Low-Cost Airfares to Europe

Sunset at the lookout on Bartolom, Island, and it's business as usual in the Galapagos: Squadrons of blue-footed boobies dive-bomb the Pacific's azure waters, plummeting headfirst in rapid succession in search of an evening meal. An hour ago, our group of seven tourists and a guide watched six stealthy sharks and an eagle ray prowling the surf. Earlier, we clambered over the cinders of a black lava field, then snorkeled off a powdery white beach accompanied by penguins, nosy sea lions, and marine iguanas as wizened as shrunken Godzillas. It's a typical afternoon of a seven-night cruise that will take us to 11 islands. We're on the equator, 600 miles west of Ecuador on mainland South America. This is budget travel in the Galapagos Islands. Not bad for something that costs you $65 per day, and not too different from the cruises that charge some suckers $300 per day for the same itinerary. That's right: forget about those prices you see at home, many of which start north of $2,000 for a week in the islands before air, which can tack on another $800 to $1,200. With flexibility and gumption, you can do the whole thing--including airfare--from $1,500. Before you read any further, a warning: if you don't like boats, a Galapagos cruise may not be for you. Because the archipelago is an Ecuadorian national park, the only practical way to tour the islands is on one of about 85 government-licensed vessels, usually on a tour of four to eight days, with an approved guide. And with a few exorbitant exceptions, the boats are designed, well, like boats--for efficiency, not luxury, for 8 to 16 passengers. On the cheapest cruises--which are better termed "tours"--cabins might be cramped and passengers share the head, but in general the crews are friendly and accommodating, the meals hearty, and the living quarters spotless. Fortunately, most evenings you'll be too tired to care that there's no swing band or midnight buffet. This is an active vacation: days begin around 7 A.M. and involve lots of walking, snorkeling, and photographing. Even for rock-bottom amenities, if you book from home, the lowest-priced tours don't come cheaper than $1,000 for seven nights, without air. Before we flew to Ecuador to seek saner rates, look at what we were quoted for a week on the following boats: the rather basic Cachalote, $1,354 (Kon-Tiki Tours and Travel); the better Santa Cruz, $2,010 including four nights in Quito (Metropolitan Touring); and $2,375 on the fancy Galapagos Explorer II (Lost World Adventures). Book instead in Quito Don't pay that! Spending more doesn't buy you greater access to the islands, and the animals don't care how much you shelled out. When boats have unsold spaces, many owners slash prices, so book your cruise in Quito, Ecuador's capital, or in the islands themselves, and you'll get cut-rate berths. We'll start in Quito, a safer, if slightly more costly, hedge bet (the other alternative is to book your boat in the islands themselves, namely in Puerto Ayora; see below). Ideally, you should set aside at least two weeks for your trip, which will give you eight days of cruising, two days' international transit, and a few days to explore the colonial byways of Quito, which is nestled among the volcanoes of the Andes. Getting to Quito should be your biggest expense. Discount round-trip airfares from the East Coast run about $600; from the Midwest $600-$700; and from the West Coast $600-$800. (Airfare discounters specializing in flights to Quito include Odyssey Travel at 800/395-5955, Exito at 800/655-4053, and Dan Travel at 800/362-1308.) Often, frequent-flyer mileage can also be a pretty good deal. American Airlines, which flies to Quito from Miami, and Continental Airlines, which flies from Houston, require only 35,000 miles--for less than the 60,000 miles sometimes required to reach South American destinations such as Lima or Sao Paulo. You'll also have to fly from Quito to Puerto Ayora in the Galapagos, from which the cruises depart. Always keep in mind that the government has a monopoly on flights to Puerto Ayora, which is the islands' central town; you must take a TAME (TAH-may) jet from Quito or Guayaquil. The agency that sells your tour should also arrange your air reservation to Baltra--the airport, in effect, for Puerto Ayora--to coincide with your boat's sailing. From June 15 to August 31 and December 1 to January 15, the set price for foreigners is $385 round-trip, and at all other times, it's $329. If you plan to find a boat on your own in Puerto Ayora, sans travel agent, you must arrange the flights yourself. You can reserve ahead (call 011-593-2-509/383-4678) but to avoid getting bumped, obtain your first boarding pass (prechequeo) at the TAME office at Avenida Amazonas and Avenida Cristobal Colon. In Puerto Ayora, when you find out when your cruise will end, you can pick up a return pass (Av. Charles Darwin and 12 de Febrero); there's a fee to change a flight once a boarding pass is issued. In addition to airfare, everyone must pay a $100 national park entry fee in cash at Baltra's airport; unmarked $20 bills work best as larger bills are scrutinized with great suspicion. With airfare squared away, you can concentrate on choosing your cruise. In Quito, travel agents are clustered around Avenue Amazonas in New Town, so it won't take long to canvass for bargains. Different companies (closed weekends) offer different boats, so visit several. We like dealing with Angermeyer's Enchanted Expeditions (Foch 726, 011-593-2/569-960, angerme1@angermeyer.com.ec) and Safari Tours (Calama 380 or Pasaje de Roca, 011-593-2/234-799/552-505, admin@safari.com.ec), where you can read tourist reviews of the boats. Other shops include Pam Tour (Cordero 1424, 011-593-2/225-916/543-793, pamtour.com.ec) and Galasam (Cordero 1354, 011-593-2/507-0811, galasam@accessinter.net), but there