5 of the best towns to visit in Nova Scotia
At dawn, mist seeps across the wave-carved headland of Peggy's Cove, softening the edges of the shoreline and cloaking the whitewashed lighthouse in an ethereal veil. Below, the Atlantic pounds against the granite rocks, sending salt spray into the morning air. In the village, wooden cottages huddle against the elements, their shingle roofs worn silver by years of sea-lashed winters, while lobster traps, stacked like weathered post-boxes, lie in wait for another day's labour beneath the waves.
It's a scene echoed across Nova Scotia's many seaworn towns, where the pulse of the ocean has long dictated life on land. In UNESCO-listed Lunenburg, tall ships still glide past a brightly painted waterfront, nodding to the town's centuries-old shipbuilding legacy. Meanwhile, pint-sized Pictou, once the first port of call for Scottish immigrants, continues to carry its maritime spirit through landmarks like the Hector Heritage Quay, where the ship that brought Scottish settlers to Canada is commemorated. These coastal enclaves — once quiet fishing outposts — are now lively hubs where visitors can step back in time and uncover the stories of sailors, shipbuilders, traders and dreamers who've all helped craft the province's multifaceted identity. Here are five of the best places to visit for a taste of coastal Nova Scotia.
Best for: learning how Canada came to beAlthough not a town, Halifax is where Nova Scotia's story begins — a port city forged in the heat of battle, born from the fierce rivalry between the French and British for control of the Atlantic. Yet long before its official founding in 1749, the First Nations Mi'kmaq peoples lived and thrived along its shores, their deep knowledge of the land and sea shaping the way the region evolved. Today, cosmopolitan Halifax is far more than Nova Scotia's largest city and primary port of entry — it's the gateway to the province's colourful past.
What to see: A stroll along the Waterfront Boardwalk offers a first taste of the capital: ferries chug across the harbour, seagulls skim the waves and lively restaurants and street vendors dish up every imaginable Canadian delicacy, from warm lobster rolls to poutine drenched in velvety gravy. At the southern end of the boardwalk, the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic offers a deep dive into the city's seafaring history, charting Mi'kmaq traditions through to the 1917 Halifax Explosion and the city's fateful connection to the search and recovery of the victims of the Titanic disaster.
Further along, Pier 21 houses the Canadian Museum of Immigration, where interactive exhibits — including recorded memories, handwritten letters and family photos — highlight the hopes and hardships of more than a million settlers who arrived in Canada between 1928 and 1971. The exhibition concludes with a giant world map, inviting visitors to pin their own journeys, while a poignant film portrays the profound contributions immigrants have made to shaping Canada's identity.
Beyond the boardwalk, tree-lined streets packed with colonial sandstone townhouses and grand neoclassical buildings climb towards the Citadel National Historic Site. An imposing, star-shaped sentinel built to defend British Halifax from French forces, it's now both a living history museum and a powerful reminder of the battles that shaped the region. Book a guided tour to hear the tug-of-war tales of rivalry and resilience, punctuated by the crack of musket fire and the thunderous boom of the noon cannon.
Where to stay: The Muir, Halifax's only five-star hotel, situated in the city's new upscale Queen's Marque neighbourhood. Expect Atlantic-inspired interiors, a spa complete with a vitality pool and halotherapy salt room, plus exclusive access to a yacht for harbour excursions.
Best for: hearing salty tales of British seafaring and rum-runningUNESCO-listed Lunenburg is a veritable time capsule, with colonial buildings painted scarlet, cobalt and ochre tumbling down a hillside towards a busy harbour. Here, sailboats bob in the breeze, weathered wooden piers jut out into the water and streetlights are adorned with metalwork swordfish, barb-chinned cod and red snapper. Known to the First Nations Mi'kmaq as 'Āseedĭk', meaning 'the land of the clams', the town's seafaring roots run deep. In the 1700s, European immigrants arrived and, finding the land too harsh to farm, turned to the sea's abundant larder, building their fortunes on lobster and salt-cured cod. The town soon became one of Canada's busiest and wealthiest ports, relying on its fishing grounds which stretched from Lunenburg to Labrador. Today, it remains one of the best-preserved colonial settlements in North America, with around 70% of its original 18th- and 19th-century architecture still standing.
