STM Blog
Why I Want to Take the Train from Phoenix to Los Angeles—Even If It’s Not Easy
The author expresses a deep love for train travel, particularly the Amtrak routes. Despite Phoenix lacking direct Amtrak service, the longing for a train journey from Phoenix to Los Angeles remains strong. The experience of transitioning from desert landscapes to the California coast symbolizes the possibilities of enhancing passenger rail connectivity in the region.
I’ve always loved trains.
Not just as transportation, but as an idea: the rhythm of the rails, the slow reveal of landscapes you’d never notice from 35,000 feet, the sense that the journey itself actually matters. That’s why every time I read about Amtrak’s Sunset Limited, especially its long sweep across the Southwest, I can’t help but think the same thing:
I wish I could take the train from Phoenix to Los Angeles—and then ride the Pacific Surfliner.
The Arizona Reality: Close, But Not Quite
Here’s the catch that every Arizona rail fan knows too well: Phoenix doesn’t have direct Amtrak service.
Why I Want to Take the Train from Phoenix to Los Angeles – STM Daily News Podcast
The Sunset Limited does cross southern Arizona, stopping in places like Yuma, Tucson, Benson, and Maricopa. Maricopa is technically the closest Amtrak station serving the Phoenix metro area—but it’s about 30 miles south of downtown, meaning a car ride or bus connection is still required.
It’s a small detail, but it matters. Phoenix is the fifth-largest city in the United States, yet if I want to ride Amtrak west to Los Angeles, I first have to leave the city by road just to board the train.
Still, even with that inconvenience, the idea is hard to shake.
Boarding the Sunset Limited
The Sunset Limited is one of Amtrak’s most historic long-distance routes, running from Los Angeles to New Orleans. In Arizona, it cuts through desert landscapes that feel timeless—wide skies, distant mountains, and towns that grew up alongside the railroad itself.
This isn’t high-speed rail. It’s not flashy. It’s slow, deliberate travel, the kind that lets you sit back, watch the desert roll by, and remember that the Southwest was built on rail long before interstates and budget airlines.
From Maricopa or Tucson, the train heads west toward California, crossing into the Imperial Valley before arriving in Los Angeles.
The Real Dream: Connecting to the Surfliner
For me, Los Angeles isn’t the end of the line—it’s the gateway.
Once in LA, I’d love to step off the Sunset Limited and transfer to the Pacific Surfliner, one of the most scenic passenger rail routes in the country. From there, the journey hugs the coastline through Santa Barbara, Ventura, Orange County, and San Diego, offering ocean views that feel almost unreal from a train window.
That connection—from Arizona desert to California coastline—feels like the perfect expression of what passenger rail does best. You don’t just arrive somewhere. You experience the transition.
Why This Matters
This isn’t just about nostalgia or being a train enthusiast.
It’s about options.
Rail travel offers something planes and highways don’t: accessibility, comfort, and a sense of continuity between communities. The fact that Phoenix still lacks direct passenger rail service feels like a missed opportunity—not just for travelers like me, but for the region as a whole.
Every time stories circulate about the Sunset Limited or long-distance Amtrak routes, they remind me that the bones of a better rail network already exist. What’s missing is the will to connect major cities like Phoenix directly into that system.
Someday Soon?
I still hope that one day, taking the train from Phoenix to Los Angeles won’t require a workaround. Until then, the Sunset Limited remains both a real option—and a symbol of what could be.
Because if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s this:
If I ever get the chance to roll out of Arizona by rail, connect in LA, and ride the Surfliner along the Pacific, I’ll be on that train—camera ready, coffee in hand, watching the country unfold exactly the way it’s meant to be seen.
Coming Soon: Travel Stories from STM Daily News
Travel is more than getting from one place to another—it’s about how we experience the journey. In the weeks ahead, STM Daily News will be sharing new travel stories that explore rail routes, regional history, overlooked connections, and the human side of movement across the Southwest and beyond.
From passenger rail reflections and historic routes to modern transit challenges and scenic journeys worth slowing down for, our upcoming coverage looks at travel as culture, infrastructure, and lived experience.
