Lifestyle
L.A. Affairs: My ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ life failed. Would returning to L.A. work out this time?
I had just slipped back into bed after our infant daughter’s 4 a.m. feeding when my partner, Sean, turned over and said, “We should go now. I smell smoke.”
Our air-quality monitor leaped from green to yellow. My breath dried my throat.
We hadn’t gotten an evacuation notice yet. “Let’s wait a bit,” I said, as if staying in bed meant the Eaton fire wasn’t real.
In L.A.’s brittle landscape of concrete rectangles and choking freeways, Eaton Canyon, just seven miles from where we live, was a sanctuary to thousands of people. It saved my life many times. And it was now ablaze, with the fire spreading rapidly.
From our dark bedroom, we scanned our phones for information, zooming in and out of the slow-loading Cal Fire evacuation map. The red perimeter pushed against the yellow warning zone that our Eagle Rock house fell under.
The evening before, I’d reported the burned acreage aloud to my partner as LAist updated its website: “400 acres, zero containment.” Then, “800 acres, zero containment,” my voice trembling as if the burn map was of my own skin. The next morning the number of acres on fire had reached the thousands.
I looked at pictures we’d taken at Eaton Canyon on New Year’s Day, a week before the fire: Our baby wrapped against my chest smiling her toothless grin; my feet planted in the stream.
The Arroyo Seco, “dry stream” in Spanish, comes down from the San Gabriel Mountains in Angeles National Forest and runs along the two-lane freeway in Pasadena. In the last few years, this oft-parched waterway gained depth because of unprecedented rainfall. Three inches of water became three feet, and swimming holes appeared.
Eaton Canyon trail hikers showed up in their bathing suits, carrying towels. A waterfall and swimmable creek nestled in a shady canyon is a Southern California unicorn. And it welcomed dogs!
During the pandemic, families, tiny day-camper explorers and the public en masse hit the trails in their masks and basketball sneakers; it suddenly felt like Disneyland. Portable speakers drowned out the creek music. The litter irritated me, as did waiting in line to log-cross the creek. But the crowds also meant something important: Eastside Angelenos had a place to put their fear and worries during a time when we were afraid just to breathe.
I’d started hiking the Altadena trails after my divorce a decade earlier. I offered my loneliness and heartbreak to the live oaks and sycamores, refuse they could make into something useful the same way they convert carbon dioxide into oxygen. Nature became my refuge. It gobbled up my sorrows with its gaping mouth of everything-ness.
I’d start on a trail, breathe in the sweet sage brush and dust and feel myself fall into a harmonic unfolding that had nothing to do with me personally.
With the end of my marriage, California’s raging drought and wildfires and the impending 2016 elections, I fled to Berlin. At the time, I didn’t know how to grow a new life for myself in L.A. The brown hills past the 134 Freeway made me lonely. I bolted to a city of more verdant environs. Green meant hope.
When I returned a year later, the man I had not voted for was still president, my “Eat, Pray, Love” experiment had notably failed and I was certain that, at 38, I’d never find love again or have children. I showed up at the Arroyo most days, sometimes to a half-dry, cracked creek bed. I realized then that nature feeds us in two ways. The first is through recreation and adventure. The other is when we are grappling with the unknown and surrounded by chaos. Then, nature presents its cycles as consolation, reminding us that, whatever is happening, we can rely on things to change.
Eventually, the drought passed, as did the one in my heart. The waterfall went from trickle to spout. I baptized my pregnant belly in the Arroyo waters. I would bring my new-mother-overwhelm there. And 12 days after her birth, I introduced my newborn to the Arroyo, beaming as though she was meeting a grandparent. I wanted to show her what I learned: that we are never alone among the tadpoles, silt and stones, that we belong to nature too.
As the Eaton fire raged, lashing palm trees and devouring the Craftsmans of our L.A. neighbors, our daughter slept in her bassinet, unaware of airborne toxins. Sean and I shoved her rompers and sleep sacks into a backpack, rummaged through our clothes and grabbed enough underwear for an indeterminable amount of time away. I scooped my jewelry into a shoebox with my passport. We dressed for the day, then returned to bed for a couple of hours of fitful sleep, ready to go when we needed to.
Sean looked at me as if I had lost my mind when I grabbed the dog’s leash at 7 a.m., opened our door to a screen of tawny haze and pulled our confused pet behind me. A thin, rusty coil of sun smoldered through a patch in the clouds.
The nursery rhyme that goes “Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home, your house is on fire, your children are gone” cruelly repeated in my head. It’s all going to be gone, I thought with a shudder.
