“But it’s a dry heat,” said the locals as we ventured from our cool, crisp, air-conditioned hotel rooms into the blistering furnace they call “outside.” We have now been there to prove it: Arizona is dang hot, and there is a reason Zonies retreat to San Diego in the summer. We had planned the reverse, reasoning that these places would be less crowded—and we were right. We should have known something was up as we freewheeled uninterrupted down the 8 toward Phoenix in our cargo-laden Kia Sorento, passing lanes packed with cars heading the other way.
When the subject of our pending Southwest road trip came up at a cocktail party last spring, some friends suggested we rent an RV. “Gay men do not RV,” I sniffed, only half joking. Later, amid nightmares of bleached cow skulls and “No Services 70 Miles” signs, we madly over-packed extra supplies and water like the pioneers and wondered if that RV hadn’t been such a bad idea.
Still, we soldiered on into the heat of the Arizona desert, determined to enjoy our family vacation. We hit up some of the “hot spots” along the way, like Jacumba and Yuma, with an overnight stop in Phoenix. The good news? It wasn’t crowded anywhere we went. The bad news? It was the dead of summer, with temperatures topping 110 degrees. By the time we arrived in Sedona, we had adjusted to the temperatures enough to venture out into Boynton Canyon from our casita at the Enchantment Resort. Making our way up the path, we marveled at the famous red rocks and glimpsed the occasional hiker along the trail in hat, sunscreen, sunglasses, and proper footwear. Without these essentials, our family wore flip-flops, tank tops, and board shorts—like true San Diegans. But all it took was a pleading look from the girls, and we scurried back to the luxury of the resort to soak in the pool and chill at the spa. It was heaven.
The Grand Canyon was another adventure. As we prepared to board our Papillon helicopter for an amazing bird’s-eye view of the gorgeous landmark, we were surrounded by other visitors from Holland, China, Germany, and Brazil. Except for the flight crew and the concessions team, no one was from Arizona (believe me, I asked). Clearly, locals know better than to stick around for summer.
Call us crazy, but we learned to embrace the heat. The only instance when it really slayed us was at the Hoover Dam, one of the great wonders of the world and a must-see on any Southwest loop. Emboldened by our newfound heat resistance, we bolted from the parking lot toward the visitors’ center. By the time we reached the top of the dam, Sophia and Ava were wilted like sad, sweaty flowers in a heat that out-blazed the sun. Our selfies were so unflattering we deleted them immediately.
Rolling down the hill into Las Vegas, the sight of the Strip was like Dorothy’s first glimpse of Oz. Angels sang amid visions of crisp, air-conditioned rooms at the Paris Hotel, poolside umbrella drinks, and a ride to the top of the Eiffel Tower. As we pulled into the valet with anticipation, the girls ran for our luxurious rooms to drink in the frigid air and be pampered with room service.
At that point we knew. Our road trip had been a wonderful adventure full of gorgeous vistas, colorful rock formations, cactus-filled deserts, dreamy hotel rooms, and delicious meals, all perhaps better taken at times other than summer.
There is a reason we live in the cooling ocean breezes of San Diego, a yearlong resort where you can walk barefoot on the sidewalk without fear of frying like an egg. Yes, Dorothy, there is no place like home.
Walking into a room full of strangers isn’t high on the fun index for most. It’s inherently awkward: Everyone’s standing in closed-loop clusters, deep in conversation, and, depending on your social aptitude, the feeling is somewhere between light apprehension and burning alive from the inside out. The pull to retreat or reflexively look busy on your phone is stronger than the drink you now deeply crave. Having friends is nice, but making friends can be brutal.
There’s plenty of commentary on the loneliness epidemic. Last year, the American Psychiatric Association reported that one in three adults feel lonely at least once a week; those aged 18 to 34 are more likely to feel isolated and even more likely to turn to social media as a result. Dr. Vivek Murthy’s “My Parting Prescription for America” cautioned that “being socially disconnected increases our risk of heart disease, dementia, depression, anxiety, and premature death.” So it’s not just an emotional need; it’s nearly nutritional—chit-chat and the occasional wine-fueled, emotional deep-dive are just as important as Pilates and a reasonable amount of kale.
Finding social connections in any city is hard, but San Diego has very specific challenges. This is largely a transient population that acts as a temporary hotspot for many and a permanent home for few. Pick your reason: high rent, surreal gas prices, housing shortage, meh job opportunities (ranked 71st in the country in 2025), or the fact that active military is a sizable chunk of us (110,000-ish)—stationed here for a stretch, then gone. This constant flow of departees sucks out the potential for deeply established families and friend groups, leaving a good share of nomads, searchers, and plenty of people feeling socially awkward.
