New Late-Night Spots in D.C.

In 1966, London's St. Pancras train terminal was marked for demolition--it was dirty, decrepit, and fast becoming a drug haven--when poet John Betjeman launched a campaign to save it from the wrecking ball. Thanks to a $1.6 billion renovation, the 140-year-old St. Pancras is back to its Victorian Gothic glory. It's now the U.K. terminal for 27 high-speed Eurostar trains (and new tunnel technology has trimmed the trip to Paris by 20 minutes). A bronze of Betjeman stands in the station, gazing at the 100-foot-high ceiling. 011-44/20-7843-4250, stpancras.com.

Want an Upgrade? Enter here. The upgradee "I'm celebrating my 40th birthday in Malaysia. When in Kuala Lumpur, I'm going to the Blue Mosque and the Batu Caves, as I find religious architecture fascinating. Oh yes, and I do plan on shopping until I drop. It is my 40th birthday, after all!" Nancy Faiman, Redondo Beach, Calif. Using our powers for the good of the people Every year, as her birthday approaches, Nancy Faiman plans a trip abroad. "I hate the big 'kapow' birthday celebration--that's why I leave the country," she says with a laugh. In past years, Nancy has gone to Thailand, Singapore, Spain, and Indonesia; in each place, she explored temples and churches. "I love how ornate and detailed the decorations and carvings are," she says. While anyone can visit the Batu Caves--a series of temples near Kuala Lumpur, and one of the most important Hindu shrines outside of India--you need connections to meet with the shrine's chief priest, Sivasri Ravinatha Gurukkal. "It was incredible!" reports Nancy. "I learned that he's from India and his family is still in Chennai. I grilled the poor guy about Hinduism." Ravinatha demonstrated the Hindu prayer process by taking Nancy's offerings to the altar of the god Ganesh and returning to place a bindi, or red mark, on her forehead as a confirmation that her prayers had been received. "It's always good to have someone pray for you, and for your health and wealth!" says Nancy. Next year's birthday destination: Vietnam. Many thanks to... The Malaysia Tourism Promotion Board, which has information about the country's cultural destinations on its website, tourismmalaysiausa.com.  

New Prize: All-inclusive Cancún The best response we receive between February 1 and February 29, 2008, wins a three-night trip for two to Cancún from Continental Airlines Vacations. The prize includes round-trip airfare from any Continental gateway in the U.S. and three all-inclusive nights at the Moon Palace Golf & Spa Resort. How to enter TrueStories@BudgetTravel.com or True Stories, Budget Travel, 530 Seventh Ave., New York, NY 10018. For full contest guidelines, see BudgetTravel.com/truestories. This month's winner! The winners of this month's contest are Roger and Claudia Hirsch of Dundee, Ore. Their prize: a four-night trip to Jamaica from Air Jamaica, the Holiday Inn SunSpree Resort, and the Jamaica Tourist Board. A wonderful journey in Belgium went awry when we put regular gas in our diesel rental car. The mechanics at the auto shop laughed, shook their heads, and siphoned out the gas. When we asked about the bill, they indicated that we should wait, and made a phone call. Then a gentleman drove up--we assumed that he was the owner. He explained that during World War II, the Americans marched into his village to save it from the Nazis. He said he'd never forget, and for Americans, there would be no charge for the car repair. We were speechless. And it was only $13 each! I hoped to visit the Greek archaeological museum in Iráklion and the Minoan palace at Knossos while in Crete, but both sites were closed. Sensing my disappointment, my taxi driver, Stelios, offered to take my family and me on a tour across the island for only $100. I told him that my wife and daughter were just getting up and would be hungry. "Could you choose a place for breakfast and join us as our guest?" I asked. He gave me a quizzical look and nodded, then made a call on his cell phone. We later learned that Stelios had awakened his wife to inform her that he was bringing three Americans home for breakfast. His wife, Katerina, served us seven different homemade treats, and she even gave my wife and daughter some handmade lace. "No passengers ever asked me to eat with them," said Stelios. "How can I take them anywhere but to my own home?" Kevin R. Allison, Highlands Ranch, Colo. But can he make a marinara? While