Cancun

Paris and Diddy would probably beg to differ, but it is possible to get through a weekend in Miami without dancing on a table. I should know--I grew up in the place now known for party-hopping glamazons, but in my youth (the '80s), South Beach was more Golden Girls than Gucci. I was raised in Cutler Ridge, 45 minutes south of SoBe (a term no one actually uses, by the way). After Hurricane Andrew destroyed my family's home in 1992, my parents moved us to Dilido Island, one of the five islands that connect downtown Miami to Miami Beach. There, with South Beach just a 15-minute stroll away, I had a front-row seat to the South Beach revolution on my visits home from college. I live in New York City now, but I go back often to see my folks--especially when my beloved Miami Heat are playing--and it never fails to astound me how much the city has changed. Even so, I find myself returning to the unapologetically untrendy places I loved as a kid, like Swensen's in Coral Gables--my high school version of the Peach Pit from Beverly Hills, 90210. It's part of a national chain, and there's nothing exciting about the menu or decor, but the charm lies in consistency: The burgers are still satisfying, the booths are comfortable, and the Bonanza Splits as shareable as I remember. About two miles north is Delicias de Espana, a Spanish restaurant and grocery store that some Cuban friends turned me on to. I always order the same thing: slivers of serrano ham, chunks of Manchego cheese, and pulpo (octopus), which arrives at the table sizzling and sprinkled with paprika. Another favorite hangout was Coconut Grove, a neighborhood sandwiched between the University of Miami and Biscayne Bay. By day, the Grove was--and still is--a leafy enclave of outdoor cafés, boutiques, and a shopping/entertainment complex known as CocoWalk. But on weekends, it belonged to local teens. We trolled the main drag in slow-moving cars, checking each other out. Today, the crowds have abandoned the Grove for Miami Beach, making it much easier to get a table at Cafe Tu Tu Tango--a restaurant (the first of seven locations across the country) that jumped on the small-plates bandwagon years before it was cool. The shopping at CocoWalk isn't anything you can't find at many malls, but I've scored killer deals on cold-weather items like leather jackets because none of the bronzed locals need them. As for the beach, sure, it's fun to observe the blingy, beautiful, and often topless sea of humanity on South Beach. But when I want to relax I head to Key Biscayne. Well-tended Crandon Park is just as pretty as South Beach, with long stretches of sand dotted with palms. And unlike at its neighbor to the east, parking is a breeze and there are more families than entourages soaking up the sun. I often bring a picnic lunch to eat at the tables scattered around the park, one of which was the site of my seventh birthday party. I still have pictures of my sister and me in ruffled bikinis, and my then-toddler brother in a leopard-print Speedo. Of course, I'm not completely immune to the slick charms of present-day South Beach. Prime 112, for example, has become one of my go-to places for special occasions. Inside The Browns Hotel, the steak house has attracted its share of celebrities since it opened in 2004. While it could have fallen victim to the beautiful people/ugly food trap that plagues other area hotspots, Prime 112's perfectly grilled steaks put it miles ahead of the competition. For somewhere that's more low-key yet still in the center of the action, I love David's Cafe II. One part of the restaurant has white-clothed tables and solicitous waiters ready to serve Cuban specialties like ropa vieja (shredded beef stew) and my boyfriend's favorite, bistec empanizado (breaded steak cutlets). But go through the side entrance and you'll find a nondescript lunch counter with worn stools and a take-out window. There, locals in flip-flops sip their industrial-strength cortaditos (espressos with a splash of milk) and grab sandwiches to go. I'm not surprised when I meet friends for drinks at The Setai and we spot one of the Simpson sisters. Celebrity sightings are as much a part of Miami now as palms and thongs. But it's nice to know I can go back to the places that really make the city home. Let other folks wait behind the velvet ropes. Food   Swensen's 1586 S. Dixie Hwy., Coral Gables, 305/661-7658, Bonanza Split $6   Delicias de Espana 4016 S.W. 57th Ave., Miami, 305/669-4485, tapas from $2.75   Cafe Tu Tu Tango 3015 Grand Ave., Coconut Grove, 305/529-2222, small plates from $4   Prime 112 112 Ocean Dr., Miami Beach, 305/532-8112, steaks from $28   David's Cafe II 1654 Meridian Ave., Miami Beach, 305/672-8707, bistec $14 Activities   Miami Heat 786/777-1250, ticketmaster.com   CocoWalk 3015 Grand Ave., Coconut Grove, 305/444-0777   Crandon Park 4000 Crandon Blvd., Key Biscayne, 305/361-5421 Nightlife   The Setai 2001 Collins Ave., Miami Beach, 305/520-6000, martinis from $15

