The Best Things to Do in the United States

A state park sitting in the middle of San Francisco Bay, Angel Island has been a Coast Miwok home, an immigration station, and a Cold War missile base, which makes the hiking trails feel unusually layered. Rent a bike, join an open-air tram tour, or walk to the Immigration Station museum. The views of the bay and city skyline are the kind that make you forget you took a ferry to get here.

A Beaux-Arts building that used to be the city's main library now holds one of the largest Asian art collections in the Western hemisphere, spanning India, China, Korea, Japan, Tibet, and beyond. Pottery, weapons, calligraphy, snuff bottles, and a fully reconstructed Japanese tearoom share space with a standout Chinese bronze collection. The redesigned galleries organize the sprawl around 15 anchor masterpieces, which helps considerably.

A neighborhood shop in the Sunset that stocks handmade home goods, locally printed graphic tees, and vintage finds sourced from local makers and the occasional road trip. It has the feel of a very good flea market find without requiring you to actually dig through one. The shirts are designed and printed in San Francisco on US-made blanks, which is either a detail you care about deeply or proof that you do now.

A long strip of sand tucked beneath the Presidio's bluffs, with the Golden Gate close enough to feel like a backdrop someone forgot to take down. The surf looks inviting and is genuinely dangerous, so most people stay on dry land and enjoy the view, which is the point anyway. Fog rolls in more often than sun, so dress for it. The Sand Ladder at the north end connects to trails along the bluffs for anyone who wants to turn a beach walk into a hike.

The ferry to Sausalito leaves from Fisherman's Wharf, which means you start in the loudest possible version of San Francisco before the engine kicks in and the city quietly peels away behind you. Blue & Gold Fleet is the bay's main ferry operator, running routes to Sausalito, Oracle Park, and Chase Center. The crossing itself is the point: Coit Tower shrinking, the water coming up over the bow, the skyline doing its slow goodbye.

Renzo Piano gave this natural history museum and aquarium a living roof planted entirely in native California greenery, which feels appropriate for a place that houses a rainforest, a planetarium, and a penguin colony under one roof. Kids can sleep over beneath the stars and wake up next to the fish tanks. Adults get Thursday NightLife events with DJ sets and full run of the exhibits, which is a more interesting Thursday than most.

The oldest Chinatown in North America sprawls across 30 dense blocks, and it rewards wandering on foot more than any map can promise. Tin How Temple sits quietly on a third-floor walkup, incense thick in the air while neighbors light candles and pray. A few streets over, the Golden Gate Fortune Cookie Factory folds cookies by hand amid whirring machinery. The lanterns and neon signs are as good as advertised, which almost never happens.

The Poetry Room upstairs has a sign inviting you to sit on the floor, which tells you everything about the kind of bookstore this is. City Lights has been a Beat landmark forever, the place that published Ginsberg's "Howl" and survived the obscenity trial that followed. Today it still publishes its own titles, leaning toward poetry and politics, alongside a well-stocked general floor that rewards serious browsing.

Beach Blanket Babylon ran here for 45 years, which is a long shadow to step out of. Club Fugazi has done it by turning the room into something acrobatic and immersive, with tiered table seating that keeps things intimate even when the energy runs high. The bones of a grand old North Beach theater are still very much there; the production just doesn't treat them like a museum exhibit. Good date night, good out-of-towner night, good "I forgot San Francisco is fun" night.

A walking food tour that threads through Japantown for a couple of hours, stopping at restaurants, grocery stores, and family-run shops that most visitors walk right past. Small groups eat, drink, and hear the neighborhood's stories from guides who are plainly obsessed with the place. Japantown reads quiet from the outside, but that changes fast once you're in.

The International Orange paint, chosen partly because it makes the bridge visible through San Francisco's famous fog, is the first thing you learn at the Welcome Center before walking across. You can drive it, walk it, or rent a bike and pedal over to Sausalito for lunch. San Francisco City Guides runs free walking tours if you want the engineering backstory delivered by someone who finds suspension cables genuinely thrilling.

