Weekend Getaways

Live la dolce vita on the Newport coast, cruise eclectic Santa Monica, and soak up the sun—and luxury—in the Anza-Borrego Desert

NEWPORT COAST

Giuseppe Lama stands in the shade of a century-old olive tree. His polished appearance — horn-rimmed glasses, crisp suit and fine leather shoes — can’t conceal a boyish wonderment. He’s showing me around The Resort at Pelican Hill, which he oversees as managing director, when we pause beside the tree.

“There are 30 olive trees here that are a century old,” Lama enthuses. In an effort to transform this Newport Coast hillside into an Italian village by the sea, the owner shipped in and planted 750 mature olive trees. True to custom, they’ll be harvested by hand each season, says Giuseppe in his thick Italian accent.

It’s this painstaking attention to detail that instantly sets this resort, opened last fall, apart from other ultra-luxury properties. The attention to landscaping alone is beyond compare; in addition to the olive trees, there are massive canary palms and more than 250 other types of trees on the resort’s 504 acres. It also lends a sense of timelessness to the property, a characteristic central to the Palladian style of architecture, which informed every aspect of the design and construction. The most famous and influential architect of the Renaissance, Venetian Andrea Palladio rooted his designs in classic building principles of ancient Greece and Rome.

Giuseppe gives me an impromptu lesson in Palladian design as we walk into the hotel lobby. Looking heavenward, he marvels at the immense domed rotunda as if seeing it for the first time. Sunlight streams through a circular opening in the center. The “eye” was designed to allow rays of sun into temples in ancient times. It’s a precise mathematical science, says Giuseppe. Ratio. Proportion. Form. Detail. Touring the resort, I can identify the design motifs: stately columns, loggias (opensided arcades) and ornate vaulted ceilings. It’s staggering to think I’m only an hour’s drive from San Diego. Did I miss a U-turn and end up in Umbria?

Palladian style is artfully reflected through out the 128 villas, 204 bungalow suites, spa, restaurants, and — most stunningly — in the Coliseum pool. Considered the resort’s hub, the Coliseum carries the title of the world’s largest circular pool, at 136 feet in diameter. Its bottom is lined with 1.1 million hand-cut glass mosaic tiles. The area resembles a huge amphitheater, with terraced decks and stylish private cabañas.

No more than a two-minute walk from the Coliseum, along a winding path fragrant with lemon trees and lavender blooms, my bungalow is a spacious, Tuscany-inspired sanctuary. From the ceilings made of alder beams to the fireplaces lined with Italian limestone, the interior design is upscale but homey. The bungalow is tricked out with the latest technology, including a 42-inch flat-screen TV and Bose audio system. Its best feature, though, is the huge private terrace with sprawling ocean views. Strands of fuchsia bougainvillea entwined along the terrace railing frame the postcard-perfect view.

The Tuscany experience gets even more authentic while dining at Andrea, the resort’s more formal restaurant. (Giuseppe doesn’t like to use the words “fine dining” to describe it — sounds more uppity than inviting.) When Gianluca Re Fraschini, a native of Northern Italy, was brought in as chef, he requested an in-house pasta room built so he could make his own pasta daily using the finest ingredients at an optimal temperature (68 degrees, to be exact). Buttery risotto, plump gnocchi, hand-stuffed ravioli — it’s all as tasty as it is fresh.

The menu changes periodically to showcase the freshest seasonal ingredients. Right now, a popular dish is the rombo al vino bianco, with insalata di spinaci cipollotti — pan-seared turbot in white wine, with young spinach and spring onion salad. Light and packed with flavor, it doesn’t disappoint. For dessert, there’s an array of decadent delights made by executive chef Jean-Pierre Dubray. On the lighter side, try the gelato, made fresh in the on-site Laboratoria del Gelato.

If you want that perfect wine pairing for each course, restaurant manager Marco Rossi is eager to be of service. With his blond locks, easy smile and surfer’s tan, Marco could easily pass for a native Southern Californian — until his Italian accent betrays his Roman roots. The glassed-in wine room houses some 1,200 bottles, mostly from Italy, including rare vintages you’ll only find here.

