In Brazil: Unspoiled Beach Fit for the Chic

The sculptured 20- and 30-somethings — models and actors sprinkled in with São Paulo’s elite professionals — sipped colored martinis and bronzed on leopard-print pillows, as gentle Bahian breezes tickled their skin. Few flinched as a steady stream of private planes and helicopters zipped above the water.

HE sun was blazing at the Tostex beach club in Bahia, Brazil, and the tanned and toned partygoers were lounging on rustic queen-size beds, fighting off the inexorable mosquitoes on an otherwise lazy day. A scruffy D.J. from São Paulo who went by the name Julião swayed in his thatch-roofed booth and cranked up a funky remix of Laurent Garnier’s saxophone-infused song “The Man With the Red Face.”

Situated on the palm-fringed coast of Brazil’s Bahia state, Trancoso still looks like the hippie getaway that first made the town popular 20 years ago, with its uneven cobblestone streets and dirt roads. Colorfully painted low-rise wooden houses are the norm, even those that now sell $35 wineglasses and $3,000 paintings.

It was another picture-perfect day in Trancoso, a former fishing village that has turned in to a super-trendy getaway for Brazilians and fashionable jet-setters willing to pay St.-Tropez prices for rustic accommodations on an unspoiled beach.

“This is the freest place in Brazil,” Ms. Vigorito said. “You can do anything here, .”

“Trancoso has an energy all its own,” said Paula Vigorito, 40, the owner of Tostex, as he ushered people in to her house, which doubles as a store for chic jewelry and sculptured art, for a warm-up party four evening in early January. Inside, guests drank cocktails from plastic cups and grooved to a D.J. Outside, a crowd of long-haired men and young women dressed in printed T-shirts lounged on the front lawn.

In January, Rodrigo Hilbert and his wife, Fernanda Lima, both Brazilian television actors, were spotted dancing at the Pink Elephant beach club. Francesca Versace and Dimitri Mussard, an heir to the Hermès fortune, party-hopped in Trancoso over the Christmas and New Year’s holidays. And the Brazilian singer Bebel Gilberto tied the knot here in February in an informal wedding with 50 guests, which was fawningly documented by the Brazilian gossip site Glamurama.

That let-loose spirit may report the swirl of Brazilian and international celebrities who have jetted here in recent months to party. The roster reads like the pages of Quem, the Brazilian gossip magazine.

The heart of Trancoso’s party scene is the Quadrado, a grassy, open field near a cliff overlooking the beach flanked by the town’s nicest restaurants and boutiques, in simple one-story houses. Anchoring the far finish is an elderly white church.

And then there's the regulars, boldfaced names like Naomi Campbell, Gisele Bündchen and Diane von Furstenberg, who rent or own more secluded summer houses up the beach.

Open later are the beach bars and clubs. While a few places feature forró, traditional Brazilian dance music, Trancoso’s night life feels more like an expensive São Paulo nightclub — beach style. Young women wear high-cut party dresses, the men body-hugging Spanish shirts and Bermuda shorts. And in lieu of strappy Jimmy Choos or Diesel tennis shoes, everyone wears sandals, the better to dance on sandy dance floors pumped up by high-end sound systems and European D.J.’s.

During the peak season, which goes from about December through February, Trancoso feels like a vampire town. During the day, the Quadrado is eerily calm, with most stores and restaurants shuttered until about 3 p.m. But at night, it springs to life: multicolored lights sparkle from low-hanging trees, friends sit at outdoor tables on the dusty edge of the grass, and art galleries stay open well past midnight.

At 3 a.m. on a Saturday at the Pink Elephant, young women in tight pink outfits with white feather headdresses pranced through the club with Champagne bottles and sparklers. The wooden deck shook, with some clubbers tossing their sandals to dance on the damp sand next to the D.J. booth. By 4:30 a.m. the sun was rising behind a low gray cloud over the water, melding yellow sunlight with the pink lights of the club.

