We all have a place we dream about when stuck in the tundral winter under a sheet of ice. For me, it’s the Surfrider Hotel, across the Pacific Coast Highway from the Malibu Pier. It’s an enchanted spot, with bright and breezy rooms and a sun-drenched rooftop restaurant for guests only, with a fire pit for stargazing in the evening while gripping a warm manuka honey-chamomile toddy. Over a fresh, hyper-local California breakfast, watch surfers crouch over the waves, or just contemplate the serene ritual of the morning sky changing from pale pink to bright blue. The Surfrider is pure, peak Malibu. Sometimes, we all need a dose of just that. —Marcia DeSanctis

Marcia DeSanctis is a Connecticut-based writer. She recently published her second book, a collection of travel essays called A Hard Place to Leave: Stories from a Restless Life