A drum circle can materialize next to a serene Japanese garden on the same afternoon you pedal a boat past ducks on Blue Heron Lake, which is more or less how Golden Gate Park operates. The California Academy of Sciences anchors the cultural end, with a living rainforest and an albino alligator named Claude. The 1914 carousel still spins its painted lions and dragons to carnival music, and the park band has been playing free summer concerts here since forever.

The Gothic Revival cathedral atop Nob Hill has two labyrinths, a 7,466-pipe organ, and behind-the-scenes tours that venture into spaces most visitors never see (the fine print notes heights and tight passages, which is either a warning or a selling point). Soaring arches and enormous stained glass windows do the heavy lifting architecturally, while a packed calendar of music and community events keeps the place feeling lived-in rather than merely visited.

The corner of Haight and Ashbury still draws people who want to feel the ghost of 1967, but the neighborhood has long since grown into its own thing. Painted Victorians sit alongside vintage shops, record stores, and cafés where nobody is in a hurry. The proximity to Golden Gate Park means an afternoon here tends to drift pleasantly sideways. Come for the browse, stay for the walk.

The coastal redwoods here top 250 feet, and standing under them has a way of making whatever you were anxious about feel appropriately small. This 558-acre national monument northwest of San Francisco holds one of the last ancient redwood groves in the Bay Area, with about six miles of trails winding past Cathedral Grove and along Redwood Creek. Serious hikers can push into adjacent Mount Tamalpais State Park when the trees aren't enough.

Columbus Avenue moves at the pace of a neighborhood that has been arguing, pleasantly, about whether to have another espresso since the Beat poets were still alive. North Beach is San Francisco's Italian quarter by heritage, literary enclave by reputation, and genuinely pleasant afternoon by default. Sidewalk cafés, old-school red-sauce spots, and City Lights bookstore orbit Washington Square Park, with Chinatown a short walk when you need a change of scene.

The dugout smells exactly how you'd imagine, and standing in it during a behind-the-scenes tour of Oracle Park is a small, strange thrill even for people who don't follow baseball. The San Francisco Giants' waterfront stadium runs guided tours year-round, covering the field, press box, and the World Series trophies. The pregame add-on gets you in before the gates open, which is when the place actually feels like yours.

The gripmen still turn these cars by hand at the turntable, which is the whole point. The Powell-Hyde line is the last manually operated cable car system anywhere, and riding it feels less like transit and more like clinging to a slowly tilting porch. Standing on the running board while the car crests a hill makes a strong case for handrails. Most riders are tourists, which you also are, so just lean into it.

A former Army post turned National Park, the Presidio is the kind of place where eucalyptus groves give way to cliffside overlooks, historic bunkers, and a walk along Crissy Field that ends directly beneath the Golden Gate Bridge. Andy Goldsworthy's natural installations are scattered throughout, the Tunnel Tops park has lawns and food trucks for easy afternoons, and the Tennessee Hollow Trail winds through a restored wetlands thick with birds.

Moroccan tile, velvet banquettes, and flickering lanterns set the scene in a former speakeasy beneath the Marrakech hotel. Mentalist and magician Jay Alexander runs weekend-only shows in the 35-seat theater, blending mind-reading, human lie detector bits, and sleight-of-hand with enough comedy to keep the skeptics from squirming. The evening opens with close-up magic over drinks before moving into the main show, which is as interactive as it sounds.

The Snøhetta-designed expansion gave SFMOMA a half-block-long living wall of native plants and a rippling fiberglass facade meant to echo the Bay, so the building makes an argument before you're even inside. The modern and contemporary collection runs deep, and the museum store is genuinely its own destination, stocked with San Francisco landmark chess pieces and Lichtenstein-inspired ceramics. Clear a full day.

A 150-foot Ferris wheel on the Fisherman's Wharf waterfront, lit by a million LED lights and very aware of the London Eye comparison. Each of the 36 climate-controlled gondolas holds up to six people, and a single ride runs about four rotations, giving you unobstructed sightlines to the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, and the hills stacked behind the city. Clear nights are the obvious move.