are more. When we most recently collected quotes from the shops--and by the way, our research was conducted without speaking Spanish - we found big savings: Angermeyer's offered the well-reviewed Cachalote for $800--a 41 percent cut from U.S. rates. Pay with traveler's checks or in cash, but be extremely wary of toting money around Quito. Ecuador's economic troubles have led to routine tourist muggings; outside of business hours, we strongly advise taxis ($1-$4), even if you're only going a few blocks. (The islands, though, are safe.) Once you book, your work is done. Unless, of course, you're willing to try for even cheaper rates in Puerto Ayora. Or book your cruise in the islands themselves (Puerto Ayora) Puerto Ayora, pop. 8,000, is the cheapest place of all to buy your Galapagos cruise, but there's a catch: prices are lowest here, but so is availability. In high season (July, August, and December), boats can sell out early, so unless you're willing to wait as much as a week for a spot, it's a risk to try then. That said, we had no trouble finding space in the first week of July. First, learn which boats have space. For the latest rundown, there are a half-dozen shops along Avenida Charles Darwin that specialize in last-minute offers. Victor Vaca at Gal pagos Discovery (Padre Julio Herrera on the main square, 011-593-5/526-245; victor_vaca@hotmail.com) has the best agent price, $65-$85/day ($520-$600 for an eight-day cruise), but be warned that many of his ultracheapies are of the most basic quality - which in a country like Ecuador can translate into safety concerns. While many budget travelers are satisfied with the value, others have complained. Similar boats and rates are on offer at Enchantours (Av. Charles Darwin across from the Capitania de Puerto, 011-593-5/526-657, xavieraguirre@hotmail.com) and Galasam (on the main square, 011-593-5/526-051, hepartou@ayora.ecua.net.ec). If you don't want to worry about the boat's reputation, see trustworthy Yenny Divine at Moonrise Travel Agency (Av. Charles Darwin across from Banco Pacifico, 011-593-5/526-348, sdivine@interactive.net.ec), whose "tours" (cruises) cost more (at $90-$110/day), but who is widely known for her discerning representation. Most of the boats have bases in town, so negotiating an unbeatable rate (and inspecting the boat) is as simple as heading for the proper office. That's how we recently booked the delightful ten-passenger Beagle III, for which we originally obtained a quote of $110/day from Moonrise. Negotiations with the boat's owner finally won us an eight-day tour for $80/day, with one day for free ($560 total). If we had paid at home through any of the famous Galapagos tour operators, the same cruise would have set us back $1,795. Our tour was comfortable, our Naturalist III guide eloquent, and because the operator lives in Puerto Ayora, our money remained in the islands instead of going to Miami or Quito, where many boat owners live. Cheap Galapagos tours won't be a secret for much longer. Last April, the seeds of revolution were sown: Quiet Puerto Ayora was fitted with 1,000 new telephone lines. Boats that for years depended on agent bookings can now bypass middlemen and solicit tourist reservations through the Internet. The Galapagos may be a trip of a lifetime, but from now on, it shouldn't cost your life savings. Alternatives If you don't want to spend your entire vacation on a rocking boat, you can substitute individual day trips from Puerto Ayora for a multiday cruise. Let's assume you're uneasy about the motion sickness that can sometimes be encountered in the course of a five- to seven-day journey in a small boat. Agents want you to fork over big bucks for those traditional cruises leaving from Puerto Ayora. But base yourself on the island, staying in a number of small and very inexpensive hotels in sleepy Puerto Ayora (see below), and you can experience the Gal pagos on day jaunts to some of the same islands (Seymour Norte, South Plaza, Santa Fe, and Bartolom). The cost? Between $20 and $50 per day trip, depending on the island and your bargaining skills. Overnight sojourns to Floreana and Espa ola are offered for $80-$100. Boats rotate, so you may have to wait a few days for the island of your choice. Would you cover more ground on a cruise? Certainly. Would you be missing the Gal pagos experience without one? Decidedly not. There's plenty to see near town. At the Charles Darwin Research Station (free), giant land tortoises are raised from hatchlings (open daily; walk 10 minutes east of town on Darwin). Afterwards, hire a taxi for the day rate ($35) and possibilities develop: In the Cerro Chato reserve, tortoises run wild-if that's the phrase--through the thicket. At Mr. Moreno's farm, a guide will lead you on a 45-minute trek ($3) to a lake where they congregate. The island is threaded with tunnels of volcanic rock called lava tubes, many free. Just 12 miles from town, two massive sinkholes called Los Gemelos swarm with exotic birds (free). Or for $30 for two, hike five hours to the Media Luna volcanic cone. The sea also teems with life. At Tortuga Bay, a 45-minute walk from town, pelicans scoop dinner from a placid inlet (free; bring your mask and fins). Or for about $3, take a water taxi to the islet of Caama o for the thrill of swimming with sea lions. Hire a kayak from Manglar Adventure (the east end of Darwin, $8 to $20) and paddle the canyons of Las Grietas with white-tipped sharks and marine iguanas. Manglar also rents surfboards ($10); the Gal pagos have some of the planet's best surfing, and juvenile sea lions often shred waves alongside humans. If, after all that, you'd still like a traditional multiday cruise, here's a tip: boat itineraries usually include a day at the Research Station. Since you've already seen it, negotiate yourself out of that day. You'll save another 25 to 35 percent.

