Football Historical Tours

One thing I will never change is our one-star status," declares Roberto Zammattio, owner of Venice's Al Guerrato hotel. "I prefer to take in a few euros less but still give a bit more to guests; that way everyone is happy." Such is the attitude that makes a Little Wonder Hotel-a personal touch, comfortable beds, and a price tag of less than $90 per room. What follows are my selections of the top ten budget hotels in Florence and Venice. Breakfast is included in the price unless otherwise indicated. The rates quoted here are based on ]1=$1. To call Italy from the United States, dial 011-39 before the numbers listed below. Florence Pensione Maria Luisa de' Medici Via del Corso 1, 055-280-048 (reservations by telephone only). Doubles ]62-]67 ($62-$67) without bath, ]80 ($80) with bath. No credit cards. Picture the narrow hall of an antiques shop: a neoclassical sculpture of a child propped on a chair, tattered baroque canvases by Sustermans and Van Dyck cluttering the walls, a chipped della Robbian terra-cotta resting on a table in sunlight. Now imagine cavernous bedrooms opening off this hall, each filled with a quirky mix of antique armoires and 1950s and '60s designer tables and lamps of the sort usually seen in museums of modern art. The eclectic collector, Dr. Angelo Sordi, now convalesces in a back room, but each morning his partner, Evelyn Morris-born in Wales but a Florentine for decades-serves you a home-cooked breakfast in your room. Throw open your shutters and watch the pedestrian parade along the ancient, narrow street below. That's the picture of the best pensione in Florence, a place where I've taken everyone from my parents to my Boy Scout troop. Not all the rooms are that huge, or enjoy as rich a mix of designer furnishings, and only two have private bathrooms, but it's bang in the geographic center of town, and you just can't beat the atmosphere. Hotel Abaco Via dei Banchi 1, 055-238-1919, fax 055-282-289, www.abaco-hotel.it. Doubles ]63 ($63) without bath, ]95 ($95) with bath. Bruno, a gregarious transplanted Calabrian, has in a few short years made this one of Florence's best little budget hotels. Each room is named after a local painter and is decorated with ornately framed reproductions of his works, as well as richly colored walls, draperies, and bed-hangings, high wood ceilings, ornate mirrors, and buckets of antique charm. This tiny hotel is conveniently located at an acute intersection with the main road from the train station to the Duomo (double-paned windows keep out most of the noise). Bruno's putting in air-conditioning, which will cost an additional ]8 ($8) if you want to use it. Though he accepts credit cards, he far prefers cash (it helps keep those rates so low). Albergo Serena Via Fiume 20, 055-213-643, fax 055-280-447, thserena@dada.it. Doubles ]85 ($85). Breakfast ]5 ($5). The Bigazzi family's pensione around the corner from the train station is ever-so-slightly shabby, but it does retain some of the opulence from when this was a private apartment-leaded glass doors in the hall, stuccoed decorations on the ceiling, patterned stone-tile floors. The furnishings, however, are your average, well-worn modular jobs with baths squeezed into the corners. Still, the rooms are large enough, clean enough, and you get a lot of amenities for your money: TV, private bathrooms, even air-conditioning in some (the four rooms without A/C enjoy a small discount). Albergo Firenze Piazza Donati 4, 055-214-203, fax 055-212-370. Doubles ]83 ($83). No credit cards. This budget standby has none of the charm of its neighbor Maria Luisa de' Medici (mentioned earlier) but shares the enviable location in the very heart of Florence, on a tiny and quiet piazza just off Via del Corso. It still suffers from the institutional style and feel of its days as a student crash pad-a few study-abroad programs still use it for housing-but the beds are firm, and it's kept tolerably clean. The clientele is a comfortable mix of students and frugal families, guests who tend to congregate at the little breakfast-room tables, grabbing Cokes out of the fridge as they plan the day's sightseeing. Locanda Orchidea Borgo degli Albizi 11, tel/fax 055-248-0346, hotelorchidea@yahoo.it. Doubles ]57 ($57) without bath. No credit cards. No breakfast. The thirteenth-century palazzo in which Dante's wife Gemma Donati was born now hosts Maria Rosa Cook's little pensione of high ceilings, new tile floors, beaten-up functional furnishings, and extra-firm beds. It is ultraclean and has a cheerful staff. Number 4, one of the family rooms that can sleep four for ]110 ($110), opens onto a narrow, 30-foot-long balcony over a pretty little garden. Albergo Azzi Via Faenza 56, tel/fax 055-213-806, hotel azzi@hotmail.com. Doubles ]46-]56 ($46-$56) without bath, ]51-]62 ($51-$62) with sink and shower, ]62-]67.30 ($62-$67.30) with bath. Dorm bed ]17-]25 ($17-$25). Breakfast ]2-]3 ($2-$3). The Azzi is a self-styled locanda dei artisti, an "artists' place," where owners Sandro and Valentino are fond of breaking out guitars and serenading the guests on the little courtyard terrace. They also keep a collection of art books and gallery guides to lend to clients. The place has a laid-back atmosphere that's more beatnik than bohemian, and the rooms are an eclectic mix, the best (numbers 3 and 4) have ceiling frescoes and impressive French-style antiques. The owners have bought two of the other modest hotels in this building, so there are usually plenty of rooms available. Albergo Mia Cara Via Faenza 58, 055-216-053, fax 055-230-2601. Doubles ]50 ($50) without bath, ]60 ($60) with bath. No credit cards. No breakfast. The rooms are almost depressingly basic, but the Noto family keeps them clean, the beds are comfy, and the prices absolutely fantastic. Most furnishings are simple and modular, though the nicer rooms have wrought-iron bedsteads. Only two or three rooms share each hall bath. Though the windows are double-paned, for utmost quiet book a room on the back overlooking the trees of a little courtyard. Travelers on even tighter budgets can check into the daughter's fun-loving Ostello Archi Rossi hostel downstairs for ]17-]20 ($17-$20; the 1 a.m. curfew, though, has almost caught me on occasion in this city of four-hour dinners). There are plans to renovate the place, expanding both the hostel and the hotel-and perhaps upgrading the latter to three-star status-but the family is unsure when the work will start. Albergo Merlini Via Faenza 56, 055-212-848, fax 055-283-939, www.hotelmerlini.it. Doubles ]45-]65 ($45-$65) without bath, ]50-]79 ($50-$79) with bath. Breakfast ]5.16 ($5.16). A kind Sicilian family runs this gem in a building stuffed with cheap hotels. It's on the top floor, so rooms 1, 4, 6, 7, and 8 peek over the rooftops to the domes of the cathedral and San Lorenzo beyond. The rooms are simply but comfortably furnished. Thanks to renovations in 2002, all the bathrooms are new. Satellite TV, telephone, and air-conditioning should be installed in 2003. There are plenty of quirky touches: ornately carved wooden beds and dressers in some rooms, wall safes hidden behind hinged paintings, and a minor miracle: mosquito screens (something I've found in only two other hotels among hundreds throughout Italy). Two walls of the pretty breakfast room were frescoed by art students in the 1960s, the other two are floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking greenery. Hotel Sole Via del Sole 8, tel/fax 055-239-6094. Doubles ]77 ($77). No credit cards. No breakfast. Hardworking Anna Giuralarocca keeps the prices way down at her cozy, eight-room pensione by doing everything herself-cleaning the rooms each morning before rushing home to prepare lunch for her kids-so don't begrudge her the 1 a.m. curfew. The orthopedic beds come with country-style frames that go well with the simple but sturdy furnishings. The baths are brand new, and double-paned windows keep out the noise. The Sole's a block from the church of Santa Maria Novella in a neighborhood chockablock with inexpensive restaurants and chic boutiques. Signora Giuralarocca plans to install televisions by mid-2003 and may start accepting credit cards soon. Instituto Gould Via dei Serragli 49, 055-212-576, fax 055-280-274, gould.reception@dada.it. Doubles ]44 ($44) without bath, ]47-]52 ($47-$52) with bath. No breakfast. No credit cards. This Valdese guesthouse, in a quiet corner of the Oltrarno surrounded by antiques shops, is quite a bit starker than its lovely cousin in Venice, but here you have the comfort of knowing that all the proceeds go directly to running an institute that helps disadvantaged and abused children. (The Valdese is an order of missionaries and do-gooders; no proselytizing, just a few discreet pamphlets.) The functional rooms can be, well, a bit institutional but are well-sized and quiet. Those on the first floor have high wood ceilings courtesy of the palazzo's seventeenth-century origins. Some units are perfect for families, with two beds in a large main room and another two lofted above it, and several of these overlook the institute's courtyard gardens. Rooms on the courtyard go for the higher rate listed above; those on the street, the lower one. Venice Hotel Bernardi-Semenzato Calle della Coa 4366 (parallel to Strada Nova near Campo SS. Apostoli), Cannaregio, 041-522-7257, fax 041-522-2424, hotelbernardi@vergilio.it. Doubles ]45-]55 ($45-$55) without bath, ]85-]90 ($85-$90) with bath. This is the Little Wonder Hotel of Venice: It has friendly family management, lies just off the main drag between the train station and San Marco, and is flush with