Coming Soon: Travel Stories from STM Daily News
Travel is more than getting from one place to another—it’s about how we experience the journey. In the weeks ahead, STM Daily News will be sharing new travel stories that explore rail routes, regional history, overlooked connections, and the human side of movement across the Southwest and beyond.
From passenger rail reflections and historic routes to modern transit challenges and scenic journeys worth slowing down for, our upcoming coverage looks at travel as culture, infrastructure, and lived experience.
Follow along at STM Travels as we continue to explore the roads—and rails—that shape how we move.
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STM Blog
Why Gen Z and millennial consumers feel disillusioned — and how they can drive real change
Many Gen Z shoppers express frustration that their values around climate action, racial justice, and corporate ethics are often overlooked, leading to skepticism about the efficacy of individual actions like ethical consumption. Instead, a focus on collective action and civic engagement, alongside strategic purchasing, may foster more meaningful change.
Eugene Y. Chan, Toronto Metropolitan University
Walk into any classroom, scroll through TikTok or sit in on a Gen Z focus group, and you’ll hear a familiar refrain: “We care, but nothing changes.”
Across climate action, racial justice and corporate ethics, many young people feel their values are out of sync with the systems around them and are skeptical that their voices, votes and dollars alone can address deep systemic problems.
If you feel this way, you’re not alone. But are young consumers truly powerless? Or are they simply navigating a new kind of influence that’s more diffuse, digital and demanding in ways previous generations did not experience?
No one’s 20s and 30s look the same. You might be saving for a mortgage or just struggling to pay rent. You could be swiping dating apps, or trying to understand childcare. No matter your current challenges, our Quarter Life series has articles to share in the group chat, or just to remind you that you’re not alone.
Read more from Quarter Life:
- Feel like you can’t get a job? You’re not alone — but here’s how to work around it
- Moving abroad in your 20s can leave you with two identities – here’s how to cope
- ‘I have multiple side-hustles … It’s exhausting’: the challenges facing young freelance creatives
The rise of political consumerism
Political consumerism — the act of buying or boycotting products for political or ethical reasons — is on the rise among younger generations.
A 2023 study found that 81 per cent of Gen Z consumers report changing purchasing decisions based on a brand’s reputation or actions, with 53 per cent having participated in economic boycotts.
A 2022 meta-analysis of 66 studies found that political consumerism is strongly associated with liberal ideology, political interest and media use. In other words, young people who are politically engaged are increasingly using their wallets to express their values.
For many young people, consumption is increasingly an expression of identity and belief. The rise of “lifestyle politics” involves a shift from traditional forms of participation like voting or protesting to everyday acts. For many Gen Z and millennial consumers, what you buy is who you are.
The limits of ethical consumption
Yet enthusiasm for ethical consumption often meets frustration. Consumers frequently encounter greenwashing, performative allyship and corporate backpedalling.
And if everyone’s “voting with their dollar,” why does so little seem to change? The answer lies in understanding the limits and leverage of consumer power.
Individual action alone isn’t enough. Buying ethically can feel good, but it rarely moves the needle on its own. Research suggests political polarization has made brand preferences more ideologically charged, but also more fragmented. A progressive boycott might spark headlines, but unless it’s sustained and widespread, it often fizzles out.
At the same time, enthusiasm for ethical consumption often runs into practical limits. Buying ethically usually requires extra money and the ability to research brands, so it tends to be most accessible to people with disposable income and good access to information. This means that while many young people strongly support ethical consumption, only those with sufficient financial resources are able to practice it consistently.
Where individual choices fall short, collective action can be more impactful. Co-ordinated campaigns like #GrabYourWallet, which targets companies linked to Donald Trump, or the youth-led push to divest university endowments from fossil fuels demonstrate the power of organized consumer advocacy.
Voting still matters
Consumer activism complements, but does not substitute, traditional civic engagement. Policy shapes markets, regulation sets boundaries for what companies can get away with and elected officials determine what corporations can and cannot do.
Yet voter turnout among young Canadians remains stubbornly low. In the 2021 federal election, only 46.7 per cent of eligible voters aged 18 to 24 cast a ballot, compared to 74.4 per cent of those aged 65 to 74.
In the United States 2020 presidential election, turnout among 18- to 34-year-olds was 57 per cent compared to 74 per cent for those 65 and older.
