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An escape an hour outside of SD pushes spa-goers out of their comfort zone—and into relaxation and release
Up, down, forward, repeat. Taking steps through thigh-deep water is usually pretty straightforward for me, an able-bodied person. But it turns out simple motor skills become a lot harder when the water temperature lingers in the same range as the Pacific Ocean off the coast of Alaska in autumn. Every nerve in my body is bracingly alive in the 48-degree water, aware of each pebbled contour on the floor, and awakened anew as I gingerly step into the next pool, this one a balmy 103 degrees Fahrenheit. The first walk-through is a shock. By the fourth, I feel enveloped by an unexpected sense of pleasure. Or is it pain?
I’m on the Kneipp Walk at Murrieta Hot Springs Resort, a “contrast bathing” experience where practitioners wade through alternating hot and cold pools to supposedly reduce inflammation, stimulate circulation, and jolt the system into a heightened state of awareness. I had resisted even bothering with it—I came to the resort to relax, but I found myself buzzing with energy. I left at peace, but not via the route I expected.
To me and many other parents, summertime sometimes feels like a tumultuous lack of routine rather than an idyllic vacation captured on film to achieve maximum Instagram envy. Every week brings a new camp for my elementary school-aged son—and, with it, a new wake-up time, drop-off point, and rules for what to wear, when to eat, and who’s in charge. By the time we establish a groove, it’s time to move to the next activity. When my son felt rudderless and anxious, I tried to absorb some of his feelings to lighten the load. By the end of the summer, we were both drained.
So, I thought, what better way to celebrate back-to-school than by recharging at a hot springs resort. In… August? In Murrieta, a nearby Riverside County city where late summer temps average 91 degrees? I figured if I couldn’t consciously release the tension I’d held over the past few months, then by God, I would sweat it out.
I was already familiar with the hot springs resort routine—submerge yourself in murky, steaming pools and let the calcium, boron, potassium, and other silky-soft minerals wash over your now-slippery body in a nourishing bath for the mind and spirit. Drink water. Wear sunscreen. I was ready, with my fellow mom friend Kim along for the ride, who needed a cosmic top-off as much as I did.
“I just want my spirit to leave my body for a little while,” I texted her the day before we departed for the resort. “Just like, become one with the void momentarily.”
I didn’t realize how prescient my words would become. We had an unexpectedly full schedule of activities for our overnight stay—dinner, drinks, a sleep ritual massage, a sunrise sweat class, aqua yoga, and a sound bath to top it all off. That didn’t even include our own exploration of the property, which features a second-story cedar sauna room with panoramic views, a geothermal mud experience, and pools and hot tubs of all temperatures scattered across the 46-acre, newly renovated property.
Glancing at the itinerary sent a twinge of anxiety rippling down my spine. Too much, too much, I thought. But I needed to get out of my rut, my carefully guarded tendency to stick to what I know and pooh-pooh the unfamiliar. I would go with the flow—the carefully tailored, jam-packed flow.
I hadn’t signed up for a heart attack at the hot springs, but about five seconds into a hardcore fitness class that kicked off promptly at 7:15 am, I thought I might be on the verge of one. I don’t do Crossfit. I do yoga (often the sleepy kind). Thrown into the gauntlet of physical activity, my mantra was “Be open to the experience.”
I had to keep reminding myself of that as the trainer introduced me to a new, special kind of torture: medicine ball burpees. I reminded myself when I pushed a sled across the padded floor. I reminded myself on the exercise bike. And I congratulated myself when I managed to limp my way out of the gym and slide into the pool for aqua yoga which, as it turns out, is surprisingly demanding on one’s balance and muscles.
By the end of the session, my face barely cleared the water line in the 101-degree tub. How was it not even 9 a.m. and I was drained of energy and ability, all the looseness of the previous night’s massage evaporating into an all-too-familiar sense of mental and physical fatigue? Why did I allow my journey to recenter get commandeered by a to-do list? Hadn’t I come to escape that exact pitfall? Where did the balance between being flexible and being comfortable fall?
At least my last scheduled activity—the aqua sound bath—required zero physical effort.
I, somewhat laboriously, leaned against the back of the tub with Kim and ten other participants, our bodies circling around a small collection of singing bowls gently guided by two specialists working in tandem. It wasn’t my first sound bath, but it was my first time experiencing it in water.