There’s even more buzz surrounding the resort’s 23,000-square-foot Spa at Pelican Hill. Director Kasia Mays has adopted a multicultural approach to wellness, with a spa menu inspired by practices from around the world. Upon arrival at the spa, guests are asked about their goals — to relax, replenish or invigorate — and a treatment is selected accordingly. I’m having the Global Traditions herb, massage and heat-therapy treatment. It begins with a ritual foot bath, performed by a spa attendant, before my therapist comes to gather me from the relaxation lounge. The therapist uses a mixture of techniques, from Swedish massage to the use of a heated bag of firmly packed Thai herbs to relax muscles.

It’s the perfect ending to my stay. But my Italian adventure isn’t over yet. I’ve been looking forward to the drive home all weekend. But not because I’m eager to leave. I can’t wait to get behind the wheel of the Lamborghini Gallardo LP 560-4 coupe, my loaner car (borrowed from the Lamborghini press fleet) for the weekend.

Talk about a joy ride — the Gallardo boasts 560 horsepower, a 0-60 time of 3.7 seconds and a top speed of 203 miles per hour. The price tag: $200,000. But the reaction to the car by others is priceless. Want to know what it feels like to be an A-lister? Get behind the wheel of a Lambo. The Gallardo attracts a constant audience of gawkers. Other drivers change lanes and rubberneck to get a closer view. Sitting inside a restaurant, I watch as a stream of people stop to take their photo beside the Gallardo, Lamborghini’s best-selling model.

Zipping homeward on Pacific Coast Highway, I’m feeling grateful for the weekendlong taste of Italian culture at its finest. I want to savor the details — the food, the wine, the architecture. And the simple awe and joy inspired by an old olive tree. — J.P.

pelicanhill.com, 949-467-6800

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SANTA MONICA

It’s a sunny Saturday morning at the Santa Monica farmers’ market, a couple of blocks from the ocean and the city’s iconic pier. Next to me, the chef of the Viceroy Hotel’s Whist grabs a small sunchoke from one of the numerous stalls featuring some of the freshest local produce and explains the multitude of ways he likes to prepare it.

It’s just another day at work for chefs in this little beachside borough of Los Angeles, but a wonderful retreat for San Diegans in search of a quick getaway to the big city. Of course, there’s more than produce in Santa Monica. The famous market bisects the Third Street Promenade, a pedestrian-only, shopping, dining and busker-laden extravaganza, while south lies Main Street, a veritable village of bars, boutiques and casual eats. And then there’s the expansive pier, beach and boardwalk, which stretches south past Venice, teeming with life at every turn.

As for the diminutive sunchoke, it’s sure to appear soon in a dish at the Viceroy — along with other natural bounty culled in Whist’s farm-to-table, sustainable-food philosophy. And while the ethics are commendable, it’s the aesthetics of the Viceroy Santa Monica that truly impress. Dripping class with its British Regency–inspired interior design and understated, midcentury-modern exterior, the hotel suggests a refined European experience nestled between the Pacific Ocean and the entertainment capital of the world.

Outside on the large, private patio, visitors and locals ensconced in giant leather chairs dine over white tablecloths while privileged hipsters lounge and suntan in striped cabañas near the two small swimming pools. Then there are those who seem to find all of this too rigorous; they’re enjoying a poolside massage by the hotel’s on-call — and environmentally sensitive — spa service. It’s also a great way to rejuvenate following the vivacious, celebrity-studded evenings that spill out from the bar to the patio. (A large entourage was the giveaway to action-flick star Jackie Chan’s presence.)

The more modest can opt for spa pampering in the privacy of their own rooms. With gorgeous interiors of parrot green, driftwood gray and off-white, adorned with tasteful cameos, decorative china, marble and antique mirrors, why not take it upstairs? The French balcony frames the ocean beyond the lively street below, while double sliding glass doors seal off that liveliness for a tranquil, elegant experience.

