In early June, I drove to San Diego to visit my friend Colin and my cousin Lisa. (My cousin John and his girlfriend Sarah were out of town.) I had a great time. I hadn’t been to San Diego since 2021. To make my drive easier and shorter, I spent a night in Yuma on the way there and again on the way back.
I’ve been to Yuma a few times, as a former friend lived there. For both dinners in Yuma, I returned to restaurants I’d visited years prior. On the first stop in Yuma, Pint House wasn’t as good as I remembered. The next morning, I woke up early for a haircut at a barbershop across the street from my hotel. I returned to my room, showered, packed and drove to San Diego. Once I was settled in my hotel, Colin came over for happy hour at the hotel pool.
The lush plants in San Diego.
The view from the hotel balcony.
The view from the hotel balcony.
The view from the hotel balcony.
One evening, Lisa and I went to a hot Pilates class (105°). It was too fast for me — I had to take a lot of breaks in child’s pose. At the end of class, I could’ve rung out my clothes. I needed a few minutes to cool down, so Lisa and I sat at a picnic table in the strip mall. Lisa: no sweat left behind. Me: a butt puddle. 😂
After showering, we met back up for dinner. We walked along the water from Lisa’s apartment to City Tacos. There, she introduced me to hard kombucha. City Tacos was around the corner from Tower23, a cool hotel where I stayed 10+ years ago. A coincidental full-circle moment.
Another night, Colin, Lisa and I went whale-watching. The tour was three hours. We didn’t see any whales, but we saw a lot of dolphins. Staring out at the endless ocean and thinking about the depth of the water was incredible. The waves were choppy: one guest vomited for the entire three hours. Feet away, another guest ate nachos (you could purchase food and drinks on board). I was only a little queasy during the boat ride, but felt bad the next day.
Colin, me, Lisa. I was shivering.
Colin and I went snorkeling in La Jolla Cove one afternoon. Lots of bright orange Garibaldi fish. Then a sea lion swam under us and looked up at us! Snorkeling was a little scary but exciting. I didn’t know the depth of the water or what was lurking down there.
This is where we got in the water.
Two sea lion pups.
After snorkeling, we wandered around La Jolla in damp swim trunks and sand-filled sandals. We had happy hour at Queenstown. It was a New Zealand garden-themed bar and restaurant. Excellent drinks and crystal-clear ice cubes.
A lot of pink in La Jolla:
Other sights in La Jolla:
My go-to lip balm. Lost and found in the wild.
So many birds and so much bird poop.
A sea lion snoozing in the sun.
After my first few trips to San Diego in the 2010s, I loved the city. It was warm and sunny and on the ocean. In 2021, the city was noticeably dirtier and congested. I didn’t like it as much. Now in 2026, the parts of the city that I saw were clean but everywhere felt over-crowded. So many cars, too many restaurants to try, houses and apartments on top of each other, attractive locals who were a lot cooler than me. The typical San Diego resident looked like a contestant on “Love Island” or an ALO model.
Every woman in the hot Pilates class:
* not my photography
Every man at the beach:
* not my photography
San Diego doesn’t have Waymo yet, but I saw a few test vehicles.
* not my photography
At home, my days off include poolside yoga, swimming and happy hour. I kept a similar routine in San Diego — just at the DoubleTree. A couple mornings began with breakfast from Starbucks, a two-block-walk from the hotel. One morning I explored the marina across the street.
A venti iced latte and a spinach feta wrap.
Colin’s neighborhood is in the flight path of planes landing at SAN:
Painted rocks surrounding the community garden in Banker’s Hill.
Painted rocks surrounding the community garden in Banker’s Hill.
Architecture in Balboa Park.
Before leaving town, I visited Lisa, her boyfriend Tyler and dog Nova one last time. Their Pacific Beach apartment has windows front-to-back. I got to enjoy their company with the calm cross-breeze, the scent of burning incense and ocean views — plus photos of the new cottage in Harrisville.
The weather in San Diego was good. Mornings started off grey and cloudy, but the sun always came out by lunchtime. Highs in the low 70s and lows in the mid-50s. The humidity quickly healed my dry hands. My nose — which runs like crazy in Arizona — barely dripped. But air-drying towels and swim trunks on my hotel balcony was pointless. Nothing dried. I was happy to get back to Arizona’s heat though. When I got out of my car for the return visit in Yuma, the 100-plus-degree temperature and dryness were immediately comforting.
Fire training at a vacant building in Downtown Yuma.
On the return trip/second night in Yuma, I had dinner at Da Boyz Italian. It was delicious, like I remembered. I ordered two old fashioneds, a Caesar salad and lasagna. I sat at the bar and watched the U.S. vs. Paraguay FIFA game, having a good laugh at the celebrities in the stands. Even though I was stuffed and had leftovers, I already planned on breakfast the following morning at Cafecito. Many years ago, I posted photos of the charming cafe on this blog. Buzzed and happy and reflecting on the week in San Diego, I passed Cafecito and a homeless man on my walk back to the hotel. I realized I wouldn’t eat the lasagna in the morning, so I gave him my leftovers.
I didn’t make it to Cafecito the next morning, opting to save my money with the hotel’s free breakfast instead.
The drive had me questioning the oddities of travel and geography. Driving long distances in the Midwest was boring, but you at least passed farms. Arizona has long stretches of desert. Maybe an occasional dilapidated building or a truck stop. But otherwise? Dry, dismal despair. Yuma has amenities and is livable, yet it’s in the middle of nowhere. Between Tucson and San Diego, the only other “populated” stops are Gila Bend and El Centro. They’re surrounded by vast nothingness. Also, why is the price of gasoline different in different cities? I filled up my tank in Yuma for $4.89/gallon, then in San Diego for $5.69/gallon. When I returned to Tucson, my neighborhood station was $3.85/gallon.