As it began, the balmy, mineral-laden liquid acted as a conduit for the sound waves, pulsing through the water in an all-enveloping vibration, resounding gutterally through my entire core and shaking me from the tips of my fingers to the backs of my eyes. My eyes closed involuntarily, my spirit lost in the reverberations.
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I saw myself from a distance. My entire self: wife, mother, friend, individual—everything and more. I saw my guilt for time away and my desire for more of it, the past that led me to this present, my ability to adjust to the unexpected and to hold fast to my own limits. I knew who I was and what I was capable of. I just needed the space and grace to find myself again.
By the end, more than one person had tears on their face, each salty drop adding to the communal waters. Once more, the pain had given way to release. My catharsis had not arrived the way I’d expected. But it came all the same.
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.
From San Diego’s coastline to Los Angeles stadium and fan zones across the region, here’s how to experience soccer’s biggest event
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.
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.
From there, the city splits outward.
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.
Một Bánh Mì melds Vietnamese and Mexican traditions in a new pop-up concept featuring its take on a local favorite
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.
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.)
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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.
With wellness-centered lifestyles on the rise, party culture is getting a 10 p.m. rebrand
A ’90s pop hit is blasting as I drive up to Solana Beach to go dancing. I’m dressed in the millennial nightlife uniform: black tee, cute jeans, heels. It is 6:30 p.m. on a Tuesday. The dance party starts soon. I’ll be home by 10 p.m. at the latest. I may even catch an episode of Summer House.
I am acutely aware of my age in this moment. I haven’t willingly chosen the club life since my 20s and early 30s. Yet here I am, transported back to 2014 with a few more wrinkles, a lot more ibuprofen, and a touch of “pandemic stole this from me” in my pocket.
A few days earlier, a friend texted to suggest we go to a concert the upcoming weekend. “I can’t, I’m already tired on Friday,” I replied. At 42, two glasses of cabernet bend my space-time equilibrium. A hard sneeze risks a sprained neck. Did I mention the perimenopausal night sweats yet?
I arrive at the Belly Up at 7 p.m. Wilson Phillips comes on the stereo, and I sing-shout the lyrics before stepping out of the car.
Someday, somebody’s gonna make you want to turn around and say goodbye | Until then, baby, are you gonna let ’em hold you down and make you cry?
Tonight’s event is billed as “the dance party that starts earlier.” Surprisingly, I’m not the oldest person in the room. A 60-something man shoulder bops to the DJ set. A Gen X woman shimmies by and snaps photos of the glow-stick-spinning raver on stage. Few are drinking.
Started by two North County locals, Amal Chandaria (32) and Max Gold (37), Earlier is a dance party for older adults who want a club experience without the sleep-deprived, hungover physical toll. Running 6:30 to 10 p.m., attendees get home at a reasonable hour for a full night’s sleep.
Seems I’m not alone in my tired.
“[We’re in] a time where loneliness is high, people are craving connection,” says Chandaria. “One thing we were really intentional about is that you don’t need to go and have drinks to have fun. It’s about the music and getting the wiggles out.”
Early is part of a national trend: the green-juice-ifying of party culture. Americans aren’t going out as much as they used to. They’re drinking less, and 10 p.m. has become the new 2 a.m. Wellness as a lifestyle concept is old hat, and each generation manifests itself in different forms (fitness booms in the ’80s, organic food in the 2000s).
According to a 2024 survey by consulting firm McKinsey & Company, the US wellness market now exceeds $500 billion annually, up from roughly $300–$350 billion a decade ago. More striking than the spend: Wellness as a top priority has surged from about 42 percent in 2020 to more than 80 percent today.
The timing makes sense. Studies show Covid led to long-term shifts in lifestyle patterns. We all began to reassess our lives and made some existential changes—like 6 p.m. soberish dance parties. In a recent Gallup poll, only 54 percent of US adults reported drinking alcohol, the lowest level in about 30 years. Conversations around longevity turned “treat yourself” into “invest in yourself.”
The downer of any wellness trend, though, has been the “can’t” philosophy—can’t eat that cake, can’t sip that marg, can’t binge that show. What if we could do health stuff and still dance and not totally suck the joy out of life? That’s what people like Chandaria and Gold are banking on.
Last year when they attended Atomic Groove—a variety dance band from 5–8 p.m. most Fridays at Belly Up—it sparked an idea. “People want to be healthy and active, and they don’t want to compromise on that by not feeling rested,” says Gold. “I thought, ‘I bet if we’re feeling this way, other people are looking for something like this, too.’”