What to see: To hear salty tales of the town's rich fishing, shipbuilding and rum-running history, take a guided tour of the Fisheries Museum of the Atlantic, then step onboard the deck of the Bluenose II, a sleek, black-hulled replica of Canada's most famous racing schooner. If time permits, embark on a winding 47-mile drive to Peggy's Cove, where the iconic red-and-white Peggy's Point Lighthouse stands tall against a rugged granite backdrop. For a quieter yet equally photogenic excursion, venture to the nearby fishing village of Blue Rocks, where colourful dories drift on glassy waters, creating a scene favoured by both photographers and kayakers.
Where to stay: The Bluenose Lodge, Lunenburg's longest-running inn, is conveniently located in the heart of town. For those seeking more space or a chance to explore the surrounding area, the Black Forest Cabins in Mahone Bay provide modern comforts, complete with a rustic fire pit and cedar sauna.
Best for: uncovering the story of the Black LoyalistsIt's easy to drive straight past the sweet, unassuming town of Shelburne in the South Shore region, but a visit reveals one of North America's most overlooked chapters of history. Lured by the promise of land and freedom, around 3,000 Black Loyalists sought refuge here during the American Revolution, transforming it into one of the largest settlements in North America at the time. For most, the promise was broken, and many people were forced to move away, relocating to neighbouring communities like Birchtown or even migrating to Sierra Leone. A few families, however, chose to stay, and around 30 direct descendants still call the town home today.
What to see: History comes alive at the Black Loyalist Heritage Centre in Birchtown, where immersive exhibits and artifacts beneath glass floors — such as tools, personal belongings and letters — celebrate and preserve these early settlers' stories. Afterwards, step outside and follow the Black Loyalist Heritage Trail, a mile-long path that passes key landmarks like St Paul's Church, a 19th-century wooden chapel built on the site of the original Black Loyalist meeting house, and the Old School House Museum, a one-room schoolhouse where generations of children were taught.
Beyond the area's poignant historical relevance, Shelburne has also become a favourite among filmmakers. Take some time to wander its perfectly preserved colonial streets and you might just spot a familiar scene from the big screen. Standouts include the CBC and BET-produced The Book of Negroes, Stephen King's chilling 2007 thriller The Mist and the 1995 Oscar-winning The Scarlet Letter.
Where to stay: Situated steps from the waterfront in a restored 19th-century home, Cooper's Inn is a boutique bed and breakfast featuring nautical interiors and is said to have a friendly ghost wandering the halls. For families, out-of-town White Point Beach Resort offers a range of rustic guest rooms, cosy cottages, luxurious oceanfront treehouses and even lakeside glomes.
Best for: discovering Canada's Scottish heritageIt's impossible to miss the Scottish spirit in pint-sized Pictou. Known as the 'birthplace of New Scotland', this historic harbour town on Nova Scotia's Northumberland shore was home to the first permanent Scottish settlement in Canada — a legacy still evident in its tartan-clad shopfronts, storied street names and lilting local accents.
What to see: Set along the waterfront, the Hector Heritage Quay tells the tale of the 189 Highlanders who arrived aboard the Hector in 1773 after a treacherous 11-week voyage, during which a hurricane and outbreaks of dysentery and smallpox claimed many lives. Explore immersive exhibits to learn about the settlers' stories and how the Mi'kmaq played a crucial role in their survival, then step aboard the full-scale replica of the ship docked outside. Afterwards, stroll along the waterfront to explore the town's kooky art galleries and boutiques, then grab a seat at one of the many seafood shacks or pubs, like The Nook & Cranny, to sample locally brewed beers and whiskies.
Where to stay: Why book a room when you can bunk in a train? Located just outside Pictou, in Tatamagouche, The Train Station Inn lets you snooze in a restored railcar, complete with antique decor and a charming onsite dining car. Top tip: don't miss Tatamagouche Brewing Co. for a local craft brew before dinner.
Best for: immersing yourself in Acadian cultureA small university town with a big personality, Wolfville is one of Nova Scotia's coolest and quirkiest corners. Its main drag is refreshingly free of cookie-cutter chains — just hole-in-the-wall cafes, indie boutiques, bookshops and farm-to-table bistros. It's also just a short hop from the hazy blue mountains, forested ridges and rolling vineyards of the Annapolis Valley, Nova Scotia's largest wine country, with 11 wineries tucked within a 12-mile radius.
