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Summer trips broaden worldview
Summer break provides students the opportunity to travel out of the Bay Area, catching a glimpse of different cultures and lifestyles. According to a survey sent on Schoology with 186 responses, students visited a total of 54 different countries spanning every continent except Antarctica.
Summer break provides students the opportunity to travel out of the Bay Area, catching a glimpse of different cultures and lifestyles. According to a survey sent on Schoology with 186 responses, students visited a total of 54 different countries spanning every continent except Antarctica.
Emma Li

Seoul, Bangkok, Vienna, São Paulo — for many Bay Area residents, summer vacation means more than silencing morning alarms and shelving heavy textbooks. It means a window for travel. Whether listening to street music in Havana or conversing with vendors in Tsukiji Outer Market, these glimpses of life abroad reveal how shared identities across the world contrast with the cultural variety of the Bay Area, one of the country’s most diverse regions according to the Bay Area Equity Atlas.

Silicon Valley is a fusion of cultures, its streets lined with a kaleidoscope of restaurants and churches, startups and local markets. 

However, when history teacher Carol Green traveled to Italy for the first time this summer, she noticed how this variety contributed to feelings of individualism.

“In our Bay Area bubble, we have a huge diversity of people, food, customs and experiences, but because of that, we don’t get fully immersed in one culture,” Green said. “Even in terms of meal time, Italians don’t eat dinner until 8 or 9 p.m. — that’s very much the culture there. But in the Bay Area, if you ask everyone around here, ‘What time do you eat dinner?’ everyone has a different time.” 

This concept of shared norms within a region extends beyond daily habits to cultural values in a way that is often absent in the Bay. Junior Colin Li, who spent two months interning at China Medical University in Taiwan, observed how approachable people were compared to his experiences back home. 

“When I think of the Bay Area people, sometimes it feels like they’re more uptight, but I didn’t see much of that in Taiwan,” Colin said. “I gained a deeper understanding of another culture that I wouldn’t have gotten at a U.S. internship.”

Both Green’s and Colin’s experiences point to a broader truth: leaving home not only offers new adventures, but also casts fresh perspectives on familiar surroundings. A 2024 study by Sahrdaya College in India found that travel can significantly influence adolescents’ overall life satisfaction, concluding that experience in foreign culture improves adaptability and emotional intelligence.

When Senior S Wang spent six weeks in Yogyakarta, Indonesia, as part of the National Security Language Initiative for Youth summer program, she found herself embracing new challenges that pushed her out of her comfort zone. Living with a host family while learning Indonesian, she reflected on the stark adjustment of her new living arrangement from the comfort of Bay Area life. 

“It was a very different type of life living in the tropics near the equator,” S said. “You have to learn how to deal with the humidity, drinking lots of water, squat toilets, wet bathrooms, mosquitoes and ants.”

S also noticed how even within a single country, each region maintained distinct cultural variations, creating a sense of local identity.

“Indonesia is a very regional country in that each region has slightly different traditions, dances and foods,” S said. “The soto you try in Yogyakarta is supposedly very different from soto in other places, and there will be desserts or chips that you could only find in one city versus others. That was shocking to me because where we live, everything is available everywhere.”

For Green, traveling to areas with more cohesive customs revealed the gaps in her own community. She highlighted that the Bay Area’s unique cultural diversity can come at the expense of shared practices that foster social connection.

“I feel like we are missing the unified identity, and I feel sad about that because it does provide community,” Green said. “In the Bay Area, we don’t have the same sense of community I was seeing in other parts of the world. In places like South Korea, that idea was very big — you act on behalf of your community. We don’t have a collective identity, which decreases the sense of camaraderie with everyone that’s around you.”

Still, Green emphasized the benefits of the Bay Area’s diversity, believing that the relationships and exposure to multiple traditions can provide a similar cultural understanding as travel. By stepping outside familiar settings, whether crossing national borders or connecting with someone from a different background, people can gain a better understanding of both themselves and the world around them.

“One thing we talk about in my classes is that even though we’re all different, we do have common values,” Green said. “Trying to find that in people is important. When I was traveling in Italy, I was still finding commonalities with people who were very different than me. Because we don’t have that specific common identity in the Bay Area, we need to look harder to find the commonalities, but I do believe we can find it.

