The ride from Albuquerque, NM to Seattle, WA takes three nights and about four days on the train. Here is much faster version of that trip. (And yes, I did make the music for this as well.)

If yesterday’s travel fiasco was about exposure to random chance and chaos, today’s journey was about safety and security. From the moment we climbed aboard our sleeper car and ensconced ourselves in bedroom B, we have been living like princes.


The Amtrak’s Coast Starlight is a fantastic affair, the closest thing to luxury travel as many of us are likely to get. There is, of course, the Pacific Parlour car, a refurbished dome/lounge car from the old Santa Fe Railroad. (For those of you who came to our wedding, our FUN train was an early version if what would become the PPC.) There is also a dining car serving three meals a day (I had a fork tender lamb shank for dinner; Tim had a steak) including desserts (the chocolate mousse cake was yummy, but the red velvet cake was a little pushy and we ended up in a fairly heated argument). And of course there are the views. Our one full day started with a brief glimpse of snow covered, mist shrouded Mount Shasta and ended with sunset over the Columbia River. In between, there were forests, the Cascade range, and the mighty Wilamette.

Thanks to the magic of Amtrak Guest Rewards, we were able to get a Superliner Bedroom. As fabulous as it sounds, the SB provides a couch big enough to accommodate two sprawled out human forms, and two huge windows through which you can watch the world scroll by. There are buttons and knobs, secret compartments, and beds that descend out of the ceiling. And of course there is the mighty shoilet, complete with piping hot water and indigo blue night light. Slide the door shut and the Coast Starlight’s Superliner Bedroom becomes something else entirely; part spaceship, part submarine, part womb with a view.

Thank you Amtrak for another lovely trip!

Yesterday, I foolishly wondered what would happen if the Southwest Chief was so late that we missed our connection in L.A. Honestly, it seemed like such an innocent question; as speculative as wondering what might happen if I found a magic ring or a secret doorway hidden behind a patch of ivy. As far as I can remember, Tim said something about a “guaranteed connection.” He might have mumbled something about a bus, but I was so busy formulating my next sentence — “well that’s not going to happen anyway, so why even worry about it? — to pay close attention.

You see where this is going. At eight o’clock in the morning, we were woken by our car attendant, Evan. He informed us that our train had been delayed throughout the night and that if we were lucky, they would hold the Coast Starlight until we arrived in LA. When we went for breakfast in the dining room, our waiter Scott told us that in all likelihood, we would miss our connection and we would be forced to take a bus to catch the Coast Starlight somewhere up north. Later, as I was entering the shower/toilet booth (or the shoilet, as Tim calls it), a disembodied voice came over the intercom, letting us know that all passengers heading north to Seattle would be detraining in San Bernadino, catching a bus to Bakersfield, and then boarding a California Amtrak commuter train that would take us to Martinez, where we would finally catch up with the magnificent Coast Starlight.

Tim was nonplussed. We would be missing all the gorgeousness between LA and Martinez! no breakfast on Olveras Street, no gawking at LA’s Union Staton. no visit with the old Fig Tree at the Santa Barbara Station, no sea lions or surfers frolicking in the Pacific Ocean.

But what could be done? We, and all of our fellow northbound travelers, got off at San Bernadino and crammed ourselves onto a bus bound for Bakersfield. We crested Cajon Pass, a famous railroaders landmark, and arrived in Bakersfield with barely enough time to catch the northbound San Joaquin, Train 715. While searching for and hefting our luggage, we were unceremoniously hooted and hollered at by various Amtrak representatives. “You better hurry up!” “The train is about to leave in a couple or minutes!”


In case you are an Amtrak representative and you want to know, such exhortations are not helpful in the least. What frazzled, worried, disgruntled passengers want to hear are words of assurance and comfort. “Yes, this is the train you are supposed to board.” “We can’t check your luggage here, but we’ll be happy to help you get it to the baggage area!” or even a cheery, “you’re doing great!” All of this “Hurry up!” and “You’re going to miss the train and then what are you going to do?!” hair on fire business makes everybody uncomfortable.

One fellow passenger, a woman dressed in items purchased at a world market, lost her shit while carrying her bags from the bus to the train. “What!? They’re not going to check our bags?” she screeched. She looked to Tim and myself in search of support and shared indignation. I averted my eyes and followed Tim wordlessly. As we situated ourselves, she kept making eye contact and flashing a look of deep and abiding exasperation. I kept thinking to myself, “what will it take for this woman t realize I’m ignoring her? How much more averted can my eyes possibly be!?”
You see, although this unexpected and innocently predicted diversion was annoying, it was familiar as well. For at its essence, traveling is going forth to meet uncertainty head on. You hope that your plane will arrive on time, you hope your hotel won’t have bedbugs, you hope that you’ll find a gas station before your car stops working. But all of those hopes add up to exactly nothing when an engine decides to break down or your train is brought to a standstill by freight traffic bottle-necking as it heads to LA. And one of the lessons of a traveling life is that what makes it spectacular is not its predictability; The very thing that transforms life into adventure is uncertainty! without it, we drown in routine.

What do I do now? Whose advice do I listen to? What are my options? How much control do I have? These questions informed our second day on the train, just as they inform all of our lives. Traveling allows us some practice time with them; gives us a chance to test drive potential answers. And if you do it often enough, you emerge from the chaos and unpredictability with confidence, adaptability, resilience, and flexibility.