A former highway reclaimed from cars and handed back to the wind, Sunset Dunes is a two-mile coastal promenade running along San Francisco's western edge with the Pacific sitting right there the whole time. Public murals mark the route, Outer Sunset cafes are steps away, and the mood is somewhere between a long exhale and a Sunday with nowhere to be. Bring a stroller, a bike, or just good shoes.

The collapsed concrete walls of an old saltwater bathhouse sit right at the Pacific's edge, flooded and open to the sky, looking less like San Francisco and more like something Rome left behind. Hikers and photographers make the pilgrimage, especially around sunset, when the still water turns the ruins into a mirror. The caves along the shore offer the best angle if you're here for the photo, which, be honest, you probably are.

Dungeon masters run scheduled D&D nights here, but the tabletop games, rotating support groups, and writers' meetups make this cozy Tempe coffee shop feel more like a community center that happens to pull excellent espresso. The decor leans Oz, the music leans groovy, and the crowd leans toward people who are relieved to have found it. Phoenix New Times named it the best LGBTQ game night in the valley.

A wristband taps to your credit card at check-in so you never fish out your wallet again, which is either clever hospitality or a mild threat depending on your willpower. Number Thirty Eight is a vast indoor-outdoor beer hall where stalls run by Colorado breweries, cideries, wineries, and distilleries line the walls, the patio is dog-friendly, and Split Lip handles the burgers. Westword named it the city's best free entertainment.

Fifty acres of Sonoran desert planted with thousands of cacti, succulents, and wildflowers in the middle of Phoenix. On summer Saturday nights the garden runs Flashlight Nights, a self-guided after-dark walk where night-blooming plants open and the wildlife, scorpions included, wanders freely. During the day the trails draw everyone from serious botanists to families who've already said "wow" forty times. The gift shop, no small afterthought, stocks prickly pear everything and locally made goods worth the detour.

Frank Lloyd Wright designed this 3,000-seat performing arts auditorium for Baghdad before it ended up on a college campus in Tempe, which tells you something about its scale and ambition. The circular hall sits on the ASU campus flanked by pedestrian bridges and hosts touring Broadway shows, opera, symphony, and lectures. It's a proper night-out venue, the kind where you dress up a little and feel like the evening has stakes.

The Praying Monk formation on the southeast face is the shot everyone posts, but the ridge routes above Echo Canyon are where the real character shows. Camelback is a hiking and climbing destination right in the middle of the Valley, accessible enough that you can squeeze it into a morning, challenging enough that you'll feel it the next day. The rock gets called "choss" by the purists, which just means more routes for everyone else.

The First Draft Book Bar sits inside this independent bookstore, which means you can browse for an hour, lose track of time entirely, and justify it with a glass of wine. Changing Hands stocks the full range from beach reads to gifts to knickknacks, with staff who actually know the shelves. Regular author readings, workshops, and book clubs keep the place feeling like a neighborhood institution rather than a retail transaction.

A fine natural history emporium in the Melrose District where the inventory runs from entomology specimens and coyote vertebrae to, if you have three grand lying around, a human skull, all ethically sourced. The shop also carries books, crystals, and botanicals for those who prefer their curiosities still living. The event calendar is where it gets interesting: taxidermy classes, Victorian seances, and the occasional chat with a coroner.

Baskets of polished crystals sorted by type, shelves of tarot decks, deity statuary, magickal oils, and candles fill this long-running New Age and occult shop in north Phoenix. You can order online, but the whole point is choosing your tiger's eye in person. Beyond retail, the shop runs classes on candle magic, divination, and protection spells, and offers psychic readings when you need something more bespoke than a book recommendation.

A sandstone formation in Papago Park shaped by erosion over millions of years, with a literal hole worn through it that frames the Phoenix skyline like a proscenium arch. The hike up is 0.3 miles, doable in questionable footwear, and the payoff at sunrise or sunset is the kind of thing that makes locals forget they've seen it a hundred times. The Hohokam may have used it as a calendar; now it's an Instagram backdrop, which feels like a lateral move.

