Baby's First Miles

"I bought my sons fanny packs to use as toiletry bags. When they need to brush their teeth or comb their hair, they just grab their individual packs. This tip comes in especially handy when you're vacationing at a campground." —Debra Kushnick, Marietta, Ga. Get more family-friendly travel tips right on your mobile phone! Scan our QR code, here, and then check back each month as we add more tips.

LESSONS FROM THE OUTBACK Skip: Ayers Rock; it sees a half-million tourists a year; four-hour flight from Sydney Do: Chillagoe; easier Outback access, and a population of just 350 Every afternoon at about 4 p.m. in the Chillagoe Hotel Motel, owner Ray Neary assumes his perch on a bar stool by the entrance and waits to greet his clientele. First come the wild peacocks, who usually show up once Neary tosses them a few leftover scraps from lunch. Soon after, almost everyone else in Chillagoe, Queensland (population: 350), files in to take the birds’ place. Off-duty hands from the cattle station, miners from the nearby gold quarries, a few aboriginal men in jeans—they all come to eat Frisbee-size steaks with drafts of XXXX (pronounced “fourex”), the Queensland state beer. The wood-paneled walls are lined with posters of Australian rugby teams, and the jukebox plays (no joke) Men at Work’s "Land Down Under." “Everyone thinks you have to go out in the middle of nowhere, fly all the way to Ayers Rock or something, to find the Outback,” Neary says. “But this”—he slams his palm on the pine bar—“is the real deal, and it’s a heck of a lot closer to civilization.” Now, that’s what you might call a real Outback steak house, and if it doesn’t exactly look like you’d expect—peacocks instead of kangaroos, XXXX instead of Foster’s—maybe that’s because Americans have been playing by the wrong Aussie rules. Many tourists heading Down Under get stuck in a sort of Australian triangle between the country’s three most popular sites: Sydney to the Great Barrier Reef to Ayers (which the locals call Uluru)—despite the fact that it takes three intra-country flights to do it all. Not that there’s anything wrong with the triangle trip. Australia is halfway around the world for everything this side of New Zealand, and no one wants to save up all the necessary time and money and miss the greatest hits. But what if you like going your own way, skipping the usual, packaged-tour suspects in favor of something more authentic? Could you plan a vacation to Australia with substitutions that won’t leave you feeling like you’ve missed the boat? No Ayers Rock. No Sydney Harbour Bridge climb. No Great Ocean Road. It’s a tempting idea: fewer crowds, lower cost, plus a genuine Aussie sense of adventure. It’s also pretty fraught: How will you feel when your friends back home ask to see photos of Ayers Rock and you say—well, actually, check out these great shots from Chillagoe! Five years ago, before social media connected everyone in a near-endless network of friends of friends of kinda-sorta-friends, pulling off a no-tourist tour might not have worked. You could study up before you left and make educated guesses about decent alternates, but you’d still be traveling largely by the guidebook. Now, thanks to Facebook and Twitter, anyone and her mother can get insider tips from locals—new “friends” you made via that old neighbor’s ex-roommate who spent a year abroad in Sydney. That’s the only way you’re going to find yourself in the likes of Chillagoe, an all-around charming town, from the peacock lunch-guests at the Chillagoe Hotel Motel (Tower St., 011-61/7-4094-7168, steaks from $14) to the limestone caves in nearby Chillagoe-Mungana Caves National Park, where there are 30,000-year-old aboriginal rock-wall paintings. It sits just past a string of coffee and sugar-cane plantations on the west side of the Great Dividing Range, and it’s dotted with turn-of-the-century buildings, such as the Chillagoe Guesthouse, a six-room inn housed in the town’s original 1906 post office (16-18 Queen St., doubles from $124, including breakfast). Can any of this compete with