Or, I suppose, you could end up bitter and angry, outraged at how nothing turned out the way you wanted or expected it to; perennially disappointed by the pearls thrown upon the mud before you.

We never saw our angry co-passenger again. but I am willing to bet that when she tells the story of her travels, what she’ll talk about are not the hours of peace, beauty, and calm that she enjoyed once she boarded the Coast Starlight. Instead, she’ll tell her friends and family (perhaps through a blog post much like this one) about the crazy day where nothing went right but everything turned out just fine.

in the second-hand light of the full moon, the desert looks like the ocean floor. bioluminescent creatures slide through the darkness. a swarm. a school. a city.

the #3 southwest chief lost an engine outside of lamy, NM and was delayed for close to three hours. cold and windy though it was, Tim and I chose to wait on the platform rather than in the overcrowded waiting room. eventually we gave up and went for coffee.

there are millions of variants of mac and cheese and many of them suffer from one or more of the following defects:


1. too dry ~ take a perfectly delicious looking, creamy mac and cheese and toss it in the oven for 45 minutes and you end up with a dry rind of a thing.
2. boring taste profile ~ i, like most americans, am a firm believer in the power of cheese. this is no excuse to rely solely on cheese to give this dish its oomph.
3. too too too ~ in the desire to differentiate one mac and cheese recipe from all the rest, people often succumb to the lure fanciness. white truffle oil or morel mushrooms or other such pretentious nonsense are absurd.


this recipe is my attempt to make a mac and cheese that addresses all of these concerns. it is at once creamy, and full of distinct, humble and complementary flavors. if you have the mac and cheese itch, this recipe has a delicious and satisfying scratch.


middlebrow green chile mac and cheese


16 oz. of rigatoni
4T butter
1/2 onion, finely chopped
7 oz. cream cheese
2T flour
1/4 C roasted green chiles
1/3 C cilantro, finely chopped
2t grated lemon zest
8 oz. muenster cheese
3 oz. sharp cheddar cheese, grated
salt to taste
additional 1-1 1/2 C of milk


directions:


1. boil rigatoni (or some other pasta big enough to withstand the dairy onslaught) until al dente. drain, rinse with cold water.
2. while pasta boils, sauté chopped onion in butter over low/medium heat until it becomes translucent and aromatic and the butter becomes clear, about 10 min.
3. add flour and cook for 1-2 minutes.
4. add milk and stir.
5. add cream cheese and muenster cheese. add chopped green chile heat without boiling until cheese melts and the sauce is creamy.
6. add cilantro and lemon zest, stir and remove from heat.


assembly:


add cooked pasta to sauce and mix until evenly distributed. at this point, if you would like a creamier mac and cheese you may add up to 1 C milk and stir to incorporate. you want it creamy, not watery, so go slowly.
pour pasta and sauce into casserole dish and top with grated cheddar cheese. if you’d like, sprinkle with paprika or cayenne pepper.

place dish under broiler and turn oven to broil. watch carefully. wait until cheddar cheese has melted and formed a golden brown crust. remove and serve hot.


yummy! the crispy/chewy/cheesy crust contrasts nicely with the creamy sauce and with the slight toothiness of the rigatoni. broiling, rather than baking, preserves the moisture and fullness of the sauce.


each of the supporting flavors enhance and complement the essential cheesiness; the roasted green chile adding depth and the lemon zest providing a lightness that keeps this dish from feeling overly rich or greasy. the cilantro plays nicely with the rest of the flavors sometimes in the background, sometimes front and center. and despite the richness and complexity, it still manages to be pure mac and cheese; comfort food at its absolute best.

after a stop in downtown wilmington to meet a dear friend’s mother for the first time, we quit wilmington and head out to emerald island where we check out the ocean and hoop creek and have some bojangles. we end up in new bern, nc, birthplace of pepsi-cola.

we meet the lovely mrs. l.

emerald isle, nc

winter afternoon beach

Tim and the old tree

sunset near hoop creek

new bern, nc at night

Christmas lights and moon

sky sunset sand

golden light

sunset on emerald isle

and here is a panorama of downtown new bern, right out front of the pepsi-cola storefront.

it was our first time visiting wilmington, nc and it is quite the charming little southern colonial town. beautiful old buildings, a healthy and vibrant downtown, and a short drive to the ocean. despite staying in a ramada inn set smack dab in the middle of urban sprawl, we enjoyed our time there immensely.

here are a couple of panoramae. the first was made in greenfield park, along the bird thick shores of greenfield lake. we circumnavigated the shores of the lake, crossing paths with joggers, egrets, and the occasional closeted military man out cruising for some hot man-on-man action…i mean, why else would the same guy keep driving past us with no shirt on, staring intently?



the second was made at wrightsville beach just after sunset. even though the sky was darkening, there were still a bunch of surfers frolicking in the water, trying to squeeze the last drops of joy out of the day. there’s some footage of them in the video below…



this audio recording was also made at wrightsville beach:



here are some random photos taken around wilmington and wrightsville beach.

all of these photos, panoramae and sounds were recorded on december 9, 2011, day 70 of my daily video journal project. here’s what this day’s entry in this infernal project looks like:

oh yeah! at the end of that video, you see a bunch of people filing into historic thalian hall to watch a community theater production of the sound of music. while video recording and photography during the performance was strictly verboten, i managed to sneak in a little audio recording…i think maria would have appreciated this minor act of rebellion. anyway, here’s a snippet of that performance.

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