During my first visit there in 2018 for a botanical-themed journalism fellowship, I developed a newfound appreciation for the mystifying wonder of plants—their astounding diversity, limitless complexity, and extraordinary beauty. Returning this winter from a gray-skied San Diego, I wanted to reconnect with that sunny greenery.
Photo Credit: Keith Ketchum A sampling of the flora thriving at the 200-acre McBryde Garden on Kauai.
Known as the Garden Island, Hawai‘i’s most westerly offering is a verdant blotch of craggy jungled peaks and sluicing waterfalls. This violent, mesmerizing topography, and in particular its central peak, Mount Waialeale—meaning “a rippling on the water”—is the cause of Kauai’s plentiful rainfall, the most of any Hawai‘ian island. (In fact, it’s one of the rainiest places on earth.) These sharply rising mountains propel moist air skywards, where it cools and condenses into bursting clouds. The plants are happy on Kauai, and so am I.
Evidence of Kauaians’ affinity for the botanical world is everywhere on the island. Fruit and vegetable stands dot the roadsides. Everyone seems to garden. Wellness shops abound, hawking products like kava, an herbal depressant made from roots, and noni, a medicinal fruit.
Courtesy of The Lodge at Kukui‘ula The Lodge at Kukui‘ula overlooks the harbor of the same name.
As soon as I arrived at my hotel, the Lodge at Kukui‘ula, I was adorned with a lei of pua kenikeni, a pale yellow flower with a scent reminiscent of plumeria; traditionally, these pretty blooms signify affection and respect. The welcome christening occurred in view of both Kukui‘ula Harbor and the property’s communal farm stand, which boasts papaya, turmeric, and edible yellow nasturtium flowers, all harvested from Kukui’ula’s 10-acre farm.
The fellowship I’d attended in 2018 was hosted by the National Tropical Botanical Garden, a federal research organization which advocates for Hawai‘i’s indigenous flora. “Our connections with this landscape and our connections with these plants have always been,” says Lei Wann, an NTBG conservationist and Kauai native. “It’s a tradition that has been handed down from generation to generation.”
Courtesy of Courtesy of The National Tropical Botanical Garden
On a slow-going island, NTBG is a flurry of activity. Its brave botanists scale steep mountain ridges in search of rare plants. In pristine labs, biologists inspect germplasm under microscopes. The org’s seed bank houses 17 million seeds from 533 native flora, such as Hawai‘i’s foundational ‘ōhi‘a trees, which are currently threatened by a marauding fungus. There is also ‘ekaha, or bird’s nest fern, the feathery leaves of which adorn hula altars and are used in canoe-cutting ceremonies, and loululelo, a critically endangered fan palm whose name means “umbrella” because the large leaves were utilized for protection from the rain and sun. Some two dozen gardeners tend to every tropical plant you can imagine. NTBG guides, like Oahu-born Randy Bartlett, cart bug-eyed visitors into these sprawling edens to explore.
“If you look to your right, there’s a patch of bananas waving gently in the breeze,” Bartlett says as we descend a bumpy path in an air-conditioned van, heading deep into the bowels of the 200-acre McBryde Garden, NTBG’s flagship grounds. “They are usually pretty friendly. If you wave, they’ll wave back.”
Photo Credit: Keith Ketchum
During our drive, Bartlett identifies obscure plant species with all the gusto of a safari guide pointing out rhinos. It is clear from his commentary that Kauai is a global smorgasbord of plant life, like a botanical Babel: fig trees from Queensland, Indian and Chinese banyans, African tulip trees. Local plant enthusiasts, who observe strict divisions between native and non-native entities, are not so enthused about this; throughout Hawai‘i, invasive species wreak ecological havoc (though, it should be said, not all foreign species are invasive, meaning species that uncontrollably proliferate). If you spot these intruders, such as kahili ginger or strawberry guava, botanists recommend uprooting them.
Eighty percent of the 1,200 plant species native to Hawai‘i are endemic—they are found nowhere else on earth.