There's nothing like seeing Europe from your own set of wheels, even taking into account the manic traffic patterns and driving methods. A car grants you the freedom to go wherever you want, whenever you want, turning up a dirt road to visit a vineyard or down a back alley to explore a medieval town. OK, so cars do have one big drawback: they are pretty expensive, especially when compared to riding the rails, or even flying. I don't mean just the rental cost. Gasoline in Europe costs roughly four times what it does here. No joke. That's part of why they drive so many of those teensy, fuel-efficient, little Matchbox cars over there, and why they're still churning out diesel-powered sedans and wagons. And let's not forget parking garages in cities that cost $20 a night. High daily rates, mandatory insurance, obscure vehicle drop-off fees. Yep, renting a car in Europe can be a pretty costly proposition. We're here to help. There's no place like home....to book your wheels Don't wait until you're over there to rent a vehicle. It is invariably cheaper to do it from home. Also, with few exceptions (Dan Dooley in Ireland comes to mind), most major European rental agencies are now part of, or affiliated with, the big U.S. agencies (Hertz, Avis, National), so going direct to the European ones doesn't yield a better deal. It goes without saying you should shop around. There seems to be nothing so variable as a car rental quote. Go online to each of the major company's Web sites and find a base rate for each. Then call them up--call each of them up--and see if you can do better. Sometimes just calling the same company twice will yield two different rates. It's very frustrating. Once you know all the best prices, go to Auto Europe (autoeurope.com), which operates something like a consolidator for car rentals and usually can beat the best rate offered direct from any company. Yoga time As it is with airfares, it's important to be flexible with car rentals. Have the rental agent run the numbers for all sort of scenarios. Sometimes picking up a day earlier or later (same for drop-off) can save you big bucks. Unless you're leaving the metropolitan area directly from the airport and not even bothering to visit the major city to which it is attached, always pick up from downtown locations, not the airport, as there is invariably an usurious extra fee for airport rentals. Trade down a few models; do you really need the Ferrari convertible, or can you make do with a Fiat Punto? Even try different pick-up/drop-off cities--you never know. Share the love, cut the cost Renting is a particularly expensive proposition for the solo traveler, who has to shoulder the entire cost himself. For families or small groups, however, the fact that there's just one lump fee actually works in your favor, as the amount is spread across each person's costs. Sometimes the magic number of total passengers is three, sometimes four, but at some point renting a car becomes cheaper than buying three or four separate train tickets. Still, even if it's just one or two of you and therefore renting is going to take a big bite out of your budget, there can be situations in which renting a car is worth the expense. If you are at all planning to visit the villages of Provence, the hilltowns and vineyards of Tuscany, the whitewashed pueblos of Andalucia, or any other itinerary rarely of never served by trains or buses, get the car. The truer Europe lies in the small towns, not the big cities. Don't short-change your experience by short-changing your budget. Rent by the week, or pay the consequence$ Daily rental rates for periods less than one week are staggeringly high; it can cost almost as much to rent for two days as it does for seven. It's just one of the annoying realities of the industry. If, however, you only expect to need a vehicle for a day or two here and there, there are two loopholes. Look into the rail-and-drive passes available from Rail Europe (raileurope.com). These get you several days of unlimited rail travel on a flexi-pass (see the Rails section for an explanation) along with several days of car rental. You can add rail days or car days as needed to customize the pass to fit your schedule. P-lease don't rent for long periods of time If you're spending at least 17 days in Europe, do not rent a car. Lease one instead. For periods longer than 17 days, short-term leasing a car fresh off the factory floor is almost always cheaper--often by 20 to 50 percent--than renting. And since the car is technically yours, you get full insurance coverage--no added charges for CDW or theft protection, no deductible, and no taxes (foreigners don't have to pay VAT on purchases). You also get something no rental can give you: that that new-car smell. This is not a new phenomenon or a fly-by-night operation. These are deals set up directly by Renault, Pugeot, and other manufacturers, and they've been offering them since the 1950s--it's just never been widely advertised. It's easiest to arrange a lease through one of three agencies. Europe By Car (800/223-1516, or 212/581-3040 in New York, europebycar.com) has the widest selection of vehicles by far, and while the cheapest are usually something French (a Renault or Pugeot), anything from a Ford to a Beemer is available. The European car rental specialist Auto-Europe (888/223-5555, autoeurope.com), which for standard rental contracts works just like an airline consolidator, also has a leasing program with Peugeot. If you'd prefer to go straight to the source, Renault Eurodrive (800/221-1052, or 212/532-1221 in New York, renaultusa.com) has an office set up in the U.S. that does nothing but arrange these short-term leases on its own vehicles. The big asset with Renault is that they throw in a free cell phone to use while you are there. A few other side benefits: since you're technically buying the car (with