incredible four-star amenities and class at one-star prices so astoundingly low they have to post much higher official ones otherwise the other hotels complain. Not only do you get Murano chandeliers, hand-painted eighteenth-century Venetian-style furnishings, and rough-beamed ceilings, but also satellite TV, air-conditioning, and a minibar. The homey annex is even better, as several of the large rooms overlook the L-bend of a canal, and a few even sport 200-year-old iron chandeliers, massive fireplaces, and eighteenth-century ceiling frescoes. Plans to upgrade the annex's functional furnishings to canopied beds and repro-antiques are in the works. Pensione Al Guerrato Calle Drio La Scimia 240A (off Ruga Speziali), San Polo, 041-522-7131, fax 041-528-5927, www.web.tiscali.it/pensioneguerrato. Doubles ]80-]93 ($80-$93) without bath, ]100-]115 ($100-$115) with bath. Roberto is so friendly that departing guests often hug and cheek-kiss him good-bye (though this may also have to do with the fact that he resembles a long-lost Baldwin brother). This 14-room pensione in a thirteenth-century palazzo near the Rialto Bridge is one of Venice's best for its welcoming atmosphere and sheer value. The good-size rooms with their patched-up chipped-stone flooring and historic Venice photos are spruced up with Murano lamps, scraps of frescoes in a few (best in number 3), and a stupendous melange of antique-yet-homey furnishings. "I stole everything I could from the houses of my grandmother and my aunties," Roberto says. Rooms overlooking the Rialto market to a sliver of Grand Canal and the Ca' d'Oro tend to be smaller and quite noisy during the early-morning market. The rates sometimes peak over our price ceiling-the lower ones are applied October to March and if you pay cash-but rarely will you find such an excellent marriage of price, class, and warmth at any Venice hotel. Albergo Doni Calle del Vin 4656, Castello, tel/fax 041-522-4267. Doubles ]80 ($80) without bath, ]105 ($105) with bath. The Doni family has been welcoming guests to its 12-room hotel mere steps off the high-rent Riva degli Schiavoni since 1946, and though Niccol- and Tessa now run the place, Grandma Gina hangs around to keep an eye on everything. Creaky floorboards lead to the modestly sized rooms filled with a hodge-podge of furnishings and aging bedsprings. However, all is forgiven when you check into room 8 and see the Murano chandelier dangling from a ceiling gorgeously frescoed in 1850, or throw open your bottle-bottom windows in room 3 to see a canal cruising with gondolas (rooms 12, 20, and 21 share the view). Only three of the rooms have private bath; the others split three large, clean ones. The prices listed above apply to the high season (generally, Easter to mid-October, and the weeks of Carnevale and Christmas); at other times they may be lower. Foresteria Valdese Calle Luga S. Maria Formosa 5170 (just over the bridge at the end of the street), Castello, 041-528-6797, fax 041-241-6238, www.chiesavaldese.org/venezia. Doubles ]54 ($54) without bath, ]70 ($70) with bath. The 40-foot hallways and frescoed rooms of the 1711 Palazzo Cavagnis host some of Venice's best cheap lodgings thanks to the Valdese order. I can't give you many specifics on the accommodations because as we go to press the guesthouse is undergoing a prolonged renovation that will open up more rooms as well as turn most of the small dorms into private rooms with bath. Just ask for a camera affrescata to get one of the coveted rooms with eighteenth- or nineteenth-century ceiling frescoes. Given its location at a confluence of waterways, almost all rooms overlook a small canal. Hotel San Samuele Salizzada San Samuele 3358, San Marco, tel/fax 041-522-8045. Doubles ]62-]70 ($62-$70) without bath, ]88-]100 ($88-$100) with bath. No credit cards. The amicable, energetic owners Bruno, Piero, and Mimmo hold cleanliness in the highest regard, and their simple, ten-room pensione positively sparkles. The sloping, old pebble-stone floors support modern furnishings, efficient baths, and a profusion of flowers in the window boxes (many of the bright rooms have two windows-a luxury in Venice). Every year they renovate something; last year it was rooms 9 and 10 on the staircase, which are carpeted, nonsmoking, and overlook a small, ivy-clad courtyard. Hotel Caneva Ramo dietro La Fava 5515, Castello, 041-522-8118, fax 041-520-8676, www.hotelcaneva.com. Doubles ]77 ($77) without bath, ]98 ($98) with bath (subtract ]10/$10 if you pay cash). Gino has run this basic one-star hotel since 1955, now helped by his son Massimo. Its location is fantastic-a three-minute stroll from Piazza San Marco-and 17 of 23 rooms overlook a canal to the palazzo where Casanova once lived. Many rooms are blessed with a strip of Gothic decor along the interior wall courtesy of the