What to see: Grand Pré Winery and Lightfoot & Wolfville Vineyards are two standouts, offering everything from crisp Tidal Bay whites to bold reds with superlative vineyard views. Alternatively, take the hop-on, hop-off Magic Winery Bus tour, which departs three times a day from Downtown Wolfville to various participating wineries. Also not to be missed is the weekly Wolfville Farmers Market, housed in a former apple storage unit near a former train route. Walk the winding Harvest Moon Trail to reach the market.
Wolfville serves up more than just great flavours, however — it's also one of the best places to dive into the province's rich Acadian history. Visit the Grand-Pré National Historic Site to hear the poignant story of the 2,000-strong Acadian community that once thrived here before their forced expulsion in 1755 and see how the relentless Bay of Fundy tides were tamed with an ingenious dyke system to carve out fertile farmlands.
Where to stay: In the mood for some Victorian flair? The Blomidon Inn, located in the heart of town, serves up all the charm of a bygone era, with quaint, antique-filled rooms, inviting verandas and award-winning fare. Alternatively, Grand Pré Winery offers a unique escape among the vines, with its renowned Le Caveau's restaurant serving an ever-evolving menu of local, seasonal dishes. Picture creamy lobster risottos and succulent roast duck with wild berries, paired with the region's finest vintages.
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Foraged fungi became a mushroom 'biscuit,' the most beautiful cookie I'd ever seen, featuring cèpe cream sandwiched between two crisp rounds of mushroom tuile. What looked like melon balls were actually the tender stems of mamaku (native tree fern), bathed in onion broth and finished with oil made from kawakawa (New Zealand pepper), which the Māori revere for its healing properties. Every dish was surprising. Cashmore's savory baked custard was both a culinary triumph and a conservation effort: he topped silky custard with diced green pumpkin and jelly spheres resembling salmon eggs. Taste one, though, and you'll know it has nothing to do with the sea. The jelly is made from pheasant and rabbit—both invasive species—stewed with sherry and herbs. The broth is then strained and set with agar. Foraged fungi became a mushroom 'biscuit,' the most beautiful cookie I'd ever seen. Sid Sahrawat, one of New Zealand's most celebrated chefs, visited the Chef's Table in 2022; he told me he found it 'inspiring.' Steele hopes Cashmore's cooking will inspire delight, yes, but also curiosity and care. 'This is a biodiversity hot spot. It has a lot of issues, but we're trying to fix them,' he said. 'Without a healthy environment, we will not have healthy food.' From left: Chef Taylor Cullen in the kitchen; venison heart fermented in honey at Sugarloaf. From Blue Duck Station, we drove six hours to the Wairarapa, a rural region in the North Island's southeasternmost corner, to the Wharekauhau Country Estate. Located on a 3,000-acre sheep station, Wharekauhau is a grande dame among New Zealand's lodges. Its 17 sumptuously furnished cottages overlook Palliser Bay, and its acclaimed kitchen draws heavily on what's grown and foraged on the property. One afternoon, we met chef Norka Mella Muñoz in an outdoor kitchen tucked in a shady dale. While making lunch, she recounted her childhood in Chile, where her parents sold clothes in a market. Her culinary training began at 13, when she befriended a fishmonger who taught her how to clean fish. She landed in New Zealand in 2003, intending to learn English and save some money to continue traveling. She never left. 'Chile is more male-oriented,' she said. 'Here, for a woman, there are opportunities. Now it's home.' (In April, Muñoz departed Wharekauhau to become executive chef at the nearby Palliser Estate winery.) Our starter was paua (blackfoot abalone) three ways—creamed, pan-fried, and made into sausage. For our main, Muñoz grilled butterfish, which she finished with shallot-and-caper beurre blanc and served with vegetables from Wharekauhau's garden—potatoes, broccoli, carrots ('we have so many carrots right now,' she said). From left: Troy Bramley, co-owner of Tora Collective; beach-barbecued crayfish with seaweed butter at Tora Collective. The paua came from Tora Collective, a boutique seafood outfit that had also caught the crayfish in the taco we'd eaten at Kingi in Auckland. I told Muñoz that Tora's proprietors, Claire Edwards and Troy Bramley, had invited me to go fishing. 'Tell them I want kina !' she said, using the Māori word for sea urchin. Before dawn the next day, I set off for Tora, a hamlet on the Pacific coast. After a harrowing 90-minute drive on narrow roads twisting through the coastal mountains, the vista from Edwards and Bramley's oceanfront home restored my spirit; the hills shone and the water sparkled in the early morning sun. As Edwards and I walked to the rocky shore to harvest seaweed, she told me that they can host guests who sign up to be temporary crew members on Bramley's fishing boat. 'We want our visitors to have the experience we grew up with,' she said. 