Simiarly, in the United Kingdom’s 2019 general election, only 53.6 per cent of 18- to 34-year-olds voted versus 77 per cent of those 65 and older, showing the same generational gap seen in Canada where older voters consistently out-participate younger ones.
If young people want to influence climate policy, housing or student debt, the ballot box remains one of their most potent tools.
What actually makes a difference?
So how can young consumers move from performative gestures to meaningful change? Evidence suggests several ways young consumers can translate values into tangible change:
1. Support worker-led movements.
Rather than just boycotting a brand, consider supporting the workers organizing within it. Whether it’s Starbucks baristas unionizing for better labour conditions or garment workers demanding fair wages, consumer solidarity can amplify their efforts. Share their stories and respect their asks so you don’t cross picket lines, including when to boycott and when to buy.
2. Push for policy, not just products.
Advocate for systemic change such as supply chain transparency laws, supporting living wage campaigns or demanding climate disclosures from corporations. When consumer sentiment aligns with regulatory pressure, companies are far more likely to act.
3. Invest in local and co-operative alternatives.
Not all change comes from pressuring big brands. Sometimes, it’s about supporting local businesses, worker co-ops and social enterprises that embed ethics into their structure. These alternatives demonstrate what’s possible and keep money circulating in communities.
4. Educate, organize, repeat.
Change is slow. It requires patience, persistence and people power. It involves educating peers, organizing campaigns and staying engaged even after media cycles fade. Montréal teenager Fatih Amin exemplifies this approach, having built a climate movement through poster campaigns, recycling competitions and Gen Z-focused conferences.
From cynicism to agency
It’s easy to feel cynical. The problems are big, the systems are entrenched and the stakes are high. But young people aren’t powerless. They’re navigating a landscape in which influence is less about individualism and more about strategic, collective action.
Political consumerism is most effective when paired with civic engagement and organizational membership. That means joining movements, building coalitions and recognizing that real change rarely comes from the checkout line alone.
So while individual choices matter, they are most effective when combined with collective action and civic engagement. If you’re seeking meaningful change, you must combine purchasing choices with organized campaigns, policy advocacy and voting.
Eugene Y. Chan, Marketing Professor, Toronto Metropolitan University
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
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Entertainment
Catherine O’Hara and the Late-Night TV That Stayed With Me
A personal reflection on watching Catherine O’Hara on SCTV during late-night television and how those early performances shaped a lifelong love of character-driven comedy.
Catherine O’Hara and the Late-Night TV That Shaped a Generation of Comedy Fans
From a personal point of view, one of my earliest memories of Catherine O’Hara doesn’t come from a movie theater or a prime-time sitcom. It comes from the quiet glow of late-night television, long after most of the house had gone to sleep.
As a youngster, I remember staying up late enough to catch Second City Television (SCTV), which aired after Saturday Night Live and Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert. That meant it didn’t come on until around 1:30 a.m. Pacific Time, deep into Saturday night and early Sunday morning. Even at that young age, I knew I was watching something different. The humor felt sharper, stranger, and somehow smarter — and Catherine O’Hara stood out immediately.
Even before I understood why it was funny, I understood that it mattered.
Late-Night Television as a Classroom
Looking back now, it’s clear that late-night television quietly shaped my taste in comedy. SCTV didn’t feel like it was aiming for the widest possible audience. It felt like it trusted the viewer to catch up. Catherine O’Hara’s performances weren’t just about delivering punchlines — they were about inhabiting characters completely, no matter how absurd, subtle, or offbeat they were.
That kind of comedy asks you to pay attention. And for a kid watching far past his bedtime, it was oddly captivating. I didn’t have the vocabulary for “character work” or “commitment to the bit,” but I recognized authenticity when I saw it. O’Hara had it in abundance.
Seeing the Through-Line Years Later
As the years went on, Catherine O’Hara kept showing up in new places — and each time, something clicked. In Beetlejuice, there was that same fearless weirdness. In Home Alone, she brought warmth and panic and humanity to what could have easily been a one-note role. She grounded the chaos without ever dulling it.
Then came Schitt’s Creek. By the time Moira Rose entered our cultural vocabulary, it felt less like a reinvention and more like a full-circle moment. The bold choices, the musicality of her voice, the unapologetic commitment — it all traced back to those SCTV performances from decades earlier.