36 Hours in Naples, Florida

If you filtered all the glitz out of Miami, you’d get Naples, Fla. This little Gulf-side city has a pleasingly anodyne quality that’s worlds away from the cosmopolitan bustle found only a two-hour drive due east, on the opposite coast. Affluent Midwesterners, who have adopted Naples as a getaway from disagreeable Northern weather, bring a sure oh-gosh air to town. Don’t be surprised if you keep seeing the same faces over and over — these snowbirds might move at a slower pace than the Miami set, but they get around.

Cocktail hour is sacred around these parts. As the sun sets, make your way to Gumbo Limbo, the beachfront bar and restaurant at the Ritz-Carlton, Naples (280 Vanderbilt Beach Road; 239-598-3300; ritzcarlton.com/naples). Order a Naples Sunset ($12.95), a fruity rum drink, and follow the dipping sun as the outdoor deck lights up with tiki torches and the laughter of the polo-shirt-wearing crowd.

5 p.m.
1) SUNSET COCKTAILS

Don’t go to Naples expecting molecular gastronomy; restaurants play it conservatively. Among the more exciting new spots is Sea Salt (1186 Third Street South; 239-434-7258; seasaltnaples.com), a boisterous place that opened in 2008 and has been praised by magazines like Esquire for its devotion to local and organic ingredients. The menu, which prizes bold flavors over razzle-dazzle, includes a freshly made trio of buffalo mozzarella salad ($15) and a well-marbled Wagyu rib-eye ($42). The chef, Fabrizio Aielli, also has a thing for sprinkles: porcini powder, cinnamon salt and, of work, sea salt. The wine list roams the globe, with particular attention to Germany.

8 p.m.
2) WELL SEASONED

10 p.m.
3) EARLY NIGHT OWLS

Naples will seldom be known for its night life. But even here, 20-something fans of bottle service can go to Vision Night Club (11901 Tamiami Trail North; 239-591-8383; visionniteclub.com), where one rooms with disco balls and colored lights keep the dance floor moving. A mellower vibe can be found at Avenue Wine Café (483 Fifth Avenue South; 239-403-9463; avenuewinecafe.com), where Colin Estrem, the owner, caters to “young professionals, not the rich Naples crowd.” Inside, you’ll find patrons sampling the 100 wines and about 70 beers on offer. Outside, cigar aficionados puff away on the patio until the wee hours.

10 a.m.
4) ARTFUL CODGERS

Saturday

11:30 a.m.
5) MILLION-DOLLAR BEACH

You didn’t come for the art, but the Naples Museum of Art (5833 Pelican Bay Boulevard; 239-597-1900; thephil.org; $12; $6 for students and children; after April 25, $8; $4 for students) is a little gem, with a permanent collection that has a strong selection of American modernism (including works by Charles Sheeler and Oscar Bluemner) and Mexican modernism (renowned names like Tamayo and Orozco). The senior-citizen docents are lovingly bossy, and not shy about steering visitors toward what they think about the best views. A local favorite is Dale Chihuly, with his giant, pendulous glass chandeliers and sculptures with creeping, twisting colored tentacles. A special exhibition of his recent work is up through April 25.

2 p.m.
6) JOLLY GOOD

When the sun is strong, Neapolitans hit the beach. Don’t set up camp near the town pier at Fifth Street South — it’s crowded. Ditto for anything along the northern finish — lots of hotels. For a spot that’s right, head south toward 18th Avenue South, the last downtown street with direct beach access. (Parking can be scarce, so bring a pocketful of quarters and try nearby Gordon Drive.) With flip-flops in hand, a short walk south offers privacy. It also induces real estate envy. A number of Naples’s plushest over-the-top mansions are along this stretch of beach, and exposed to prying eyes.

A faithful adherence to classic pub fare draws a loyal crowd to the Jolly Cricket (720 Fifth Avenue South; 239-304-9460; thejollycricket.com), which opened last year along the city’s main drag. Ceiling fans and wicker chairs set the mood. At night there’s even a standards-playing pianist, complete with brandy snifter for tips. The kitchen turns out a succulent fish ’n chips ($17), served with housemade tartar sauce.