He was right. Nearly 200 people showed up to the pair’s first dance party last July. Tonight’s crowd is nearing that number again. Among them is Cardiff-by-the-Sea resident and second-time attendee Lauren Marley.
“If you do one thing for yourself—and it means that you don’t have to be completely exhausted and wrecked for all the stuff you have to do the next morning—it’s great,” she says.
Though EDM isn’t quite my thing (give me some stank-face hip-hop from the 2000s), it’s clear from the number of return attendees that Chandaria and Gold have filled a need, one that isn’t just in famously health-forward cities like San Diego.
In DC, Dancing on the Waterfront occurs every Saturday from 5–9 p.m. while Extended Play DC wraps up at 10 p.m. Philly has Matinee Dance Party (5–10 p.m.). New York City finally chooses to sleep, with Friday Feeling and Matinee Social Club both ending at 10 p.m. Last year, Day Shift, geared toward those over 30, debuted at Bloom Nightclub in San Diego.
In Chicago, Earlybirds Club was founded in 2023 by high school friends Laura Baginski and Susie Lee. About 100 people showed up to the sold-out “dance party for ladies who got shit to do in the morning.” Two years later, Earlybirds Club is now held in nearly 60 cities and regions across the US.
“It’s an outlet that [middle-aged women] don’t get in our everyday life,” says Baginski, who also recently appeared on the Kelly Clarkson Show to share their story. “It’s movement and dance. We’ve learned now that it’s really essential to being a happy person.”
Admittedly, it’s a bit harder to be happy when I walk into the Music Box for Earlybirds’ event in San Diego. War’s about to start, protests are the new social gathering, and the economy is gaslighting me into believing salads should cost $18.
But soon the club is a sea of 700 people wanting to dance their asses off. Any negative emotions quickly begin to disappear. Tonight’s music features hits from the ’80s, ’90s, and 2000s: Madonna, Britney, Christina, 50 Cent, Ludacris.
Shuffling past the bar to the already-crowded dance floor, my heartbeat quickens. Pure, unadulterated joy is oozing in this place.
“The whole club was women’s bathroom culture,” said returning attendee and San Marcos resident Beth Avant, 50. “[You get to] freely dance, not care about what you’re wearing, you’re not trying to really impress people.” Soon Whitney Houston’s golden pipes set the room on fire, arms raise, smile lines deepen, and for a few hours, nothing else matters.
Oh, I wanna dance with somebody / I wanna feel the heat of somebody
While Baginski continues to run the operation, Lee lost her battle with stage IV metastatic breast cancer in August of last year. Honoring her memory at each event are words from Lee herself: “Sing f**king loud, dance like nobody gives a shit, and remember who the f**k you are.”
And who we are are sleepy people. If this new wellness era really takes off, imagine the possibilities. Dinner dates at 5 p.m., the Super Bowl at 2 p.m. EST, Justin Bieber headlining Coachella at 7 p.m. Until then, you’ll find me in bed shooting down plans past 8 p.m.
Nicolle Monico is an award-winning writer and the director of creative projects, digital editor for San Diego Magazine with more than 16 years of experience in media including Outside Run, JustLuxe and The San Francisco Chronicle.
The annual event honors middle market companies creating jobs, scaling up, and investing in the region
San Diego is known for its startup culture and innovation economy, but what happens when the company moves beyond its early-stage years? The San Diego Business Impact Awards aim to answer that question, spotlighting the middle market businesses helping drive the region’s economy.
Hosted by San Diego Regional Economic Development Corporation (EDC) and JPMorganChase, the second annual awards celebration takes place on Thursday, July 23, from 4:30 to 7:00 p.m. at Scripps Research Auditorium. More than 200 executives, entrepreneurs, and business leaders are expected to attend the networking and cocktail event honoring some of San Diego County’s fastest-growing companies.
Businesses headquartered in San Diego County that have operated for at least two years are encouraged to submit their nomination by Thursday, June 18 at 4 p.m. Companies across industries—from technology and life sciences to tourism and consumer products, as well as pre-revenue startups—are eligible for recognition.
For EDC President and CEO Mark Cafferty, the event is as much about building connections as celebrating success. “We’ve had a longtime partnership with JPMorganChase; their work aligns with our efforts to support underserved communities and drive talent development,” says Cafferty. “And the networking was invaluable last year. I’m still in touch with people I met at last year’s awards.”
