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You're standing on a clean white pavement. To your left is a roll of palm trees.

They're deep green fronds rustled together in the gentle wind.

The sunlight reflects off the fronds, tracing silver outlines along their ragged edges.

The lanky shadows of the palm trees dance all around your own.

You follow their rhythmic motions with your gaze.

A gust of wind makes one shadow sway, leading your gaze toward a set of train tracks a few feet away.

Behind you is a white Spanish-style building.

Its facade is marked by elegant arches that lead to a bell tower perched to top the roof.

Atop the bell tower is a tile dome. The tiles are green and yellow and shine as the light hits them.

Above the arches, a sign bears the words, train station, and fanciful wooden lettering.

It's the main station in San Diego, the southernmost city in California.

And this is where your journey begins.

Often the distance, you hear the faint call of a train whistle.

The rhythmic sound of its wheels on the track slowly fades into perception as it rounds a corner

and comes into view.

The chug of the engine grows louder, but slower.

The nose of the train is painted robin's egg blue against a brilliant silver background,

...