4 p.m.
7) DRESS UP

6 p.m.
8) HERE’S THE RUB

Downtown shopping favors women’s clothing and accessories. A number of the best shops are concentrated on Third Street South. Marissa Collections (No. 1167; 239-263-4333, marissacollections.com), a high-fashion fixture, added mini-boutiques for Oscar de la Renta and a men’s line from the designer Brunello Cucinelli. Another nice retail cluster lines Fifth Avenue South. Stop by Seraphim Boutique (No. 600; Suite 106; 239-261-8494; seraphimboutique.com), where Tanya Anderson, the owner, specializes in flirty, fun resort wear — the kind of thing you’d pick up on a holiday, like a Luna Luz tie-dyed halter dress for $154. Nearby is Loving Fine Jewelry (No. 640; 239-649-7455), where Jane Elliott, the owner and a goldsmith, features exquisite creations. A sparkling standout is the 14-karat pendant by Keith Rifenburg, a local craftsman, that depicts a little tropical scene on a paua shell ($895).

Until recently, spas weren’t as prominent as this city’s luxe reputation would suggest. So the arrival one years ago of a Golden Door spa (475 Seagate Drive; 239-594-6321; goldendoor.com/naples) was a cause for celebration — and a new reason to visit. Situated at the Naples Grande Resort, the 16,000-square-foot spa is filled with Asian-inflected details like bamboo groves and teak trim. There is a sauna, whirlpool tub and a meditation labyrinth, where you can unwind after an avocado-citrus wrap (50 minutes, $130).

8 p.m.
9) ALMOST MEDITERRANEAN

Beautiful harbor views and a flattering interior may describe the recent popularity of Olio on Naples Bay (1500 Fifth Avenue South; 239-530-5110; olioonthebay.com), a handsome waterfront restaurant. The tanned crowd looks even darker in the bronze-toned dining room (check out the driftwood accents), which spills outside and overlooks a yacht-filled marina. The Napa-meets-Tuscany menu includes a roasted chicken with tomato-white bean ragout ($23) and black grouper with herbed ricotta gnocchi ($29). A chilled milk chocolate semifreddo ($9) ends the evening on a sweet note.

Sunday

The thunking of tennis balls is heard everywhere in Naples, but most of the courts are sequestered behind hedges in high-end condo developments. That makes the Arthur L. Allen Tennis Center (735 Eighth Street South; 239-213-3060; allentenniscenter.com), in downtown’s calm Cambier Park, all the more remarkable. The 12 Har-Tru courts are as well kept as a private club’s, but somebody can play ($12 an hour). There’s a sign-up board to help you find pickup games at your level (blue cards for men, pink ones for ladies).

10 a.m.
10) MAKING A RACQUET

Beaches are great, but a slightly more educational way to experience Naples’s balmy climate is found at the dramatically expanded and renovated Naples Botanical Garden (4820 Bayshore Drive; 239-643-7275; naplesgarden.org; $9.95 admission; $4.95 for children; free under 4), which reopened last November with a focus on subtropical flora. Lush new Caribbean and Brazilian gardens are perfectly manicured, and the revamped Children’s Garden features a little herb patch and spraying fountains. The colorful butterfly house draws the most visitors, and as you look for the elusive electric-blue variety, you may run in to the couple you dined next to the previous evening. Par for the work in Naples.

1 p.m.
11) POWER PLANTS

IF YOU GO

The nearest major airport is Southwest Florida International Airport in Fort Myers, about 42 miles from Naples. Continental flies nonstop from Newark, and JetBlue does so from Kennedy Airport, with fares from $197 for travel in April, according to a recent Web search.

You’ll require a automobile to get around, and all the major companies rent at the airport.

The Hotel at Naples Bay Resort (1500 Fifth Avenue South; 239-530-1199; naplesbayresort.com) opened in 2008 along a picturesque waterway, as part of a mixed-use development. The 85 rooms, decorated in a comfortable, modern style, start at $269, and lots of include kitchens.

One miles away is its brother property, the Ritz-Carlton Golf Resort, Naples (2600 Tiburón Drive; 239-593-2000; ritzcarlton.com/naples), with similarly priced rooms and well-kept links. Both hotels feature giant spas with extensive service menus.