a buy-back clause in the purchase agreement) you get exactly the make and model you want, not the "Opel Astra or similar" a rental agent promises. You don't have to pony up the $5 per day for any additional drivers. It's your car, you can let your husband drive if you want to. Also, leasing is available to anyone over age 18 (rental firms often won't rent to people under 23 or 25 years old). There's no extra charge for dropping off in a different location from where you picked up--though any pick up or drop-off made outside France usually tacks on $50 to $175--and, unlike with rentals, airport pick-ups are (usually) no more expensive than downtown. A limitation: you can pick up and drop off pretty much only at major cities and airports; there is no vast network of rental offices (though you do get the usual 24-hour emergency call number). Shifting to manual controls--now Stick-shift models are always cheaper than ones with automatic transmission. What's more, you get better gas mileage (and Europe's high gas prices will make you thankful for that), plus you have more control over your vehicle and driving technique, which can be especially useful when navigating twisting Alpine roads or the impossibly narrow stone alleyways of medieval towns. Be a country driver Avoid at all costs renting a car for your time in any major city. Public transportation is efficient, cheap, and always gets you where you want to go, even on the outskirts. Driving, on the other hand, is a frightening, expensive, and pointlessly time-consuming experience. Not only is the traffic horrendous (and local traffic laws and practices only semi-scrutable), but gas is terribly expensive, as is parking. Speaking of parking, there isn't any. Not, at least, where you want to go. Most street-side parking is time-limited and pricey. Your best bet if you end up with a car and are in a city is to find a large, cheap communal garage and stick your vehicle there for the duration. The best overall rental strategy is to arrange to pick up your car at some downtown office on the last day you are in the first city of your trip, and to drop it off on your first day in the last city on your itinerary. Um, that may have made little sense. In other words, spend your three days in Rome, then pick up the car on the morning of the fourth day to spend a week driving leisurely northwards through Tuscany, Emilia-Romagna, and the Veneto, and finally drop the car off as soon as you get to Venice. Conveniently, this technique also helps you avoid the airport pick-up/drop-off charge. Instead of driving into town and parking the thing for three days (figure on $30 to $40 a day), you can just use the high speed rail link to get downtown (usually $7 to $20). Also, it shortens you rental period and saves you some dough that way. Don't let the man stick it to you Treat car rental companies like the worst kind of snake oil salesmen, 'cause that's how they treat you. They'll try their hardest to hide as many fees from you as possible so that their price looks like the best deal in town. Don't let them. Pressure them to reveal all the fees involved, then get it all in writing and don't let the actual car office in Europe where you pick the vehicle up (or the one where you drop it off) try to tack on anything else, as they often will try to do. They will try to bamboozle you with fine print to cheat you out of more money. Sad but true. Here are some (thoroughly legal) scams to watch out for. Except in Spain and Italy, where some kick-back local laws make purchasing theft protection and CDW (the Collision Damage Waver) from the rental agency itself mandatory, you do not have to buy this insurance. Don't let them force-feed you all these extra fees. These days, almost every credit card covers CDW if you use it to pay for your rental. Tell the rental agent that. Fax her a copy of your card agreement's fine print if you have to. Don't let the company bilk you out of money for insurance coverage you already have. On a related note, make sure the rental agent quotes you a price for absolutely everything. Don't let her get away with leaving off the taxes and such, as they can be hugely significant. In my experience, the original price quoted--just for the rental, before they get into taxes (often, multiple taxes), drop-off fees for returning to a different location, mandatory insurance, and more--turns out to be roughly half of what the final price is.

Many travelers who rhapsodize about Hawaii feel scorn for Oahu. "It's not Hawaii," they say. "It's just a stopover." When I heard this recently -- the words came from someone who had been living on Maui and Kauai for a few years -- I could only respond, "How much of Oahu have you actually seen?" Not much beyond the airport, it turns out, other than a quick stop at the Bishop Museum and a surf on the North Shore. Unfortunately, this is often Oahu's fate. Hawaii has been romanticized for so long that virtually no one visits it without serious preconceived notions. On some of those notions, Oahu still delivers: It has sunny skies, crystal blue water, white-sand beaches, slack key guitars at sunset, and lots of hula dancing. The problem is what visitors don't expect -- the urban sprawl of Honolulu. It's the 11th-largest municipality in the U.S.; almost 400,000 people live in the metropolitan area. Visitors judge Oahu the instant they glimpse the high-rises of Waikiki, and, without a doubt, Waikiki is a different, highly developed kind of paradise (make that ParadiseTM). It's so easy to wistfully imagine the area before the hotels came, when it was just a sandy crescent surrounded by swaying palms and endless green. No traffic, no sunburned throngs, no chocolate-covered macadamia nuts for sale on every corner. Oahu is crowded, and Honolulu is a busy city -- now get over it. Don't just get over it, get into it. The island is home to