Every neighborhood has one day a year when the main road closes and everybody discovers they have been living next door to someone who makes extraordinary lumpia.
In Mira Mesa that day falls on the first Saturday of October, and after twenty-six years families plan their autumn around it. Camino Ruiz closes end to end and fills with more than three hundred vendors: handmade goods, food from everywhere, live entertainment on multiple stages, and the kind of kids' activities that convince a child streets were always meant to be walked down the middle of. This year leans all the way into a Hawaiian theme, which the neighborhood will commit to with a seriousness bordering on competitive. The crowd is Filipino, Mexican, Japanese, Chamorro, Vietnamese, and every other community that made this the most genuinely multicultural corner of San Diego.
Camino Ruiz, a Saturday in October, free.
This is not the festival you drive across town for because the marketing was good. It is the one your neighbor has been telling you about for three years.
Every neighborhood has one day a year when the main road closes and everybody discovers they have been living next door to someone who makes extraordinary lumpia.
In Mira Mesa that day falls on the first Saturday of October, and after twenty-six years families plan their autumn around it. Camino Ruiz closes end to end and fills with more than three hundred vendors: handmade goods, food from everywhere, live entertainment on multiple stages, and the kind of kids' activities that convince a child streets were always meant to be walked down the middle of. This year leans all the way into a Hawaiian theme, which the neighborhood will commit to with a seriousness bordering on competitive. The crowd is Filipino, Mexican, Japanese, Chamorro, Vietnamese, and every other community that made this the most genuinely multicultural corner of San Diego.
Camino Ruiz, a Saturday in October, free.
This is not the festival you drive across town for because the marketing was good. It is the one your neighbor has been telling you about for three years.
Every neighborhood has one day a year when the main road closes and everybody discovers they have been living next door to someone who makes extraordinary lumpia.
In Mira Mesa that day falls on the first Saturday of October, and after twenty-six years families plan their autumn around it. Camino Ruiz closes end to end and fills with more than three hundred vendors: handmade goods, food from everywhere, live entertainment on multiple stages, and the kind of kids' activities that convince a child streets were always meant to be walked down the middle of. This year leans all the way into a Hawaiian theme, which the neighborhood will commit to with a seriousness bordering on competitive. The crowd is Filipino, Mexican, Japanese, Chamorro, Vietnamese, and every other community that made this the most genuinely multicultural corner of San Diego.
Camino Ruiz, a Saturday in October, free.
This is not the festival you drive across town for because the marketing was good. It is the one your neighbor has been telling you about for three years.