on a Caribbean cruise, my husband and I enjoyed watching sunsets with our friends. When I noted how refreshing it was to wear so little clothing, one friend agreed, even suggesting that man revert to the fashion trend set by Adam and Eve--"We should all just don a bay leaf," he said. I gave my sympathies to his girlfriend. My husband certainly would need the more standard fig leaf to do the job properly! Cindy Brewer, Ballwin, Mo. Fishier and fishier In Madrid, my husband, some friends, and I stopped in a tapas bar. A selection of whole sardines arrived with our drinks. Unaccustomed to the beady eyes, I hid the fish in a napkin to avoid appearing ungracious. The owner immediately filled our plate with more. I stashed them away, too. I carried the bundle to the bathroom and dropped the fish into the toilet. Unfortunately, the water pressure wasn't sufficient to remove them. I watched in horror as the fish simply floated in circles. Not wanting to leave them for the next guest, I kept flushing. Eventually, I tried flushing two at a time, and to my relief they went down. We left soon thereafter. Celia Gianoli, Reno, Nev. Proof that lawyers are dogs Last fall, my dad and I traveled to Nashville for his law-school reunion. When we pulled up to the hotel, we saw a number of people checking in with dogs, and we remarked how pet-friendly the hotel was. Upon entering our room, my dad raided the minibar for a snack to take with his medication. He mentioned later that the gingersnaps tasted funny. A look at the wrapper showed that what he'd eaten was a package of dog treats. Lantie Elisabeth Quinones, Jupiter, Fla. Beware the banana split After five days of vegetarian food at a meditation retreat in the Dordogne area of France, my husband, my three kids, and I were ready for our more usual fare--so when we read about a place where a nude waiter serves Baskin-Robbins ice cream, we couldn't resist. The next thing I knew, we were at Le Cap d'Agde, a large naturist village. Our server had swim trunks on, but we saw very few articles of clothing on anyone else. They were the most memorable ice cream cones we'd ever eaten! Rae Therrien, Laupahoehoe, Hawaii A.K.A. the big queasy At a café in La Paz, Bolivia, I was still a bit hungry after dinner and wanted to order a sandwich before the café closed. The sandwiches were all named after cities. I went with the New Orleans, which I ordered in Spanish. Two waiters came out with four bags. I'd ordered "nueve" (nine) Orleans instead of a "Nueva" (New) Orleans. Alison Peters, Denver, Colo. Prize report In November 2006, Bill and Linnea Boaz won four nights at The Lodge & Spa at Cordillera in Colorado for their efforts at re-creating a BT cover. "Highlights included two rounds of golf--one 9,200 feet above sea level--and two world-class massages," writes Bill. "And dinner at the Mirador restaurant was terrific. Thanks again!"

After driving 15 minutes from Cabarete along a sandy road, I reach La Boca, a broad estuary where the Río Yásica meets the sea. To my right is a glassy lagoon, and beyond that is a deserted beach. Directly in front of me there's a pale green lean-to thatched with palm fronds. At one of the tables scattered on the sand, three young Dominican women sip drinks from hollowed-out pineapples. The name of the place, La Boca Grill, is on a battered surfboard hanging from the roof. It's an idyllic little slice of the tropics. My unofficial guide is Marcus Bohm, a shaggy German who settled in Cabarete 17 years ago. A former pro kiteboarder, Marcus runs an array of ventures, including a surf school (321 Takeoff), a sailboard-repair shop, and an international water-sports competition called Master of the Ocean. I met Marcus when he stopped by my hotel to chat with a friend. With characteristic Cabarete friendliness, he offered to spend the day chauffeuring me around in his beat-up white pickup plastered with surf stickers. Marcus motions for me to follow him and another man into a dank, dirt-floored room. The man opens a cooler and pulls out fish in a rainbow of shimmering purples, yellows, and blues. Half an hour later, I'm seated at a table, obsessively licking my fingers and staring at the remains of one of the most memorable meals of my life: a foot-long grouper fried to perfection and served with rice and beans, fried plantains, a simple salad of cabbage and thinly sliced tomatoes, and an ice-cold Presidente beer. The meal costs less than $10--including tip. "I always bring out-of-towners to La Boca, because it's impossible not to fall in love with the place," says Marcus. The Dominican Republic occupies the eastern two thirds of the island of Hispaniola (the rest is Haiti), a popular landing spot for travelers ever since Christopher Columbus washed ashore in 1492. During World War II, it became a haven for a small group of German Jews. Even today you'll notice the occasional German road sign. Santo Domingo, on the island's southern coast, is the capital and a bustling port. Punta Cana, on the eastern tip, attracts the European set with upscale accommodations. To the north is Puerto Plata, a beach resort strip located next to the world's largest all-inclusive complex, Playa Dorada. Cabarete, meanwhile, is a ramshackle beach town of 20,000 people about 20 minutes east of the international airport at Puerto Plata. For much of its history, the town was an isolated fishing village. But in the past two decades, hotels, restaurants, and surf shops have filled the main drag, Calle Principal, without any apparent master plan. An old Victorian house sits next to sleek condos, which sit next to a palapa. The town is only about a mile and a quarter wide, but Calle Principal is choked with buses, street vendors, pedestrians, and mopeds carrying families of four. Cabarete is among the world's top spots for windsurfing and kiteboarding, and those sports have created the culture and driven the development. There's a sizeable young expat community, and backpacking adrenaline junkies share the beach with families and couples. On my first day, I met a British family who had just finished a group surfing lesson--even the 82-year-old grandmother. Unlike in some other parts of the country, here the Dominican character shines through. Merengue music is a constant, pumping out of every window, and the people are welcoming. Simply smile and say hola, and people smile back, doors open, and drinks are offered. And then you find yourself in a place like La Boca. After lunch, Marcus takes me to the mountains. Cabarete's southern edge is lined by the foothills of the Cordillera Septentrional, which not only make for a dramatic backdrop, but provide a venue for non-beach activities such as waterfall climbing, horseback riding, and caving. The road eventually turns into a dirt path that leads to El Choco National Park, a 48-square-mile reserve with mango and avocado trees, hundreds of caves, a dizzying web of mostly unmarked trails, and human settlements that were grand­fathered in. As the road climbs, the dirt gives way to deep-red clay. We pass a couple of shanties hidden among the trees, and a dozen barefoot young boys come chasing after us. Marcus slows down, and they scramble into the back of his truck. The journey is a short one: Only 100 yards farther, the road peters out. We all pile out, and the kids dash down the slope to a spring, tearing off their clothes and jumping off a big rock. From there, Marcus and I hike a few minutes up an unmarked trail that leads to a lookout with views of the coast, the cerulean water far below winking in the sunlight. Caribbean in every aspect, this Atlantic has no similarity to the one I know in the U.S. We continue on to a cave located inside a nearby hill, descending into the cool darkness. Using my cell phone to light the way, I see huge stalactites and passages that plunge off in all directions, mostly straight down. One of the Dominican boys scampers right past me, disappearing into a pitch-black, nearly vertical shaft. "There are deep pools inside the cave, and the kids grow up playing in them," says Marcus. "This is their version of a playground." I point out that the boy was barefoot and that the rocks are really jagged and sharp. Marcus explains that sandals are a luxury the boy probably can't afford. As we drive down the mountain, we come upon a group of boys playing baseball. "Who's the next Sammy Sosa?" Marcus calls out. The boys erupt in yells. One comes running after the truck and smacks me a high five as we pass by. On his face is one of the purest expressions of happiness that I've ever seen. I'm staying just a few miles outside of town, at Natura Cabañas. It feels a little like Gilligan's Island with yoga and Wi-Fi. Each of the 11 thatch-roofed bungalows is unique: Mine, Cabaña Piedra, has a large bedroom and a kitchen­ette, screen walls, a porch, and a giant, open, stone-floored shower in the