Katherine & Kelsi’s San Diego Survival Guide

All we wanted was brunch. What we got? A patio full of dogs, a surprisingly good omelet, and a moment where we seriously considered canceling the rest of our day to stay forever. If you’ve ever dreamed of sipping mimosas while surrounded by perfect strangers’ pets—this is the story for you.

What looks like a trendy cocktail bar turns into a surprisingly immersive experience: skylights, communal tables, a massive departure board, and a playlist that makes you linger. The vibe? Effortless. The pull? Strong. You’ll see what we mean.

What started as a quest for carbs turned into the most unexpectedly iconic, borderline cinematic night of our San Diego trip. There was lasagna. There was Grappa. There was a man from Sicily named Joe. And yes, there were hugs with our new famiglia.

There’s a secret door. There’s a fountain. There’s a cocktail that made us rethink who we are as people. This is not your average bar—it’s an experience, and we’re still emotionally recovering from the decor alone.

Kelsi said she didn’t like oysters. Katherine said, “Challenge accepted.” What happened next at Water Grill San Diego was part seafood feast, part personality transformation, and part spiritual awakening via sourdough rolls. If you’ve ever doubted a bivalve, this story might just change your entire belief system.

The plan was lunch. The result? An outdoor patio moment so perfect it felt scripted. We’re talking vine-covered trellises, life-affirming crab cakes, and vibes so strong we considered never leaving. What happened at The Prado was not just a meal—it was a main-character moment.

One minute we were wandering Little Italy. The next? We were deep in a pizza lair lined with Chianti bottles and cured meats, whispering “this is the one.” Filippi’s fed us, healed us, and maybe imprinted on us. There’s a reason locals revere this place.

Plot twist: The first thing we did at SeaWorld was… get a hand spa from fish. And that was just the beginning. From ride-induced identity crises to penguins with attitude, here’s everything we loved, learned, and low-key considered adopting during our chaos-meets-cuteness SeaWorld day.

We thought we were signing up for a cute golf cart ride. What we got? Animal tea, emotional whiplash, and a jaguar with main character energy. This is your backstage pass to the San Diego Zoo’s Inside Look Tour—complete with snacks, sass, and a giraffe named Chifou who hates stems.

There’s something deeply unsettling about sipping Mexican hot chocolate while learning you’re standing on 3,000 unmarked graves. Welcome to the Ghosts & Gravestones Tour, where the ghost stories are dramatic, there’s a park built on literal bodies, and the spookiest thing might be the city’s permit history.

If you’ve ever wanted to live out your pirate, naval officer, or sea-faring Russell Crowe fantasy, here’s your shot. The Maritime Museum of San Diego has tall ships, submarines, and the kind of salty sea vibes that make you want to dramatically squint into the distance.

City views, disco lights, spontaneous dance breaks, and a trolley driver who gave Ryan Seacrest energy? The San Diego City Lights Tour somehow managed to be hilarious, heartwarming, and high-key unforgettable—all without us having to walk a single step.

We know nothing about wine. And yet—we drank, we bonded, we debated cheese substitutes like our Nonna’s honor depended on it. This San Diego wine tour gave us Aperol-Riesling hybrids, rooftop vibes, and a dog named Koa.

Spoiler: we are now applying for jobs as full-time wine tour groupies.

Looking for peace, perspective, and the prettiest photo op of your San Diego trip? The Japanese Friendship Garden has cherry blossoms, koi ponds, and the kind of tranquil energy that’ll have you saying things like “I’m becoming someone who journals now.”

What happens when an 1888 Victorian cottage becomes a pie shop with Tom Cruise-level charm? You get the Top Gun House in Oceanside—part movie moment, part pastry pilgrimage, and 100% worth the stop. Come for the porch selfie, stay for the ice cream-stuffed pie.

We came for the hotel aesthetic. We left emotionally attached to a patty melt, a bartender who understood our souls, and a bowling alley that served dirty martinis. The Lafayette isn’t just a place to sleep—it’s a movie you get to star in. And honestly? We’re still not over it.