majestic Ayers Rock in terms of eye candy? Probably not. That’s the thing about icon-free traveling: It’s about trade-offs. As many as a half-million people visit Uluru every year. It’s a four-hour flight from Sydney, and once you’ve seen it—well, you’ve seen it. There’s not much else to do. Chillagoe, on the other hand, gets a couple thousand visitors annually and you can make it there from Cairns—a North Queensland base camp—in less than three hours by car. “We get a lot of Aussie visitors from the coast,” says Eugene Miglas, the owner of Chillagoe Guesthouse, “but I don’t think Chillagoe’s on the radar for most international tourists yet.” See photos of Australia and New Zealand   LESSONS FROM SYDNEY Skip: Harbour Bridge Climb; sky-high vistas and cost: $194 for the cheapest tour Do: Mrs. Macquarie's Chair; spectacular city views at a down-to-earth price: free Finding Outback stand-ins in this big, empty country isn’t terribly difficult. Things get harder when you’re looking for experiences that will measure up to two of the country’s biggest urban landmarks: the Sydney Opera House and the Harbour Bridge. You wouldn’t want to skip them entirely; they’re beautiful structures that look even better in person, where you get a real sense of how they frame, and are framed by, the city around them. But if it’s lovely views you want, you don’t need to tour the opera house or haul yourself up for a walk across the bridge just because Oprah did. (Besides, if she wants to spend $200-plus for a ticket, more power to her.) For a stunning, free—and less heart-attack inducing—perch, you could head to a place called Mrs. Macquarie’s Chair, a 201-year-old bench carved out of a natural rock ledge in the Royal Botanic Garden (Mrs. Macquarie's Rd., free entry). Looking out on the city from Mrs. Macquarie’s as dusk approaches, the dipping sun paints a spectrum of citrus colors over the white sheen of the opera house. Nearby, thousands of flying-fox bats swoop into ginkgo biloba trees, where they nest each day. “Bats in Sydney” isn’t listed in most guidebooks—and, frankly, would that be much of a selling point?—but the sight of thousands of them spiraling through the dusk is unexpectedly captivating. “There’s this idea of them being scary, but if you come here in the evening, you can see the light shine through their wings, and they’re so translucent and smooth, it’s magical,” says Larissa Trompf, who’s studying animal behavior at Macquarie University, in Sydney. That’s another fringe benefit of skipping the marquee routes to the monuments—when you’re not running around dutifully checking items off of a must-see list, your eyes are open enough to make your own discoveries. In Sydney, that might mean skipping famous Bondi Beach in favor of the 3.7-mile coastal path to Coogee, a lovely, quieter stretch of sand that’s home to dads tossing a rugby ball with their sons and a class for tween surfers. LESSONS FROM THE WILD SIDE Skip: Taronga Zoo; $45 entry; "encounters" programs: $26 each Do: Hunter Valley Zoo; $18 entry fee—petting included; bonus: surrounded by gorgeous, world-class wineries! On a day trip out of town, you could find yourself at the Hunter Valley Zoo, which is tucked away in one of Australia’s many wine regions, a two-hour drive north. Sydney is practically papered with ads for its famed Taronga Zoo, but admission costs $45 and up-close “encounters” with koalas, owls, and reptiles run an extra $26. Hunter Valley Zoo is small—10 acres, at most—yet it’s home to every Aussie creature you could hope to see: kangaroos, wallabies, dingoes, wombats, and a menagerie of rainbow-hued birds (138 Lomas Lane, Nukalba, free entry). The best part is that twice a day, a handler lets visitors into the koala pen and nudges one awake from its perch on a eucalyptus. You aren’t allowed to hold them, but you can pet them, and their fur is as soft as a rabbit’s.   