“There’s an underlying loneliness in all of us,” says Ramel Wallace, the host of monthly meetup CreativeMornings. “There are not a lot of San Diegans who are born and raised here, so [even those] San Diegans end up being just as lonely as the person who just got here.”
Photo Credit: Blair Kirby
Every month, in local libraries, breweries, and small businesses, there are ambitious social architects who have made a career out of undoing social sads. Extroverted champions of the awkward and searching, they’ve struck gold on in-person connection.
The first moments in a social situation are crucial. Sets the tone and cools the nerves.
At Pitch-A-Friend, singles recruit their close friends to present a slideshow of their dating green flags. The entry points for connection at Pitch-A-Friend are simple, old tech: stickers. Each colored sticker indicates if the wearer is single or taken, queer or straight, or practicing ethical non-monogamy (in a partnership but open to others under a mutual understanding).
At the helm of each showcase is Arielle Fuller, aka Chief Wingwoman, who is making dating hopeful again. As Fuller explains, this takes some of the fear of rejection out of a first interaction. “Putting a sticker on immediately means, ‘I wanted to leave my house and talk to someone, and I am a safe space to come and speak to me,’” she says.
Of course, not all of San Diego’s events designed to make connections are romantic. On the last Friday of every month, hundreds gather at San Diego Central Library for the local chapter of CreativeMornings—an org formed to unite creatives in various cities across the world (designers, artists, writers, producers, performers, architects, etc.).
Photo Credit: Gina Ribando
These aren’t your standard business card swaps, though. Coming from a hip-hop background, host Wallace uses call-and-response to break the fourth wall. “This is not my stage at all, this is our stage,” he says.
In your standard lecture-based meetup, the crowd silently faces the host and acknowledges nobody except those they came with. At CreativeMornings, everyone is encouraged to look around, pay attention to the strangers in the audience—not just the host. Wallace will pull volunteers to read the CM manifesto aloud, and he passes the mic to creatives, who make 30-second pitches to the community about projects they’re working on—and there’s always an invitation to connect and collaborate with the presenters whose ideas struck a chord.
The U.S. Chamber of Connection (yes it exists) says people experience life transitions nearly every year, and in these stretches are more open to forming new habits, relationships, and communities. In a revolving-door city like ours, the transition often comes when someone moves away. In 2023, the Census Bureau reported San Diego had the ninth-highest rates of domestic out-migration in the US.
This poses an issue for friendships that IRL SD addresses in monthly friend-making events called 619 Night.
“San Diego isn’t a place a lot of people stay forever,” says Alex Hunter, the creator of IRL SD. “They leave, and people [who stay] lose that community, so they’re hungry for community again.”
Their website describes the vibe as “backyard party meets college fair meets networking event meets happy hour.” Each follows a theme—wellness, sports, refresh and reset, etc.—with related community groups joining as well.
“The people I encounter are trying to get a fresh start in some capacity, so they’re more open, receptive, and ready to meet new friends,” Hunter says. “They need the circle.”
Photo Credit: Elysian Visions by Deaune Boyd LLC
Another way adults can break out of this disconnection is to revert in unison, says artist Elisa Summiel-Bey. The 2015-ish adult coloring book moment in the US was based on some real science, with multiple studies finding coloring has a noticeable meditative and stress-release effect by taking the brain away from anxieties and mental inventories, and focusing it on a simple, easy art. Summiel-Bey’s company Illustrated Melanin throws “Color & Chill” events, turning that trend into a group exercise, along with live DJ sets, wellness experts doing sound baths, and food and drink from BIPOC-owned local businesses. “I tend to think of coloring as your way to tap back into your childlike play,” she says. “As adults, I think we’re almost scared to let loose and have that unabashed joy.”
All of these social meetups attract crowds of likeminded connection-seekers, but high attendance is not the only thing that matters. Metrics nuts can track RSVPs, but spreadsheets can’t capture intangible wins: friendships made, innovative ideas sparked, collaborations kicked off. At CreativeMornings, Wallace redefines ROI as Return On Imagination. Resounding success means thoughtful inquiries over coffee, curiosity about the monthly meeting themes, and requests to take the microphone.
A simple, observable ROI is an increased number of window shoppers to the experience—on the periphery, watching from afar, looking for the right way in. Hunter from IRL SD sees the anxiety in her DMs. “The scariest part for you right now is not meeting new friends: It’s the unknown,” she says. “It’s the gap between ‘I’m here’ and ‘That’s where I need to be.’ If I can help you understand, or get a little bit of a shape around that unknown, it’s much more approachable.”