EDC is an independently-funded nonprofit that works directly with San Diego companies to help them grow the local economy, make the region as a whole more competitive, and attract and retain top-tier talent with quality jobs. Through EDC, companies can get help starting or expanding their business with support for things like site selection, permit navigation, and regulatory guidance, plus connections to local resources and potential business collaborators.
The San Diego Business Impact Awards began as an idea with one of EDC’s longtime strategic partners, JPMorganChase. The two organizations share a commitment to San Diego and are dedicated to bolstering middle market businesses.
“We’re blessed with a robust innovation economy and startup community,” says Aaron Ryan, San Diego Region Manager for JPMorgan’s Commercial and Investment Bank and vice chair of the firm’s’ San Diego Market Leadership Team. “But one of the segments of the business community we felt was overlooked was emerging middle market companies—the businesses that are no longer small but not yet large.”
Ryan says supporting those companies is critical as they scale and decide where to invest, hire, and grow.
San Diego’s high cost of living remains one of the region’s biggest business challenges, making talent recruitment and retention increasingly competitive. But local leaders point to the region’s quality of life, climate, and collaborative business community as advantages that continue to attract employers and workers.
“In order to support thriving households, there has to be enough high-quality jobs for people to be able to afford to live here,” Cafferty says. “Once a company grows and excels past that middle market point in their growth cycle, they become much more likely to pay higher wages and compete globally.”
Both Cafferty and Ryan proudly tout the unique collaboration that exists among San Diego County businesses. Bringing together top universities producing high-quality talent, cutting-edge research institutions, a robust military and defense presence, leading ocean science and environmental organizations, and a binational, cross-border identity creates a distinct business ecosystem that defines and strengthens the San Diego region.
Last year’s San Diego Business Impact Awards celebrated nearly 60 honorees from 49 industries, representing a total of 8,232 jobs across eight sectors, including: software and technology, healthcare and life sciences, consumer goods, professional services, finance, construction and manufacturing, defense, and hospitality and tourism. On average, honoree companies doubled their revenues over the previous year, employed more than 145 San Diegans each, and offered an average annual compensation of $192,415.
Top honorees included defense contractor Innoflight, environmental consulting firm Bancroft Construction Services, life sciences startup Element Biosciences, defense technology contractor GALT Aerospace, organic grocery store chain Jimbo’s, and biopharmaceutical company LENZ Therapeutics. During the event, Innoflight Founder and CEO Jeff Janicik held a fireside chat offering his insights on investing in the community and embracing San Diego culture.
This year, organizers hope to continue highlighting the middle market players driving economic impact across the region. Nominations are now open through June 18 at 4 p.m. Get your tickets to the San Diego Business Impact Awards celebration to enjoy drinks by Snake Oil Cocktail Co., light bites, live music, and networking.
San Diegans are turning their houses into longevity spaces by prioritizing function and feeling
Kelvins. If you’re anything like me, you probably haven’t thought about them since high school chemistry. Lately, though, they’ve become one of the more hotly debated measurements in interior design.
Kelvins measure the color temperature of light, which is a technical way of saying they’re key to whether a room feels calming or slightly unsettling. The wrong Kelvin temperature can suddenly give your bedroom the vibe of a hospital corridor. Warmer Kelvin temperatures cue relaxation. Cooler ones sharpen alertness. Interior designers now talk about Kelvins the way chefs talk about salt: invisible when it’s right, immediately obvious when it’s not.
That focus on light reflects a broader shift in San Diego homes—people are worried less about how spaces look and more about how they hold you over the course of a day. Design decisions now favor what fades into the background and silently improves daily life. And once you start thinking that way, it’s hard not to apply the same logic to everything else in the house.
My husband and I felt that impulse firsthand last year while shopping for a mattress. We spent multiple weekends wandering the showrooms at Westfield UTC, lying on beds in our outside clothes, asking questions about spinal alignment, breathability, and temperature regulation. We debated coils versus foam, read studies on sleep stages and thermoregulation, and compared notes in the parking lot like two people deciding whether to buy a house.
Eventually, we chose the Saatva Contour—a name that sounds more like a luxury sedan than something you sleep on. That felt fitting, given the amount of deliberation we put into it. We picked it for its spinal support and ability to dissipate heat through the night, two factors consistently tied to deeper, less fragmented sleep. At the time, it felt overly academic, but it made its case experientially: We experience fewer disruptions at night and wake with the unexpected sense of being genuinely rested.