LESSONS FROM THE ROAD Skip: the Great Ocean Road; Sees a lot of traffic in high-tourist season; three-hour flight from Sydney Do: Captain Cook Highway; the 47-mile coastal road runs between Cairns, in the south, and Mossman, in the north, and connects to the spectacular Cape Tribulation rainforest and Great Barrier Reef Of course, any dream trip to Australia requires one splurge: the Great Barrier Reef. The only time- and cost-effective way to get there is to hop a three-hour flight from Sydney to Cairns, on the Queensland coast. Plenty of operators run reef trips right out of Cairns—85 percent of the 1.6 million tourists who see the reef annually go through Cairns and the Whitsunday Islands, the two most popular sites, and 40 percent of visitors use one of the 10 largest tour groups. But for the reef, avoiding tourists is all the more crucial—the more people you snorkel with, the fewer fish you’ll see. You’ll need to go through Cairns, but only because it offers access to lesser-known reef towns such as Cape Tribulation. Cape Tribulation, in the heart of the ancient Daintree Rainforest, is a tropical playground of hiking paths and wide, empty swaths of sand, with easy access to some of the most pristine parts of the reef. The area looks a lot like Hawaii 100 years ago: palm-tree-wrapped peaks reaching for the sky above and sliding into the ocean below—and not a single resort or mega-development mucking up the view. The two-and-a-half-hour drive from Cairns is a treat in its own right. Two-lane Captain Cook Highway hugs the ocean like a paved wave, curving between sand-dollar white beaches and the camouflage-colored foothills of the Great Dividing Range. It’s a worthy replacement for the famed Great Ocean Road near Melbourne, which, pretty though it is, would require yet another flight from Sydney. LESSONS FROM THE REEF Skip: Cairns; 27 dive outfits; gets 70 percent of visitors from overseas Do: Cape Tribulation; one dive company—and it's the only one you'd want “People come to Australia to meet real Australians,” says Dawn Gray, who owns and runs the Cape Trib Farmstay, “and here I am. At a big hotel, you maybe get to say hello to other travelers around the pool.” Gray’s tropical-fruit farm has 88 acres and five Swiss Family Robinson–type cabins, each with its own veranda and views of Mt. Sorrow, to the north (Cape Tribulation Rd., from $139, with breakfast, two-night minimum). Every morning, guests find a basket in the refrigerator with their name on it, overflowing with complimentary fruit such as papaya, wattleseed, and jackfruit, many grown by Gray on the property. (Just down the road—the only road in town—another farm charges $26 per person for an “Exotic Fruit Tasting.”) In the evenings, Gray makes tea and helps book tours on the reef and in the rain forest. She knows all the operators personally; just 101 people live in Cape Tribulation year-round. That said, there is only one snorkeling outfitter in Cape Tribulation—though it’s the same one you’d choose even in a sea of options. Ocean Safari Adventure keeps crowds in check by only running one or two trips a day on a 25-passenger vessel (Cape Tribulation Rd., half-day snorkeling trips from $123 per person). The snorkeling trips last well over two hours, and in wet suits, the 70-degree water feels balmy. “The sections of the reef we’re heading to are in such better condition than most of the rest,” says Tristan Giardini, an Ocean Safari snorkeling instructor with blond dreads and a sunburn. “Even people with good intentions sometimes bump it and break parts off when they snorkel, but here in the cape, it’s just us, so the reef is almost perfect.” The Mackay and Undine reef sections, where Giardini leads tours, are just as spectacular as he promises: orange-and-white striped anemone fish, ledges of pink coral, curious sea turtles, and starfish of such a startlingly bright cornflower blue that they seem spray-painted. But the boat rides to and from shore can be just as exciting. As the catamaran is pounding through the choppy surf, about 200 yards away a massive blue torpedo shoots out of the ocean toward the sky. Giardini had mentioned that humpback whales migrate along this stretch of coast from August to September, but this looks more like a rocket than a mammal. When