Malibu is mecca to a former Barbie lover like I and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see it in person (though I lacked Barbie’s bright orange camper, surfboard and washboard abs). It was a good spot to stretch our legs and we pulled into Leo Carrillo State Park, with easy-to-access trails (the parking lot is just off the PCH, the trails are just off the parking lot) that take you up, up, up into typical California brush/cactus but with spectacular views of the Pacific’s pounding surf – and the surfers who flock to it. Once we were sufficiently sweaty, we made our way across the highway to the beach, where we marveled at the dozens of surfers.
We also wanted to check out the West Coast version of our East Coast fave – Café Habana. Though the Brooklyn-based establishment features green to the extreme (a postal truck-turned-kitchen that relies on solar panels, investment in community gardens, visits from local beekeepers, plus compostable cutlery), the Malibu locale is a bit more laid-back-eco. Nonetheless, it was built from repurposed materials and features plenty of locally sourced ingredients.
A bit further down the coast, in a laid-back beachside LA hamlet, we unpacked for a couple of nights at the Beach House at Hermosa. Hermosa Beach is California cool – home to a whole lot of pro beach volleyball players (Gabrielle Reece was a mainstay until she disembarked to Hawaii) and the Beach House gave us a front-row seat from our balcony to watch the players serve it up. The low-rise Beach House is quintessential Hermosa. Elegant, luxurious…but low-key and low-maintenance. We took full advantage of our location on the bustling Strand – the 22-mile-long pedestrian/bike path that runs from Pacific Palisades to Torrance County Beach – parked our minivan and hoofed it wherever we wanted to go. A surf lesson for my 13-year-old and me from Pier Surf, Mexican food (and margaritas) at El Gringo, tapas on the patio at Mediterraneo, and a stick-to-your-ribs meal for the kids (and a good dark ale for my husband) at Hennessey’s Tavern during a wicked rain storm. Rested and ready, we finally packed up and pointed our van south to Carlsbad…and Legoland.
I expected Legoland to rise up from the Carlsbad desert, like some sort of crayon-colored Taj Mahal. But Legoland, like the ubiquitous toy that inspired it, doesn’t need to seduce. It waits, patiently, for those who understand its simple charm, its longlasting value.
We arrived first at the Sheraton Carlsbad, an opulent-looking hotel that seems somehow at odds with the red-yellow-and-blue-hued theme park that sits just beyond. With views of the ocean, a sprawling swimming pool that seems to induce lounging more than exercise and a design that makes full use of light and foliage, the Sheraton seems decidedly grown up. And yet….it hosts families galore who pilgrimage to Legoland (though a Legoland Hotel is planned to open Summer 2013), offers a kids’ menu that features great-tasting food made from ingredients that make moms smile and a wine menu that makes moms smile even more. The result? Everybody feels as if they’re getting what they want.
The hotel is, literally, steps away from the theme park so, with tickets from the hotel in hand, we were able to enter through something of a backdoor…and return to the hotel the same way. Though it’s worth making your way to the main entrance – if only for the photo op that the gigantic LegoLand sign allows – I was happy to avoid the crowds.
