of contagious laughter coming from other people’s kids splashing around in the shallow end with Mom and Dad (thus making you feel like a selfish a-hole for leaving your own brood behind). I’ll take unadulterated solitude over room service any day. We want to sit in front of the wood-burning stove, take in the view of Loch Dunvegan, maybe eat some oysters at the Three Chimneys, and nod to a few sheep on blustery walks outside.

Now that we have officially been outnumbered, this year the resolution is self-prescribed exile at the Black Shed, a blissfully isolated cabin on the equally removed, dreamy Isle of Skye in Scotland. My husband and I live in London, and for years, travel for us meant high-gear tears through busy, beautiful places: Barcelona, Marrakech, Stockholm, Istanbul with one and then two kids in tow. Throw your phones, iPads, even your Fitbit (counting steps can wait) in the hotel safe and don’t take them out until you leave. That is, except to enjoy the quiet of a tourist town on break. More important, there was no burden to do the thing you’re supposed to do here. The Silver Dollar Bar at the The Wort Hotel was mainly filled with chatty locals drinking midday. We had the Rusty Parrot Lodge & Spa and its outdoor hot tub practically to ourselves. Go in the off seasonĪ few years ago, I dumped my kid at my parents’ house in Utah and took my Brooklyn-born husband on his first road trip to what everyone thinks is the perfect ski town-Jackson, Wyoming-in the dead of summer. Where to get away together shouldn’t be one of them. Because, let’s face it, there are enough questions you have to answer in your relationship as it is (Who’s handling the leaky roof? Did you feed the dog? Do you want to be cremated or buried?). Over the next four pages, we tell you where to go, what to avoid, and how to have a hell of a good time. So forget the clichés of what a trip with each other should be. Now the two of you will spend four days trying very hard to be ROMANTIC, racking your brains to think up suitably amorous ways to fill the day and wondering if you should take a walk on the beach. Why? because if you make this dire mistake, you’ve just raised expectations that are bound to bite you in the ass.

Skye amorous guide