Day 11 – San Diego

This morning we walked a few blocks from our hotel to Mayla’s Fluff and Fold to catch up on some laundry. Where else but in San Diego do you find a taco stand wide-open for business at 8 a.m.? While I sorted our clothes, Dad ran into Roberto’s Taco Shop – a southern California institution for 60 years – for monster-size breakfast burritos, and we gobbled them up on the curb while we waited for the wash. 

Later, we drove across the bridge to Coronado Island – which is to San Diego like Sanibel is to Fort Myers: a beachy holiday spot. Because it was Saturday and Fourth of July weekend, the place was a zoo – lousy with cars and pedestrians and, at the same time, kind of stingy with parking. We finally valet-parked at the historic Hotel del Coronado, and it was the best $35 I’ve ever spent. Not having to fight traffic, not having to search for a spot, not having to remember where we parked the car and not having to keep track of the parking meter: Priceless.  

When we planned the trip, I really wanted to book a stay at “the Del,” as it’s called. It’s an iconic hotel – famous for its red roof and Victorian architecture, a sumptuous wedding-cake arrangement of wooden turrets and verandas. The hotel – including the 120-feet-tall grand ballroom tower – was built in only 11 months by a firm out of Evansville, Ind. When it opened in 1888, it was the largest resort in the world. The structure was designated a National Historic Landmark in 1977 (ahem, Natalie). 

Anyway, as plans for this trip were taking shape, I looked into staying there, but discovered that the historic hotel is undergoing a major renovation. And while there are rooms available in other (more modern) buildings around the property, I really didn’t want to shell out that kind of money to stay in the middle of a construction zone. So, we resigned ourselves to a daytime visit and made sure to check out the stunning lobby (paneled in Illinois white oak, we learned).  

For lunch, we found a table on the beach and enjoyed beer and fish taco. That’s not a typo. Dad stood in line for 30 minutes and forked over 50 bucks thinking he was going to be getting two beers and two tacos. But the person at the counter must have misheard his order, gave him two beers and only one taco – and still the bill came to $50. But hey – that’s Coronado Island in a nutshell.

In the afternoon, Dad and I went back to our hotel, ordered cocktails and lounged by the pool. It’s not the Hotel del Coronado, but we’re really enjoying this place, a midcentury-modern gem that opened in 1959 as the Sportsman’s Lodge. The 23 guestrooms have recently been thoughtfully renovated and include vintage furniture and local artwork. And there’s a small but lively restaurant and bar that opens to the oyster-shaped pool. 

The vibe is very hipster. And, let’s just say that Dad and I are the oldest, whitest, straightest people here. It was a buzzy scene this afternoon, with a dozen 20-something women taking over one side of the pool deck for a birthday party. Dad and I dangled our feet in the pool and soaked it all in. We ordered only two – two – drinks each, but they were sneaky-strong, and when I stood up to grab something out of my bag, I fell into the pool. 
 
I cut myself off after that. 
 
Since we had tacos for breakfast and lunch, it was time to mix things up a bit. For dinner, we Ubered downtown to Harumama – where we ate together in 2021 – for character buns and spicy ramen.

We walked a few blocks to the embarcadero to hail our Uber back to the hotel. We arrived just as the party boats were disgorging their afternoon passengers onto the sidewalks. Oh my goodness, hundreds of really drunk, really stoned people wearing souvenir captains hats and trying to squeeze themselves in groups of seven or eight into the waiting ride-share cars. Hilarious. 

We got our own Uber, and congratulated the driver on picking up a couple of relatively sober riders. But after an afternoon of sunshine and drinking, we are toast. Good night.