Spend a Night in Uruguay If Argentina isn't foreign enough, take the ferry over to Colonia del Sacramento A high-speed ferry covers the 25 miles between Buenos Aires and Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay, in about an hour, but Cintra and I aren't in a hurry. We instead board the slow boat to get a better look at the receding skyline and the caramel-colored Rio de la Plata. Three sleepy hours later, we walk seven blocks from Colonia's ferry terminal to the Barrio Histórico--the original part of town, at the peninsula's tip. We'd heard that Uruguayans love yerba maté, a bitter herb tea that the Spanish colonists were taught to make by indigenous tribes, and sure enough, every other person we see has a thermos of hot water tucked under his arm and a dried, hollowed-out gourd full of the tea in his hand. Founded in 1680, Colonia is the oldest town in Uruguay. The walled Barrio Histórico--added to UNESCO's World Heritage List in 1995--was a strategic commercial port that ricocheted between Spanish and Portuguese possession for centuries. Looking down from the top of the 150-year-old lighthouse that abuts the stone ruins of Convento de San Francisco, I can see the slant-roofed houses and irregular paving stones that are remnants of the Portuguese colonists, as well as the flat-topped buildings and cobblestone streets that were built during the years of Spanish occupation. We set off toward the water, passing parked 1930s roadsters now and again, and stop for a leisurely lunch at Restaurant del Yacht, where we have a three-sided view of the river and Colonia's half-moon curl of beach. Sailboats and pleasure cruisers from around the world bob where merchant vessels and smugglers' ships once did. Restaurant del Yacht dresses its waiters in pirate head scarves--a nod to the past, or so we assume. It's often joked that in Uruguay there are three cows for every person, which may account for all the leather. At Artesanías y Tejidos Colonia del Sacramento, near the port, Adalberto Untierrez sells cowhide rugs starting at $130. As he shows us his inventory, I notice that some have much longer hair than others. "It depends when they kill the cows," explains Adalberto, whose bronzed face is more leathery than the hides he sells. "Their hair grows out in winter." Back in the center of Barrio Histórico, we check into the Posada Plaza Mayor. Our room has French doors that open onto a courtyard filled with wisteria, grape, and jasmine vines. A blue-and-white-tile fountain gurgles at the garden's center. When the sun sets and day-trippers hop the ferry back to Buenos Aires, the town gets very quiet. At Blanco & Negro, Cintra and I share a plate of gamy ñandú (ostrich) in a leek sauce. The popular restaurant hosts Colonia's annual jazz festival in February, and as we eat, we're serenaded by a band playing an amphetamine-fast version of "The Girl From Ipanema." After dinner we stumble across Colonia Rock, a nearby restaurant and bar. It seems everyone in Colonia under the age of 40 is there, singing Spanish karaoke versions of Eric Clapton as well as hits by Argentine rockers like Charly García. The next morning, we walk to the riverfront Radisson Hotel, just outside the city center, to meet our tour guide, Alberto Pintos. (We called to book him the night before; he works out of the hotel.) Pintos leads us through a gossip-filled two-hour walk, regaling us with tales about how Colonia is surrounded by a graveyard of sunken ships--and therefore treasure. On days when the wind blows the river toward Buenos Aires, he walks the rocky shoreline uncovered by the receding tide looking for gold and silver coins in the muck. "We sell them for between $50 and $800 at a gallery on Calle de los Suspiros," says Pintos, referring to the Street of Sighs, once home to the city's red-light district. "Some