palazzo's fourteenth-century origins, and eight enjoy small balconies. Once you tear your gaze away from the gondolas cruising below, you'll notice the rooms themselves are fine, if nothing special: linoleum floors, unremarkable built-in units, and simple Venetian-glass light fixtures. The baths range from tiny modular shower jobs to aging tiled rooms with tubs. The breakfast room overlooks the choicest stretch of canal, opposite a Gothic palazzo. Hotel Silva Ariel Calle della Masena 1391a (the street's marked merely "Parrocchia S. Marcuola"; it's off Rio Terra S. Leonardo), Cannaregio, tel/fax 041-720-326. Doubles ]50-]82 ($50-$82) without bath, ]60-]105 ($60-$105) with bath. This little family-run hotel is up a narrow side street just two blocks from the historic Jewish Ghetto and ten minutes from the station. The rooms are small but the effect is cozy, fitted with velvet headboards and modular '80s baths. Some have dark beams on plank ceilings, others let the sunlight pour in through walls of frosted glass. Marble tables fill the flower-bedecked covered patio where you can enjoy breakfast year-round. Albergo Dalla Mora Salizzada San Pantalon 42 (just off the street), Santa Croce, 041-710-703, fax 041-723-006. Doubles ]67 ($67) without bath, ]72 ($72) with shower and sink, ]88 ($88) with bath. This unassuming hotel is tucked away in the little-touristed Santa Croce neighborhood, which is across the Grand Canal from the rail station, so it manages to be close by without feeling like a station neighborhood. Only six of the 16 rooms have a private bathroom-though four more have a shower and sink in the room (just no toilet). Half of the rooms overlook the wide, quiet Malcanton canal: four from the main blood-red house with its flower-fringed canal terrace, four from the annex across the alley. The rooms are basic but comfortably large for Venice. A few with foldout bunk beds are perfect for families. Casa Gerotto Calderan Campo S. Geremia 283, Cannaregio, 041-715-562, fax 041-715-361, www.casagerottocalderan.com. Doubles ]52-]72 ($52-$72) without bath, ]71-]98 ($71-$98) with bath. The Gerotto is your basic budget backpacker haven but not a dive or party house (they frown on drunkenness and don't let nonguests hang around). It's a ten-minute stroll from the station on a heavily trafficked square, so even the double-paned windows can't quite block out the pedestrian noise. However, those rooms on the front are the nicest in a varying lot, boasting eighteenth-century-style furnishings and, soon, air-conditioning (turning it on jacks up the price a bit, as does having a TV in your room). Others suffer from bland modular units, though those on the back courtyard do have the advantage of overlooking a leafy park one block away. They also offer shared-room "dorms" of only five beds each for ]21 ($21) per person. Hotel Galleria Campo della Carita 878a (next to the Accademia Gallery), Dorsoduro, 041-523-2489, fax 041-520-4172, www.hotelgalleria.it. Doubles ]88-]93 ($88-$93) without bath, ]104-]135 ($104-$135) with bath. Yes, you can have a room right on the Grand Canal for under $90. But call early: There's only one. This place would be near the top of the list if only it had more rooms in our price bracket. Stefano and Luciano make you feel you're living as a doge while spending like a pauper. Everything is decorated in a rich, antique-Venetian style (patterned-silk walls, curvaceous eighteenth-century-style wood furnishings, ceiling stuccos in rooms 2 to 4), it's set right at the foot of the Accademia Bridge, and breakfast is served regally in your room. Actually, bathless little number 5 on the corner with its ]93 ($93) Grand Canal view is not nearly as requested by name as the larger, ]135 ($135) Grand Canal rooms with private bath: intimate number 8 with a raised sitting nook set into the arch of a canal-vista window, and number 10 with its frescoed ceiling.

Simple is the way to go on the French Polynesian islands of Tahiti, Moorea, and Huahine: All you really need is a thatched hut with friendly owners and a beachfront location. On Tahiti, the namesake of the French Polynesian islands, pleasure lies in hiking magnificent green peaks and verdant valleys; browsing markets for beach wraps, exotic fruits, and carvings; and wading far from shore in warm, gently lapping water All international jets land in Papeete, the hectic capital of French Polynesia's 118 islands. Although many tourists quickly switch planes (destination: isolation), the island of Tahiti is worth more than a layover. To begin with, it's the most populated spot in the island nation, which gives visitors the clearest insights into modern Polynesian life.  