three-quarters of Hawaiians, people who represent more than 25 ethnic groups and make the state one of the most diverse in the country. Oahu may not satisfy clichéd notions of an untouched Eden, but it is, undeniably, where Hawaiians live, eat, drink, and do things. If that doesn't make it the real Hawaii, what does? Even if you have just a few days on Oahu, it's easy to slip into the casual, unpretentious lifestyle. Rent a car and tune the radio to the traditional and modern Hawaiian music on KINE 105.1 FM. Drive over to Maunakea Street in Honolulu's Chinatown, where refrigerated cases are crammed with wholesale leis (and Hawaiian ladies patiently string together more). Locals buy leis as gifts to celebrate occasions--birthdays, graduations, special visitors. Then go grab a plate lunch. These simple, hearty meals, available everywhere, are an island institution: your choice of a main dish (such as chicken teriyaki or barbecued ribs) plus two sides, usually a scoop of macaroni salad and two scoops of white rice. The Rainbow Drive-In is a Honolulu classic, around since 1961. The Loco Moco, a beef patty over rice, topped with a fried egg and gravy, may not be to everyone's taste. Diamond Head Market and Grill: An untouristy plate-lunch spot. Order a grilled ahi sandwich ($6.50) to go, or sit inside, which is more foodie-friendly (mochiko chicken bento, $5.25). Midway between Waikiki and Diamond Head. 3158 Monsarrat Ave., 808/732-0077. Olive Tree Café: Delicious, affordable Greek food (chicken souvlaki, $8). Dinner only, and it can be hard to get a seat. Pick up wine or beer at the provisions shop next door. 4614 Kilauea Ave., 808/737-0303. Ono Hawaiian Foods: Humble-looking but always packed. Options include pork laulau (pork wrapped in taro leaves and steamed, $4.95) and poke (a seviche-like dish, $7.30). 726 Kapahulu Ave., 808/737-2275. Ruffage Natural Foods: Terrific sandwiches, from $4.60. Also good for breakfast (papaya half, $1.75). 2443 Kuhio Ave., 808/922-2042. Volcano Joe's: A friendly coffeehouse near the university. An ice-cold Kauai-blend coffee (from $1.30) and crumbly guava pocket (75¢) is an unbeatable way to start the day. 1810 University Ave., 808/941-8449. It's the first rule of Oahu eating: Despite all the brouhaha over fancy fusion cuisine, some of the island's most satisfying food is served on paper plates, eaten while you sit on a folding chair in a parking lot. A few of the most popular spots are lunch wagons, with service windows on the side. Giovanni's Original White Shrimp Truck in Kahuku gets all the press, but you'd better go early or late to avoid the mobs waiting 40 minutes for the sole offering, a plate of pan-fried shrimp. A saner option well off the beaten path is the Maria Bonita truck in Waimanalo, where you can devour tacos or burritos (try one with mahimahi) in a rugged location. Waimanalo has long stretches of gorgeous, quiet beach. Oahu's multiethnic population means there's a veritable we-are-the-world array of cuisines in the Honolulu area. Don't expect fanfare: These are local places that serve delicious, inexpensive food to regular customers. Five dollars buys a huge bowl of Vietnamese beef noodle soup served with a heaping plate of fresh herbs (add them to taste) at Pho One, behind the Ala Moana megamall. Phuket Thai Restaurant enthusiastically dishes up excellent Thai food in a strip mall -- yes, even Hawaii has strip malls -- near Waikiki. Kozo Sushi, a take-out mini-chain with four locations on Oahu, is so authentically Japanese that many of the staff speak very little English; fresh ahi tuna goes for $1.69 per piece. Leonard's Bakery, an institution since the 1950s, bakes fresh Portuguese malasadas and puffs -- only the latter, which have coconut- and guava-custard fillings, make it clear you're not in Lisbon. Less universally appealing is crack seed, a snack of preserved fruits and seeds that is sour, sweet, and/or salty. Chinese in origin, crack seed is carried by virtually all convenience stores, as well as specialty shops like the Crack Seed Center. You'll even find pieces of it wrapped up and strung into leis -- a sure sign something has been assimilated into Hawaiian culture. One restaurant that nicely embodies the state's new mix is the Days of Aloha café, in Kaimuki, decorated with nostalgic Hawaiian posters and photos and run by a young couple originally from Tokyo. The menu is a little bit mainland (bagels), a little bit island (homemade guava jam), and a little bit Japanese (wasabi tuna sandwiches with sheets of nori seaweed tucked inside). If you're baffled about how Oahu acquired such a diverse population, stop at Hawaii's Plantation Village, an open-air museum in Waipahu. Many Hawaiians have relatives who once lived in plantation villages, and this earnest re-creation provides a fascinating look at the lives of the immigrants (primarily Chinese, Japanese, Portuguese, Puerto Rican, Okinawan, Korean, and Filipino) brought over to work on the sugar farms. Restored homes from the early 1900s show how workers lived with a minimum of amenities and cherished precious reminders of home. Besides contributing to the culinary mix, the immigrant groups shaped what is now considered quintessentially Hawaiian. It was the Portuguese who plucked small string instruments and inspired the Hawaiian "jumping flea," or ukulele. And the pidgin language (featuring terms like Shaka brah, which roughly means "Cool, man") developed as a lingua franca among workers. As a tourist, you're unlikely to hear much pidgin -- it's more of a private language for locals -- but the Hawaiian restaurant You Hungry provides a taste. Instead of regular and large, the menu offers "sorta hungry" and "hungry" portions, and a toothpick jar is labeled like pick teet? Clearly, and mercifully, Oahu doesn't take itself too seriously. While there's plenty of respect for history and culture, there's