Photo Credit: Keith Ketchum The edible fruit of the very rare vahana palm tree.
Many Hawai‘ians harbor a deep reverence for these plants, stemming from both biological interest and cultural affinity. In ancient times, the indigenous people of Hawai‘i found practical and religious uses for nearly every one.
Hala, for instance, a zany, stilted species also known as “the walking tree,” is a veritable Swiss Army knife of native utility, used for thatching roofs; weaving baskets, mats, hats, fans, and hula adornments; and crafting medicine to treat wounds, fever, and diarrhea—and it’s edible. Today, scientists glean important insights from its unique properties, too.
Photo Credit: Keith Ketchum Known for its spectacular waterfalls, Kauai is one of the rainiest places on Earth.
“Our gardens have really become habitats for not just the plant itself but this whole ecosystem to function,” says Wann, who specializes in ahupua’a, a conservation practice informed by indigenous Hawai‘ian techniques and knowledge systems. Adherents follow natural watersheds in establishing plot boundaries and practice crop rotation, among other ancient sustainable approaches on land and at sea. “It’s really the footprint of our ahupua’a ways of life that guide our knowledge, our research, and the ways in which we engage in this landscape,” Wann adds.
Courtesy of Courtesy of The National Tropical Botanical Garden The McBryde Garden
The first humans to introduce new plants to Hawai‘i were Polynesian seafarers, who settled the islands sometime between the 4th and 7th centuries (the reigning theory is that these explorers came from the Marquesas Islands). For medicines, supplies, and food, they shipped 27 species of plants alongside them, including bananas, breadfruit, and coconuts. Botanists today refer to these species as “canoe plants.” Often cultivated for their practical and cultural significance, canoe plants are generally not considered invasive as they do not threaten other species.
Strolling through McBryde, I spot happy specimens of several: paper mulberry, hibiscus, and milo, which provided the original Hawai‘ians with fibers, cordage, and wood, and turmeric and shampoo ginger, which had medicinal uses. I see plenty of taro, another canoe plant, with its floppy waxen leaves. Later, I’ll enjoy the sweet purple tuber in soup form at Merriman’s, a spectacular farm-to-table restaurant, alongside tako escargot and grilled ono.
Courtesy of Courtesy of The National Tropical Botanical Garden
For NTBG, success means continuation: more preservation, more research, and more public education. They have an impressive track record—NTBG botanists have been associated with the discovery of at least 123 new plants, which includes 59 new species in Hawai‘i alongside the rediscovery of nearly 40 Hawai‘ian species previously thought to have disappeared. Scientists are conducting research to better grasp how certain native plants are affected by the increased salinity that comes with rising sea levels or to learn how to maintain genetic diversity in populations of threatened species, among other research endeavors.
But, perhaps most importantly, NTBG has helped drive a wider commitment to tropical plant conservation among both botanist circles and the general public. Though “National” is in the name, the organization actually relies on individual donations to survive. Visitors and donors play a vital role in continuing their important work. “We really stress that we are a non-government, nonprofit organization, and that is why public engagement—membership, tours, donations—is so very important to keep us going,” says Jon Letman, editor of NTBG’s Bulletin magazine. “That is our bread and butter.”
These days, there is a lot of interest in regenerative tourism and environmentally focused travel—tourism that aids ecosystems rather than spoils them. Yet rarely have I felt more environmentally attuned or conscious of the importance of ecological regeneration than I did after having explored the vast, rousing gardens of NTBG. While there, you remember that plants are really and truly alive, and that you are too— because of them.
Brent Crane is a freelance reporter based in South Park, San Diego. His reporting has been published in the Economist, the New Yorker, Bloomberg Businessweek and elsewhere. Check out his work at www.brent-crane.com.
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.
Is there any food more quintessentially San Diegan than the California burrito? That was a rhetorical question since the French fry-stuffed, flour tortilla-wrapped torpedo of carne asada bliss came into being in the 80s (either invented by Lolita’s or Santana’s, depending on who you ask). But now, Vietnamese-Mexican pop-up Một Bánh Mì may be giving the longtime champ a run for its money.