The Gauguin Museum and the Museum of Tahiti and Her Islands, both on the west side, shed light on the free-spirited tribalism that seduced generations of artists and voyagers--and scandalized starchy missionaries. Tahiti's sea-facing hotels all have the same noisy defect: They're on the busy main road, which hustles along the prime coastline and ruins the serenity. Hiti Moana Villa, on the southwest coast 40 minutes from Papeete, feels mostly removed from the hubbub because of its position on a large lagoon. The Brotherson family runs the establishment with exactitude. Son Steve keeps the 10-year-old property looking no older than two; mom Henriette, in her girlish flowered dresses, tends the vibrant courtyard gardens and koi pond. Three garden bungalows, done in polished wood and vibrant colors, are within earshot of the loud morning traffic, but they come with furnished porches suited to sundowners and journal writing. Upgrading to one of the four ocean-facing bungalows near the pool and the boat ramp yields a quieter space with a kitchen and picture-window views of the lagoon--which, many days, is used for training by rowing teams in canoes. For cheap meals, there's a supermarket a mile down the road, and, a quick stroll away, a few roulottes (evening-only food stands serving $9 dinners). Don't leave the islands without trying a bowl of cold poisson cru, a traditional raw-fish dish that's made with fresh coconut milk. Granted, Papara Village Family Resort's mountainside site requires a short car trip for any activity except jungle hikes. But having to drive five minutes to the beach is a minor penalty when you consider the serenity and the stirring view: miles of surf, wee pink churches in the distance, and a valley speckled with a thousand shades of green. It feels like sacred land, and it is; several stone marae slab altars dating to the 1700s, before missionaries arrived, dot the property (along with a few cows). The resort is owned by Noel Chave, a young Polynesian whose family has lived on the spread for three generations. Noel routinely finds tiki statues in his lawn, which the local archaeology museum subsequently comes in and takes away. Two bungalows and three family-size houses, all made of concrete, have fully equipped kitchens, ceiling fans, TVs, and narrow balconies but aren't remarkable for much more than their good value. Still, guests are free to eat any fruit they can pick from the many trees--lemon, mango, and grapefruit among them. Few properties on Tahiti are as tranquil, and few on any island provide closer access to both bygone and modern Polynesian life. Punatea Village counters the Tahitian norm in many ways. Its rooms are sheltered from the road; it faces bracing surf rather than a peaceful lagoon; and it's big enough for kids to roam around, with a swimming pool in a garden grove and a private waterfall nearby. A live-in cook prepares full dinners for $25 (try the tuna steaks with vanilla sauce) in a pavilion beneath the towering palms. The four simple beach bungalows--bed, sofa, porch, no kitchen--are spaced for maximum privacy. As is often the case with family-owned properties, there are also a few smaller, cheaper, motel-style rooms sharing a building set back from the sea, but they can't compare with the romance of renting a private hut. The young, attractive Bordes family, who lives on the property with a menagerie of cats and dogs, built everything from scratch three years ago. It's an hour's drive from Papeete, near the village of Pueu, and a 15-minute drive from Teahupoo beach, where the waves are cherished by surf pros. The tight-budget choice in ritzy Punaauia is Taaroa Lodge, on the main road 20 minutes west of Papeete. The owner, Ralph Sanford, is a middle-aged surfer who wanted a place where both his international surfer friends could hang out and paying guests would feel comfortable. Three years ago, he ordered a few prefab chalet kits from New Zealand and set about creating his casual clubhouse on a grassy plot overlooking a good snorkeling lagoon. The inspiring, jagged profile of Moorea looms on the western horizon like something Bloody Mary enticed the Seabees to visit. Big windows, solar power, a shared open-air kitchen, and a much-used barbecue grill give Taaroa the kind of laid-back vibe usually only found on the outlying islands. Ralph happily loans out kayaks and sailboards to guests, and as an added bonus, water at the lodge is potable (drinking untreated tap water isn't recommended anywhere in French Polynesia). For the most dedicated shoestringers, there's a $24 dorm. - Hiti Moana Villa P.K. 32, Papara, 011-689/57-9393, papeete.com/moanavilla, bungalows without kitchens  from $85, bungalows with kitchens from $115 - Papara Village Family Resort B.P. 12379, 011-689/57-4141, from $100 - Punatea Village P.K. 4700, Afaahiti, 011-689/57-7100, punatea.com, room $55, bungalow $90 - Taaroa Lodge P.K. 18, Punaauia, 011-689/58-3921, taaroalodge.com, room $50, bungalow $106 