Eventually, I realized that our search had been less about shopping for comfort and more about shopping for recovery.
Now when I wake up, I usually head straight to our little sauna, which sounds much more impressive than it actually is. It sits just outside the house, tucked into a narrow corner of our small backyard. Technically, it’s meant to live indoors, but we adapted it for outdoor use because that was the only place it would fit. The door closes with a soft thud; the scent of cedar blooms as the heat sets in. Inside, there’s a single bench and barely room to stretch my legs. It isn’t glamorous, but the science on sauna use is compelling: Regular heat exposure has been linked to improved cardiovascular health, reduced inflammation, and more efficient recovery via circulation and the nervous system. To me, its real value is something simpler—a few quiet minutes that are mine before the day and its noise begin to make their claims on me.
For a long time, luxury meant square footage, statement kitchens, and bonus rooms designed to impress people who don’t actually live there. Homeowners are making different choices today.
“These days, the questions my clients ask are, ‘Will I actually use this?’” says James Denton, senior architectural and interior designer and owner of James Denton Design. “‘Will it help me sleep better? Will it simplify my routines?’”
Interior designer Maegan Ayukonchong, owner of M. Swabb Interior Design Collective, sees that shift in nearly every project. Clients want layouts that reduce friction, storage that actually functions, and spaces that feel uncrowded. “It’s less about filling rooms,” she says, “and more about designing homes that support how people want to live.”
That recalibration accelerated during the pandemic, when homes were suddenly forced to perform at full capacity. Living rooms became offices, kitchens became classrooms, closets became refuges for phone sessions with your therapist. Denton says he noticed clients suddenly confronting how their homes actually functioned.
Ashley Chavez, a realtor with Compass Real Estate in San Diego, watched the same awareness show up in buyer behavior. “After spending so much uninterrupted time at home, buyers started noticing things they used to overlook,” she says, like the amount of natural light, how rooms flow into one another, and whether spaces feel peaceful or overstimulating.
Health conversations widened beyond workouts to include sleep, stress, and recovery, areas where the home environment plays a defining role. Chavez notes that buyers may not use the word “wellness,” but their priorities are clear. “Clients comment on how a home feels,” she says. “They notice whether bedrooms are quiet, whether the layout supports their routines without constant adjustment.”
The results show up in what people choose to build and invest in. Spare bedrooms become infrared saunas. Massage chairs edge out media consoles. Red light panels replace bar carts, delivering low-level light that supports cellular repair, muscle recovery, skin health, and circadian signaling (it’s worth noting that cocktails pretty much do the opposite of all that). Rooms once dedicated to entertaining are reimagined for restoration.
Clement Qaqish drops into a chaise in the living room of his Solana Beach home with the familiarity of someone used to managing fatigue. A maxillofacial surgeon by day and an endurance athlete by choice, he’s completed 14 full Ironman races and a dozen Half Ironmans. “When you’re training this much, recovery isn’t optional,” Qaqish says. “And even if you’re not doing Ironmans, your body still has to recover—from stress, from sitting, from whatever you ask of it.”
Normatec compression boots sit coiled on the floor beside him—long black sleeves that look part medical device, part sci-fi costume. He slides his feet in one at a time, zipping them up to the thighs. They inflate, with air pulsing upward in slow waves, rhythmically compressing his legs to push blood and lymphatic fluid back toward his heart. The soft mechanical whir fills the room. The goal is faster recovery and less soreness after heavy training. “Most people wait until [their legs are] broken,” he says, smiling slightly. “I’d rather not get there.”
When Qaqish and his wife, Gabby Galleo, a biotech executive, moved into the house, those priorities shaped the abode early on. “The first thing I bought for our home was an infrared sauna for Clem’s birthday,” Galleo says. “Once we had the space, it just made sense.”
From there, the rest followed naturally: a Nordic Wave Cold Plunge on the patio (to support nervous-system resilience and curb inflammation), compression boots by the couch, a red light mask on the armoire (to promote cellular repair and skin tone). Tools more commonly found in a training facility or high-tech spa are folded into the feng shui of the home. With all the tech scattered around the house, “it’s easier to do it than to avoid it,” Galleo says. “You’re just moving through your day, and it’s there. We didn’t want it to feel like a production. If it required driving somewhere or scheduling around it, we knew we wouldn’t do it consistently.”