Courtesy of IRL SD
Being able to bridge that gap, however, depends on your ability to step out of your own mind. “It’s not a connection crisis; it’s a courage and confidence crisis,” says Fuller. The first hello could be as easy as, “Hey, cool shirt.” These are the types of things she includes in her confidence lab reels on Instagram and weekly newsletters.
Ever left a social event and shot straight into a spiral? Was I being weird? Why did I tell that story? I hope that person moves to another state very soon.
The experts say that post-event self-interrogation is a standard-issue part of being alive.
“I love awkward people, and I love being awkward myself,” says Wallace. “It’s humbling to experience: ‘I’m not alone. Finally someone is not put together.’ So give yourself that grace.”
Jeannine Boisse (she/her) is a freelance writer and professional creative with a background in Radio & Television. Based in sunny San Diego, Jeannine spends her time exploring the city's vibrant brewery scene, cooking up new recipes in the kitchen, and connecting with new people.
When three nations and 16 cities come together to host the FIFA World Cup 2026, the scale stops feeling like a tournament and starts feeling like geography. A continent becomes the stage as borders soften into corridors. And Southern California—shaped by migration, sport, entertainment, and constant movement—sits inside that landscape with all eyes on it.
San Diego and Los Angeles have always felt connected. Hop on the Pacific Surfliner, and the trip unfolds in one continuous stretch of coastline, passing beach towns, neighborhoods, and city centers.
Traveling from San Diego, everything still feels slightly suspended as the Pacific Surfliner follows the coast north with ocean on one side and a slow suburban blur on the other. San Diego stays in exhale. Los Angeles is already building toward something louder.
This summer, Los Angeles will host eight matches of the FIFA World Cup at Los Angeles Stadium, including the US Men’s National Team opener on June 11, while the region stretches into 39 days of programming across stadiums, parks, transit hubs, beaches, and neighborhoods. Instead of one massive fan hub, Los Angeles is embracing a citywide celebration, with fan zones spread across its entirety.
But this pattern has been rehearsed here for decades. In 1994, Southern California became one of the defining stages of the World Cup, when matches at the Rose Bowl placed global attention on the region and turned local stadiums into international landmarks, confirming its ability to hold the world at scale.
What distinguishes Southern California is not just infrastructure, but cultural permeability. Fashion, music, film, art, and sport constantly overlap here, creating an environment where identity is flexible and always in motion. From the Venice boardwalk, where skate culture shaped modern street style, to global soccer stars rubbing shoulders with Hollywood celebs, to authentic Spanish cuisine moving up and down the I-5 corridor, everything circulates.
The World Cup is not introducing anything new here, it’s showing up for the summer and showing out, revealing what this city has always known about itself. What follows is a look at the fan zones and how Los Angeles turns itself into a city-wide stage for the tournament, one neighborhood at a time.
Courtesy of Los Angeles Tourism & Convention Board
Los Angeles Union Station
As the heart of Los Angeles, Union Station is an official Fan Zone June 25-28 during the World Cup, but in practice it never really stops being one.
It is the city’s circulation point, its meeting ground, its pressure valve. Commuters, travelers, match-day crowds, and everyday Angelenos all move through the same space, and everything mixes, overlaps, and scales in real time. In a way, this is where the World Cup stops arriving in Los Angeles and starts moving through it.
The Pacific Surfliner from San Diego to Los Angeles makes that shift feel almost too easy. No stress or gridlock anxiety, just a straight line up the coastline with ocean on one side and everything slowly becoming more built on the other. It’s one of the rare ways into LA that doesn’t feel like arrival as friction. You can sit with a laptop, watch the Pacific drift past, grab coffee from the café car, and let the city come to you in pieces.
That’s the beauty of arriving at Union Station. Instead of feeling like you’re on the edge of the city, you’re immediately surrounded by it. And, inside, the station already reads like a World Cup nerve center: banners, movement, multilingual energy, the sense that something global is about to funnel through this exact point. The Heart of the City Fan Zone only sharpens that feeling, with simultaneous match screens, DJ sets, meet and greets, and immersive activations built around marquee games like USA vs. Türkiye.
ROW DTLA feels like the first exhale after arrival. A converted industrial campus turned creative district where restaurants, retail, and open-air courtyards form a self-contained ecosystem. If you’re looking for the perfect first meal in LA, make it lunch at Pizzeria Bianco. The thin-crust pizza is reason enough to go, but the space leaves just as much of an impression.