Moorea Removed but not too remote or rustic, Moorea is a heart-shaped island fringed with sandy-bottomed lagoons and languid resorts where honeymooners swim with stingrays and dissolve into mai tais. At first sight, Moorea evokes a storybook illustration of Peter Pan's Neverland. The interior is a jagged jumble of cloud-crowned crags, while the coastline is encircled with placid coral reefs ideal for snorkeling and lazy boating. Just 30 minutes from Tahiti by ferry, Moorea is the easiest of the outlying islands to reach. A car ride around the coast takes about an hour. The Kindynis daughters are gone. Learn that now, because when you tell any male Moorean that you're staying at La Baie de Nuarei, the first thing he'll ask is if you've seen the owners' beautiful offspring. To the frustration of single men across the island, the girls are attending college in Europe, leaving French-born papa Tamagna and mama Tamara (a beauty herself) to pour their energies into their inn. They've spared no expense. Liberally embellished with whimsy-full-size mermaid frescoes in bathrooms, metal dolphin sculptures springing from showerheads-the lush enclave of three secluded wooden homes feels more like an artist's retreat than a pension. Each home comes with a kitchen, TV, and a cozy sitting area. Guests can borrow boats and books or indulge in a treatment at the best-equipped spa outside the resorts, operated by the Kindynises as a sideline. The gated property is on a clear, shallow lagoon a few feet from Moorea's most popular public beach, Temae, and a 10-minute drive to the excellent restaurants at Cook's Bay-and it faces the same massive, underwater coral garden fronted by the Sofitel Ia Ora, which charges $230 more a night. For more than a decade, Patrice Coucuret ran a popular B&B in Provence. In 2002, he tired of unexpected midnight appearances by weary road-trippers and, with his wife and his poodles, decamped to a hillside in southwest Moorea, where guests always arrive announced and excited. At first glance, Fare Arana is très tahitienne: Each guest gets a furnished patio and deck overlooking a lagoon, with the fragrance of flowers wafting about. But Patrice brought the French bonheur and pastis cocktails with him, which he uses to fuel lingering conversations in a poolside cabana. Faraway Provence, precious and countrified, fills the rooms. Each bungalow has a crockery-stocked kitchen with lace curtains and sea views, wood and wicker decor tastefully accented with dried flowers, trim painted in periwinkle and cinnamon, and-most unusual-air-conditioning. It's adorable and inviting. The inn's name should have been the first clue: In parts of French Polynesia, arana means "nest." On the north coast's Opunohu Bay, Fare Vaihere is a tiny outfit that strives for the dignity and service of a large resort. Cyril and Florence Morize, the French owners who opened the place 18 months ago, can even be spotted chauffeuring guests in their Land Rover on free restaurant runs each evening. Their five smart bungalows, looking barely used, come with porches, electric kettles, little fridges, and towels monogrammed in orange and white, the house motif. The one waterfront bungalow can be windy, but three others are safely inland on the clipped lawn. A fifth bungalow, with three bedrooms, has a full kitchen for do-it-yourself petit-déjeuner (the four smaller rentals include continental breakfast). The Morizes' three good-natured kids periodically scamper by with their goofy family dogs. Just off the slender, 130-foot beach are the waters where Captain Cook anchored when he first landed in 1769; today you'll see mega-yachts and boutique cruise ships. Kayaks and snorkels are free, and you can fish off the private wooden pier. Or sneak into the pools at the fancy Sheraton, a short walk up the road. (Everyone does it.) Village Temanoha is one of the few Polynesian hotels-at any price range-to colonize the bush. Just a five-minute drive from the tourist zone down an unpaved track, Temanoha's six low-slung cabins have kitchenettes, terraces, wooden furniture, and bathrooms walled with rustic stone. They're scattered on a plant-studded lawn with a central swimming pool, trees dripping fruit and flowers, and fern fronds the size of shower curtains. The Castellani family, who owns the property, keeps a few chickens running around to gobble up intruding centipedes (a stinging pest that visitors may hear called "hundred legs"). - La Baie de Nuarei B.P. 605, Maharepa, 011-689/56-1563, labaiedenuarei.pf, from $154 - Fare Arana P.K. 19.5, Atiha, 011-689/56-4403, from $140 - Fare Vaihere P.K. 15.5, Opunohu Bay, 011-689/56-1919, farevaihere.com, double $150, for six $250 - Village Temanoha 94 Maharepa, 011-689/55-2500, from $107 Huahine Relatively few outsiders come to Huahine, an unspoiled paradise of vanilla