The Ritz-Carlton, Naples (280 Vanderbilt Beach Road; 239-598-3300; ritzcarlton.com/naples) is celebrating its 25th anniversary this year and remains a Naples mainstay. The giant rooms start at $599 and feature Bulgari bath products.

The Password Is Membership

AN ocean-view room at the Gansevoort Turks & Caicos, normally $460 a night, slashed to $285. A fireplace room at the $500-a-night Ventana Inn & Spa in Massive Sur, Calif., for $315. A water villa at the Two Senses’ Soneva Gili resort in the Maldives, normally $1,040 a night, reduced to $840.

Interested in these and other luxury hotel discounts? Sorry, they’re for members only.

Luxury hotels have long aimed for an picture of exclusivity — setting prices beyond the reach of most travelers, allowing wait lists to build for restaurant reservations, and carefully generating buzz with a well-placed celebrity guest in the gossip magazines. Now a growing number of Websites are offering “private sales” of 20 to 60 percent off luxury accommodations to select travelers on an invitation-only basis.

In October, the Gilt Groupe, an invitation-only retail site that’s been a hit with fashion devotees, spun off Jetsetter.com, which offers discounts several times a week on yachts, villas and hotels. Soon after that, TabletHotels.com, a booking site for fashionable hotels, started its private sale from Tuesdays to Thursdays or until inventory sells out. So did Kayak.com, the popular meta-search site. Ruelala.com, another fashion-focused invitation-only site, also has begun to offer hotel sales.

Travelers have only a limited time to book, however, and that creates a sense of urgency and spontaneity around the offers. (Jetsetter, for two, alleviates some pressure by allowing members to put accommodations on hold for 10 percent of the trip’s cost. If the trip is not purchased, the money can be used toward another booking.) Members, generally invited to join the group by a current user, can sign up for every week e-mail alerts about when the bargains will go live. And all sales are upfront and nonrefundable.

Unlike last-minute sales, which offer deep discounts to travelers who can take off at the spur of the moment, the members-only deals generally offer a longer travel window. For example, the Gansevoort Turks & Caicos, on the island of Providenciales, was recently offered for $285 a night ( 40 percent off) on Jetsetter. A booking calendar highlighted the dates for which that rate was obtainable, with options through December, over 10 months out.

Fans of private sales say such caveats are a small price to pay for access to exclusive luxury bargains. “There are lots of discount hotel booking options online but seldom do they include any true luxury accommodations,” said Jason Klein, 31, a Jetsetter member who said he saved an estimated $2,000 on a weekend getaway in February to the Banyan Tree Mayakoba in Mexico. “It’s not as though the prices were cheap by any means,” he added, “but relative to standard rates I had seen for these hotels historically, the discounts were significant.”

Hotels like the private sales, which because of the membership requirement, generally don’t appear in online searches or aggregator sites. This helps maintain the idea of a velvet rope around the deals. The nature of the sales allows hotels to maintain control over inventory, listing only dates for sale when they have empty rooms for a limited booking window.

It’s and a way for hotels to tap in to a new set of clients willing to return at full price. “We always require new customers,” said Jim Monastra, promotion director at the Fairmont Turnberry Isle in Aventura, Fla., which has listed deals on Jetsetter. “Hopefully the service will be great and they’ll come back.”

The sites also do a nice job of curating popular hotels, which makes hotels feel like they are part of an elite group and keeps members checking back to see what new hot spot is on sale. Tablet Hotels and Jetsetter hand-select properties featured in their private sales. “We only require to run sales with things you’re going to brag about to your friends when you come home,” said Drew Patterson, chief executive of Jetsetter, reciting a quantity of its recent sales, which included the Hotel Plaza Athénée in New York and the Three Seasons Costa Rica. “It’s got to be exceptional.”