Moira Rose didn’t come out of nowhere — she came from years of late nights, sharp instincts, and fearless comedy.
Why Those Early Moments Matter
What I didn’t realize at the time was that those 1:30 a.m. viewings were teaching me how to appreciate comedy that lingered. Not everything had to land immediately. Not every joke needed a laugh track. Some performances simply stayed with you.
Catherine O’Hara’s work did exactly that. It stayed. Through different decades, formats, and genres, her performances carried a consistency of intelligence and heart. For many of us who grew up sneaking glances at late-night television, she became a familiar presence — someone who trusted the audience enough to go all in.
A Personal Goodbye
With news of her passing, those memories feel closer than ever. Not just of Catherine O’Hara the icon, but of Catherine O’Hara the performer who helped shape how many of us learned to watch comedy. She wasn’t just funny — she was formative.
Late-night television doesn’t always get credit for the role it plays in shaping taste, curiosity, and imagination. But for those of us who were there, watching quietly while the rest of the world slept, it mattered. And Catherine O’Hara was a big part of why.
— STM Daily News
For more on her early career in comedy, see Forbes retrospective on Catherine O’Hara’s career history and influence. [oai_citation:3‡Forbes](https://www.forbes.com/sites/hannahabraham/2026/01/30/how-catherine-ohara-became-beloved-across-three-generations-from-sctv-to-home-alone-to-schitts-creek/?utm_source=chatgpt.com)
Learn about the cultural impact and awards for Schitt’s Creek Schitt’s Creek Wikipedia overview. [oai_citation:4‡Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schitt%27s_Creek?utm_source=chatgpt.com)
See a broad overview of her life and legacy from PBS NewsHour PBS retrospective. [oai_citation:5‡pbs.org](https://www.pbs.org/newshour/arts/catherine-ohara-emmy-winning-actor-and-comedian-of-schitts-creek-fame-dies-at-71?utm_source=chatgpt.com)
Looking for an entertainment experience that transcends the ordinary? Look no further than STM Daily News Blog’s vibrant Entertainment section. Immerse yourself in the captivating world of indie films, streaming and podcasts, movie reviews, music, expos, venues, and theme and amusement parks. Discover hidden cinematic gems, binge-worthy series and addictive podcasts, gain insights into the latest releases with our movie reviews, explore the latest trends in music, dive into the vibrant atmosphere of expos, and embark on thrilling adventures in breathtaking venues and theme parks. Join us at STM Entertainment and let your entertainment journey begin! https://stmdailynews.com/category/entertainment/
and let your entertainment journey begin!
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Nature
What a bear attack in a remote valley in Nepal tells us about the problem of aging rural communities
A 71-year-old in Nepal’s Nubri valley survives repeated bear attacks as youth outmigration and rapid population aging leave fewer people to protect crops and homes—pushing bears closer to villages and raising urgent questions about safety, conservation rules, and rural resilience.
Geoff Childs, Washington University in St. Louis
Dorje Dundul recently had his foot gnawed by a brown bear – a member of the species Ursus thibetanus, to be precise.
It wasn’t his first such encounter. Recounting the first of three such violent experiences over the past five years, Dorje told our research team: “My wife came home one evening and reported that a bear had eaten a lot of corn from the maize field behind our house. So, we decided to shoo it away. While my wife was setting up camp, I went to see how much the bear had eaten. The bear was just sitting there; it attacked me.”
Dorje dropped to the ground, but the bear ripped open his shirt and tore at his shoulder. “I started shouting and the bear ran away. My wife came, thinking I was messing with her, but when she saw the wounds, she knew what had happened.”
Researchers Dolma Choekyi Lama, Tsering Tinley and I spoke with Dorje – a 71-year-old resident of Nubri, a Buddhist enclave in the Nepalese highlands – as part of a three-year study of aging and migration.
Now, you may be forgiven for asking what a bear attack on a septuagenarian has to do with demographic change in Nepal. The answer, however, is everything.
In recent years, people across Nepal have witnessed an increase in bear attacks, a phenomenon recorded in news reports and academic studies.