An art gallery that holds an open call every two years, gets over 500 submissions, and sometimes picks exactly one artist. That's the curatorial standard at Lisa Sette Gallery, an old-school institution in the Phoenix arts scene representing a tight roster of Arizona painters, photographers, and mixed-media artists. The work tends toward the serious and the strange, in the best possible, completely non-graded sense of that phrase.

A rusted steel and glass aquatic center building that people apparently stop and stare at instead of swimming. The complex packs in a lap pool, diving well, tube slide, lazy river, and a splash pad, all framed by McDowell Mountain views and a public art installation that, yes, belongs to the pool. Non-Scottsdale residents pay a modest surcharge for the privilege of wondering why their city's public pools don't look like this.

A private nonprofit zoo spread across 125 acres, where you can pet a stingray, feed a giraffe, and ride a camel before anyone in your group agrees on what to see next. Five trails loop through over 1,300 animals, and the Red Barn Petting Zoo handles the younger crowd's demands nicely. Bikes and roller blades are welcome, which says a lot about how far you'll walk. Zoo Lights draws a faithful crowd every holiday season.

A gallery-shop in northern Phoenix where the inventory changes constantly because everything is made by hand and no two makers work the same week. Forged knives, blown-glass tumblers, ceramic oil pourers, and natural-edge cutting boards share shelf space in proportions nobody can predict. It's the kind of place where you come in for a gift and leave reconsidering your kitchen entirely.

Fabric is sold by the pound here, which tells you everything about the philosophy. SAS is a sprawling, cheerfully chaotic fabric store where cosplayers, sewists, and anyone mid-DIY spiral come to dig through bolts, scraps, and notions they didn't know they needed until this exact moment. The organization is approximate at best, but the staff can find anything, and the buttons and trims alone justify the trip.

Boomboxes stacked floor to ceiling on one wall, rows of vinyl, rap cassettes, and old issues of XXL on another, and a dance floor where breakers have been known to throw down mid-afternoon. Trill is a hip-hop shop on North 16th Street that covers all four elements under one roof: DJing, MCing, graffiti gear, and b-boy culture. Ice-T has been vocal about the love. Kids can learn to scratch here; serious diggers can lose an hour in the crates.

A local boutique home goods shop with three Valley locations, urbAna stocks the kind of stuff that makes housewarming gifts feel considered rather than grabbed at the checkout line. Arizona-themed glassware, midcentury-inspired barware, taper candles with fancy matches, and chic disposable partyware for hosts who want the aesthetic without the aftermath. The "Welcome to the Shitshow" rocks glasses are there for when the new neighbors' AC goes out in July.

The two-level track is lit in multicolored neon, which makes the electric Superkarts feel less like a family outing and more like a fever dream you're steering. This massive indoor entertainment complex near the highway packs in go-karts, arcade games, laser tag, duckpin bowling, VR stations, and a full bar, so pacing yourself is an actual consideration. Tall guests may find the karts a snug fit, but that's part of the negotiation.

Set a budget before you walk into this curated vintage clothing shop in the Roosevelt Arts District, because the racks run from 1920s eveningwear to a 1980s purple fringe jacket and your willpower will not survive unassisted. Prices aren't thrift-store prices, but the inventory is the kind that makes you want to become a slightly more interesting version of yourself. A clearance rack in the back starts at $5, for those who want the daydream on a discount.

A sneaker resale shop on Central Avenue that also stocks Labubus, those unsettling little monster toys currently colonizing every shelf on social media. Archive AZ is a buy-sell-trade hub for high-end kicks, mostly Nike-heavy, with rare past releases alongside current drops. The storefront is easy to walk past, which somehow feels right for a place that lets the inventory do the talking.

A tiny paperback copy of "Fifty Shades of Grey" sitting next to a miniature bag of Lay's barbecue chips pretty much sets the tone. Auntie Em's is a dollhouse supply and curiosity shop in Historic Downtown Glendale with thousands of small-scale items, from hand-painted furniture to tiger-skin rugs. The other half of the store belongs to retro toys: pedal cars, vintage Barbies, model trains. No website, so you just have to show up.