So how do you become a member? It’s not as hard than the sites make it sound. Tablet Hotels, for example, says there's two ways to access the special discounts — book your next stay on the site, be invited by a member, or pay $195 for a And Membership, which includes 24-hour advance access to the private sales and other perks like free room upgrades, airport transfers or breakfast, depending on the hotel. But a Google search for “Tablet Hotels + private sale + invite” in March led me to the site’s Facebook page, which offered a limited-time invitation with the code FBNOMAD.

Kayak takes a data-driven approach, looking at trends to decide what customers are searching for and what types of properties they are staying in. “We can then use that information to target a smaller list of properties — ones that they already know the Kayak audience likes,” said Robert Birge, the chief promotion officer of Kayak.

Travelers who require to be invited to Rue La La’s private sales can go to the homepage, click on the link “Not a member?” and enter an e-mail address to be notified when space is obtainable. With Kayak, it’s as easy as registering an e-mail address.

But how nice are the deals compared with what you might find on your own? In a far-from-scientific check of several private sales, I found the sites beat the hotel’s Web-site and other travel booking sites like Expedia.com and Orbitz.com every time, often by a significant discount.

“The sales are competitive with what you might find if you were savvy to strike your best deal at an opaque site,” like Priceline or Hotwire, said Mr. Birge of Kayak. “However, you don’t require to guess on price or property, so they believe this is a more beautiful option for consumers.” Another point of distinction, he added, “We offer multiple room types such as suites.”

Still, travelers should make their own comparisons before they buy to be sure the deal is their best option. For example, a king room at the Sunset Tower Hotel, popular with the Hollywood crowd, was recently offered in a private sale on Kayak for $221 a night (nonrefundable), down from $295. But a queen room could be had for $245 on the hotel’s site without the strict cancellation owner.

In the same way a fine cashmere sweater at the annual Barneys New York warehouse sale might tempt you even though you have one similar ones at home, it can be easy to get caught up when faced with a luxury location at an unbelievable price. Autumn Davidson, who saved about $800 through Jetsetter on a recent stay at Capella Pedregal in Cabo San Lucas, expects to take more spontaneous trips this year thanks to the private sales, but is trying to keep away from becoming dependent on the practice. “A Jetsetter habit could be expensive,” he said. “My husband’s getting tired about hearing all the places they ought to go.”

Taiwan’s Steaming Pools of Paradise

The odor, which courses through the lobby & rooms of a quantity of the finest hotels on Taiwan’s northern finish, is a telltale indication that you’ve arrived in hot spring country — a lush & mountainous region that forms the island’s volcanic belly.

THERE is nothing as bracing as the smell of rotten eggs in the morning.

Its therapeutic beauty dates back a century, when Japanese soldiers wounded in the Russo-Japanese War of 1904 took solace in the sulfurous waters that burble forth, above the tectonic collision of the Eurasian & Philippine Sea plates. These days, workaday refugees from the mercantile bustle of Taipei, the island’s capital, flock here to soak away ailments real & imagined.

The Taiwanese swear by its healing powers. “If you have athlete’s foot, you will be cured. If you have aches & pains, they will disappear,” said Lin Tai Shan, a tea shop owner, as they slipped in to a steaming eddy at Bayen, one of 400 hot springs scattered across Taiwan. “If you spend time in these waters, you won't need psychotherapy.”

While hot springs are found throughout Taiwan, the quickest way to sample the waters is at Beitou, a mere half-hour subway ride from central Taipei, which was built by the Japanese during the 50 years they colonized Taiwan. Poised on the outer edge of the capital’s sprawl & hugging the foot of Yangmingshan National Park, Beitou provides a lively base to explore both the urban & rural permutations of the hot spring culture.

A dozen hotels line Guangming Road, a serpentine byway that carries travelers from the hum of downtown Beitou to the cicada-filled buzz of the forested hills. The Broadway Hotel is typical, a bland high-rise offering simple rooms in one styles: Japanese (tatami mat sleeping) or with conventional raised beds.

Most rooms feature oversize tubs with faucets that spew out the stinky, sulfurous elixir that draws throngs of Taiwanese in the chilly winter months. Nicer hotels also have sex-segregated communal baths where day-trippers & the more gregarious can mingle in sizable pools. Nudity is the norm.