it crashes back into the water, it shakes the boat like an earthquake. The passengers, of course, are thrilled, but they’re mellow compared with Giardini. While everyone else stays obediently glued to their seats, he grabs his camera and races to the front of the rocking boat to try to photograph a whale in midair. “Ah, isn’t this amazing?” he yells, followed by a few ecstatic expletives, shouted into the wind. And suddenly, you realize you’ve just seen the highlight of your icon-free trip. The whale? Sure—the friends at home are going to love seeing those pictures. But it’s Giardini’s utterly unjaded reaction—doesn’t he do this every day?—that reminds you of the difference between a trip crammed with must-see destinations and one designed for maximum spontaneity and authenticity. Any time your tour guide is having at least as much fun as the tourists, you know that you’ve had a very g’day, mate.   SEE MORE POPULAR CONTENT: World's Prettiest Castle Towns 10 Most Interesting Beaches Top Budget Travel Destinations for 2012 40 Unbelievable Underwater Snapshots 4 Most Common Reasons Airlines Lose Luggage

You start to feel it about an hour after crossing the Golden Gate Bridge: a kind of kick-off-your-shoes, carefree freedom that comes from cruising along the edge of the earth. Oh, maybe it's mixed with a tinge of nausea, but a few hairpin turns are a small price to pay for endless views of the ocean. After all, this is Highway 1—the Pacific Coast Highway—that drop-dead gorgeous, wildly snaking road that follows the sea almost every inch of its way. The central stretch from Monterey to Big Sur gets all the glory (and the well-heeled crowds), but head north and things start to get funkier and more affordable. Flat-out unfashionable, really, in a charming, time-warp '70s sort of way, where washed-out roadside motels with names like Surf and Sand still tout "free color TV" on their peeling signs, local radio stations play Steve Miller Band, and people read the newspaper in print, not on an iPad. The landscape, too, remains unchanged: the craggy cliffs, the golden hills, the grazing cows, the I've-got-to-snap-a-picture lookouts. But it's really the quirky, old-fashioned communities that make this stretch of Highway 1 so special. The town of Fort Bragg, 170 miles north of San Francisco, is a prime example: Nine years ago, Fort Bragg's sprawling oceanfront lumber mill shut down, and Pacific Ocean views once obstructed by smoke stacks were opened up to the public. Now green spaces and walking trails are scattered across town, along with new restaurants, boutiques, and beachfront bike paths. Fort Bragg is a town in transition, no doubt, but somehow it's maintained its low-key spirit—a refreshing surprise on the sometimes chichi California coast. Best of all, you can get a room with an ocean view for less than, say, lunch at a spa down south. At least for now. Day 1: San Francisco to Sea Ranch, 110 miles The traffic in San Francisco only makes the open vistas to the north all the more spectacular. Just across the Golden Gate Bridge, convertibles bound for wine country clog the lanes. Then, it's stop-and-start past auto shops and Applebee's, until about 60 miles north, when you reach Highway 1 and the road narrows to a rolling two-lane past cattle fields and cyclists, into the country and out to the coast. Near the town of Jenner, Highway 1 edges a bluff where the Russian River intersects the raging Pacific, and my friend and I can't resist a quick stop. The pull-out has room for only a handful of cars—no bus tours or caravanning RVs could fit if they tried. The water is a tropical turquoise blue and kayakers paddle peacefully below. A guy next to me shoves his binoculars in my hand: "Check it out!" he exclaims, pointing to a smooth black hump surfacing every so often. "See it?!" Camaraderie among strangers, it seems, is not uncommon here. There's the shared thrill over whale sightings, yes, but also an unspoken feeling of luck. Hunger strikes right around the time you see Stewarts Point Store, a yellow clapboard shop that dates back to 