Written by: Salman T. (Boston, Massachusetts, USA)
The boat docked, and we stepped onto the soft, golden sand. The humidity wrapped around us like a warm blanket, and the scent of sizzling seafood from the market stalls drifted through the air.
In the heart of Alaska, Denali stands tall—a majestic reminder of nature’s power, peace, and the call of adventure.
Visit the U.S. Space & Rocket Center in Huntsville, Alabama
The second I walked through the doors, I felt it. Like I’d just stepped onto another planet. The air inside was cool and smelled faintly metallic, like new wires and old secrets...
Written by: Salman T. (Boston, Massachusetts, USA)
I was really excited about my school's trip to Cyprus, a small island nation lying in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea. I couldn't wait to explore the beautiful beaches and forests; but I’ll admit, I felt a bit nervous...
Written By: Spencer (Edmonton, Alberta, Canada)
This summer, on a family trip to Piedmont, Italy, my taste buds were blessed by the most delightful foods—made from fresh ingredients and aromatic flavors. I had hazelnut cake for breakfast, pasta for lunch, pizza for dinner...
The moment my parents told me we were going to Oahu Island, I wanted to pack my suitcase and hop on the plane. I was so ready for a few days relaxing on a sun-soaked beach. Then they told me my cousin Cecelia was going.
Written By: C. Nasim Ragus
It is not the same to be inside Cologne’s Cathedral on cold winter evenings as it is on a summer’s day. The tale of the Brothers Grimm is more real when you hear the eerie echoed steps of strangers roaming a building illuminated only by candlelight...
Written by: Rosa (Cascade,Iowa)
Both of my parents came from a rough neighborhood. When people think of Mexico, they imagine a beach with beautiful sunsets, but the realities of everyday life do not reflect what you see in a travel brochure...
About the Writer: This episode was written by Rosa from Cascade, Iowa. She is a 17-year-old high school student who enjoys traveling and going on vacation during the summers. After returning home, she holds onto her memories by writing about her latest adventure. In her free time, Rosa loves to be artistic and works with makeup just for fun. She is also bilingual, speaking both English and Spanish.
Written By: Laura Paquette
At the end of the street stands the pâtisserie. It has tall wooden doors painted a soft pastel blue. Hanging on either side, two large windows are filled to the brim with flaky croissants, colorful macarons, and fruit tarts displayed like an edible work of art...
Written by: Laura Paquette
The sun is beating down. I’m in the middle of the Souk Semmarine, a maze-like market in the city of Marrakech, Morocco. I feel a tap on my shoulder, but there’s nothing behind me except a rolled up carpet.
Written by: Laura Paquette
Moving as close as I can toward the fountain’s edge, I toss the coin in. I wish this fountain could come to life. I close my eyes tightly, but when I reopen them, the fountain remains a cold, stone structure.
Written by: Hallie Richter
I ran my hands along the wall, stepping quietly into the hall. It was too dark to see but my fingers felt something rough protruding from the hard surface. Just then the slightest hint of light, from what looked like a torch in the distance, cast shadows across the wall. Looking closely, I could now see the mysterious texture was a series of painted pictures and symbols.
Written By: Elizabeth Horst
I was so excited, it was finally beach day! My dad had promised us that we would visit the Emerald Coast as soon as he had a day off. Now Dad, Susie and I were almost to Destin, in our very own sunny Florida...
Written by: Hallie Richter
Weaving our way through Old Bagan, we left our hotel early that morning, even before the sun was awake. It was just Mommy and me.
Written by: Amanda L. Renna
Their breathing is faint, muddled by the sound of my sled ploughing through the freshly fallen snow. I can see them working hard, using every ounce of energy they have to keep us moving forward.
Written by: Jessica Grace Triolo
The music pulls me in, and I surrender. Dancing to the beat of the drums, disappearing over the bridges, amid the fountains, and into the second line at Congo Square, I forget about the old man.