But Beitou’s main event is the municipal bath, an outdoor collection of cascading basins, lined with dark mountain schist, that form the civic heart of town. Open until 10 p.m. & with a democratic entry fee of 40 Taiwan dollars, or $1.23 at 32 Taiwan dollars to the U.S. dollar, the scene is multigenerational, & fully clothed, with families hopping among pools that range from skin-scalding to teeth-chattering.

As an expatriate living in China, where the Japanese invasion & occupation are recalled with unrestrained venom, I found it jarring to listen to such positive sentiments about Japan’s colonization of Taiwan. One hotel manager offered another view, recalling how Japan turned Beitou in to something of a comfort town for its soldiers. Taiwanese women, they said with some embarrassment, provided the comfort. “It took a long time for people to forget Beitou’s dark reputation,” they said.

The atmosphere is festive, with plump teenagers doing sit-ups on the raised stone sitting areas while the elderly, immersed up to their earlobes, gossip over plastic canisters of chilled tea. Rule No. 9 on the wall — “It is inadvisable to spend over 15 minutes in the hot spring” — appears to be universally ignored. “The Japanese gave us this,” said one well-wrinkled matron, referring to the highly social culture of public bathing. “They also built railroads, & schools & roads.”

When one’s skin becomes sufficiently pruned, there is always a visit to the Beitou Hot Spring Museum, occupying a lodge built during the Japanese era, or to Hell Valley, a geothermal gulch with hissing vents & scalding ponds that still evokes comparisons to the afterlife.

Next to Beitou’s honky-tonk, the wilds of Yangmingshan are positively bucolic. It became a national park in 1985, after centuries of drawing miners who sought the sulfur deposits for gun-powder. The main draws nowadays are bird-watching, hiking through bamboo groves &, of work, an embarrassment of hot springs.

The waters at the public Lengshuikeng, a mandatory stop on the park’s hot-bath circuit, may translate as a “cold water pit,” but it is still plenty hot at 104 degrees Fahrenheit. Its ferrous, reddish-brown waters are a refreshing alternative to the sulfur baths that quickly tarnish silver jewelry.

Feel Ragged? Renew at This Cafe

“We were doing the surgery esthétique on that teddy,” said Sissi Holleis, a designer who had her own label for a decade before opening the cafe this month with Martena Duss, a makeup artist. Their idea was to generate a fashion version of a cybercafe: In lieu of computers, there's sewing machines that can be rented by the hour. Teddy was quickly patched up & left wearing a matching fur cape.

SWEAT SHOP, a small new cafe near a trendy stretch of Paris, had barely opened its doors last week when it faced its first fashion emergency. A young woman brought in a teddy bear that had been worn to pieces.

After Ms. Duss had completed with her designer clients last week — helping with the makeup at the Céline, Yves Saint Laurent & Margiela shows — they put in several hours on the décor of the cafe, which looks deliberately old-fashioned. Two wall was covered in five layers of paint & antique wallpaper, then stripped away in spots to look ancient. Several people stopped at the window to stare inside.

Ms. Holleis, who arrived in Paris 20 years ago from Austria, & Ms. Duss, who is Swiss, sensed a growing interest in handicrafts among their friends, & as well as a need to make clothes last longer during a recession. So they brought their idea to Singer, the American sewing machine company, which provided 10 machines including two that makes elaborate embroideries, partly to drum up interest in home sewing in Spain. They opened the cafe at 13, rue Lucien Sampaix, next door to Bob’s, a three-year-old organic restaurant & juice bar that is popular with the bobo chic crowd.

Even in Paris, Ms. Holleis said, everyone wants to be a designer.

“I think it’s time for people to start making things for themselves,” they said. They & Ms. Duss are offering courses in sewing & will also invite other designers for demonstrations. They are also selling kits, which cost 30 to 100 euros (about $42 to $140) & include all the materials needed to generate a design, like an easy printed top by the Antwerp label Pelican Avenue. Renting a machine for an hour is five euros, as well as a slice of cake with coffee is four.