families make a living--a good living--from them." After our tour, Cintra and I eat smoked pork ribs and drink Uruguay's full-bodied red wine, tannat, at Mesón de la Plaza, a restaurant housed in what was a grocery store in the 1860s. Before boarding the fast boat back to B.A., we take a taxi to the Hipódromo Real de San Carlos, where crowds of old men, young families, and grade-schoolers gather around a dirt track for the Sunday horse races. Next door is a crumbling brick bullring, its facade defaced by a graffiti portrait of Che Guevara. The ring was built in 1910 by a Croatian-Argentine businessman, Nicolás Mihanovich. He saw his dream die after only eight bullfights--Uruguay outlawed the sport in 1912. The ring, like sleepy Colonia, has been quiet ever since. Getting there: By ferry Buquebus operates the ferries between Buenos Aires and Colonia (011-54/11-4316-6500, buquebus.com). Expect to pay $37 each way for the fast ferry or $19 each way for the three-hour boat. A one-way taxi to the Hipódromo costs about $6.50. Everything else in town can be reached by foot. Lodging   Posada Plaza Mayor 011-598/52-23193, hotelplazamayor.com.uy, from $85   Radisson Hotel 011-598/52-30460, radisson.com/colonia.uy, from $79 Food   Restaurant del Yacht Escollera Santa Rita, Puerto de Yates, 011-598/52-31354, lunch $12   Blanco & Negro General Flores 248, 011-598/94-524-129, ñandú $12   Mesón de la Plaza Vasconcellos 153, 011-598/52-24807, pork ribs $6 Activities   Artesanías y Tejidos Calle del Colegio 66, 011-598/52-23158   Alberto Pintos 011-598/99-167-150, $10 per hour   Hipódromo Real de San Carlos Eloy Perazza, 011-598/52-23072 Nightlife   Colonia Rock Misiones de los Tapas 157, 011-598/52-28189

Go Jump in the OceanThe sandy streets lead straight to the beach in laid-back Mar De Las Pampas Any apparent contradiction in the name Mar de las Pampas--Sea of the Prairie--disappears half an hour into the 225-mile drive south from Buenos Aires to the Atlantic Ocean. City eases into horse-prowled shantytowns, which in turn give way to an immense, green flatness occasionally dotted with cattle. When Cintra and I visited Mar de las Pampas for the first time in February, the summer high season, we took the bus--a five-and-a-half-hour ride from B.A.'s Retiro Station. This time, we rent a car, knowing there will be little traffic in April, which is early fall in Argentina. About halfway through the journey we pull over in the dusty town of Dolores, where, at Parrilla Carlitos, beef and lamb sizzle on metal skewers over an open fire 20 yards from the road. Inside, full wine bottles hang upside down from the ceiling. As we dig into plates of short ribs and chicken, a waiter explains that the owners hung the bottles both for decoration and storage when they opened the restaurant 45 years ago, only to have heat from the tin roof ruin the wine. "You want to buy one?" he laughs. "Some are from vineyards that went out of business 30 years ago." I know we've neared the coast when we enter the outskirts of Villa Gesell and the open pampas end abruptly in thick forest. Seventy-five years ago, an eccentric German-Argentine baby-carriage maker named Carlos Idaho Gesell bought 4,000 acres of barren beachfront and planted them with white acacias and marine pines that he hoped would provide wood for his carriages. The scheme earned him the nickname el Loco de los Médanos (Lunatic of the Dunes). When he saw how beautiful the forest was, Gesell turned conservationist, and many of the original trees are still standing today. The road changes from pavement to sand as we cover the final five miles to Mar de las Pampas, little more than a spiderweb of streets lined with hotels and cabins for rent. At Village de las Pampas, just a block off the beach, we're shown to a room with stone walls, wood floors, and a balcony. If we were staying longer than a weekend, the grill and kitchen would come in handy. Downstairs, we have the glassed-in pool to ourselves. In the late afternoon, Cintra and I scramble over the three-story dunes that separate town from the wide beach. A handful of kids surf the sand on boards rented from Boardwise while fishermen cast into the ocean. Farther down the beach, construction workers are busy remodeling the waterfront municipal bar complex Balneario Soleado. In summer, it's full of young families lingering over their lunches and soaking up the sun. Restaurants