The circuit grading system here is the tell: instead of chasing pitch ratings, you work a color-coded route until the movement clicks, which turns a climbing gym visit into something closer to a puzzle session. The walls are rope- and harness-free, the floors are padded, and the whole warehouse-scale space runs yoga and fitness classes most days of the week. There's a coffee kiosk, a dog-friendly courtyard, and enough community events that regulars treat it like a neighborhood club.

A gift shop in Phoenix's Melrose District where butterfly claw clips and gravestone stickers reading "DIDN'T DRINK ENOUGH WATER" share shelf space with gold jewelry and desert-themed graphic tees. Bunky Boutique stocks men's and women's apparel, quirky cards, candles, and accessories with enough rotating inventory that regulars leave with something they didn't know existed last month, usually for a friend who absolutely needs it.

The tiered stadium seating along the back wall means you never spend a show craning around someone's hat, which is a small miracle for a mid-size Phoenix music venue. Crescent Ballroom books a steady diet of indie, art rock, and folk acts, with a candlelit bar and lounge up front serving tacos and cocktails alongside free sets from local musicians on quieter nights.

A 50-foot spiral tower at the entrance to a Goodyear neighborhood, designed by a local astronomer to function as both a lookout and a quiet prompt to feel small in a good way. Climb the staircase for views of the Estrella Mountains, then stay for sunset, when tiny lights embedded in the exterior begin to glow. It closes at 8:15 p.m. sharp, which is the desert's way of telling you not to linger past the point of wonder.

An artist-run collective on Roosevelt Row, Eye Lounge has been the gravitational center of Phoenix's First Fridays artwalk for years, which is either a sign of quality or a sign that everyone else gave up. Contemporary exhibitions rotate through, the murals outside change with the shows inside, and the crowd on a First Friday runs heavy on the local artists whose work might be on the walls next month.

Duckpin bowling, axe throwing, and a copper frog you try to land coins into: Lane Park is an adult games hall in Old Town Scottsdale where the activity rotates with the season, shuffleboard in summer and curling when it cools down. Craft cocktails and pizzas keep things going between rounds. It reads like someone asked what a bar would look like if it took the games as seriously as the drinks.

A bulletin board by the register plastered with fliers for local art classes and studio events is a good sign you've found the right art supply store. Jerry's Artarama in Tempe is a sprawling shop stocked with canvases, every conceivable brush and paint, custom framing, and art books, with sales deep enough that serious artists plan trips around them. Local artwork lines the walls, and browsing counts as half the visit.

The I-10 freeway runs underneath it, so the park above feels like a magic trick: grass, dog runs, a playground, and a Japanese Friendship Garden built with Phoenix's sister city of Himeji, all floating over the highway in the middle of downtown. It sits right on the edge of Roosevelt Row, so a morning walk can turn into a long afternoon without much planning required. One of the few spots in central Phoenix where pedestrians have the obvious upper hand.

A packed-dirt trail running about 2.5 miles along Central Avenue, shaded by ash and olive trees with some of Phoenix's finest historic homes lined up alongside it. The path was laid out for Orangewood residents who got around on horseback, which feels improbable now that it's full of joggers, dog walkers, and people nursing coffee from the Uptown Farmers Market. In a city that runs hot and hard, the shade here is something to plan around.

A museum with over 15,000 instruments drawn from nearly every country on earth, where the displays sense your approach and pipe the corresponding music through wireless headphones. It sounds gimmicky and it works beautifully. The Artist Gallery leans into celebrity worship without apology, and larger nations get subsections drilling into folk and tribal traditions. The cafe handles global food at reasonable prices, which is not a given for a museum this size.

Over 17,000 works spread across 285,000 square feet put this art museum firmly in the "clear your afternoon" category. The collection runs from American and European classics to Latin American, Asian, and contemporary work, plus a fashion design wing that earns its place on the same floor. A dedicated kids' gallery keeps the family from splitting up at the entrance. Free admission on Wednesday evenings and the first Friday of each month.