Một Bánh Mì’s original California banh mi takes cues from both cultures, using traditional Vietnamese baguettes from Paris Bakery filled with carne asada and garnished with cilantro-jalapeno crema, Vietnamese mayonnaise, pickled vegetables, cilantro, cucumber, jalapenos, and of course, French fries.
“It’s so San Diego—it’s so us,” says Desmond Bui, pop-up founder and owner with partner Marisol Santiago. “It really encapsulates the Vietnamese-American and Mexican-American journey and identity here.”
Both grew up in San Diego. Bui is Vietnamese. Santiago is Mexican-American. The sandwich makes utter personal sense.
Neither of them cooked professionally before launching Một Bánh Mì earlier this year, when they popped up for the first time at Convoy Rising for Lunar New Year. But after seeing the rise of the local Vietnamese coffee scene with shops like Saigon Coffee, Chance’s Coffee, and Em Coffee House, Bui knew there was an opportunity for a new generation to put a fresh spin on Vietnamese food in San Diego.
While there are plenty of places to grab a banh mi around town (K Sandwiches, Ba Le French Sandwich Shop, Lee’s Sandwiches, and so on), we’ve yet to hear of a California banh mi. Firsts are being firsted.
“Banh mi is regarded by top chefs as the best sandwich in the world,” says Bui. (Side note: I concur.) And after discovering overlap between Mexican and Vietnamese cuisines through common ingredients like cilantro, lime, jalapeno, white onion, and pickled vegetables, they began planning a menu.
Courtesy of Một Bánh Mì
Một Bánh Mì also serves Bánh Mì Đặc Biệt (Vietnamese cold cuts), Bánh Mì Thịt Nướng (grilled lemongrass pork banh mi), and Bánh Mì carnitas de hongos (mushroom pâté banh mi), along with some specials like Thịt Nướng tacos (grilled lemongrass pork) and hopefully soon, al pastor trompo banh mi (marinated pork shaved off a spit) and charcoal-grilled adobada.
Other banh mi shops Americanize names for English-speaking audiences—for example, listing “grilled chicken sandwich” instead of Bánh Mì Gà Nướng. Not Một Bánh Mì. If you’re not sure how to pronounce something, Bui says they’re happy to help. It’s an educational opportunity, he explains, as well as a chance for them to be “unapologetically Vietnamese and Mexican.”
Part of the immersive experience is playing Vietnamese tunes from the ‘60s and ‘70s.
“When you think of universal languages, what are ways when you travel or meet a different group of people that you can still find common ground and connect and feel like we’re a lot more alike than we are different?” Bui asks. “Food and music.”
The musical element is part of Một Bánh Mì’s greater vision. They’d like to evolve into a lifestyle brand and media company, with merch, jars of pickled vegetables, you name it. Eventually, they’d like to open a brick-and-mortar somewhere in Mid-City. In the meantime, they’ll continue to pop up at places like Mixed Grounds and Chance’s Coffee, or wherever they can. (Bui called Provecho Coffee their “dream collab,” hint hint.)
San Diego bartenders have been making serious waves over the past few years, and it looks like 2026 is carrying on that momentum. Dominique Muñoz, bar lead at Polite Provisions, just nabbed a top spot on Punch’s Best New Bartenders 2026 list. She’s hardly new to the game, having been behind the stick for nearly a decade and founding the Sirens and Spirits collective to elevate women and nonbinary bartenders in the industry, but it’s fabulous to see some (well-deserved) San Diego representation on the short list. Congrats to Muñoz—we can’t wait to see what you do next.
Speaking of awards, Tribute Pizza just earned a prize of its own. The North Park pizza palace hit #38 on the 50 Top Pizza list this year (for the fourth year) right before its 10th anniversary on June 2. Here’s to another decade of delightful pies, ridiculously good Caesar salads, and the weird-to-have, but delicious-to-eat Sichuan spicy noodles.