1868 (32000 S. Hwy. 1, 707/785-2406, turkey-cheese-avocado sandwich $8). Owner Charles Richardson, a smiley, Carhartt-clad fifth-generation son of the original propietors, stocks the shelves with a mix of the retro (glass bottles of grape Crush) and the gourmet (cheeses, salamis). If it were a Friday, we could've joined a dance-hall dinner held weekly upstairs. Instead, it's a lazy Sunday, so  we head for the town of Sea Ranch, a 10-mile windswept bluff scattered with austere, 1960s architecture that blends so respectfully into the land you could very well miss it. Built out of cedar and redwood, the Sea Ranch Lodge may be the best-value inn on the Sonoma-Mendocino coast, where a frilly room with an ocean view usually runs at least $250 (60 Sea Walk Dr., searanchlodge.com, from $149, including breakfast). Weathered Adirondack chairs at the water's edge are made for sipping wine, and most of the 20 cozy rooms have woodstove fireplaces and overlook the Pacific. As the moon reflects on the water, I thank the zillions of stars we paid only $149 a night.   Day 2: Sea Ranch to Point Arena, 20 miles With a dilapidated-looking "day spa," a very-much-still-in-business video store, and a better-than-decent BBQ joint, the town of Gualala, about six miles north, is a booming metropolis compared to Sea Ranch. The kind of 2,000-resident town where your waitress tells you she's lived forever and restaurants tend to empty out before 9 p.m. A few miles north, we get the sea lions, tide pools, and coastal hiking trails all to ourselves at Stornetta Public Lands; there isn't anyone else at Bowling Ball Beach either. Maybe because we just miss low tide, which reveals a sea of symmetrically round boulders that give this often photographed spot its name. To call Point Arena a town is a bit of an overstatement. It's basically a single strip consisting of not much more than a co-op grocery, homemade-jam stand, and historic theater. We find the real entertainment just up the hill: a 110-acre park where zebras and antelope roam. Owned by a couple dedicated to giving displaced African animals a better life than the zoo, the B. Bryan Preserve also has a three-room inn. You can take a guided tour or stay the night, like we do, to wander on your own (130 Riverside Dr., bbryanpreserve.com, from $135, including a 1.5-hour walking tour of the park). That evening, we have our pick of tables on the deck at the Pier Chowder House & Tap Room, where we eat fish tacos made with cod caught off the very pier we're gazing at.   Day 3: Point Arena to Fort Bragg, 45 miles In Mendocino, we stop for an early lunch of chicken focaccia sandwiches in the garden at Moosse Café, which is filled with elderly women with wide-brimmed hats and lap puppies (90 Kasten St., 707/937-4323, chicken focaccia $13) . It comes as a surprise, then, when we get to Fort Bragg's Piaci Pub & Pizzeria, 20 minutes north, and discover a different world entirely (120 W. Redwood Ave., Fort Bragg, 707/961-1133, pies from $9.25). Scruffy, friendly locals squeeze into overstuffed booths—not a designer dog in sight. A teacher sitting near us puts it best: "Mendocino is for celebrities and older second-home owners—the Murder, She Wrote crowd," he says, referring to the Angela Lansbury TV show partly filmed in Mendocino. Home to monster trucks and mattress stores, Fort Bragg isn't exactly the land of flowery B&Bs. But on the street-lamp-lined side streets, there is a thriving small-town scene with live-music cafes, chic boutiques, an outstanding greasy spoon (Eggheads, inexplicably decked out in all things Wizard of Oz), and a trio of indie bookstores (326 N. Main St., 707/964-5005, Dungeness crab omelet $16). But it's the easy access to the pristine, rugged coast that's the main draw for visitors, namely MacKerricher State Park, just outside of town. We arrive in the afternoon to a nearly empty stretch of sand, with waves raging every which way. The only other visitors are a family of sea lions sunning themselves and a few folks on horseback. Nearby, our room at the Beachcomber Motel is basic but squeaky clean, with front-row views of the Pacific (1111 N. Main St., thebeachcombermotel.com, from $99). Stuffed with pesto-spinach pizza from Piaci, we pick up the three-mile paved path right outside our room's sliding-glass door. We detour into the bluff through a carpet of long grasses, and the wind is fierce and salty. No wonder the cypress trees permanently lean in a horizontal slant. White caps crash against the rocks below. The sun slips into the horizon, and a man taking photographs turns into a silhouette. And we otherwise have the coast all to ourselves. Again.   