plantations, thick jungles, wide lagoons, and world-class surf. Actually two islands linked by a short bridge, Huahine has only 5,700 residents and two isolated resorts. Flights from Papeete take about 45 minutes, and once the planes land, Huahine's sleepy airport often shuts down for the afternoon. The only decent place to stay on the southern end of Huahine, Pension Mauarii proudly grooms a castaway vibe. Door handles are fashioned from branches, buffed tree trunks act as pillars, tubby tikis stand guard in the courtyard. Capped by thatched roofs rigged with flap doors to catch the breezes, the chalets are twice the size of their competitors; some even have interior lofts. All have giant bathrooms done in inlaid coral, cracked tile, and, in a nod to honeymooners, the odd fertility totem standing at attention. The young owner, Vetea, entertains guests over meals like a surfer-boy version of Fantasy Island's Mr. Roarke. He's respected for transforming a once-tired pension into a handsome, full-service resort. Unlike anywhere else in this price range, the Mauarii aims to provide everything a visitor needs-convenient since Fare, the island's only real town, is a half-hour drive away. There's an activities concierge (wakeboarding, scooter rental, and so on) and a gourmet restaurant, which, unusual for this island, serves all three meals. The restaurant's prices are a little more than they have to be, but the food's good. Note: Rooms book up early. Huahine Vacances, located where the two islands join on Maroe Bay, sells a package deal extraordinaire: For one price, you get a house of your own, plus use of the compact car and the 13-foot speedboat that come with it. Bordeaux-born Michel Sorin arrived here on vacation in the early '80s and never left. He had a vanilla plantation that got obliterated by a nasty-and extremely rare-storm in 1998. So he built three suburban-style ranch homes and opened them as a pension. Two have three bedrooms, one has two, and all come with spacious living/dining areas and giant terraces with views of the water. Each could easily please a family of six, what with niceties like hairdryers, washing machines, cribs, ovens, and grills. Jacqueline, Michel's Polynesian wife, will even babysit for $50 a day. A few doors west, a competing outfit, Villas Bougainville, provides much the same package, only with more space and a position set back in greenery, hidden from the water. Huahine's consistent waves attract die-hard surfers who stay for months, subsisting on nearly nothing. How do they do it? They stay at places such as Chez Guynette, a.k.a. Club Bed. By day, it's Huahine's unofficial nerve center for backpackers, who swat flies and nurse cold Hinano beers on the patio. By night, it's a long-running, eight-bed crash pad operated by New Jersey-reared Marty Woolston and her teddy bear of a Polynesian husband, Moe. So what if it's dark and needs renovations? Who cares if you don't get more than an efficiency-style room and a shared kitchen? It costs just $18, and it's right at the port in Fare, a few doors up from the only supermarket on the island, so you won't need a car. The best surf breaks are a short paddle away. At these prices, Guynette is what dropout fantasies are made of. - Pension Mauarii B.P. 473, Fare, 011-689/68-8649, mauarii.com, room $75-$90, bungalow $100-$150 - Huahine Vacances P.K. 10, Maroe Bay, 011-689/68-7363, iaorana-huahine.com/en/huahine.html, two-bedroom house, car, and boat from $205 a night for two or three people - Villas Bougainville B.P. 258, Fare, 011-689/60-6030, iaorana-huahine.com/en/bougainville.html, two-bedroom house, car, and boat from $255 a night - Chez Guynette B.P. 87, Fare, 011-689/68-8375, iaorana-huahine.com/en/guynette.html, $18

I am mystified by the travel paralysis that seems to have gripped so many Americans. It's an odd, dangerous time, or at least it looks that way when I'm glued every night to CNN, but getting out in the world is really no more risky than staying at home. And travel is such a wonderful, therapeutic way to relieve all that news-generated stress. I'm not planning a holiday jaunt to North Korea anytime soon, but I am planning to get away somewhere warm, wonderful, fascinating. Seizing the moment has always served me well, particularly when it came to jetting off with my closest friend and most faithful travel companion-my mother. As an only child growing up in small-town Massachusetts, I was always very close to both of my parents. When I was just out of college, my father died suddenly. As a way of helping us recover from his death, my mother and I decided to use our nest egg to travel the world. We found an astonishingly inexpensive tour company in Boston, International Weekends, and booked our first big trip overseas: 16 days in China with air for only $899. And just like