But the recognition doesn’t stop there. San Diego’s only three-Michelin-starred restaurant Addison by William Bradley (which is freshly re-open after a thorough renovation) just made San Diego history by being the first restaurant in the city to make it on North America’s 50 Best Restaurants 2026 list at #31. Considering there are something around 70,000 restaurants in North America (if not more)—I’d say landing in the top 50 is pretty monumental.
San Diego has one of the highest concentrations of people in the African diaspora, including one of the nation’s largest East African populations behind Minneapolis and St. Paul, Minnesota. To celebrate the huge diversity of cuisines from countries like Somalia, Eritrea, Ethiopia, and beyond, head to the annual San Diego Soul Food Fest on August 1 at the North Park Mini Park from 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. Soul food’s roots come from the American South, where generations of enslaved people made do with what resources they had; today, it’s a celebration of culture, cooking, and community. I, for one, am salivating at the thought of getting some legit collard greens and fried catfish.
In lieu of catfish, I just might pop over to Bica in Normal Heights on June 20 for the Tuna Takedown, where chefs from Kingfisher, Mabel’s Gone Fishing, Ironside, À L’ouest, Fish Guts (plus a few more) will go full nose-to-tail on a 150-pound bluefin tuna. That’s about as fresh as it gets, and with beer, wine, and a DJ on top of that, I’m hard-pressed to make any other plans that night.
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Beth Demmon is an award-winning writer and podcaster whose work regularly appears in national outlets and San Diego Magazine. Her first book, The Beer Lover's Guide to Cider, is now available. Find out more on bethdemmon.com.
At the top of a golf swing, the world settles into a hush. Anyone within 50 yards kindly shuts up in reverence. Steady heartbeats tuck inside the sound of the wind. Time stands still.
Or—panic sets in, a thousand warnings from coaches and YouTube tutorials prattle through your brainpan. You wonder if a good walk prepares to be ruined.
On descent, the club rearranges air particles as it slices on a perfect or unwise line toward an earth so green, it seems like AI. The iron face meets the ball, and the satisfying or unsettling thwack echoes across the fairway like a nonviolent gunshot or a cry for help. Breath catches, curse words load in the prefrontal cortex. Eyes squint to follow the hard-to-see projectile zip majestically through the air or bounce lamely along the ground like a failed hurdler.
Sometimes it goes a couple hundred yards in the right direction, other times a couple yards into uncaring swamps. Golf’s beautiful and hard as hell.
Mindfulness and stillness reign over speed and might—which goes against most basal American instincts regarding sport. Its quiet, serene mocking of our human abilities is what brings so many of us to the life-long process of sharpening the skill. Because who hasn’t stared at the most beautiful parks and lawns in the world and said, “How can I turn this into a game and win it?”
Luckily, San Diego has an abundance of courses to improve and curate self-doubt. The county is home to over 70 courses that attract the top golfers in the country. Some of the biggest names in the sport—Callaway, TaylorMade, Cobra, Titleist, Odyssey, Honma—are based here. Perfect weather never hurts. But San Diego golf courses also promise a smorgasbord of terrains: rocky canyons, hot deserts, and lush greens overlooking the expanse of the Pacific Ocean.
If you could take the 1,300-ish holes around San Diego and pick the very best ones to create your ultimate course, which would they be? We asked some of the top golf pros in the county to do just that. The result? San Diego’s Dream 18. Think fantasy football but for golf.
Just like any great course, our Dream 18 includes four par 3s, 10 par 4s, and four par 5s—everything from tricky dog legs and psychological tee shots to just pretty, pretty views. Once we had our list, we either asked the head golf pro what makes a hole so special, or other pros spoke on its behalf. Go ahead, tell us what we missed.
“One of the most iconic par 3s on the West Coast. The cliffside setting above the Pacific and the constant ocean breeze make it both beautiful and demanding.”