By 9 a.m., we were sitting in evacuation traffic on the 5 Freeway, heading to family in Orange County. The fire had not jumped the freeway into Eagle Rock, but an evacuation warning appeared on my phone beside dozens of frantic texts from my San Marino moms group: “Don’t come to Joshua Tree! Power’s out. No gas or groceries!,” “Unsafe water alert for Pasadena!” and a slew of links to resources for formula, diapers and wipes.
With our daughter and dog, Sean and I shuttled back and forth between my mother-in-law’s and parents’ houses for the next two weeks. I downloaded the Environmental Protection Agency’s air-quality app. I still keep careful watch on the stats. Now we’re back in our house and the fires have ceased, but we no longer open the windows when cooking for fear of polluted air. Instead of off-leash sloshing up the Arroyo, I take the baby and dog to the park and worry because neither of them can wear masks. Once again, life feels chaotic. I’m afraid to breathe.
I know healthy forests need regular burnings, but it is not natural for whole communities to be leveled overnight, for fire insurers to abandon their patrons and for people to lose their homes and what they love most about living in them.
I tell myself that nature’s gift in hard times is to remind us of its perpetual cycles. Today it is raining. The air will be breathable again one day. Spring will come, but I don’t know if there will be green leaves this year in the canyon.
The author is a writer, educator and mother who’s working on a memoir. She’s on Instagram: @sophiecsills
L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.
Lifestyle
In ‘No Other Choice,’ a loyal worker gets the ax — and starts chopping
Lee Byung-hun stars in No Other Choice.
NEON
hide caption
toggle caption
NEON
In an old Kids in the Hall comedy sketch called “Crazy Love,” two bros throatily proclaim their “love of all women” and declare their incredulity that anyone could possibly take issue with it:
Bro 1: It is in our very makeup; we cannot change who we are!
Bro 2: No! To change would mean … (beat) … to make an effort.
I thought about that particular exchange a lot, watching Park Chan-wook’s latest movie, a niftily nasty piece of work called No Other Choice. The film isn’t about the toxic lecherousness of boy-men, the way that KITH sketch is. But it is very much about men, and that last bit: the annoyed astonishment of learning that you’re expected to change something about yourself that you consider essential, and the extreme lengths you’ll go to avoid doing that hard work.
Many critics have noted No Other Choice‘s satirical, up-the-minute universality, given that it involves a faceless company screwing over a hardworking, loyal employee. As the film opens, Man-su (Lee Byung-hun) has been working at a paper factory for 25 years; he’s got the perfect job, the perfect house, the perfect family — you see where this is going, right? (If you don’t, even after the end of the first scene, when Man-su calls his family over for a group hug while sighing, “I’ve got it all,” then I envy your blithe disinterest in how movies work. Never change, you beautiful blissful Pollyanna, you.)
He gets canned, and can’t seem to find another job in his beloved paper industry, despite going on a series of dehumanizing interviews. His resourceful wife Miri (Son Ye-jin) proves a hell of a lot more adaptable than he does, making practical changes to the family’s expenses to weather Man-su’s situation. But when foreclosure threatens, he resolves to eliminate the other candidates (Lee Sung-min, Cha Seung-won) for the job he wants at another paper factory — and, while he’s at it, maybe even the jerk (Park Hee-soon) to whom he’d be reporting.
So yes, No Other Choice is a scathing spoof of corporate culture. But the director’s true satirical eye is trained on the interpersonal — specifically the intractability of the male ego.
Again and again, the women in the film (both Son Ye-jin as Miri and the hilarious Yeom Hye-ran, who plays the wife of one of Man-su’s potential victims) entreat their husbands to think about doing something, anything else with their lives. But these men have come to equate their years of service with a pot-committed core identity as men and breadwinners; they cling to their old lives and seek only to claw their way back into them. Man-su, for example, unthinkingly channels the energy that he could devote to personal and professional growth into planning and executing a series of ludicrously sloppy murders.
It’s all satisfyingly pulpy stuff, loaded with showy, cinematic homages to old-school suspense cinematography and editing — cross-fades, reverse-angles and jump cuts that are deliberately and unapologetically Hitchcockian. That deliberateness turns out to be reassuring and crowd-pleasing; if you’re tired of tidy visual austerity, of films that look like TV, the lushness on display here will have you leaning back in your seat thinking, “This right here is cinema, goddammit.”
Narratively, the film is loaded with winking jokes and callbacks that reward repeat viewing. Count the number of times that various characters attempt to dodge personal responsibility by sprinkling the movie’s title into their dialogue. Wonder why one character invokes the peculiar image of a madwoman screaming in the woods and then, only a few scenes later, finds herself chasing someone through the woods, screaming. Marvel at Man-su’s family home, a beautifully ugly blend of traditional French-style architecture with lumpy Brutalist touches like exposed concrete balconies jutting out from every wall.