that, a mother-daughter traveling team was born. There were so many trips available to the most exotic locales. We couldn't resist any of them. Over the next decade-from the early '80s into the early '90s-we traveled to Romania, Guatemala, the Soviet Union, Senegal, Thailand, Australia, New Zealand, Egypt, Israel, Japan, Tahiti, and throughout most of Europe. We never found excuses not to go. It was almost as if we had a premonition that we should not delay. We were lucky enough to hit every place at just the right moment. We traveled around China when it was first opening up to American tourists in the early '80s. At our first stop, Shanghai, my blond-haired, blue-eyed mother caused quite a sensation. Crowds of locals gathered around her, fascinated by this odd-looking Western woman. They stared, they touched her hair, they were awestruck. This happened throughout China and later in other isolated corners of the world. It was a thrill to be so out of place, to step into worlds not our own, to feel so very foreign. We went to Romania and the Soviet Union when both were still part of the forbidden empire. Stepping behind the Iron Curtain delivered quite a frisson. Sometimes, unfamiliar with local customs-and restrictions-we'd inadvertently get ourselves into a bit of trouble. Once, in Moscow, a handsome young man asked us to dinner at a local restaurant. When the bill came he paid in local currency and asked if we'd give him our share in dollars, but not there and then-later, on the subway on the way back to our hotel. We passed him the money heading down an escalator, not realizing that we'd just broken the law on exchanging dollars with Russian citizens. As time progressed we became consummate planners, booking trips with key annual events in mind: tulip season in Holland, the Stars of the White Nights Festival in Leningrad. For several years we spent Christmas and New Year's in Europe, each time splitting the holidays between two different European capitals: Christmas in Prague, New Year's in Budapest, the same for Lisbon and Madrid, for London and Paris. These were some of our most precious moments together, spilling into new raucous streets at the stroke of the New Year. We were even in Prague for its first independent Christmas free of the Soviet grip. Traveling together elicited some great reactions from both locals and fellow travelers. Everywhere we went people were charmed to encounter a mother and daughter who got along so well, more like best friends than anything else. Local families adopted us along the way, feeding us in their homes, volunteering to show us the sights. And international young men, who must have shaved a few years off my age seeing me with my very young-looking mother, were drawn to me like magnets. I got marriage proposals in Romania, Senegal, and China. To immortalize our trips together we'd always elicit some passerby to snap our photo in front of key landmarks. We developed them big and hung them in frames in our home gallery: Mom and me in front of the Great Wall; at Red Square; at Ayres Rock; near the Sydney Opera House; at the pyramids in Egypt. Before long the picture gallery was enormous. These adventures together cemented our relationship and really did turn us into best friends. We were constantly planning for our next trip or reminiscing about our last. We'd cook up some specialty dish we'd discovered halfway around the world, explore wines we'd tasted, and polish off dinners with some newly discovered liquor-Japanese sake or maybe a Polynesian mai tai. These trips became a big part of our lives, even long after they'd ended. People we met along the way wrote us letters and visited us in New York. I even helped our Romanian tour guide get out from under the wicked Ceausescu regime and immigrate to this country. Mostly everyone knew us as the mother-daughter travelers-"Lilly and Sheri, where are they going next?" Then, quite suddenly, my mom fell ill and couldn't travel anymore. We eventually found out it was Alzheimer's. We often discussed how lucky it was that we had traveled so much when we still could. In her rooms at the various assisted-living places into which I moved her, I hung the large framed photos from our worldwide adventures-a complete picture gallery featuring decades of memories. These brought her immense pleasure. The photos jogged her memory, which was dimming progressively. On each of my visits, Mom asked me to tell her the stories of where we went and what we did. I'd recount our famous travel tales and she'd marvel that she'd actually been on all those exotic adventures. "Sheri," she'd say, "you mean to tell me we traveled all over the world? I can't believe it!" She died this past summer. The time to travel with your loved ones is now. Not later. Now. Life is short. It may be risky to wait. Travel now.