In the 1980s, the city of Pembroke Pines adopted a curious slogan: “Join Us – Progress with a Heart.” Somewhere between a mall directory and a therapy mantra, it hinted at what Pembroke Pines would become—Florida’s sprawling suburbia with soul. A place where flamingos outnumber tourists, and where every third driveway seems to have a mango tree that’s been in the family longer than the car.
Today, Pembroke Pines is one of Florida’s most populous cities, but it rarely makes the travel brochures. And that’s exactly why it’s worth exploring. Beneath its grid of cul-de-sacs, pastel shopping plazas, and basketball courts lies a web of urban wetlands, family-run bakeries, art murals, and stories so strange and grounded they could only happen here.
Start your visit at the Chapel Trail Nature Preserve, a 450-acre slice of swampy heaven hidden behind chain restaurants and retail plazas. A mile-long boardwalk cuts through sawgrass marshes and cypress strands where herons, egrets, and the occasional alligator keep watch. Bring binoculars. Bring bug spray. And bring a moment of silence, because out here, the city’s hum fades into the rustle of reeds and dragonfly wings.
Nearby, CB Smith Park is a Pembroke Pines staple—less wilderness, more family fairground. There’s a water park (yes, with lazy river), batting cages, a campground, and shaded picnic groves where kids wobble on rented bikes and grandmas fry pastelitos under giant oaks. In March, the park hosts the South Florida Garlic Fest, a gloriously pungent celebration of food, music, and vampire deterrence.
But if you’re looking for the soul of Pembroke Pines, head indoors—specifically, to The Frank C. Ortis Art Gallery and Exhibit Hall, known locally as The Frank. This free contemporary space is tucked inside City Hall (naturally) and hosts rotating exhibitions of South Florida artists, student showcases, interactive installations, and the occasional poetry slam. The vibe is accessible, unpretentious, and sneakily excellent. It’s not Wynwood. It’s wider. And quieter. And better curated.
Of course, no trip to Pembroke Pines is complete without paying tribute to its most famous former residents: the flamingos. From the 1950s to the early 2000s, the now-shuttered Flamingo Groves nursery just west of Pines Boulevard was home to hundreds of free-roaming flamingos that wandered the grounds like overconfident pink lawn ornaments. The birds have since moved on (some to zoos, some to legend), but you’ll still find flamingo imagery on murals, park signs, and souvenir T-shirts if you look close enough.
Hungry? Start at Moises Bakery, a family-run Venezuelan spot tucked into an unassuming strip mall. Their cachitos (ham-filled croissants) and golfeados (sticky buns with cheese) are legendary. For lunch, try Tambo Grill, a low-key Peruvian eatery with ceviche that could cure a bad day. Want something decadent? Capriccio’s Ristorante serves old-school Italian with the kind of white-tablecloth flair that practically demands you order dessert.
For dinner with a side of neon nostalgia, try Brimstone Woodfire Grill in The Shops at Pembroke Gardens. It’s upscale but approachable, and the steaks come sizzling. Afterward, wander the outdoor plaza, where kids play in fountains and couples sip iced cortados under string lights.
Looking for a place to sleep? Pembroke Pines is a land of trusted chains and hidden Airbnb gems. Try the Fairfield Inn & Suites for comfort and centrality, or go a bit luxe with Margaritaville Hollywood Beach Resort—just 20 minutes east, and worth the drive for rooftop sunsets and a poolside bar that turns every drink into a vacation. For a quieter stay, plenty of canal-front homes in west Pembroke offer screened lanais, bird calls at dawn, and backyard docks built for thinking.
A few numbers to impress your companions:
• Pembroke Pines is Florida’s 11th-largest city, with over 170,000 residents.
• The city has 28 parks, totaling nearly 1,300 acres of green space.
• Chapel Trail Preserve is home to over 120 species of wildlife, including limpkins, otters, and the elusive snail kite.
• The name “Pembroke” comes from an early English land grant, though no one agrees on which Pembroke it referenced.
Want to feel like a local? Go to Mazza Mediterranean Cuisine for lunch on a Sunday, then hit Pembroke Lakes Mall for what locals call “AC walking”—the act of pretending to shop while secretly just escaping the heat. Alternatively, take a slow drive down Sheridan Street just before dusk. Windows down. Radio low. Watch the sky go lavender over the rooftops and wonder how a place this big can still feel so hidden.
And here’s the thing about Pembroke Pines: it doesn’t need to impress you. It’s not flashy like Miami. It’s not artsy like St. Pete. It’s not historic like St. Augustine. But it lives. It hums. It throws block parties and teaches salsa in rec centers. It cares deeply about basketball leagues and where the best arepas are sold.
It’s the kind of place where kids grow up playing flag football in CB Smith Park and later bring their own kids back for the same. Where seniors gather for dominoes, and high schoolers paint murals on the library wall. Where the trees are trimmed, the sidewalks are clean, and the local news covers school fundraisers like they’re the Oscars.
So no, Pembroke Pines won’t show up on many “Top 10 Must-See Florida Destinations” lists. But maybe that’s its secret. It doesn’t need you to visit. But if you do? It just might grow on you like a banyan root—quiet, patient, and tangled up in something real.