While fancy equipment certainly helps you unwind after a hard workout, most of the changes that make a home extra restful can be accomplished without hiring a contractor or taking out a loan for the latest technology.
“Editing is the new flex,” Ayukonchong says. “The most impactful shifts are often the simplest ones: Add live plants for a fresh, calming boost; reorganize storage; replace heavy window treatments with breathable linens to soften natural light.”
In general, lighting is a low-cost approach to achieve an outsized impact. Denton recommends “warmer tones in bedrooms for relaxation, cooler bulbs in workspaces for focus, and dimmers that let rooms shift with the day,” (gotta get those Kelvins right!).
From there, he turns to details most of us overlook, even as research increasingly shows how powerfully they shape how we think and feel. “Start with acoustics. They are key to reducing stress and mental fatigue,” he says. According to research from the University of California, Davis, chronic background noise raises stress hormones and cognitive fatigue, which is why oversized rugs and soft window treatments that dampen sound can matter just as much as aesthetics.
And you can double up on the boons from your houseplants by intentionally placing mirrors near or across from them. Studies on biophilic design link visual exposure to greenery—even if it’s reflected—with improved mood and lower stress, while blank walls offer no such benefit.
Air quality is the final layer. Indoor air can be more polluted than outdoor air, and poor ventilation has been associated with headaches, brain fog, and disrupted sleep. Simple upgrades, like higher-grade HVAC filters or a modest air purifier, address a problem quietly and persistently affects many homes.
Even simply designating one chair for reading, one corner for stretching, or one surface for tea or journaling can reshape how a home functions. Research in environmental psychology suggests that context-dependent cues help the brain switch states more efficiently, making it easier to relax or focus when an activity is consistently paired with a specific place. Over time, the space itself becomes a signal, reducing decision fatigue and allowing the nervous system to settle more quickly.
Dr. Jenn Chang, a physical therapist, yoga therapist, and founder of The Movement Mechanic PT, walks me through her small Carmel Valley condo. “I didn’t have room to include things casually,” she says. “Everything had to earn its place.”
In her home office, where she sees clients, a yoga wall with mounted bars and straps that support alignment and traction anchors one side of the room. “It feels like a bonus,” she says. “I can use it with patients, but it’s also there for my own practice.”
In the garage, an infrared sauna sits snugly against the wall. Despite the condo’s limited storage, Chang is careful to keep the area around it uncluttered. “If the space starts filling up, the sauna stops feeling inviting,” she explains. “I notice that right away.”
Aerial yoga hammocks hang from the ceiling for her kids (with safety mats below). A compact Swedish ladder supports dead hangs and calisthenics and doubles as something her children climb on. A vibrating foam roller and a Theragun are stored nearby. “The easier it is to use and put away,” Chang says, “the more likely it becomes part of your day.”
For a long time, I resisted getting a cold plunge myself. It felt unnecessary, even a little excessive. But after spending time with people who treated it as just another part of the house, I eventually purchased one, setting it up on my patio, steps away from the sauna that shields me from notifications and the mattress that we spent so long researching. All together, they offer me permission to do less, move a little slower, incorporate recovery into my everyday life. In a culture that never stops asking what’s next, that feels like the most radical thing.
Ingrid Yang, M.D., J.D. is a hospital-based physician in San Diego, CA, certified yoga therapist, and longevity specialist. She loves *double hearts* San Diego and spends her days helping people fully engage in long, healthy lives through evidence-based lifestyle medicine. Her books include Adaptive Yoga, Zen Mindfulness, and Hatha Yoga Asanas. When she’s not leading international wellness retreats, she is chasing sunsets, handstanding in nature, or geeking out over mitochondria.
Stop by the San Diego Writers Festival, traverse the Tour de France Wine Dinner and watch the Padres play on Opening Day
Just as seasons for the Clippers and Sockers come to a close with Fan Appreciation Nights, a new set of 162 games will begin for the Padres on Opening Day. The return of Padres baseball also means the Friar faithful can check out Margaritaville Hotel’s Padres’ Kickoff Rooftop Party and the celebratory East Village Block Party. Those who prefer an outing at the theater over a day at the ballpark can see local productions of The Lehman Trilogy and Matt & Ben or the debut of works by women+ playwrights at the Lamoise New Works Festival. Plus, fans of live music can see Lang Lang, Digable Planets and fifteen San Diego County choirs in concert this week.
