A young asian girl embarks on a train trip through America

Zephyr, Greek God of the gentle West wind

Time is so strange, such a blank template, a void to fill.

I’m going east, across deserts, valleys, lakes, mountains, and fields across America by train for four days and three nights. And I don’t wait for anyone. I’ve once slept with roaches, showered with a toad, and used a toilet in the ground, but this... this is a luxury.

Prior to this trip, I have been very fortunate to spend three days with my family in San Francisco, CA. I’ve been wanting to make this trip ever since my adventurer idol Eva zu Beck embarked it. I thought—why not take the train straight to New York afterwards? So, I told my siblings about my plan, to which they shrugged it off, I then booked a one-way ticket for one.

(I’d tell my mother the evening before I leave, because I knew she would discourage me. Needless to say when I broke the news on the last dinner in California, she did not take it well. I was going anyway.)

Day 1

The California Zephyr train trudges down the tracks in Emeryville, California. The ground rumbles beneath me, and bells ding and horns blare from the train. A conductor sticks his head out the window.

I thought of Tom Hanks. Not only was he the Polar Express conductor but also Forrest Gump running across America. Then, I thought of Harry Potter and the Hogwarts train, a youngster embarking on an adventure. Finally I thought of Julia Roberts from Eat, Pray, Love, how much I longed to live her life. Perhaps it’s the Gen Z in me, but fictional characters portrayed in media have been the closest I’ve felt to anyone, really. They have worlds and words written about their lives—I think I know them. I spend time with them than most people. Maybe that’s why I like writing. I’m never alone.

I choose a coach seat in the last car of the train and settle down. It’s my bed for the first two days. So far, it’s comfortable, and I have plenty of leg room. No one sits beside me, and the train is pretty much empty, save for ten other coach passengers.

The San Pablo Bay bids me farewell and bon voyage, then the Suisan Slough with its iron bridges set the ominous tone for the rest of my journey. London Grammar’s Californian Soil replays in my headphones. Then, coming into view, deciduous orange and brown foliage among timeless evergreens dapple my imaginative spirit. A creative soaking in energy, a plant opening up its leaves and roots for nutrients. I sat frozen, throat parched. I’d find water later. But the view had already quite replenished me, as if it were hydration itself.

California Soil by London Grammar

Day 2

Last night, I was a bird in my dreams, soaring parallel to the slope of the tree-topped hills into the sky.

“Try not to get too lost in your thoughts,” my brother warns me before sending me off the day before. Oh, but that is inevitable. When confronted with the vastness of your thoughts as displayed in an expansive landscape, you are bound to be lost in your mind. The metaphor of how trains and train stations mimic the path of where human agency and fate takes us have been staring me in the face for a long while. They ask hard questions. I don’t have the words to answer them. So, I ask myself if they are even the right questions to ask.

Too much mush, too much thinking. Bring it back to the surface, Thi.

So, I observe then the trees, the people, the sky, the sun, and listen to the rumbling of the train. The speckled red hills with forest green shrubs and bushes scorch my face, and my expression is hard. There is a calm, that hum in which Shonda Rhimes talks about. I’m thinking of my un-launched career.

I thought of the things I enjoyed doing. With insignificant viable experiences in my career, I had nothing to offer to Hollywood executives and the industry. All I knew was that I wanted to do my own thing, my own way. It was hard enough to feel as if shot down in undergraduate film studies when sitting at the writing table. Where are the asian voices in media? Where are my people? Where can I find them? When there are so many intersectionalities at play, how do I feel heard?

I accepted long ago that I probably wouldn’t have the answers. And that’s okay. Most importantly, I refused to be lost.

Day 3

I woke with a jolt and sat straight up, forgetting where I was. I opened the window blinds to find the most vibrant blue and pink sky.

Last night’s unexpected standstill in the middle of Hudson, CO delayed our train. I was getting anxious and eager to continue my journey. Again, with the metaphors.. we always want to be going somewhere, right?

I slept and thought a lot. Lots of farmland. I walked twenty steps over to the next train, and it moved within two minutes. Talk about cutting it short …

Day 4 - New York State of Mind

In the last leg of 80+ hours, I cruised down the Hudson River at sundown. I put on my new sleek, black dress shoes to get ready to walk in New York. I was ready.

I made it to NYC. I got out of Penn Station, then into Grand Central Terminal, then walked around the 9/11 memorial.

I then marched via the PATH station to Jersey City, where my brother offered a night stay. I took a much needed shower, walked to nearest CVS to get an instant microwavable meal and Ben & Jerry’s. I didn’t have a spoon, so I just squeezed the carton and ate as it was.

I swung open the tall window to see the lit Manhattan skyline. I am living so many people’s dreams…

I made it. I made it. I made it. Just when the journey ends, another one begins.