Lost in Union Station

Los Angeles residents can board the commuter rail, Amtrak, and find buses parked outside of our Union Station? This information on public transit eluded my mom, a fifty something year resident of the suburbs, as well as a real estate agent, and me, an eighteen year inhabitant. Clearly, with an additional crutch of exhaustion from the final long ride and sleep on the train, trying to find each other in this “Last of the Great Railway Stations” posed a problem.

Many inquire on my knowledge of LA as if I lived downtown, or as if LA displayed a similar layout to New York. Growing up as a kid, many years before a car, qualifications to drink, and access to an extensive public transportation system, my experience extended to my home town, four other surrounding areas, and four further set satellite cities. Downtown, only reachable by a thirty minute drive, did not make the list.

Off the train with my Crippled Suitcase and no mom; hopefully this dying cell phone can keep up. Finally she called and the goose chase began. “What do you see?” “Arches” “I see a big brass balls.” “The ones to my left are cement. There are lots of buses.” “I don’t see buses.” “Why don’t you follow one and find me.” “That’s ridiculous. I know where you are walk to the corner.” “There is no corner, just an on ramp from the freeway.” “Do you see a big clock.” “No!” “Well, go find it and I’ll be there.”

Great. Back into the train station and down the escalator I go. A holiday band on break kindly pointed the way to this “big clock” and with a deliberate walk, I fought commuter rail crowds exiting the trains. The tunnel opened on a huge waiting room, with islands of padded chairs under a towering ceiling, surrounded by ornate trim. After thirty days, I thought I saw so much that my ability to feel disbelief dissipated, but here I stood in my own big city, amazed.

My phone rang again as my bag rolled out of the waiting room into the lobby, “Mom, I’m not outside yet.” “Well when you do go right.” This walk from front to back took much longer than expected. Finally, out the door with the clock, passed the waiting cars and taxis, my mom’s car waited and it felt good to be back, especially with the blue skies and seventy degree weather. Mommy! Yes, I’ll be soaking it up while I can, for back to Boston after the New Year I go for another round.

And it's time for breakfast.

Audio: The Train

Click Here to Hear the Train

Photos: Last Stop

Photos: Palatki

Photo: Devil's Bridge

Vortex or Roundabout

A map of Sedona lay out on the marble counter, with expected symbols littering its surface. Trails ventured off of roads, rock formation drawings illustrated scale, and a little v appeared multiple times. V was not for vendetta, however the answer from the key did not provide a more logical answer.

Vortexes exist in Sedona, something noted with an open mind and shot of tequila. Claims characterize these areas as spiritually uplifting, resulting from the energy emitted by Earth. Though not particularly planned into the itinerary, one of these sites exists at Cathedral Rock, a popular rock formation in Sedona. And so we went to hike up for the view and see what waited at this site.

Cathedral Rock towers over the southern part of Sedona; brush and shrubs fill the landscape climbing up red rock and crawling across stretches of terrain. The hike did not pose any real difficulty as we stepped up carved footholds and followed piles of rocks marking the cleared path. Expectations did not bubble inside as we approached the vortex, but a general curiosity loomed. Finally! The top…

Maybe like my map, a marker would indicate the presence of the vortex. However, the only writing available contained names of people who conquer the trail. Let’s see – Stephanie, MK+KL, Kayla (heart) David, CK+CJ, Richie- lots of love and equations but no sign of a vortex. Everything seemed expected, except the remarkable view, absolute silence, and hum of the wind. Vortex or not, Cathedral rock as an experience surpassed the promise of unknown vibrations.

If not there, vortexes must be somewhere else! Man figured out how to manufacture everything from surfing to snow; vortexes should be a breeze. While driving out of Sedona up the 89, cars entered a man made vortex and began driving around in a circle. Peculiar- some pulled out to go on their way, while others entered from all directions, only warned by the sign with three arrows in a circle. Luckily, we went through untouched and chugged along to the next vortex before spinning our wheels to bust out of town. Though a common occurrence on the East Coast, truthfully I never liked roundabouts.

Photos: Views of Sedona