A 1,200-foot climb packed into just over a mile, Piestewa Peak sits in the middle of the Phoenix metro and functions as the city's default answer when someone asks where to hike. The Summit Trail is short and steep, with the final stretch earning its reputation near the top, where the reward is a full 360-degree sweep of the Valley. Prefer flat ground? The Freedom Trail loops the base for nearly four miles of desert flora at a friendlier pace.

The showroom occupies a restored 1954 Ralph Haver building, which feels less like a coincidence and more like the whole point. Red Modern Furniture deals in authentic midcentury pieces, no reproductions, so you'll find Eames, Knoll, and Saarinen chairs alongside Murano glass lamps and one-of-a-kind finds. Price tags are serious, but browsing is free, and the website even archives sold pieces for the committed window-shopper.

Thirty-two soundproofed, air-conditioned lanes with touch-screen targets that rotate 360 degrees give this indoor shooting range a distinctly modern feel, even if the members-only lounge looks like a hunting lodge from another century. No membership is required to rent from one of the largest firearm selections in the state, and safety classes run from beginner family sessions to holster-draw practice. The Cosmic Shooting night, with blacklights and color-changing ammo, is either inspired or unhinged, possibly both.

You suit up head-to-toe in protective gear, borrowed shoes included, before anyone lets you near a drop of paint. This central Phoenix art studio runs messy, high-contact sessions where you can pedal a bike to splatter a canvas, work a hand crank for something more deliberate, or disappear into a glow-in-the-dark splatter room and just go feral. Take your work home or collect it later once it dries. Family-owned and built for groups, date nights, or anyone overdue for a tantrum.

Tucked into a Mesa industrial park, this retro arcade runs on a flat admission fee covering unlimited play, no tokens required. Classic cabinets like Galaga and Tempest line the floor alongside over a hundred pinball machines, while '80s soundtracks play under projections of Star Wars and Back to the Future. Vintage toys and memorabilia fill the gaps. Regular pinball tournaments mean the serious players have trophies to prove something.

The Rebel Lounge is a small, divey rock club on Indian School Road that sits on the bones of the Mason Jar, Phoenix's old-school punk institution. The room is cramped and no-frills, which is exactly the point: the energy comes from whatever band is crammed onto the stage, local or touring, punk or otherwise. Phoenix New Times has named it the city's top music venue, and the crowd tends to look like they actually mean it.

A specialty retail shop where one wall is given over almost entirely to figures, another to title belts, and the trading card section runs deeper than you'd expect a strip-mall suite to allow. The Wrestling Guy Store PHX stocks WWE and AEW merch alongside genuine rarities, including commemorative folding chairs from Phoenix pay-per-views. The store also hosts in-person appearances by retired legends, for when owning the bobblehead isn't quite enough.

A few hundred railroad-tie stairs bolted to a desert hillside outside the master-planned community of Verrado, this outdoor staircase climb is the kind of workout that skips the gym and goes straight to the consequences. The ascent is genuine, unshaded, and merciless in the Arizona sun, so bring water and leave the dog behind. The payoff at the top is a view of the White Tank Mountains and a small loop trail to catch your breath.

From the outside it reads as a plain warehouse in Phoenix's industrial district, which is exactly the point. Inside, Walter Where?House is an EDM venue built around giant art cars styled after Volkswagen vehicles, a laser-drenched stage called Kalliope, and a rotating gallery of local art. The whole thing traces back to Burning Man culture, so flow objects and eccentric outfits are less a dress code suggestion and more a natural outcome.

A mid-size indoor concert hall seating around 5,500, sitting in that useful gap between arena and nightclub. Downtown Phoenix's go-to for touring musical acts, stand-up comics, Broadway productions, and the occasional boxing card. George Lopez filmed a live HBO special here, which tells you something about the room's range. It handles Doc Severinson and Nickelback with equal indifference, which is either a compliment or a programming philosophy.

Somewhere past the hiking packs and climbing gear, there's a homebuilt tunnel maze where search-and-rescue crews wriggle through pipes hauling a 200-pound dummy. That's not the main event for most visitors, but it tells you something about this old-school Phoenix outdoor shop. Gear, rentals, high-res topo maps, a vintage climbing collection organized by era and country, and classes on backpacking and wilderness survival round out a place that takes the outdoors more seriously than its drop ceilings suggest.