SEE MORE POPULAR CONTENT: 10 Record-Breaking Bridges How Well Do You Know Your City Skylines? 10 Most Interesting Beaches The Dirty Truth About Hotel Ratings 8 Most Complicated Countries to Visit

For: Argentinian Try: Chimichurri GrillOne thing is clear at this narrow, white-walled nuevo Argentine spot: Buenos Aires-born Chef-owner Carlos Darquea believes there's no place like home. Every cut of grass-fed beef is imported from ranches in South America, and Darquea makes his featherlight chicken, beef, and chard empanadas from his grandmother's recipe (mixed platter $15). Try them at the marble-topped bar for prime sidewalk people-watching. 609 Ninth Ave., chimichurrigrill.com. For: EthiopianTry: Queen of ShebaThe secret of Philipos Mengistu's signature berbere sauce is so well-guarded, even his kitchen staff doesn't know the formula. Mengistu's mother mixes up each batch of the 20-plus-spice blend back home in Addis Ababa and ships it to his restaurant in New York, which is decked out with African art and woven-straw stools. The seven-dish sampler of lentils, greens, and chickpeas on spongy injera bread is a vegetarian's dream ($12.50). 650 W. 10th Ave., shebanyc.com. For: FrenchTry: Chez NapoléonOpened in 1960, this is the sort of classic French establishment that barely exists in Paris anymore: Think silver chafing dishes of calf's brains in black butter and capers ($23), rabbit in mustard sauce ($24), and cherries jubilee ($9), all overseen by 90-year-old proprietor Marguerite Bruno. Yet the decor is the furthest thing from stuffy: Along with mounted swords and battle murals, there's also a framed jigsaw-puzzle homage to the Little Corporal. 365 W. 50th St., cheznapoleon.com. For: ItalianTry: MercatoMismatched wood chairs, open shelving, fluted-tin pendant lamps, and a large, wine-cork-framed mirror make this West Side trattoria feel worlds away from the gritty stretch of Midtown it actually inhabits. Thanks to the efforts of Sardinian Executive Chef Emanuel Concas, the fava-bean puree with sautéed chicory ($10) and the homemade gnocchi with braised wild-boar ragout ($16) will transport you further still. 352 W. 39th St., mercatonyc.com. For: JapaneseTry: Totto RamenJust because the chefs are tattooed, the music is J-pop, and the crowd skews hip, don't assume this just-below-street-level space puts style over substance. Its 20 seats are always packed (with a line out the door) for one very good reason: the flavorful, steaming-hot ramen ($10.50), cooked with handmade noodles and enlivened with seasoned avocado ($2), shredded pork ($2), spicy bamboo shoots ($1), and other toppings.366 W. 52nd St., tottoramen.com. For: KoreanTry: DanjiWith stints at upscale New York institutions Masa and Daniel under his belt, you might expect Chef Hooni Kim to make his solo debut an exercise in over-the-top indulgence-with prices to match. Instead, he created Danji, an understated gem of a restaurant with communal seating and two distinct tapas menus: one boasting traditional Korean items like scallion pancakes ($10), the other fusion dishes like spicy pork-belly sliders ($12). 346 W. 52nd St., danjinyc.com. For: MexicanTry: Tehuitzingo Mexican DeliIt would be easy to mistake Tehuitzingo for nothing more than a cheerful, well-stocked Mexican grocery store. But those in the know head straight to the deli's back room for Pueblan dishes such as roast-pork-and-pineapple tacos al pastor ($2.75) and torta cecina, a pressed sandwich stacked with salt-cured beef, queso fresco, avocado, and jalapeños ($6), all served with Norteño music and telenovelas playing in the background. 