From Euro to Disney: Families, or those in need of unrivaled beach access, might want to skip across Ocean Avenue to Loews Santa Monica. The hotel is bracketed by the sea and pier; it’s impossible not to see them. But before the ocean lies Loews’ large swimming pool and countless grinning kids. When the Pacific is too chilly, guests lounge on the large patio, with one eye on the children and the other on the busy boardwalk and lively pier almost directly in front.

If that view doesn’t quite cut it, Loews’ one-bedroom corner suite should. From the eighth floor, the sun setting beyond the pier’s Ferris wheel makes for rare viewing — from the bedroom, no less. Factor in the large living room, wet bar, giant televisions, French balconies, vaulted ceilings and modern beach-contemporary décor, and you’ll be hard pressed to find a reason to leave.

One very good reason, however, is Ocean & Vine, the hotel’s upscale restaurant. The views here aren’t all directed toward the sea. Not when competing with the largely local — and attractive — clientele. Ocean & Vine also procures its food staples from the local farmers’ market and the surrounding region. The signature Santa Monica chili is not to be missed. Laughing bird shrimp, lump crab, Baja sea scallops, roasted garlic and cannellini beans unite in a white-wine broth made tastier with toasted, rustic garlic bread. Based on the expressions of other patrons, main courses consisting of (locally sourced, of course) steak, seafood and vegetable dishes are equally delicious.

I indulge my senses further with a walk around Santa Monica. The town is as interesting as it is beautiful. The entrepreneurial spirit of its cosmopolitan habitués makes for excellent strolling past fancy dining, longtime dive bars, tasteful furniture, sophisticated books, artisan coffee and urban or earthy fashion. Laid-back, tree-lined Main Street is quintessential Santa Monica. If you still have some spring in your step, venture farther south to Venice’s Abbot-Kinney Boulevard for more urban exploration. The street features more trappings of the beach lifestyle: vintage surf-inspired furniture, alfresco dining and stylish clothing galore.

While Los Angeles is often derided for shallowness and sameness, there’s a reason the yuppies, beach bums, skater kids, Europeans, college students, celebrities and trustafarians all coexist harmoniously in Santa Monica: It offers something for everyone — including visitors. You can live the high life, you can find the family life, but the good life is all around. — A.E.

viceroysantamonica.com, 310-260-7500; santamonicaloewshotel.com, 310-899-4040

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BORREGO SPRINGS

The two-hour scenic drive to Borrego Ranch Resort & Spa is, in itself, an adventure that tours San Diego’s contrasting landscapes. It parallels the relationship I have with my son, a college freshman. I’m a single mom, and we are both experiencing the rocky journey that a life transition can be. Sal is tall but still boyish, eager to prove himself a man, while I face both reluctance and a sense of relief in the process of letting him go.

We take State Route 76, winding up through Palomar Mountain, past roadside wildflowers and trees that arch over the road. Sal controls the radio. Despite our difference in age, he enjoys much of the music I listened to in my youth. It’s our strongest connection.

“You should let me drive; I have better reflexes,” says Sal, who has the audacity to support the concept of male superiority. I respond by momentarily driving off the road and spraying gravel before swerving back to the concrete. He lets out a fake scream. Then he turns up the volume on a disco song he knows I like, mocking me by singing, “Get down, boogie oogie oogie” before abruptly changing the channel.

The setting sun casts a golden glow over the boulder-studded mountainside, and just as it begins to get dark, we enter the stark, arid Anza-Borrego Desert. The road twists and turns through towering walls of rock. Finally, we find the circular drive that leads to Borrego Ranch Resort & Spa. Known for decades as La Casa del Zorro, the desert lodge was purchased last year by HG Capital, then upgraded and renamed. Some $50 million was invested to develop the nearby Montesoro, a luxury second-home resort community, and the Tom Fazio signature golf course.