The Ice House Tavern overlooks the rink so you can watch hockey with a drink while your kids are doing laps below, which is a pretty good deal for everyone involved. Phoenix's go-to public ice rink keeps the Zamboni humming with public skates, figure skating lessons, youth and adult hockey leagues, and pick-up games. Admission runs on the cheaper end of the spectrum, and free intro lessons sweeten it further.

The lighted bays stay open until 9 p.m., which tells you everything about who this driving range is for. Coronado is the anti-Topgolf: no bay reservations, no cocktail menus, no Instagram moments, just a bucket of balls and a borrowed wood if you need one. A nine-hole course and chipping greens round things out. Happy hour drops ball prices and brings $2 cans of beer, which is about as civilized as a Tuesday evening gets. Bring cash.

An 80-minute narrated cruise around Saguaro Lake, which feels like a minor miracle given how thoroughly the Sonoran Desert surrounds you. Desert Belle runs sightseeing tours on a two-deck boat, with an air-conditioned lower level and an open-air top deck where mountain goats occasionally materialize on the canyon walls. The schedule also includes live music, craft beer, and wine cruises for anyone who needs the excuse.

The stone ramada at the top of South Mountain was a New Deal project, which gives it a pleasantly melancholy grandeur. Getting here takes a twenty-minute wind up a paved mountain road, and the payoff is a panorama wide enough to hold Camelback, Papago Park, and what feels like every last suburb Phoenix has ever annexed. Come at dusk and the sprawl goes from overwhelming to genuinely cinematic.

The Coors bottle piñata, hanging next to Pokémon and a classic star-pointed sphere, tells you pretty much everything about this place. Dulceria La Bonita is a Mexican candy and party supply store that calls itself a wholesale operation but is open to anyone with a cart and ambition. The selection of sweets runs deep enough to reward a few laps before you commit, and the piñata wall alone is worth the detour.

Kachina dolls centuries old sit alongside contemporary paintings, jewelry, and weavings made by Native artists from across the country, with the Southwest's tribal traditions given particular depth. The Heard is a serious art and cultural museum in downtown Phoenix, been around forever, with permanent collections, rotating shows, festivals, and education programs. A shop and cafe round out the visit for anyone who lingers.

A historic tavern on Larimer that's been a dive, a cougar bar, and a live-music dance hall, sometimes all in one night. The drinks are stiff and cheap, a band usually occupies the small stage, and the whole place functions as a pressure valve for anyone who's had enough of the polished LoDo scene just outside. The occasional Phi Alpha Whatever will wander in, but the regulars absorb them without incident.

Koi drift under a 12-foot waterfall while the rest of Phoenix does whatever Phoenix does. This three-and-a-half-acre Japanese garden, formally called Ro Ho En, sits inside Margaret T. Hance Park and moves at a completely different speed than the city around it. Stone lanterns, quarried Arizona rocks along the shore, and a traditional teahouse pull the place toward genuine stillness. A quiet hour here requires almost no effort and costs almost nothing.

A small live music venue on a one-way stretch of Central Avenue, south of downtown in a neighborhood that keeps the vibe honest. Touring acts and local bands share the bill, and people show up on a Tuesday without needing much convincing. Parking and security have been sorted, which clears the last excuse. Phoenix New Times named it the city's top small music venue in 2025.

A former department store at Desert Sky Mall that now holds more than 200 vendors under one roof, Mercado de los Cielos is a Hispanic marketplace where shopping and eating blur into a pleasant afternoon-long problem. Counter stalls turn out tortas, mariscos, gorditas, and agua frescas, with photos above every register for the indecisive. Pick up a raspado from the fruit stand and let it guide you around the rest.

The Día de los Muertos section alone runs from traditional calacas to Marilyn Monroe in skeleton face, housed in a dense, color-saturated shop on 24th Street where the shelves have no empty corners. Mexican Arts Imports carries Talavera, Lupita dolls, metal work, textiles, and clay figurines at a scale that makes a single visit feel genuinely insufficient. Plan for more time than you think, and budget for things you didn't know you needed.