'Diving with our parents, grilling on the beach—we had a real connection with this raw, breathtaking beauty.' Raw and breathtaking was right: as the wind gusted and I focused on staying upright on the rocks, Edwards scooped armfuls of seaweed into her crate. I didn't harvest a single piece. 'All good!' she said brightly. 'Let's get you to the boat.' From left: A crayfish taco at Kingi, in Auckland; the interior of Kingi. We found Bramley on a nearby beach with his assistant, Bailey Morris, whose grandfather was one of the first people to harvest crayfish in these waters. They backed the boat out, and we motored to nearby traps. Bramley pulled one, then began sorting crayfish according to the official regulations and his personal rules. Though paua has no official off-season, he doesn't harvest from August to early October, when they spawn. Abiding with Māori tradition, he dives for kina only while the pōhutukawa tree flowers—roughly October to January. Crayfish must have tails at least 54 millimeters wide to be taken legally; Bramley also throws all females back. 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From left: Gazpacho with raw kingfish at Londo, a Christchurch restaurant; a painted mushroom design on the dining-room window of Forest, in Auckland. I signed up for one of Flockhill's signature experiences, which invites guests to harvest and cook alongside chef Taylor Cullen. He has spent the past three years hiking Flockhill's grounds, observing what grows wild, and establishing a garden. From his raised beds, we picked fennel, blackberries, and strawberries. (He'd found the strawberry plants in a nearby valley and transplanted them.) Near the railroad tracks—the famed TranzAlpine train crosses the property—he discovered pear and apple trees. 'I think they're heritage,' he said, speculating that they grew from discarded cores. 'I reckon people just threw things off the train.' When I asked if he had a signature dish, he paused and then said, 'Flockhill preserves.' Perhaps he hesitated because it's less a dish than a one-plate showcase of things that grow on the property. 'You eat the land, basically,' he said. The foraging experience segued into a 10-course meal, some of which I'd helped to prepare. 'Flockhill preserves' was our sixth course, after sourdough made from 'Greta,' his five-year-old starter, and before a fermented-corn fritter cooked in beef fat. Arrayed on the platter were 14 items, including pickled radishes, pine-bud capers, and my fennel and berries. 'Look!' I proudly told Tristan. 'I picked those.' From left: Sarah Tabak and Ben Eyres, co-owners of Beabea's, an Auckland bakery; steak-and-cheese pie at Beabea's. On our last night in New Zealand, we visited Giulio Sturla's Mapu Test Kitchen, in the Christchurch suburb of Lyttelton. In 2015, Sturla founded Eat New Zealand, a nonprofit devoted to defining Kiwi cuisine. 'New Zealand is the biggest testing ground for new flavors in the world,' he said. 'Everyone here has come from somewhere else, even Māori.' Sturla embodies New Zealand's hybridity. Born into an Italian family in Chile and raised in Ecuador, he arrived in New Zealand in 2008 and now holds a Kiwi passport. 'I'm a person from everywhere. My ideas come from every single place I have lived. Those flavors are in this kitchen, but with New Zealand ingredients.' Sturla insists Mapu is a kitchen, not a restaurant. It doesn't have regular hours. There's no menu. He is its entire staff—chef, manager, sommelier, dishwasher. Each morning, he peruses the garden out back and gathers what looks good. Then he raids his pantry and fridge and cooks. From left: A few of the 10,000-plus sheep at Flockhill; a guest room at Flockhill with a view of Purple Hill. From the first course, his disregard of normal culinary boundaries was clear. He'd baked a cracker made from vegetables barbecued until ashen, which he topped with a salad of dehydrated cherry tomatoes, preserved rose petals, and cherry blossoms, along with blackberries and purple shiso from his garden. When he recited the ingredients, it seemed nonsensical. A bite, and everything sang—sweet, sour, and salty flavors arranged in exquisite harmony. That morning, after taking his daughter to 6 a.m. swim practice, Sturla had foraged porcini in a Christchurch park. ('A very good time to go mushroom hunting,' he said.) He cooked the mushrooms in a sauce made from an earlier harvest of porcini, which he'd aged to a miso-like consistency and depth. ('We don't have soy in New Zealand.') Then he paired the mushrooms with crisped slices of blue potato and finished it all with a spinach 'cream' made from pine-nut milk. Toward the end of the 10-course feast, Tristan said, 'This is the best meal we've had.' Sturla smiled. Nothing we ate at Mapu was familiar, yet everything tasted comforting, like home. What strange magic was this? 'It's just New Zealand,' Sturla said. 'New Zealand is an ingredient. This land is unique, so whatever grows here is unique. That's why New Zealand tastes so good.' A version of this story first appeared in the September 2025 issue of Travel + Leisure under the headline "Land of Plenty ."