also an appreciation for the kitsch inextricably linked to Hawaiian tourism. So although true hula bears only a passing resemblance to the tourist variety (grass skirts, never a Hawaiian practice, were incorporated for their sex appeal), Oahu makes room for both. A traditional hula performance may require a trip to the Bishop Museum, but modern hula is on display every night in the pink glow of sunset on Waikiki Beach. Likewise, locals and visitors go for hula-girl bottle openers and aloha belt buckles. Only a coldhearted snob could resist such trinkets. If you have serious shopping stamina, brave the stalls at the International Marketplace in Waikiki. Otherwise, retreat to two surprisingly good sources for cheap souvenirs: Kmart and Longs Drugs. The King Street branch of Longs also carries a wide selection of inexpensive leis, made from fresh flowers, dried kukui nuts, or candy. These cheerful knickknacks, an integral part of the Hawaiian tourist experience, are talismans; they link us to a simpler time. We long for the era when ukulele-wielding serenaders sang "When My Wahine Does the Poi," when pineapples were the height of exotica. This version of Oahu may exist only in our imaginations -- could it ever have been that pure? -- but nonetheless we're all nostalgic, and the hope of touching even a little of it is what lures many of us to Oahu. A few cherished relics of the era remain. The most pristine and spectacular is Shangri La, the estate built in the 1930s by the late tobacco heiress Doris Duke. The famously reclusive Duke found refuge from fortune-hunting paramours and the media in Oahu. She learned to surf from the Kahanamoku brothers -- Duke Kahanamoku was the father of modern surfing -- and filled Shangri La with rare Islamic art. The house is now open to small tours, which start at the Honolulu Academy of Art (reserve weeks in advance). If you're lucky, you'll meet Jin de Silva, the charming Sri Lankan who was the caretaker and one of Duke's few trusted employees. He usually stops by to answer questions and reminisce about guests like Burt Reynolds and Loni Anderson. A less intimate retro experience can be found in some of the hotels in Waikiki. The hot-pink Moorish-style Royal Hawaiian must have seemed very grand when it opened in 1927; today it's dwarfed by its neighbors but maintains a certain dignity. Having cocktails at the beachfront Mai Tai Bar still feels like a swanky event. Located a few streets back from the beach are a handful of properties that look like nothing has changed since they opened in the '50s and '60s. These time capsules (among the best: the Breakers, Royal Grove, and Hawaiiana) are relatively small, and rooms flank modest swimming pools. Some of the lobby furniture is original; think bamboo lounge sets. The effect is decidedly laid-back. Things get even sleepier once you leave Honolulu. Beyond the sprawl, Oahu has the quiet countryside, roadside fruit stands, and deserted beaches you expect. Even if you don't rent a car, you can circumnavigate the island on the Bus; a single ride is only $2. The biggest town on the North Shore is Haleiwa, a hippie holdover that looks like little more than a few battered shacks, some surf shops, and an occasional handwritten sign (mango pickles for sale). In the back of Celestial Natural Foods, a health food store, is Paradise Found, a sweet vegetarian café that's a favorite of local surfers. A bit further along is Kua `Aina Sandwich, a beloved burger joint where paper towels take the place of napkins. At the landmark Matsumoto's Shave Ice, the big draw is yet another local specialty -- a version of what mainlanders call snow cones. The main event on the North Shore is the epic surf at places like Waimea Bay and Sunset Beach. During the winter, surfers from all over flock here for the big seasonal swells, when waves can easily reach 20 feet. Surf contests are also held during this time; grab a free seat on the sand and watch the pros rip (surf well), get barreled (ride inside the tube of a wave), and wipe out (no explanation necessary). Swimmers need not despair -- plenty of winter days are flat and waders rule the beaches. There's also prime snorkeling in the non-winter months at Shark's Cove in Pupukea (a good alternative to popular Hanauma Bay, outside Honolulu). In Haleiwa, Surf -N- Sea is the place for gear and surf updates. The shop staked its claim back in 1965 and is now a legend in the community. A small road opposite, home to fuchsia bougainvillea and wandering pet peacocks, leads to the Surfhouse, a lush property offering simple accommodations. The amiable owner, Lee, has spent most of his life in and around the South Pacific. In the end, despite Oahu's qualifications as a romantic dreamland -- sunsets and starlight, blue sea and white sand -- the most memorable experiences are the ones that fall outside this everyday perfection. On a recent visit I showed up at the Kapiolani Bandstand to watch the Kodak Hula Show, a tourist spectacular since the 1950s that's still listed in all of the tourist publications. I expected another satisfying display of kitsch, but instead I found a few other dazed visitors and, onstage, a small group of women in shorts and flip-flops. I asked one about the Kodak show. "They stopped doing that a long time ago, honey," she told me gently. "But I've been a hula dancer for 20 years." She popped a CD in her portable player, and the women spread out into rows. It was a community group having its weekly hula lesson. They began to dance, swaying their hips and slowly fluttering their hands. A few of the other tourists hurried away. The rest of us sat under the trees, Waikiki Beach behind us, and enjoyed a private show. Being able to see the ladies dance, purely for their own pleasure, is the kind of experience no guidebook can lead you to. It was the innocence we hoped to touch when we came: an unvarnished moment amid the good-natured artifice of Oahu, an honest bit of genuine joy in Paradise. Oahu Activities The Bishop Museum 1525 Bernice St., Honolulu, 808/847-3511, bishopmuseum.org, $15, kids $12 Hawaii's Plantation Village 94-695 Waipahu St., Waipahu, 808/677-0110, hawaiiplantationvillage.org, $10, kids $4 Shangri La 866/385-3849, shangrilahawaii.org, $25 (includes entry to Honolulu Academy of Arts, 900 S. Beretania St., where tour starts) Shopping Kmart 500 Nimitz Hwy., Honolulu, 808/528-2280, plus two other locations Longs Drugs 2220 S. King St., Honolulu, 808/949-4781 Transportation The Bus 808/848-5555, thebus.org, $2 per ride, four-day unlimited pass $20