What I liked most about ROW DTLA is how quickly it resets you after the train. One minute you are stepping off at Union Station, and the next you are in a space that feels like its own version of LA, a city inside a city with some of the most curated shopping I’ve ever seen.
Bodega hides itself behind a convenience-store front, a sneaker and streetwear space disguised as something ordinary, like LA refusing to make anything feel too obvious. The whole campus moves like that, part retail, part gallery, part neighborhood you are only temporarily inside.
Isabella Dallas is a freelance writer for San Diego Magazine and the Arts and Culture Editor at The Daily Aztec in her final year at San Diego State University. She previously worked as an editorial intern for SDM, but when she’s not writing, you can find her trying the best coffee spots in SD, devouring the latest rom-coms, and indulging in anything and everything pop culture.
Ray’s Tennis doesn’t look like much from the outside. Never has. It’s just a green box with cloudy windows in Hillcrest, just steps away from a McDonald’s on University Avenue. But for nearly 60 years, this place has been the genesis for three generations of San Diego tennis dreams. Head inside, and you enter one of the tennis world’s great cornucopias.
For years, there was a tennis court behind the store, where owner Bob Ray gave countless lessons. It was like a racket-sport speakeasy; most customers didn’t realize the court existed unless Bob or his wife, Hiroko, guided them through the back door of the shop. Eventually they converted it into a half-court indoors—where a patron might take a racket for a few trial thwacks, trying to avoid rounders of tennis clothes that shared the space.
The shop is an abridged living history. Relics hang from the ceiling: a model of an old metal racket used by fiery lefthander Jimmy Connors in his heyday, and a version of the wooden Donnay that Björn Borg wielded on his way to five consecutive Wimbledon championships from 1976 to 1980.
And just inside the front door is Hiroko eternally stringing new rackets, carefully threading and adjusting the tension of the polyester strings, back and forth, until she has the entire racket head strung.
Photo Credit: Matt Furman
“I worked seven days a week—five days off in the year,” she says. “My hearing is still good. Physically, I’m as good as I was. Working seven days a week, standing all day. I’m mentally healthier than most people.”
The racket stringing is an operation she does up to 20 times a day—and one that, in some ways, resembles the thread work done by her father decades ago, when he ran a tailor’s shop in Japan.
Hiroko, now 81, was born in the city of Yokosuka at the tail end of the WWII. Her family evacuated to the countryside to escape the bombing raids, and she remembers growing up surrounded by rice fields and mountains. It was in Japan that Hiroko met Bob, a third-generation San Diegan, in the late 1960s, when he was stationed there with the Navy.
Among his possessions at the time was a tennis racket. Inherited from his father, who died when Bob was 11, this racket changed the trajectory of his life: He played constantly, filling up his school days, afternoons, and evenings on the tennis court. He was one of the highest-ranked teen players in the state, and he dreamed of joining the international tournament circuit after his stint in the Navy. But—speaking plainly—he acknowledges that he wasn’t quite good enough to compete with the best of the best. So, instead, he modified his dreams. He and Hiroko returned to San Diego in 1968, and he took a job as the club pro at Morley Field. By their mid-20s, in lieu of touring the world on the tennis circuit, the couple was running the club’s tennis store.
They spent 11 years at Morley Field, which at the time was one of the city’s tennis epicenters, hosting major tournaments for juniors. When the city handed over the store lease to a wealthier applicant, the Rays took over the property on University Avenue and moved in their tennis gear. They have been there ever since—through the McEnroe and Navratilova and Evert eras; the rise of Agassi and Sampras and Graf; the reign of the Williams sisters; the Federer-Nadal-Djokovic rivalry; and into the Alcaraz era. In the near-half century they have sold tennis gear in Hillcrest, the Rays became beloved anchors of the neighborhood’s business community, symbols of stability in an ever-changing environment.
At 84, Bob is still lean and, in his Lacoste tracksuit and Adidas cap, remains every bit the club pro. Like Hiroko, he comes to the store every day—though sometimes, if he is playing tennis in the morning, he might arrive a little later.
Photo Credit: Matt Furman
But time has started to take its toll. His hearing isn’t what it used to be, and the aging process is revealing itself to be true. And much to the disappointment of their loyal clientele, San Diego’s “First Couple of Tennis” is retiring, a milestone that marks the end of an extraordinarily long chapter in the city’s tennis history.
