From San Diego to Seattle: Riding Little Dragon’s Tracks

In September 2023, I went through a big life transition and closed a fifteen-year chapter of my life. It was a time filled with grief, uncertainty, and quiet beginnings. My marriage had ended, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I stood completely alone—with no map, no rhythm, and no idea what came next.

But I had music. Specifically, I had Little Dragon.

Their music had long been part of my life since I first discovered them in 2008; and in the fall of 2023, it became a lifeline, a steady heartbeat, a source of light in the fog. Something in Yukimi’s voice and the band’s ethereal, genre-blending sound felt like it understood me in a way few people could.

So I followed it.

I booked my first-ever solo trip from Austin to the West Coast to see Little Dragon perform. I’ve seen them several times over the years (never missed an Austin show!), but this time was going to be different. The first night of my trip, I saw them at House of Blues in San Diego-by myself. I stood among strangers, yet I felt less alone than I had in months. Each beat, each lyric, seemed to pull pieces of me back into place.

But I didn’t stop there. 

I boarded a train along the coast, watching the ocean blur by as I made my way to Los Angeles on Amtrak's Pacific Surfliner. Their next show at the Hollywood Palladium was another electric, transformative night. It was like I was tracing a line of sound through the geography of my healing.

Two weeks out from my trip, I decided to cancel my flight home from LA, and I booked an overnight train ride on Amtrak's scenic Coast Starlight. From LA to Seattle, it hugs the California coastline for a good stretch and then cuts through dramatic mountain ranges, dense forests, and charming Pacific Northwest towns.  There’s something incredibly symbolic about sleeping on a train, moving forward even as you rest. Somewhere between the stations and the stars, I let go of what I was carrying. 

That trip changed me. It wasn’t just about seeing a band I love. It was about finding myself in the spaces between songs, in unfamiliar cities, in the courage it took to sit with pain and still keep going. It was beautiful, emotional and empowering. 

Fast forward to present day May 1, 2025 (my birthday!)... I’m getting ready to board a plane from Austin to San Diego—back to the same venue where I saw my favorite musician live. This time, Yukimi is performing her first solo album, and I’m showing up as someone who’s grown, changed, and lived a lot of life since that night. Grateful for the music that’s carried me, the memories that still echo, and the chance to be here again—with a full heart and open ears.