in Mar de las Pampas mix the town's German past with the country's Latin roots. Off the main drag, we pass Lupulus, where in February we lunched on pasta salad and microbrew beer. But Cintra likes the look of La Jofaina, tucked down a sandy alley. An all-female cover band, Cejazzatrois, slow-jams on the stereo as we eat pumpkin gnocchi and spicy salteña empanadas--meat pies filled with chopped beef, hard-boiled egg, and olives. There's one thing you notice right away in Mar de las Pampas: The town has a strange obsession with duendes, or elves. The next day, as we stroll along the wooden walkways that connect the various paseos (shopping malls), we play spot-the-elf, pointing to the figures painted on signs, displayed in stores, and hung from awnings. In Paseo del Duende, the town's main plaza, we browse the shops that make up Aldea Hippie--Hippie Village. When I've seen enough wool sweaters to last a lifetime, I suggest climbing the town's miniature lighthouse (it's less than half the size of a real one), where we get a fantastic sunset view of the slate-blue ocean. In Paseo del Anfiteatro, where concerts are often held in summer, we choose an outdoor table at Las Pampas. Skipping red meat this time, we order salads and calamari sautéed with garlic and parsley. Before driving home the next morning, we stop in to see Luciana Vosen and Juan Taranco, the young couple who managed Cabañas El Ocio when we spent a week there in February. (They've since gone back to school.) During the construction of Cabañas El Ocio's five cabins, workers cut holes in decks and walkways to accommodate the massive trunks that shoot up in their midst. Evidently, it's a local rule that when people knock down one tree, they have to plant three. The Lunatic of the Dunes would be proud. Getting there: By bus or car The travel time from B.A. to Mar de las Pampas is about six hours. Rent a car (011-54/11-4311-1000, europcar.com.ar, from $50 a day), or take the bus. Plataforma 10 sells tickets for most bus lines, including Grupo Plaza, which charges $13 each way between B.A. and Villa Gesell (plataforma10.com). A taxi from the station to Mar de las Pampas costs $7. Everything in town is within easy walking distance. Lodging   Village de las Pampas 011-54/225-545-4243, villagedelaspampas.com.ar, from $90   Cabañas El Ocio 011-54/225-547-9752, elocio.rtu.com.ar, from $64 Food   Parrilla Carlitos Junction of Rtes. 2 and 63, 011-54/224-544-6315, mixed grill for two $14   Balneario Soleado 011-54/225-547-9525, beer $2   Lupulus El Lucero and Julio Roca, 011-54/225-545-4700, pasta $3   La Jofaina Gerchunoff, off El Lucero, 011-54/225-547-4645, gnocchi $3.50   Las Pampas Miguel Cané, off El Lucero, 011-54/225-545-4354, calamari $5 Activities   Boardwise Paseo del Duende #5, 011-54/225-545-7943, $7 per day   Aldea Hippie Julio Roca, off El Lucero, 011-54/225-545-4364

Hurricane season isn't over yet, but it appears to be fizzling out--thank heavens. A nice representative from the Southwest Louisiana Convention and Visitors Bureau came by the other day to remind us that (a) the area got hit pretty bad by Hurricane Rita, only a month after Katrina decimated New Orleans; and (b) the cleanup is coming along. We learned about how the crews are having success removing debris from the area's main wildlife refuge, and Mother Nature is doing her part, too--the saltwater that flooded in has been diluted by rain, and the vegetation is growing back. But we were most excited to learn about the National Hurricane Museum & Science Center. It seems that there had been plans for a monument to the destruction caused by Hurricane Audrey in 1957 (over 500 people died), when Rita and Katrina made folks realize that maybe they should try for something bigger. So they went back to the drawing board, and are coming up with an attraction--it'll be somewhere off Interstate 10--that'll teach visitors about how hurricanes work, as well as pay tribute to those who were affected by them. Best of all, there's talk of having a wind tunnel where you can feel what hurricane-level winds feel like, perhaps with projections around you so you'll see debris whizzing by. It'll be several years until it's done, so hold tight... Related links:   New Orleans: Where to Stay, Eat, and Volunteer   "After the Storms" Hurricane Katrina Exhibit   Hurricane Essentials: Questions to Ask Before You Go   Hurricane Season Becomes a Safer Bet