Legend says that the demigod Maui loved to fish. One sunny day his fishing line caught, and when he pulled, each of the Hawaiian Islands broke the surface of the sea. As if that weren't enough, he stood on the edge of Haleakala, Maui's monster volcano, and snared the sun. With this feat came the promise that Hawaii would receive more daylight hours to fish. All that daylight makes for great road trips, too. From the sky, Maui looks like two islands. One end is dominated by the West Maui Mountains, the other by 10,023-foot Haleakala. The two ranges meet at a sea-level isthmus. Most visitors plant themselves at one of the beach resorts near Lahaina, but they're missing out. There are funky old villages with coffee shops, bakeries, and restaurants; cool-weather "upcountry" homes and rain forests on Haleakala's slopes; and lush shores in the northwest and northeast that few tourists ever see. Day 1: Kahului to Kuau "Hey, brah," I say to a weathered Hawaiian construction worker, "we're looking for Jaws, the big-wave surf spot." My wife, Nancy, and I are in our rental car, waiting while a crew fills potholes on Maui's Kahekili Highway in Waihee. This is the first day of a four-day trip, and we're determined to explore places we've never been despite dozens of visits to the island. Jaws was made famous in the opening credits of the latest James Bond film. The worker leans into the window. "Bruddah, you long way from Jaws," he says, pointing across distant Kahului Bay. "It's ovah there." A surfer of four decades, I'm certain from the pictures I've seen that it's near Waihee. "I don't know where your Jaws is," the man says, grinning, "but mine is that way." A fruitless search for Jaws eats up a couple of hours after our 8 a.m. arrival. (Turns out I should've followed the construction worker's directions instead of acting like a know-it-all.) We're heading to Paia, but I miss a turn and end up at the 76-year-old Iao Theater. With its multiple arches, red-tile roof, and faded pink-stucco facade with turquoise trim, it definitely has some Spanish-southern California influences. The Iao has undergone numerous changes in the island's recent history, from a kung fu movie palace to hippie foreign-film haven to the current home for a local theater group, though there are no productions during our visit. Across the street is the Open Market, where Nancy buys a softball-size mango, a papaya, and an extra-sweet pineapple. Built around a now-defunct sugar mill, Paia was the original territorial capital of Hawaii. In the '30s, the town was bustling with hospitals, schools, and movie theaters for plantation workers. Today it's mostly boutiques, restaurants, and specialty coffee shops on Hana Highway and Baldwin Avenu, like Anthony's Coffee Company and Mana Natural Foods. Our priority is breakfast, and we spot Charley's Restaurant near the town's only stoplight. We opt for the Seafood Benny -- really, eggs Benedict with fresh fish and ono (meaning "the best" in Hawaiian) rice. Like at many restaurants on Maui, the portions here are so large that Nancy and I split the meal. At the next table, country-music legend and part-time Maui resident Willie Nelson is eating a pancake that's as wide as a hubcap. A mile south of town at the craftsman-style Kuau Inn, our upstairs bedroom comes with a view of the dark-green West Maui Mountains and a peek of turquoise Kahului Bay, where we later spot a few humpback whales breaching a half mile offshore. Nancy and I make the five-minute walk to Kuau Cove, where we discover no other people and a few tide pools large enough to swim and snorkel in when the tide's high. After some mango slices, we nap under a coconut palm. Back at the inn we rinse off in the screened outdoor shower, let the trade winds dry us, then drive back to Paia, which is humming with locals and tourists. The Grass Shack overflows with kitschy Hawaiiana, and I can't resist buying a wiggling dashboard hula doll. We've been told by inn owner Lisa Starr that Jacques Northshore Restaurant & Bar -- look for the big, vertical mahimahi out front -- has the best margaritas in town. My sunburn is stinging, so I tell myself a frosty drink will dull the pain. The concoction comes in a glass so tall that Nancy and I share it at our outdoor table while watching the passing parade. As night falls, the restaurants glow like Christmas trees -- Paia is in a permanently festive mood -- with red, blue, orange, white, and green lights. We explore, finding the '50s-era diner Moana Bakery & Café, where a jazz trio is playing, there's no cover charge, and the dessert special is an especially tempting mango crème brûlée. We order one, but after the first bite I'm addicted and have to have my own. Enough with the sharing. Day 2: Kuau to Halea-kala I've never windsurfed, but I figure Maui, a mecca for the sport, is the place to try it. I book a two-and-a-half-hour lesson from Hawaiian Island Surf & Sport, but there's no wind so they offer a mini surfing safari as an alternative. I meet the guide and three others, all beginners, at Kahului's Kanaha Beach, adjacent to Kanaha Pond Wildlife Sanctuary, once a royal fishpond and now home to the rare Hawaiian stilt and Hawaiian coot. The