Hand-painted signs about human rights share wall space with Spanish-language books on LGBTQ+ liberation at this bilingual bookstore on mural-covered Roosevelt Street. The shop has become a genuine community gathering spot, hosting BIPOC open mics and children's storytime alongside a cafe where you can nurse a coffee mid-browse. It stocks the kinds of titles Amazon's algorithm would never think to surface.

Every summer, somewhere between 10,000 and 20,000 Mexican free-tailed bats take up residence in a flood-control tunnel near Camelback and 40th Street, and every evening from May through October they pour out at dusk to eat their weight in insects. Park at the intersection, walk the canal, and stay quiet. The bats genuinely do not care that you exist, which is both reassuring and a little humbling.

Four public pickleball and tennis courts sit inside this north-central Phoenix park, and they cost nothing to use. The courts are lined for both sports, lit for evening play, and recently resurfaced, so the bounce is clean. A hitting wall is there for solo sessions, and the farmers market runs on Saturday mornings if you want a reason to linger. Show up, claim a court, or fall into a pickup game with whoever's already there.

A resale and new boutique in Tempe whose T-shirts announce it as "a safe haven for weirdos," which is accurate marketing. Rocket a Go~Go covers the full spectrum of alt fashion, from pinup and rockabilly to goth, punk, and rave, with brands like Doc Martens, Tripp, and Demonia filling the racks alongside studded belts, horror-themed jewelry, and Halloween housewares. Sizes run 0 to 3X, and you can buy, sell, or trade.

Every Wednesday evening, a crowd of cheerful masochists gathers outside this long-running specialty running store before six, stretches in the parking lot, and then disappears into a Phoenix neighborhood in the heat. Runner's Den has been fitting Phoenicians for shoes, clothes, and gear for an old-school institution, with staff who'll analyze your gait and point you toward the next road race on the calendar. The weekly group run ends with snacks and fellowship, possibly hot dogs.

The Chicago dogs are the tell: a poppy-seed bun, the full Chicago lineup of toppings, and a strict no-ketchup policy enforced by peer pressure alone. Sloan Park is the Cubs' spring training home in Mesa, built with green steelwork and red brick that quietly impersonates Wrigley in the desert sun. There's a rooftop bar, a lawn in the outfield, and food trucks in the Citrus Grove, so the game is almost secondary.

Su Teatro has been Denver's anchor for Chicano theater for decades, running out of the Denver Civic Theatre at the heart of the Santa Fe Arts District, which also happens to be the city's historic Latino neighborhood. The company produces its own touring work and rents the space to outside groups, so the calendar stays eclectic. If you're catching one of their own shows, you're in the right hands.

The slot machines alone number over a thousand, which tells you something about the scale of Talking Stick Casino before you've even found the table games. It's a full-on resort casino with blackjack, craps, roulette, sports betting, a spa, hotel rooms, a pool that hosts live concerts, and enough restaurants to cover everything from Mediterranean to fine dining. The outside world does tend to dissolve once those doors close behind you.

A record store where the turntable wall runs from a $60 Crosley mini to a $13,000 German Firebird, with a Lamborghini collab somewhere in the middle playing actual engine sounds. The crates on the floor hold used records in rough shape for nearly nothing, while four-figure collectibles wait behind the counter. Phoenix New Times named it the city's favorite record store, and it opens early on Record Store Day with the full spread.

The DJ here plays real saxophone solos during your Motown number and rosins up an actual fiddle when someone calls "The Devil Went Down to Georgia." This folksy Scottsdale bar and grill runs karaoke every night of the week, which already puts it in rare company in the Valley. The live accompaniment means no one has to endure a slide that reads "Instrumental Break, 16 Bars" while the singer reconsiders their choices.

A live music club on Indian School Road that's been the Valley's home for blues, jazz, and roots acts for as long as anyone can remember. Owner Bob Corritore, a serious figure in the blues world, has put Pinetop Perkins and Sanford Clark on that stage. Local and touring rock acts fill the gaps. The bartenders are half the reason to stay, apparently able to match any set with a story.