My First Trip to America: A Journey That Changed How I See the World
I still remember the moment my plane began descending toward Los Angeles. After nearly sixteen hours of flying, my body felt stiff and tired, but when I looked through the plane window and saw the city glowing like scattered jewels across the dark landscape, the exhaustion suddenly faded. It was my first time traveling to the United States—a country I had only known through movies, music, and stories. I didn’t know what to expect, but something inside me whispered that this trip was going to stay with me for a long time.
What I didn’t realize at that moment was how much this journey would shape the way I see myself, other people, and even the world in general.
Arriving in Los Angeles: A Rush of Emotions
When I stepped out of the airport, the air felt different—cooler, drier, and somehow lighter. The early morning breeze brushed against my face as I waited for my shuttle outside the terminal. I watched cars zoom by and people dragging their suitcases in a hurry. Some looked like they were late for something important, while others seemed relaxed, sipping coffee as if the whole world could wait.
As a first-time visitor, I wanted to absorb everything: the smell of roasted coffee coming from a small shop nearby, the loud chatter in a mix of accents, and the enormous palm trees that lined the streets like tall, confident guardians of the city.
After checking into my hotel, I dropped my bags, splashed cold water on my face, and decided not to waste my first day resting. Despite the jet lag tugging at my eyelids, curiosity won. I walked toward Hollywood Boulevard, eager to see a place I had only read about.
Hollywood Boulevard: Surreal and Overwhelming
Walking along the Hollywood Walk of Fame felt strangely unreal. The stars on the sidewalk looked exactly like the photos I’d seen online, yet seeing them in person gave me a sense of being inside a scene from a movie. I found myself stopping every few steps to look at the names engraved in the pink stars. Some were familiar, others not so much.
The street was crowded—tourists posing for pictures, street performers dressed like superheroes, and vendors calling out to anyone passing by. At one point, a man wearing a Spider-Man costume asked if I wanted a photo with him. I laughed and politely declined, but the interaction added to the lively charm of the place.
I eventually found a small café tucked between two souvenir shops. I bought a latte and sat near the window, watching the busy street outside. It was fascinating how different this city felt compared to the place I came from. Everything was louder, larger, and more dramatic, yet somehow comforting. Maybe because everyone looked like they were used to being themselves—wearing whatever they liked, walking however they wanted, and living life in their own rhythm.
Sitting in that café, I realized how refreshing it felt to be somewhere totally new, where no one knew who I was. It was liberating. I could simply exist, observe, and enjoy the moment.
Road Trip to the Grand Canyon: A Lesson in How Small We Really Are
The next morning, I joined a small tour group heading to the Grand Canyon. I had seen photos of it, of course, but I had a feeling the real thing would be different. Throughout the drive, I sat near the window, watching the scenery change from city buildings to wide desert landscapes.
The highway stretched endlessly in front of us. Occasionally, a cluster of small houses would appear, then disappear again as the road curved forward. The openness of the desert felt almost intimidating; it was nothing like the crowded streets of LA.
When we finally reached the Grand Canyon, I stepped out of the van and found myself speechless. No photo, video, or documentary had ever prepared me for the immensity of what I saw. The canyon stretched farther than my eyes could follow. The layers of rock looked like they held a million years of stories within them, silently waiting to be discovered.
I walked toward the edge—carefully, of course—and sat down on a flat rock. The wind was gentle, carrying a faint earthy scent. For a long moment, I just sat there, listening to the whispers of the canyon below.
It made me feel incredibly small but not in a sad way. More like a reminder that the world is so much bigger than our daily worries. Whatever problems I had back home suddenly felt lighter, almost insignificant compared to the vastness in front of me.
I took a few photos, but only after I spent time absorbing the view with my own eyes. I didn’t want the memory to exist only inside my phone.
Flying to New York: A Different Kind of Energy
After my time on the West Coast, I flew across the country to New York City. If Los Angeles was relaxed and sunny, New York was the complete opposite—fast, intense, and full of energy that hit me as soon as I stepped outside the airport.
Everyone walked with purpose. People seemed to be in a hurry even when they weren’t. The honking of taxis, the distant rumble of the subway, and the chatter of pedestrians created a soundtrack that somehow felt alive.
I stayed in Manhattan, not far from Times Square. The first night, I walked to the famous glowing intersection just to see what the fuss was all about. When I arrived, I felt like I had stepped into a futuristic world. The flashing screens, the massive billboards, the crowd moving in every direction—it was overwhelming in a strangely beautiful way.
But my favorite part of New York wasn’t Times Square. It was Central Park.
Central Park: A Moment of Stillness
On my third day in New York, I went to Central Park early in the morning. The city was still waking up; the sunlight was soft, and the air felt cooler. As I walked through the park, I was amazed at how different it felt from the restless streets outside. It was like stepping into a completely different world.
I sat on a bench near a pond, watching ducks glide across the water. Not far from me, a man in his seventies was feeding pigeons. He seemed peaceful, as if this was part of his daily routine.
After a while, he looked at me and smiled.
“First time in New York?” he asked.
I nodded.
“It shows,” he chuckled. “You’re looking around like everything is magical.”
I laughed because he was right. Everything did feel magical to me.
We talked for a few minutes—about the city, the weather, and how he had lived in New York his whole life. It was a simple conversation, nothing deep or dramatic, but it stayed with me. It reminded me that sometimes travel isn’t just about seeing famous places. It’s about the small interactions you never expect.
Exploring the City: Food, Streets, and Spontaneous Adventures
Over the next few days, I let myself get lost in the city. I tried a slice of New York pizza as big as my face. I walked across the Brooklyn Bridge, feeling the cool breeze and staring at the skyline that stretched like a steel forest. I visited small bookshops, street markets, and hidden cafés that didn’t appear in any travel guide.
One afternoon, I accidentally entered a subway going in the wrong direction. Instead of panicking, I decided to stay on and see where it would take me. I ended up in a quieter neighborhood filled with brownstone houses and leafy trees. It wasn’t a tourist area, but it was charming, peaceful, and exactly the kind of place I wouldn’t have found if everything went according to plan.
That became one of my favorite moments of the trip: discovering something unexpected simply because I took a wrong train.
What This Journey Taught Me
By the time my trip was coming to an end, I realized how much it had changed me. Traveling alone to a country I had never visited gave me a sense of confidence I didn’t know I needed. It taught me to trust myself, to embrace moments of uncertainty, and to appreciate the beauty of differences.
I learned that people, no matter where they live, share more similarities than we think. A simple smile can start a conversation. A small mistake can lead to a wonderful discovery. And sometimes, the best memories aren’t from the places we plan to visit, but from the unexpected moments in between.
America showed me incredible sights—from the vastness of the Grand Canyon to the buzzing streets of New York. But more than that, it showed me different ways of living, thinking, and appreciating life.
Until today, whenever I scroll through the photos from my trip, I can almost feel the cool New York air, the warmth of the Los Angeles sun, and the quiet majesty of the Grand Canyon. And every time I do, I’m reminded of how powerful travel can be—not only in showing us new places but in helping us discover new parts of ourselves.