But Ray and Hiroko didn’t sell the building to a developer for condos or to a big-box retailer looking to open a boutique outpost. Determined that Ray’s should remain a tennis temple, they have negotiated a sale to a former employee who wants to continue the Rays’ legacy.
As of this writing, Hiroko and Bob remain in charge, Hiroko stringing rackets, Bob sharing his expertise about new gear. As much as they love what they’ve built, their hope is to move on soon.
For Hiroko, the prospect of retirement is bittersweet. “What am I going to do?” she asks. “Am I going to be ok? I never had a boring life. Always busy. Business first. I’m so involved in the business—because I didn’t want to fail.”
She looks around her store as she continues stringing. For her, the gladiatorial nature of tennis has always been a metaphor for how to succeed in life. “People have to have a drive,” she says. “You can’t just quit because you lose to so-and-so. Tennis players have that mindset.”
She pauses to talk about all the people who have come through the store’s door over the decades, and the relationships she has built with them. “It’s wonderful to have a great customer. That’s probably the reason I lasted this long.”
Sasha Abramsky is the West Coast correspondent for the Nation magazine and the author of nine books. His tenth book, Chaos Comes Calling, will be published by Bold Type Books in September.
Stake Chophouse & Bar isn’t your average steakhouse. Blue Bridge Hospitality’s Coronado outpost is a modern interpretation of a big-city steakhouse nestled in the heart of the small coastal community. The team at Stake has reimagined the whole steakhouse experience. By prioritizing a seasonal farm-to-table sourcing philosophy, a personalized guest experience, and unique service touches, like a formal steak presentation and a bespoke knife selection process, Stake distinguishes itself in a sea of steakhouses.
Exceptional steaks, including Wagyu from Japan, Australia, and the U.S., and fresh seafood flown in daily form the core of Stake’s culinary identity. The menu features a five-course omakase-style steak experience highlighting house favorites, plus an array of cuts, and classic steakhouse staples—think a wedge salad, baked potato, or pasta carbonara—refined for a contemporary palate without losing their traditional appeal. Stake focuses on seasonal sourcing from the region’s best family farms and specialty purveyors, and incorporates intentionally unexpected touches to create something truly unique.
“I challenge our chefs and myself to take it a step further in sourcing,” says Chef Ronnie Schwandt. “It’s important to us to highlight different farms, unique one-off farms—whether it’s cattle, strawberries, a local fisherman or from anywhere in the United States, we’re always trying to find that niche.”
Beyond the menu, Stake emphasizes outstanding service, says Vinny Spatafore, Director of Hospitality Operations. Staff maintains detailed notes, allowing them to remember guests by name, recall previous orders such as a favorite martini (also memorable for the customer since it’s served in an extra tall, distinctly-shaped glass), and celebrate special occasions like birthdays and anniversaries.
“When you have those points of topic that you remember about a guest, they appreciate that,” he says. “Our servers are really good with that—we have a couple servers who have been here since the beginning and they’ll remember somebody from years ago, their name, their kids’ names, where they live. I’m really thankful to have a great front of house staff.”
Award-winning wines, rare whiskeys, special events, and a complementary black car service that provides transportation for guests throughout Coronado add to Stake’s appeal.
Schwandt stresses that Stake offers more than a meal; they aim to give patrons something unforgettable.
“It starts when you walk up the stairs and are greeted by the hostess—that sets the tone for the night. Then you’re greeted by a server, who may know you by name, and can guide you through the menu and curate as they get to know you,” says Schwandt. “Most people leave kind of blown away; they leave feeling like they just had an experience. That’s the goal, right? Whether you’re serving smash burgers or high-end steak, you want somebody to leave thinking, Wow, that was awesome.”
Mad Libs. License plate bingo. The “quiet game,” a universal parent savior. Long live Slug Bug, where kids with zero self-control punched each other in the arm every time they saw a VW Bug in the wild—an activity no doubt invented by some Volkswagen marketing intern who now quietly runs the world. A family that cruises together bruises together.
So many threats to pull the car over and leave unruly progeny on the side road for good. GenXers are such baddies because our parents actually followed through. But we tracked those boomers down—or just walked into the wilderness and formed angsty flannel bands. We survived.
There were no downloaded movies back then. No seatback entertainment. Just a mythical road, a few bug-gutty windows, and the fast-moving summer world beyond. Seatbelts ignored, hot air whipping a frenzy of hair and beef-stick child scent.
Very few chaoses match being trapped in a moving car with your entire bloodline. It’s unimaginable, but we kinda liked it.