We’re greeted by Jorge Magdaleno, who checks us in and hands us a map of the 42-acre property and a weekly program calendar. He gives us an enthusiastic rundown on tomorrow’s activities. I’m surprised at all the options: a morning desert walk and yoga sessions, a photography class, cycling tours, spa treatments, archery, tennis clinics, rock-climbing and, of course, golf. Most of these sessions are free; guests just have to sign up in the Arrival Center. Sal wants to try everything and insists he can because “Mom, it’s free.” But my stomach is grumbling, and all I can think about is dinner.

We are escorted to our second-floor poolside room as if we are honored dignitaries. Vaulted ceilings add to the room’s spaciousness. Among the luxurious amenities: a stone fireplace; beds dressed with Italian designer sheets; a marble tub deep enough for a swim; and a plasma TV. When I open the French doors that lead to the patio, I’m surprised at how cool the desert becomes at night.

Sal paces through the rooms, opens and shuts every drawer and says “awesome” a million times. I’m impressed, too, but I act as if the room is just what I expected.

On the way to dinner at Cimarrón, the resort’s upscale restaurant, we stroll past gurgling fountains and whispering palms decorated with tiny white lights. The dining room is an elegant, serene space with white walls and a dark-wood floor, softly illuminated with votive candles on every table.

The dining options make the most of seasonal citrus fruits and vegetables, and there’s a generous selection of California wines by the glass. We share a green-goddess salad of Bibb lettuce, avocado and sweet slices of tangerine. For our main courses, we order fork-tender filet mignon and artichoke risotto, laced with aged pecorino cheese, and the Sonoma duck, served with a savory cabbage that’s spiked with bits of salty pancetta. Sal declares that he should be a food critic and that our meals are “totally dank,” the slang equivalent, I’m certain, of four stars.

For dessert, our waitress touts the lemon crème brûlée with anise cookies, but we’re too stuffed and tired from the drive.

The next morning, Sal’s sweet sleeping face reminds me of when he was a trusting, affectionate child and I was an unchallenged, omnipotent parent. I open the patio doors to view one of five pools below, surrounded by swaying palms and six cabañas. There are no kids in the water — the resort is geared for adults 21 and older — and I don’t miss the noise youngsters can make. In the distance, the desert reveals its stark beauty, with cream-colored rock formations carving a jagged horizon against a bright-blue, cloudless sky.

After a breakfast of whole-grain apple pancakes and juice, Sal leans forward, bares his teeth and bugs out his eyes. “This is my game face,” he says. “I’m going to dominate you at Ping-Pong.”

He does. After I lose three games, we take a property tour. There are 44 poolside rooms and 19 private casitas, ranging in size from one to four bedrooms. We visit the fitness center and stroll through the Corazon, a park at the center of the resort that’s been recently upgraded with indigenous landscaping. It’s a more verdant scene than I would imagine in a desert setting, with paths that twist through green palo verde trees, bougainvillea, a hummingbird-and-butterfly garden and a wishing well.

At the far end of the landscape, there’s the Morado Spa, a retail boutique and a salon. I decide to schedule the detoxifying massage and sea-plant wrap. My expert masseuse slathers me with Moroccan green clay, wraps me in a warm cocoon and gives my scalp a mud-pack treatment. When I meet up with Sal, my limbs feel like they’re filled with liquid, and I’m ready for a nap. He raves about “romping the climbing wall” and his visit to the 18-hole golf course. There are numerous elevation changes, and Scotsman David Hunter, recognized by Golf Magazine as an outstanding teacher, offers specialized training for women.

At night, we sign up for the star-gazing lecture by renowned astronomy expert Dennis Mammana. The stars are more brilliant in the desert sky, and through his telescope, we view the Milky Way and a closeup of the crescent moon. As we head back to our room, Sal tells me Mammana is “way sick” and talks excitedly about the babes he intends to “scope” at the pool tomorrow.

On the drive home, Sal and his cell are one. He calls all of his friends to brag about the trip and talks as if he went by himself. My favorite Steely Dan tune plays on the radio, and I think to myself, “Don’t you touch that dial.” Perhaps instinctively, or maybe out of a newfound sense of respect, my son turns off his phone and listens until the very end. — M.M.

borregoranchresort.com, 760-767-5323

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