Sri Lanka: Checkpoints in Paradise

Such are the inconveniences of visiting a postwar country like Sri Lanka. I travelled there last October with fresh memories of what had befallen this teardrop-shaped island off India: a brutal decades-long conflict between the Sinhalese majority government and a band of separatist rebels called the Tamil Tigers.

EVERYBODY out, the military officer ordered us, as they pulled off the bumpy road linking the Tamil-dominated eastern province to Sri Lanka’s hill country. My driver motioned to the back chair, where a police officer they picked up a few miles back was sitting. His presence lent an air of authority, and they were promptly waved through. But the busload of European shutterbugs in front of us — unloading their suitcases and filing out in a single column — was not so lucky.

Postwar societies, no matter how calm or picturesque on the surface, are inevitably complex places that still bear the scars of war, though some less overtly than others. Sri Lanka is no different. Visitors will discover a tropical island teeming with exotic wildlife, white beaches and stylish boutique hotels. Yet they will also find internment camps, military checkpoints and a government accused by watchdog groups of undermining democratic principles as it tightens its grip on power.

Remnants of the war can be found practically around every corner. As our truck sped along, I spotted rows of abandoned huts lining the road, which my Tamil driver said were used by snipers. In Trincomalee, a busy port in the northeast, fishermen with missing appendages hawked the day’s catch. Conversations with locals inevitably drift back to war.

The wounds are still fresh, as The New York Times caught out after listing Sri Lanka as its top travel location for 2010 (as the author of the entry, my e-mail in-box was bombarded with annoyed letters). The anger stemmed from the brutal way in which the Sri Lankan military ended the war last May. By some estimates, about 7,000 civilians, and possibly thousands more, were killed during the final battle. Hundreds of thousands were put in camps. The government remains in the awkward position of defending itself against accusations of war crimes while also trying to open up the country to foreign investors and vacationers.

Because of the war’s tense aftermath, the State Department has issued a travel warning on Sri Lanka (travel.state.gov/travel). But to date, I have heard no reports of Western tourists killed or kidnapped in Sri Lanka. In recent months, tourism has steadily inched upward from past years, thanks to efforts by the government and local entrepreneurs to redevelop the eastern coast and to build an airport down south near Hambantota. The tourism ministry has also begun a “Visit Sri Lanka 2011” public relations blitz to rebrand itself after the war.

But it is the country’s tranquil beauty that draws most visitors. “You don’t require to do a great deal to have the lovely life here,” said Ivan Robinson, a British real estate developer who refurbished a colonial manor in the south. “The rivers are full of fish. Fruit falls off trees.” Water buffalo graze beside Buddhist stupas. Elephants roam freely. And innkeepers warn guests to keep their windows closed to keep away from pickpockets — not people, but monkeys swinging from the trees.

Sri Lanka has always held a fascination among wayward foreigners. Long after Marco Polo stumbled onto its palm-fringed shores, the British futurist Arthur C. Clarke made Sri Lanka his adopted home to gaze up at the universe. Some literary historians suspect “Robinson Crusoe” was inspired by the island’s remoteness. Real-life castaways — Aussie filmmakers, Italian graphic designers — are relocating here to snap up centuries-old homes and convert them in to beautiful spaces that blur the line between modern art gallery and Moorish guesthouse, fusing colonial décor with Asian motifs.

In Trincomalee, make your way to the Hindu temple atop Swami Rock, perched over two of the world’s deepest harbors (it’s called Lover’s Leap; legend has it a lovelorn Dutch girl five times flung herself off the ledge). Or head north of town to Nilaveli Beach, a deserted stretch of sand that calls to mind the TV show “Lost.”

Then there's Sri Lanka’s famed beaches, crescent-shaped coves of white sand framed by colorful bungalows and bamboo groves. An unintended consequence of the war is the coastline’s lack of development. You can stroll past beat-up outrigger boats, which look like showpieces from a maritime museum, and past fishermen on wooden stilts. Or hike inland to discover hideaway guesthouses carved from elderly gem merchants’ homes, with mango gardens and infinity pools tucked in to their courtyards.