Food & Drink | Concerts & Festivals | Theater & Art Exhibits | More Fun Things to Do
A few blocks from the Padres’ home opener at Petco Park, fans can say cheers to the new season during the free Padres’ Kickoff Rooftop Party at Margaritaville Hotel. This Thursday from 3-7 p.m. at the hotel’s 5 o’Clock Somewhere Bar, patrons can catch a set from DJ Chino of iHeart Radio Channel 93.3, plus enjoy photo ops, lawn games, mini golf and Padres merch for sale from The Finnish Long Drink. There will also be a themed game day menu, featuring items like the Grand Slam Philly Fries and the dragon fruit-infused Ballpark Paloma. RSVP here.
435 Sixth Avenue, Gaslamp
Take a gastronomic trek around France with Little Frenchie this Sunday at 6 p.m. during the Tour de France Wine Dinner. This four-course prix fixe meal will feature complimentary wine pairings and emphasize the unique culinary strengths of four French regions: Lyon, Provence, Burgundy and Normandy. Guests will be guided through the significance and history of the evening’s pairings by Rafael Peterson of H. Mercer Imports. Reservations are $150 per person.
1166 Orange Avenue, Coronado
Chinese pianist Lang Lang is among the world’s most well-known classical musicians, with his talents taking him everywhere from the Grammy Awards, to private shows for heads of state, to multiple Olympic opening ceremonies. His mastery of the keys, done with wonderful enthusiasm and dexterity, leaves no awe-inspiring detail behind. This Thursday (7:30 p.m.), Lang Lang will play a selection of recognizable pieces from Mozart, Liszt and Beethoven in concert at Jacobs Music Center. Tickets start at $95 for this concert.
1245 Seventh Avenue, Downtown
The melding of jazz and hip-hop has rarely sounded sweeter than on Digable Planets’ second album Blowout Comb. Though it proved to be their final project, it eternally cemented the group as one of the forebears of jazz rap, alongside acts from the Native Tongues movement like A Tribe Called Quest and De La Soul. In celebration of Blowout Comb’s 30th anniversary, Digable Planets will perform back-to-back nights at Belly Up, where they’ll be joined by San Diego artists Ric Scales (Friday) and Blame One (Saturday). Tickets start at $60 for both concerts.
143 South Cedros Avenue, Solana Beach
Aspiring writers and readers ranging from casual to voracious can enjoy a day of literary panels, workshops and readings this Saturday from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. during the 7th annual San Diego Writers Festival. Held at the Coronado Public Library and Coronado Performing Arts Center, this year’s event will feature best-selling and emerging writers of romance, mystery, historical fiction and more. The lineup includes talks covering trauma, spirituality, and artistry in the age of AI, and a keynote discussion with novelist Jodi Picoult. RSVP for the free festival here.
640 Orange Avenue & 650 D Avenue, Coronado
Fifteen San Diego County choirs will fill The Conrad with vocal harmony during this Saturday’s San Diego Sings! Festival. Organized by the Choral Consortium of San Diego, audiences can catch performances by the San Diego Women’s Chorus, Encore Vocal Ensemble and the San Diego Children’s Choir. The performers will be split into three concert performances (11 a.m., 3 p.m., and 7 p.m.) inside Baker-Baum Concert Hall. Tickets are $23 for each of the three concerts.
7600 Fay Avenue, La Jolla
Ryan Hardison is a freelance arts and entertainment writer and recent graduate of San Diego State. When he's not staring at his laptop, he's likely eating an adobada burrito or getting sunburnt at the beach.
The William and Mary Jane Rohn Brain Tumor and Brain Metastases Clinical Care and Research Program provides expert care and innovation
Central nervous system tumors are some of the most complex conditions in medicine. Scripps Cancer Center committed to expanding its neuro-oncology services, and has recruited some of the top medical professionals in their field, including neurosurgeon Jeremy Ciporen, MD, and neuro-oncologist and researcher Tresa McGranahan, MD, PhD. But that was just the start. Expert nurses, sophisticated imaging and surgical equipment were also added with philanthropic support. Most importantly, Scripps Cancer Center designed a program that puts the patient at the center of it all. Click here to read more about Scripps’ neuro-oncology program, and here for more on the pair of donors for which it’s named.
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