There’s a lot that’s charming about No Other Choice, which might seem an odd thing to note about such a blistering anti-capitalist screed. But the director is careful to remind us at all turns where the responsibility truly lies; say what you will about systemic economic pressure, the blood stays resolutely on Man-su’s hands (and face, and shirt, and pants, and shoes). The film repeatedly offers him the ability to opt out of the system, to abandon his resolve that he must return to the life he once knew, exactly as he knew it.
Man-su could do that, but he won’t, because to change would mean to make an effort — and ultimately men would rather embark upon a bloody murder spree than go to therapy.
Lifestyle
Austin airport to nearly double in size over next decade
AUSTIN, Texas – Austin-Bergstrom International Airport will nearly double in size over the next decade.
The airport currently has 34 gates. With the expansion projects, it will increase by another 32 gates.
What they’re saying:
Southwest, Delta, United, American, Alaska, FedEx, and UPS have signed 10-year use-and lease agreements, which outline how they operate at the airport, including with the expansion.
“This provides the financial foundation that will support our day-to-day operations and help us fund the expansion program that will reshape how millions of travelers experience AUS for decades to come,” Ghizlane Badawi, CEO of Austin-Bergstrom International Airport, said.
Concourse B, which is in the design phase, will have 26 gates, estimated to open in the 2030s. Southwest Airlines will be the main tenant with 18 gates, United Airlines will have five gates, and three gates will be for common use. There will be a tunnel that connects to Concourse B.
“If you give us the gates, we will bring the planes,” Adam Decaire, senior VP of Network Planning & Network Operations Control at Southwest Airlines said.
“As part of growing the airport, you see that it’s not just us that’s bragging about the success we’re having. It’s the airlines that want to use this airport, and they see advantage in their business model of being part of this airport, and that’s why they’re growing the number of gates they’re using,” Mayor Kirk Watson said.
Dig deeper:
The airport will also redevelop the existing Barbara Jordan Terminal, including the ticket counters, security checkpoints, and baggage claim. Concourse A will be home to Delta Air Lines with 15 gates. American Airlines will have nine gates, and Alaska Airlines will have one gate. There will be eight common-use gates.
“Delta is making a long-term investment in Austin-Bergstrom that will transform travel for years to come,” Holden Shannon, senior VP for Corporate Real Estate at Delta Air Lines said.
The airport will also build Concourse M — six additional gates to increase capacity as early as 2027. There will be a shuttle between that and the Barbara Jordan Terminal. Concourse M will help with capacity during phases of construction.
There will also be a new Arrivals and Departures Hall, with more concessions and amenities. They’re also working to bring rideshare pickup closer to the terminal.
City officials say these projects will bring more jobs.
The expansion is estimated to cost $5 billion — none of which comes from taxpayer dollars. This comes from airport revenue, possible proceeds, and FAA grants.
“We’re seeing airlines really step up to ensure they are sharing in the infrastructure costs at no cost to Austin taxpayers, and so we’re very excited about that as well,” Council Member Vanessa Fuentes (District 2) said.
The Source: Information from interviews conducted by FOX 7 Austin’s Angela Shen
Lifestyle
After years of avoiding the ER, Noah Wyle feels ‘right at home’ in ‘The Pitt’
Wyle, who spent 11 seasons on ER, returns to the hospital in The Pitt. Now in Season 2, the HBO series has earned praise for its depiction of the medical field. Originally broadcast April 21, 2025.
Hear The Original Interview
Television
After years of avoiding the ER, Noah Wyle feels ‘right at home’ in ‘The Pitt’
-
Detroit, MI6 days ago2 hospitalized after shooting on Lodge Freeway in Detroit
-
Technology4 days agoPower bank feature creep is out of control
-
Dallas, TX5 days agoDefensive coordinator candidates who could improve Cowboys’ brutal secondary in 2026
-
Health6 days agoViral New Year reset routine is helping people adopt healthier habits
-
Iowa3 days agoPat McAfee praises Audi Crooks, plays hype song for Iowa State star
-
Nebraska3 days agoOregon State LB transfer Dexter Foster commits to Nebraska
-
Nebraska3 days agoNebraska-based pizza chain Godfather’s Pizza is set to open a new location in Queen Creek
-
Dallas, TX1 day agoAnti-ICE protest outside Dallas City Hall follows deadly shooting in Minneapolis