Dear Friends,

Thirty years ago this summer, I boarded a plane from India for a holiday. I had just finished the 10th grade and planned to spend a few weeks visiting relatives in Atlanta. I never imagined that trip would become the beginning of a new life.

I got my first glimpse of America at JFK Airport in New York. Before I noticed the skyline or the size of the airport, I noticed the people. They hugged. They kissed. They laughed loudly. They argued without embarrassment. They cried, celebrated, and expressed themselves so freely. Everywhere I looked, I saw people of different races, religions, and cultures sharing the same space. It felt chaotic, energetic, and unlike anything I had experienced growing up in India. I remember thinking, "The whole world is here."



When I landed in Atlanta, family friends picked up my grandmother and me from the airport and took us straight to McDonald’s—my first American meal. Later, they took us to IHOP to celebrate my 10th-grade exam results. The pancakes seemed enormous, the coffee kept coming, and everyone smiled as if they genuinely enjoyed serving us.

America continued to surprise me in the smallest ways.

The first time I walked into a laundromat, I stood there holding my clothes, completely confused. I didn't have enough quarters, and I had no idea how the machines worked. Before I could even ask for help, complete strangers handed me a few 25-cent coins, showed me which settings to use, and explained the process. They didn't ask for anything in return.

The pastor at the church near our apartment invited me to learn how to drive in his Cadillac. Every Sunday after church, a different family insisted on taking my grandmother and me out for brunch. That's where I discovered the all-you-can-eat buffet—another concept that seemed almost impossible to believe.



No one owed us anything. Yet people welcomed us anyway.

Those moments—not the skyscrapers, shopping malls, or tourist attractions—made me fall in love with America. They showed me a country where kindness came naturally, where strangers became neighbors, and where community mattered. That was the America I wanted to come back to. The following year, I moved here and created a new home. Thirty years later, it's still the reason I've stayed.

As America celebrates its 250th birthday, I've been thinking about everything this country has given me. I've now traveled to almost every state and explored many of our national parks. I still have plenty left to see, but every trip reminds me how much beauty, history, creativity, and resilience exist right here in our own backyard.

This month, instead of chasing another passport stamp, I stayed close to home in Georgia. I returned to Cloudland, one of my favorite places for its spectacular scenery, cooler mountain air, and exceptional food. I also spent a weekend at Château Élan, one of the first places I escaped to as a college student with little money but endless curiosity. Revisiting both reminded me that some of the best journeys aren't about going farther—they're about seeing familiar places with fresh eyes.

As you celebrate America's 250th, I hope you'll think about your own story. What made you fall in love with this country? Which place surprised you? Which stranger showed you kindness? Which destination made you proud to call America home—or inspired you to keep exploring it?

Those are the stories worth sharing. Those are the stories worth protecting.

And if you're planning your next adventure, whether it's a weekend road trip, a national park vacation, or an international journey, I'd love to help you make it more meaningful. Before you book, reach out for a travel consultation.

Together, we'll build an itinerary that goes beyond the highlights and connects you with the people, flavors, and experiences that make every destination unforgettable.

Happy travels,

Sucheta Rawal

Founder & Editor, Go Eat Give