The road trip was always about endurance, discovery, adventure, creativity, and memory. Somewhere between gas station hot dogs, the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and musty motels with coin-operated vibrating beds—the bored between moments of mutual expedition sealed our love of the long distance car ride.
To respark road lust, we’ve put together a coastal California run up the 101 and Highway 1. The state’s famed road trip siblings, with ocean on one side and possibility in every direction. We analyzed what’s incoming, just-arrived, compelling, or a classic in need of a reminder in almost every county along the way—the kind of places we’d drag our family (or dog or best friend) to.
We start our trip just outside San Diego County lines and work our way through San Francisco. Because, by then, it’s time to turn the car around and do it all again.
The road is still the main character.
Photo Credit: @Tanveerbadal
Laguna Beach
A 90-minute drive from downtown San Diego, Laguna Beach is home to serene coves, big-deal art events, miles of hiking trails, and the greatest number of beachfront hotels in California. Among the latter is the newly revamped icon, Surf & Sand Laguna Beach. Along with tweaks to the guestrooms, pool, and onsite Splashes restaurant, the remodel includes a new spa, Aquaterra. Wake up to ocean views, then get outside: Go tide pooling at Shaw’s Cove, or descend to Thousand Steps Beach and spend the day stretched out with a salacious summer read. For dinner, get fancy at the upscale (no swimwear allowed!) Studio Mediterranean at the Montage Laguna Beach hotel. Led by Greek chef Dennis Efthymiou, it serves feta-, phyllo-, and fish-forward cuisine inspired by his heritage.
Newport Beach
Head another 15 minutes up the road to Newport, an unlikely destination for adrenaline junkies both relatively tame (family-friendly thrill rides at the Balboa Fun Zone amusement park) and willing to risk life and limb (30-foot waves at the Wedge surf break). It’s also increasingly a killer place to eat, with Luke’s, of international Maine-lobster-roll fame, having recently opened locations in town. James Beard Award winner Tyson Cole just opened his sleek omakase and sushi restaurant Uchi this year. Once you’re stuffed, lay your head at Bay Shores Peninsula Hotel, a midcentury-inspired, 25-room boutique resort overlooking the sea. Watch the waves from beside the hotel’s rooftop fire pits, or paddle out on surfboards provided free for guests.
Huntington Beach
Huntington Beach has been an icon of California surf culture since the 1910s thanks to Hawaiian Olympic swimmer Duke Kahanamoku. Surfers still chase waves near his old haunts, including the Huntington Beach Pier, where the aptly named Huntington’s on the Pier is scheduled to arrive this fall in the location of the old Ruby’s Diner (RIP, Ruby). It’ll serve seafood, obviously, plus livestreamed videos of groms wiping out just a few feet away. Sports here don’t always require wetsuits: Mini-golf bar Playground is equipped with the obvious, as well as arcade and pinball games. Or bypass physical exertion en masse at the new Holistic Lounge at Hyatt Regency. It’s packed with newfandangled healing tech that uses light, heat, and electromagnetic fields to allegedly repair stressed skin and muscles tired from lifting mojitos.
Amelia Rodriguez is a writer and journalist and winner of the San Diego Press Club's 2023 Rising Star Award and 2024 Best of Show Award, she’s also covered music, food, arts and culture, fashion, and design for Rolling Stone, Palm Springs Life, and other national and regional publications. After work, you can find her hunting down San Diego’s best pastries and maintaining her five-year Duolingo streak.
From artsy, boutique hotels in New Mexico to a revolutionary restaurant in Baja, explore what’s new in these desert cities around San Diego.
Coachella Valley
Terra Palm Springs, Palm Springs
Serenity-seeking guests (and, presumably, the free-spirited ghosts of naked people) roam this 13-room wellness escape that was once a clothing-optional resort. Opened a year ago, it offers exclusive, 24-hour access to a Himalayan salt sauna, cold plunge pool, and rain room. For food and drink, it’s tonics and juice cleanses, plus poolside bites from Michael Beckman, exec chef of the nearby Workshop Kitchen + Bar.
Casa Palma Hotel & Bungalows, Palm Springs
Opened last year on the historic, two-acre Movie Colony neighborhood property originally built by actor Errol Flynn (it was called the Normandy then), this is a micro-hotel for people who love Taschen books. Casa Palma reimagined the place as a minimalist, veneers-white 33-room escape with pickleball; tennis; and a mountain view bistro serving breakfast, salads, and sandwiches.