Inhabitants of Nubri are at the forefront of this trend – and one of the main reasons is outmigration. People, especially young people, are leaving for education and employment opportunities elsewhere. It is depleting household labor forces, so much so that over 75% of those who were born in the valley and are now ages 5 to 19 have left and now live outside of Nubri.
It means that many older people, like Dorje and his wife, Tsewang, are left alone in their homes. Two of their daughters live abroad and one is in the capital, Kathmandu. Their only son runs a trekking lodge in another village.
Scarcity of ‘scarebears’
Until recently, when the corn was ripening, parents dispatched young people to the fields to light bonfires and bang pots all night to ward off bears. The lack of young people acting as deterrents, alongside the abandonment of outlying fields, is tempting bears to forage closer to human residences.
Outmigration in Nubri and similar villages is due in large part to a lack of educational and employment opportunities. The problems caused by the removal of younger people have been exacerbated by two other factors driving a rapidly aging population: People are living longer due to improvements in health care and sanitation; and fertility has declined since the early 2000s, from more than six to less than three births per woman.
These demographic forces have been accelerating population aging for some time, as illustrated by the population pyramid constructed from our 2012 household surveys in Nubri and neighboring Tsum.
A not-so-big surprise, anymore
Nepal is not alone in this phenomenon; similar dynamics are at play elsewhere in Asia. The New York Times reported in November 2025 that bear attacks are on the rise in Japan, too, partly driven by demographic trends. Farms there used to serve as a buffer zone, shielding urban residents from ursine intruders. However, rural depopulation is allowing bears to encroach on more densely populated areas, bringing safety concerns in conflict with conservation efforts.
Dorje can attest to those concerns. When we met him in 2023 he showed us deep claw marks running down his shoulder and arm, and he vowed to refrain from chasing away bears at night.
So in October 2025, Dorje and Tsewang harvested a field before marauding bears could get to it and hauled the corn to their courtyard for safekeeping. The courtyard is surrounded by stone walls piled high with firewood – not a fail-safe barrier but at least a deterrent. They covered the corn with a plastic tarp, and for extra measure Dorje decided to sleep on the veranda.
He described what happened next:
“I woke to a noise that sounded like ‘sharak, sharak.’ I thought it must be a bear rummaging under the plastic. Before I could do anything, the bear came up the stairs. When I shouted, it got frightened, roared and yanked at my mattress. Suddenly my foot was being pulled and I felt pain.”
Dorje suffered deep lacerations to his foot. Trained in traditional Tibetan medicine, he staunched the bleeding using, ironically, a tonic that contained bear liver.
Yet his life was still in danger due to the risk of infection. It took three days and an enormous expense by village standards – equivalent to roughly US$2,000 – before they could charter a helicopter to Kathmandu for further medical attention.
And Dorje is not the only victim. An elderly woman from another village bumped into a bear during a nocturnal excursion to her outhouse. It left her with a horrific slash from forehead to chin – and her son scrambling to find funds for her evacuation and treatment.
So how should Nepal’s highlanders respond to the increase in bear attacks?
Dorje explained that in the past they set lethal traps when bear encroachments became too dangerous. That option vanished with the creation of Manaslu Conservation Area Project, or MCAP, in the 1990s, a federal initiative to manage natural resources that strictly prohibits the killing of wild animals.
Learning to grin and bear it?
Dorje reasons that if MCAP temporarily relaxed the regulation, villagers could band together to cull the more hostile bears. He informed us that MCAP officials will hear nothing of that option, yet their solutions, such as solar-powered electric fencing, haven’t worked.
Dorje is reflective about the options he faces as young people leave the village, leaving older folk to battle the bears alone.
“At first, I felt that we should kill the bear. But the other side of my heart says, perhaps I did bad deeds in my past life, which is why the bear bit me. The bear came to eat corn, not to attack me. Killing it would just be another sinful act, creating a new cycle of cause and effect. So, why get angry about it?”
It remains to be seen how Nubri’s residents will respond to the mounting threats bears pose to their lives and livelihoods. But one thing is clear: For those who remain behind, the outmigration of younger residents is making the perils more imminent and the solutions more challenging.
Dolma Choekyi Lama and Tsering Tinley made significant contributions to this article. Both are research team members on the author’s project on population in an age of migration.
Geoff Childs, Professor of Sociocultural Anthropology, Washington University in St. Louis
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
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