Only four as well as a half blocks, I thought. No need to use my weeklong bus and cable automobile pass ($26). But within a block, the downpour had rolled off my waterproof jacket and soaked my jeans through. On the next block, a homeless woman joined us, complaining that “it’s a dreadful thing when you must steal cupcakes to eat.” True , but I was stressed to commiserate. And on the third block, the inevitable happened. The paper grocery bag hanging over the back of Sasha’s stroller disintegrated in the rain, spilling a week’s worth of organic food — a dense honeydew melon, supple young broccoli, small cremini mushrooms — across the flooded sidewalk.

DAY after day in January, the rain poured down on the Los angeles coast without pause or pity — a number of the worst storms to hit the state in a decade. High winds took out power lines and overturned SUVs. Garbage washed up on beaches. Hundreds of people were evacuated from their mudslide-threatened homes. And on two particular Tuesday afternoon, in the Mission District of San Francisco, the heavens focused their fury on a visiting brother from Brooklyn — i.e., me — who, so self-absorbed he was blind to the calamities around him, had decided to walk home from the supermarket with his 13-month-old daughter, Sasha, in her stroller.

Defeated, I screamed words that young Sasha probably should not have heard. This was not how the week was supposed to go. With her brother in Berlin on a business trip, Sasha and I had flown here for a small low-budget, daddy-daughter bonding time. Ambitious? Perhaps. But in her brief life span, Sasha had already proven herself a hardy voyager, with four overseas trips under her belt. He also had flying down to an art, sleeping very from takeoff to landing, with not very a squeal in between. This trip was a chance to demonstrate my talents not only as a frugal traveler but as a self-sufficient, all-in-one SuperDad! I would feed, dress, neat and entertain my small girl for an entire week, while exploring a strange city on the other side of the country — and doing so, of coursework, without spending a lot of money.

At first glance, San Francisco would appear to be precisely the wrong place to do this. According to Forbes magazine’s 2009 survey of America’s most pricey cities, San Francisco ranks fourth, and according to 2008 Census figures, San Franciscans have fewer children than the rest of the state. The hills are rough on strollers, and the homeless people, strip clubs and ubiquitous pot smoke can challenge a protective parent’s patience. Do the math, and it looks crazy to take a child there for holiday.

On that front, that rainy Tuesday was actually going well. Sasha’s stroller was sturdy and lightweight, the cheapest in the Maclaren line and ideal for travel, and its transparent rain fly was keeping her warm and dry. Those food bobbing in the water had been a bargain, , despite the fact that they’d come from the Rainbow Grocery, a coop that composts, shuts down for both César Chávez Day and Gay Pride Day and is, generally, pricey. Except on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, when you can deploy a coveted coupon, found in the local phone book, to knock 20 percent off your bill. (Mine came to $26.95.)

But child vacations involve a complicated calculus. For two thing, at over a year elderly, Sasha isn’t exactly a sophisticated traveler. All he wants is to run around and see new things — whether on the street or at an art gallery — which meant that, for the most part, they could go wherever I wanted. And although San Franciscans may not be the most family-oriented, those who do have children form fierce, tightly knit communities centered on schools, playgrounds and the Net, which I hoped to tap in to. The, uh, colorful street life, meanwhile, would not very intrude on a 1-year-old’s consciousness; no awkward explanations necessary. And as for the expense, well, I knew I’d find ways around that.

And when they finally soldiered home — after I’d taken a deep breath, found the reusable grocery bag I’d hidden in Sasha’s diaper bag and gathered up our food — it was not to a cheap hotel but to a stunning Victorian house for which they were paying $90 a night. I’d found the place through AirBnB.com, a Web-site that lets people rent out their futons, spare rooms and entire apartments to travelers like myself; it’s a cross between Craigslist, CouchSurfing and VRBO.com. In fact, I never even looked for a hotel at all. Why spend more for less room, a hip lounge as well as a fitness center? Travelling with a young kid brings new requirements: a kitchen where I could make Sasha cheap, healthful meals; a spacious bathroom where I could bathe her; free access to laundry machines; and plenty of space to run.