surf is feeble and barely breaks 200 yards offshore, but at least the paddling is invigorating. Afterward, Nancy and I cruise along through several sleepy upcountry communities, including Pukalani, where we'll sleep tonight. The windward landscape is a deep shade of green from frequent rain, with steep, rutted lava cliffs overshadowing the coast. Though the main crop, pineapple, still dominates, the old canneries no longer process it. Many have been converted into shops and businesses. At Haiku Cannery, we eat at Colleen's Cannery Pizza & Sub, then drive deeper into the greenbelt where cattle, horses, and deer mix in pasture and rain forest. We're forced to drive slowly because of the narrow, winding road, but that gives us more time to enjoy several rainbows along the way. While the tree fern protects us from sprinkling rain, Nancy questions the next morning's predawn drive to Haleakala's summit for the sunrise. I'm insistent on making my first trip up top, so instead she suggests that we start the 38-mile meandering drive in the early evening and catch the sunset. We detour to the paniolo ("cowboy") town of Makawao, visiting Hui No`eau, the island's first art collective, dating to 1934. By the time we get to Komoda Bakery -- where locals wait for the doors to open at 7 a.m. -- all their famed cream puffs and malasadas (lightly fried dough filled with vanilla, coffee, chocolate, or passion fruit cream) are gone. Another bummer: Our drab unit at Pukalani Studios costs us $100, plus an additional $75 cleaning fee for staying only one night! It's 4 p.m. when we begin the drive up Haleakala, passing green pastures, views of sunny west-side beaches 30 miles away, floral gardens, and unattended flower stands, where customers are trusted to leave $1 in a rusty coffee can. At the 6,500-foot level we emerge from dense cloud cover to a view of indigo skies and the black-lava summit. Except for two others, we're alone at the crater a few minutes later, where we watch shadows engulf the moon-like landscape. At the actual summit, the giant yellow orb transforms into shades of orange and red before disappearing behind gray clouds. We open a bottle of Maui pineapple wine to share with our new summit buddies. Day 3: Pukalani to Lahaina The morning is clear and crisp on our way to Tedeschi Vineyards, and there are about 10 cars and trucks outside Grandma's Coffee House in upcountry Keokea. Grandma began roasting and blending Maui organic coffee here in 1918; the original roaster can be seen through a viewing window. We step into the cottage-like dining room and owner Al Franco immediately greets us with a hello, though he seems to know everyone else by name. After Grandma's we stop to watch a pueo (Hawaiian owl) gliding over a green pasture searching for a morning meal. With the windows down, I smell night-blooming jasmine. A short while later we're in Tedeschi Vineyards' tasting room, where the centerpiece is an 18-foot-long bar cut from the trunk of a single mango tree. The room was built in 1874, created specifically for the visit of Hawaii's reigning monarch, David Kalakaua, and Queen Kapiolani. There's no direct road to Lahaina from here, so we backtrack through Kahului to get to the former whaling village turned tourist haven. With its bright-pink facade and sky-blue trim, pool, and tropical garden, the Old Lahaina House is hard to miss. It gets hot in Lahaina on the dry, leeward side of the island, and I'm happy our mountain-facing room has a ceiling fan, air-conditioning, and a nice cross-breeze. Nancy and I head to the neighborhood beach, where small sailboats are moored in shallow water. Two men are trying to launch a large catamaran and I help, declining their invitation for a sail but asking if I can borrow their one-person kayak. A receding tide sucks the craft through a narrow channel in the reef and I paddle north, close to bustling Front Street and its oceanfront restaurants. The water is sparklingly clear and I spot yellow tang, a humuhumu nukunuku a`puaa trigger fish, and gaudy-colored moorish idols. We walk to Lahaina for dinner at Cafe O'Lei, getting an ocean-view table on the deck just in time to see the sunset between Molokai and Lanai. We then explore the town's curio shops. While Nancy hits the galleries, I amuse myself in tourist stores, looking at T-shirts with the names of fictional yacht clubs and coconuts with painted scenes that people mail out as oversize postcards. Day 4: Lahaina to Kahului Our Lahaina fix filled, we head north to Maui's rarely visited shoreline beyond resort-heavy Kaanapali and Kapalua. First stop is Honolua Bay, a marine reserve and one of the world's finest surfing spots. Next up is picturesque Honokohau Bay, a half-mile-long beach with a few sand pockets for swimming. Our only companions for the next two hours of tide pooling, walking, and swimming are three surfers. Near Mile Marker 16 is the Bellstone, a large volcanic rock on the side of the road. If you hit it just right it sounds like a bell because of the chemical composition of the lava. I do, and it does. The road suddenly narrows and we hug the sandstone cliff inches from the few ascending cars. What's really distracting is the sight of the Hawaiian village of Kahakuloa -- around 100 total residents -- bordered by a deep-blue bay and 636-foot Kahakuloa Head. We never knew the village existed and feel like we've been thrown back in time. We park at Panini Pua Kea fruit stand, run by lifelong resident Randy Boteilho, who offers us brown-sugar-coated coconut pieces and dried mango. There are no accommodations here per se, but Randy allows campers to pitch a tent on his lawn for $30 a night. Back at Waihee, where our trip started a few days ago, I spot some newly patched potholes and remember my unsuccessful search for Jaws. It's refreshing to know that there are still special places to discover in paradise.