—Anthony Valverde, Director of Golf, The Crosby Club atRancho Santa Fe
“It’s a downhill par 3 over water with a great view from the tee down to the green. It’s surrounded by bunkers as well, so it almost feels like an island green even though it’s not. What’s really cool is once you drive to the next hole, if you look back on No. 14, it’s a great view as well. One of the signature holes [at Santaluz].”
“Hole 15 is widely considered one of the best and most memorable holes on the course. At about 250 yards, it’s a long downhill with multiple tiers and panoramic views into the valley. It looks intimidating at first, but there are lots of recovery contours and the green is fairly large.”
“While it’s beautiful with the backdrop of the Batiquitos Lagoon and the Pacific Ocean, this finishing hole demands both precision and nerve. The water guarding the right side and fairway bunkers ahead create a visually striking, strategic tee shot, while the expansive green rewards a confident, well-placed approach. If you can make a par on this hole, you’ve played it very well.”
“The 18th hole at Del Mar CC is a demanding par 4 with an elevated tee box. Water guards the right side of the green, and a player must hit a precise shot into this green.”
“It’s a difficult 428-yard par 4 playing into the predominant west wind. The hole is post-renovation and the vegetation was trimmed back, so now it exposes a penalty on the right. It’s uncomfy at the tee but a good challenge. Plus, it’s the No. 1 handicap for [all players].”
—Chris Lungo, Head Golf Pro, Rancho Santa Fe Golf Club
Lili Kim is a content coordinator and writer for San Diego Magazine, with experience highlighting local businesses and communities. When not writing or shooting film, she is likely brewing her seventh cup of tea of the day or strolling along Sunset Cliffs.
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.
As editors of a regional magazine, we often get asked: What are the best things to do in San Diego? While that answer often involves our favorite taco spot, a definitive ranking of each neighborhood with age-specific notes (head to PB if you’re under 25, grab drinks in Del Mar if you’re over 35), and which surf breaks are friendly to visitors, we figured it’s high time to memorialize our handpicked recs. Below are 101 very human, very local, non-AI, actually experienced, sometimes weird, oddly specific things to do in San Diego.
National Philanthropy Day, presented by PNC Bank, Celebrates the Best of Philanthropy in San Diego
The 53rd Annual National Philanthropy Day Takes Place on November 21. Join us from 11:00 a.m. – 1:30 p.m. at the new Gaylord Pacific Resort & Convention Center!
Once yearly, AFP San Diego joins with others worldwide to celebrate National Philanthropy Day (NPD), a special day set aside to recognize the great contributions of donors and nonprofits that enrich of our community and the world. San Diego’s NPD is one of the largest and most successful in the U.S., attracting nearly 900 participants, including philanthropists, nonprofit leaders, CEOs, board members, development professionals, and business, community, and civic leaders.
Sponsorship proceeds from National Philanthropy Day are reinvested in education, training, scholarships, career development, and the advancement of fundraising professionals throughout San Diego. These resources and training provide fundraising professionals with the tools necessary to support our region’s diverse array of nonprofit organizations, which rely on charitable giving for close to half of their annual revenues.
The National Philanthropy Day Honorees are selected by the NPD Honorary Committee, a group of highly respected, diverse nonprofit and business leaders. Our 2025 Honorees include:
Outstanding Development Emerging Leader – Taylor Thompson Self-Nominated
Outstanding Development Professional – Sharyn Goodson Nominated by: AJ Steinberg & Jeanne Schmelzer
Outstanding Organization for IDEA – Accessity Self-Nominated
Outstanding Philanthropic Institution – Life Science Cares San Diego Nominated by: Blair Search Partners
Outstanding Philanthropist – Dan & Phyllis Epstein Nominated by: CSU San Marcos & KPBS
Outstanding Student Volunteer – Camden Hall Nominated by: Curebound
National Philanthropy Day San Diego provides an opportunity to reflect on the meaning of giving and to celebrate the selfless contributions of individuals and organizations across the region. We look forward to celebrating with you!
Sponsorship opportunities and individual tickets are available. Please visit www.afpsd.org for more information.