695 10th Ave., 212/397-5956. For: GermanTry: Hallo BerlinWhen Rolf Babiel immigrated to the U.S. in 1981 with $500 in his pocket, he found his salvation in a street cart, selling sausages in Midtown. Today, that "German soul food" has more deluxe digs: his family's indoor-outdoor beer garden, outfitted with picnic tables, taxidermy, and a cheat sheet likening the menu items to cars. Check out the Mercedes (bratwurst) and Porsche (Berliner currywurst), served with spiced onions and sauerkraut ($7). 626 10th Ave., halloberlinrestaurant.com. For: GreekTry: Poseidon BakeryMaybe it's the influence of their ever-present ancestors, watching over the room from photos along the wall. The folks behind this fourth-generation bakery have never stopped rolling out their phyllo dough by hand—a laborious process plenty of their competitors have abandoned. It's takeout only, so go ahead and load up on honey-drenched baklava ($3) or tangy apricot-cheese strudel ($3.50) for now and for later.629 Ninth Ave., 212/757-6173. For: HaitianTry: Le SoleilOne of just a handful of Haitian restaurants in the city, Le Soleil seems perpetually filled with cabdrivers looking to refuel between shifts and Haitian natives who care much more about the spot-on familiar food than the drive-by, no-frills decor. The menu changes daily, though heaping plates of fried chicken ($10) or stewed, delicately spiced red snapper ($17) are consistent favorites. Each entrée comes with plantains, beans, and rice. 877 10th Ave., 212/581-6059. For: IsraeliTry: Azuri CaféThe things people will do for a little taste of home. Israel native Ezra Cohen gave up his successful thrift shop nearby (Barbra Streisand was a regular) back in 1990 to open this five-table hole-in-the-wall cafe, all because he missed his country's cooking. The gamble paid off: His unusually delicate falafel, which comes on an enormous platter of dips and salads, has repeatedly been voted among the city's best ($9.25). 465 W. 51st St., 212/262-2920. For: Middle EasternTry: Gazala PlaceThere aren't many restaurants in the U.S. devoted to the cuisine of the Druze people, a religious community scattered across the Middle East. After a meal at the snug-but-cozy, banquette-edged Gazala Place, you'll wonder why. The tissue-thin pita is made fresh daily on a griddle in the front window, and the spinach-and-cheese burek lunch special, served with hummus and a hard-boiled egg, is one of the most wallet-friendly meals in town ($10). 709 Ninth Ave., 212/245-0709. For: RussianTry: Uncle Vanya CaféWith its exposed beams, brick walls, and ramshackle collection of antique lamps, this mellow little restaurant has the feel of a friend's countryside dacha, the kind of homey place where lively conversation and a pot of tea with cookies and homemade jam ($5), cherry dumplings (16 for $8.50), and red-caviar-laden blini ($12.50) are always waiting. In true Russian style, dinner patrons are encouraged to BYOV (corkage fee $15). 315 W. 54th St., 212/262-0542. For: South AfricanTry: Xai XaiThe wine comes first at Xai Xai (pronounced "shai shai")—no surprise, given South Africa's oenophile status. But the food at this candlelit, 50-seat spot is no afterthought. You'll find dried, cured beef like biltong; droewors, made from beef, lamb, and pork (three for $18); four types of "bunny chow," a curried stew served in a bread bowl (from $10); and sosaties, or "skewers," of spicy Cape Malay paneer ($6) and peri-peri prawn ($7). 369 W. 51st St., xaixaiwinebar.com. For: ThaiTry: Pure Thai ShophouseOne of the most recent additions to the Ninth Avenue strip, this skinny, year-old storefront seems lifted from a seaside stretch of Koh Samui, down to the open kitchen in front, tin-siding ceiling, bright metal stools, and colorful Thai movie posters. You can't go wrong with the house specialty, crab-and-pork dry noodles, a perfectly balanced dish of handmade egg noodles, slabs of roasted pork, and tender lump crabmeat ($8). 766 Ninth Ave., purethaishophouse.com.