4 hours ago
The Seine in Paris is open for swimming. Residents embrace it as temperatures soar
PARIS -- Swimming in the Seine is an increasingly popular tourist attraction in the French capital — and a must-do for Parisians themselves. Thousands of people have enjoyed a dip in the river since three public bathing sites opened last month, the first in over a century. The swimming areas are expected to get even more crowded as a heatwave arrives in the region on Tuesday. Paris has been placed under 'high vigilance' by national weather service Meteo France, with temperatures up to 38 degrees Celsius (100 Fahrenheit) expected. At the Grenelle site in the west of Paris, visitors swim and sunbathe with a unique view of the Eiffel Tower, with small fishes darting near the surface. Water quality is tested daily to conform with European regulations. Swimming in the Seine had been illegal since 1923, with a few exceptions, due to pollution and risks posed by river navigation. The new bathing sites are possible following a 1.4 billion euro ($1.6 billion) cleanup that made it suitable for Olympic competitions last year. 'Imagine that,' said Constanze Martens, a tourist from Mexico. 'Swimming with view of the Eiffel Tower and in pure natural water, clean, safe, and with all this lovely people too, you have every age here." On Monday, the water temperature in the Seine was 22 degrees Celsius (71 Fahrenheit). 'It's quite warm, warmer than the sea, which was quite surprising, and is very pleasant,' said Elisabeth Lorin, from the Paris eastern suburb of Montreuil. Until the end of August, bathing sites are open for free at scheduled times to anyone 10 or older or 14 or older, depending on the location. Details are in the Paris city hall website, in English as well. Each swimmer must be equipped with a yellow buoy, attached to their waist, for safety reasons. There are changing rooms with lockers. The site welcomes between 800 and 1,200 visitors per day, with a limit of 200 at any one time, said the manager of the Grenelle site, Yann Forêt. Paris Deputy Mayor Pierre Rabadan last week said over 40,000 people had swum at the sites since they opened on July 5. That's despite almost two weeks of closures largely due to rainy weather, which increases water pollution upstream. 'Right now, the water quality is excellent and we have optimal conditions with warm weather,' Rabadan told The Associated Press on Monday. He said the daily decision to open the sites depends on weather conditions and factors including water flow rate and any known pollution. Several lifeguards monitor the sites, occasionally using their whistles to remind swimmers not to jump or leave the perimeter. No major incident has been reported, Rabadan said. Marina Gicquel, a 22-year-old lifeguard at Grenelle, said the main difference from a swimming pool is the river current, along with the murky water. 'You can only see people's heads sticking out. That's why buoys are useful,' Gicquel said. "And it's also quite deep. It's three to five meters (10 to 16 feet) deep, so people find no foothold.' Some visitors, like Australian Thurkka Jeyakumar, had been skeptical about swimming in the Seine, citing the river's murky color and bacteria issues. Unsafe levels of E. coli or other bacteria appear during prolonged periods of rain that overwhelm pipes, leading untreated wastewater to flow into the river instead of a treatment plant. Last year, some Olympic competitions were postponed for that reason. In the end, Jeyakumar gave it a try because she lost a bet.