“Surfing in the desert” sounds like an absurd ayahuasca notion, but the Coachella Valley already has one wave pool (Palm Springs Surf Club), and, soon, a 5.5-acre surf lagoon will anchor DSRT Surf, an incoming resort at the Desert Willow Golf Courses. Planned for completion in mid-2026, it’ll include a 139-room hotel, 57 luxury villas, and restaurants.
Photo Credit: Patrick Chin
New Mexico
Hotel Willa, Taos
Last spring, the Casetta Group (the same folks who own SD’s Pearl Hotel) resuscitated an old motor lodge in Taos, a longtime beacon for creatives, and named it after Willa Cather (who finished her novel Death Comes to the Archbishop in town). The 51-room Hotel Willa has adobe architecture, an artist residency, a pool with a giant weeping willow nearby, and a seasonal restaurant from husband-and-wife duo chef Johnny Ortiz Concha and artist Maida Branch.
Arrive Albuquerque, Albuquerque
Originally built in 1965 as the Downtowner, a classic, six-story inn on the motel-culture strip of Route 66 in downtown Albuquerque cycled through several identities before last year, when Palisociety reimagined it with the Secret Gallery (featuring modern work from Southwest artists), a cocktail bar, a restaurant, and 137 dog-friendly rooms. Like any good desert road trip hotel, Arrive Albuquerque hotel is a cheeky, midcentury affair centered around an umbrella-shaded pool scene and those strappy ’80s patio loungers.
Courtesy of Leo’s Santa Fe
Leo’s, Santa Fe
After forming Vital Spaces, an org that leased abandoned warehouses and rented them at a low cost to artists, furniture designer Jonathan Boyd launched Leo’s, a no-signage, no-reservations restaurant last August with James Beard Award–winning chef Zakary Pelaccio. It focuses on Thai and Malaysian dishes—catfish sum tum, pork belly with garlic prik phao, fried chicken with tofu-mustard sauce and jiao chili sauce—plus natural wines and inventive cocktails. It promptly landed on Esquire’s Best New Restaurants of 2025.
Arizona
Trailborn Grand Canyon, Williams
Trailborn is the base camp of hotel groups. It’s focused on America’s grand outdoorsy arenas, with spots in the Rockies; the Blue Ridge Mountains; and now, Williams, a mile from the Grand Canyon Railroad Depot. This kitchy, 96-room roadside hotel offers a moody, wood-paneled steakhouse; adventure excursions; free breakfast inside a bustling “camp hall;” and front-row access to the fanfare of Route 66’s centennial celebration this year.
Early this year, Paradise Valley (the mountain-wrapped town neighboring Scottsdale) will welcome the 40-acre Kimpton Miralina, with six pools; more than 400 rooms and villas; and three restaurants, including Hecho Libre, a new Baja-inspired concept from fellow Beard semifinalist Wes Avila (known for Angry Egret Dinette and MXO in Los Angeles).
International Dark Sky Discovery Center, Fountain Hills
As cities grow and stargazing becomes an endangered pastime, an org called International Dark Sky Places works to protect the best areas in the world to behold night skies. One of them is Fountain Hills on the outskirts of Phoenix. This summer, it’ll get even better with a $28 million discovery center featuring a massive telescope, a planetarium, science exhibits, and a stargazing terrace.
Courtesy of Cote Korean Steakhouse
Nevada
Cote Korean Steakhouse, Las Vegas
Cote is the only Michelin-starred Korean steakhouse in the US, an idea from Seoul-born and James Beard nominated chef and restaurateur Simon Kim. Part of The Venetian’s $1.5 billion renovation, it’s a show—18,000 square feet, with stadium seating, VIP skyboxes, a crow’s nest DJ booth, a glowing central bar, 1,200 wine bottles, and the inimitable buzz of energetic impulse spending.
F1 Arcade, Las Vegas
2025 was a big year for Formula 1 racing—the sport celebrated 75 years with a Brad Pitt film (for which Rancho Bernardo–based Sony Electronics created a one-of-a-kind camera that took viewers inside the cockpit), and Caesars Palace welcomed a 21,000-square-foot F1 Arcade where fans can flex their inner Lando Norris with 87 racing simulators.
GSR Arena, Reno
When built in the 1970s as the MGM Grand, the Grand Sierra Resort was one of the biggest hotels in the world with over 1,000 rooms. Almost 50 years later, it’s nearly doubled its occupancy and is undergoing a billion dollar upgrade. The star will be the $435 million, 10,000-seat GSR Arena, which broke ground in September. Once completed (hopefully in fall 2027), it’ll be home to the University of Nevada men’s basketball team.