bathroom. Because the compound is so spread out, the only thing guests hear is the sound of crashing waves and the steady drumbeat of the almond trees dropping fruit on the ground. An open-air yoga studio overlooks the beach, near a complex of spa-treatment rooms and an area for beachside massages. The beach in front of the hotel is small, but you can stroll two minutes in either direction and have vast stretches entirely to yourself. (During one long walk, I encountered a total of three people and two stray dogs.) As another guest said, "This isn't Fiji?" That night, I enjoy a surprisingly sophisticated meal--octopus-and-mint salad, sesame-crusted dorado, a glass of white wine--at Natura's open-air restaurant, before venturing into town. The center of Cabarete is cluttered with bars and restaurants, from Dominican merengue clubs to slick Euro lounges to get-drunk-quick beer halls (one of which is called José O'Shay's). I find a spot at the bar at Lax, a European-style lounge with a hip, good-looking crowd. Around me, people are speaking German, French, Spanish, English, and Portuguese. As the evening progresses, the music gets louder and the dancing picks up. I finish my beer and wander down the beach until the sounds of the clubs are replaced by the crash of the ocean's waves. the next morning, i head into town for breakfast at Panaderia Reposteria Dick, a favorite among the locals. For $4 or so, I have eggs with a mild Dominican sausage, a basket of fresh-baked bread with jam, and a cup of strong black coffee. I spend the rest of the morning browsing the cigars, surf gear, and art at Cabarete's shops and beach vendors (I bought a merengue CD). For a dollar, a guy on the street plucks a coconut from a pile strapped to his bike, lops off the top with a machete, and pours the juice into a paper cup. The best adventure outfitter in town, Iguana Mama, is in a low-slung yellow building on the main strip. Run by Steve Leone, a 27-year-old former commodities trader from Chicago, the company offers a full range of land and sea adventures. On Steve's recommendation, I make my next stop the Velero Beach Resort, the swankiest hotel in town. The 50-room hotel has an infinity pool, a mellow outdoor bar, and giant four-poster beds set around the pool deck. I can see the full expanse of Playa Cabarete: a mile and a quarter of fine sand fronting glittering water. The wind is picking up, and a few kiteboarders are heading to the beach. It's time to check out the main event. Kiteboarding is to Cabarete what surfing is to the North Shore of Oahu. Riders are tethered to kites that propel them across the water on short surfboards. On some days, the sky over the beach is aflutter with kites. This afternoon, more than 100 kiters are out on the water, with at least 50 windsurfers. To the west is Bozo Beach, so called for the beginners who drift there and are unable to turn back. I watch them flail for a while before hoofing it down the road to Kite Beach, where the pros go. There are no sunbathers and no windsurfers, just kiters and the people photographing them. The scene is unreal. A guy with short bleached dreadlocks zigs in toward the beach, then zags a hard 180 against a wave and catches at least 15 feet of air, twisting more 360s than I can count. At the end of the day, I meander over to La Casa del Pescador, an old-school fish house. The furniture is mismatched, the grilled mahimahi is fresh, the Presidente is cold, and the Dominican guys at the next table listening to merengue on a boom box are all the entertainment I need. It's as good as a beach trip gets--that is, if you've never been to La Boca. Lodging   Natura Cabañas 5 Paseo del Sol, Perla Marina, 809/571-1507, naturacabana.com, from $160, with breakfast, dorado $17   Velero Beach Resort 1 Calle la Punta, 809/571-9727, velerobeach.com, from $79 Food   La Boca Grill La Boca de Yásica, grouper lunch $10   Panaderia Reposteria Dick 31 Calle Principal, 809/571-0612, breakfast $4   La Casa del Pescador 49 Calle Principal, 809/571-0760, mahimahi $14 Activities   321 Takeoff Encuentro Beach, 809/963-5483, 321takeoff.com, private surfing lesson $40, three-day program $110   Master of the Ocean masteroftheocean.com, Feb. 26¿Mar. 2, 2008   El Choco National Park admission $2   Iguana Mama 74 Calle Principal, 809/571-0908, iguanamama.com, half-day bike tour $65, kids $30 Nightlife   Lax Cabarete Beach, 829/915-4842, lax-cabarete.com, beer from $2.50