Courtesy of Dendric Estate
Utah
Dendric Estate, Kamas
Utah’s High West Distillery was a groundbreaker, the first legal distillery in Utah when it opened in 2006. Now High West’s master distiller Brendan Coyle has left to open his dream project with his wife, Carly. They purchased 20 acres in Kamas Valley at the foothills of the Uinta mountain range, where they’re growing high elevation apples and flipping them into bone-dry boozy cider with Dendric Estate. You can tour the estate or wait for the onsite tasting room, planned for 2027.
The Inn at Sundance Mountain Resort, Sundance
In 2020, Robert Redford sold his famed, conservationist-minded mountain ski resort to Broadreach Capital Partners and Cedar Capital Partners, who promised to keep his “build some, preserve more” vision going. Since, it’s earned a Michelin Key. This month, The Inn at Sundance Mountain Resort—a 63-room, ski-in/ski-out inn—opens with views of the 12,000-foot Mount Timpanagos. Perched right out front, the Outlaw Express chair lift takes you to the Mandan summit in seven minutes (getting there used to take 20). There’s a wrap-around porch, relaxation pools, a sauna, outdoor showers, and a cold plunge at The Springs.
Canopy by Hilton Deer Valley East Village, Park City
Four years after hosting the Winter Olympics, famed ski-only resort Deer Valley is undergoing a massive expansion of its East Village, including eight new hotels (the Grand Hyatt is already there, and the Four Seasons and others are incoming). Scheduled to open this summer, Canopy will be Hilton’s 180-room, ski-in/ ski-out property with après-ski and rooftop lounges. Deer Valley has also added 2,000 additional acres of skiable slopes, 100 new runs, and 10 new chairlifts.
Baja
Diego, Valle de Guadalupe
In the 2010s, Ensenada-born chef Diego Hernández was a headliner in the food-culture revolution in Valle de Guadalupe with Corazón de Tierra—named number 30 in the 2018 “World’s 50 Best Restaurants” list. It closed in 2020 (damn pandemic!). Last January, he returned with an eponymous 40-seat restaurant, Diego, inside Valle’s Museo de La Vid y El Vino, relying on onsite gardens and in-house butchery to prepare seasonal, multi-course tasting menus and à la carte dishes nodding to his Corazón roots.
Kadún, Cabo San Lucas
Over the years, the trend in Cabo resorts has been to get away from the action with secluded beachfront hideouts. Well, not all who travel to Cabo want to be tucked away. Last October, Mexico Grand Hotels (known for elaborate luxury resorts like Marina Fiesta and El Encanto) opened a smaller but still opulent thing: Kadún, a 110-room hotel with a rooftop pool and sundeck. It’s within walking distance to the Cabo Marina (the Vegas of Baja’s southern tip) and Medano Beach (one of the only swimmable beaches in Cabo).
Courtesy of Carnival Cruise Line
Ensenada Bay Village, Ensenada
Carnival Cruise Line has a vested interest in building up the ports it parks in. It’s established spots in Grand Turk, Roatan, and Cozumel, and its next elaborate disembarkment project is a $26 million beachside playground in Ensenada, planned for completion in 2027. Expect a sort of Pinocchio’s Island isthmus packed with zip lines, dune buggy rides, river rides, an adult pool, thermal springs, a spa, and wine and cheese pairings from Valle de Guadalupe (the wine region is 15 minutes inland).
Troy Johnson is the magazine’s award-winning food writer and humorist, and a long-standing expert on Food Network. His work has been featured on NatGeo, Travel Channel, NPR, and in Food Matters, a textbook of the best American food writing.
Amelia Rodriguez is a writer and journalist and winner of the San Diego Press Club's 2023 Rising Star Award and 2024 Best of Show Award, she’s also covered music, food, arts and culture, fashion, and design for Rolling Stone, Palm Springs Life, and other national and regional publications. After work, you can find her hunting down San Diego’s best pastries and maintaining her five-year Duolingo streak.
While glucagon-like peptide-1 (GLP-1) receptor agents have been used to treat Type 2 diabetes for more than 20 years, their recent emergence as weight-loss wonder drugs marked a new frontier in medicine. But their effectiveness has left some patients wondering what to do once they’ve reached their goal. Stopping the medication could mean regaining some, if not all, of the weight. A Scripps Clinic internal medicine physician recently conducted a small study of whether GLP-1 patients who had reached their goal weight could maintain that weight by taking their regularly prescribed injection every other week instead of weekly. Spoiler alert: 30 of 34 patients did. Read more about the study here and what that may mean as pharmaceutical companies roll out oral GLP-1s.
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