Old Capitol, University of Iowa's main building, sits in the middle of a park and lights up at night.
Iowa City, Iowa

Cornfields and Caitlin Clark — that was all I knew about Iowa as I stepped off the plane and found myself face-to-face with the thick, humid heat of Iowa City. I came for a two-week writing camp, expecting nothing but quiet workshopping and in-depth reading. Instead, my days brimmed with the chaos and messiness of true artistry, which I’d soon learn to embrace: late-night poem revisions sprawled across dorm-room floors, afternoons spent in cafes chatting about silly ideas, long walks with friends that made me forget my fears. 

Experiencing the rich history of writing on the Iowa campus pushed me to reflect on my inner thoughts and notice the world around me in a more inquisitive light. I drew inspiration from everything: museum art, beetles on the ground, even the way a laptop sticker peeled at the edges. In the evenings, I wandered a few steps off campus to the Iowa River, letting the current carry away the noise of the day. Sitting with the wind threading through my hair, I took time to ponder — about life, about myself, about who I had become in the span of 17 years. I rose from the riverbank feeling lighter, a steadier version of myself. 

Somewhere in those moments, between the silence, laughter and marked-up drafts of poems, Iowa became more than just a place on a map or another “Midwestern state” I’d visited. My time in Iowa became a chapter of my life I will always return to in memory, one I will forever hold close to my chest.

Senior Ashley Mo and her camp friend pose in front of the Iowa River, a scenic view right outside of campus.
(Ashley Mo)

 

Old Capitol, University of Iowa’s main building, sits in the middle of a park and lights up at night. (Ashley Mo)
An imperial architecture-style building stands at Yuyuan Tourist Mart in Shanghai.
Shangqiu, China

In rural Shangqiu, China, the humid air in my grandfather’s courtyard carried the scent of soaked bamboo leaves and glutinous rice. Dozens of my relatives had already claimed their spots on hand-crafted wooden stools, chatting and laughing as they crafted zongzi. 

My aunts taught my cousins the perfect technique to fold bamboo leaves while my uncles debated the perfect amount of filling. This zongzi making process was beautifully chaotic: one relative held a leaf while another added rice, and hands reached across the table to help tie the triangular dish together. 

As I sat watching the cooking unfold, I understood that zongzi was more than just a delicacy. I felt woven into a community larger than myself as our family collaboration turned into a celebration. 

My great-aunt placed a bamboo leaf into my hands. She patiently guided my hands to create a perfect cone and began to scoop in rice and pork. We closed the leaf around the filling together, her weathered fingers showing me how to tie the knot just tight enough. Around us, the symphony of my family continued — the rustle of leaves, the plop of filling hitting rice and the satisfied sighs when someone achieved the perfect shape.

Senior Tiffany Zhu rides in a gondola over a rice terrace field in Yunhe, China. (Tiffany Zhu)

 

An imperial architecture-style building stands at Yuyuan Tourist Mart in Shanghai. (Tiffany Zhu)
A small ski chalet sits atop a a ridge on Mount Denali.
Anchorage, Alaska

I stepped off the plane at 11 p.m. at Anchorage International Airport and watched the sun set on the horizon. Giant snowcapped mountains framed the cloudless sky on all sides, standing tall and white adjacent to Alaska’s most populous city in the middle of June. Camera in hand, I took in this wondrous, seemingly impossible place and inhaled a deep breath of fresh alpine air, both apprehensive and excited for this new adventure.

Six months ago, my little brother had chosen Alaska on a whim for his fifth-grade state report, and although he had raved about the state’s beautiful nature and unique activities throughout his research, I still thought of it as a barren, wild landscape, inhospitable and unwelcoming. Yet through our one week trip through the state, from gazing at Mount Denali from high above a tiny aircraft to witnessing a breaching orca on an exhilarating cruise, I began to see the beauty in each place, no matter how grueling or uncomfortable it felt to get there.

Being surrounded by nature, both through unforgiving hikes and peaceful car rides, opened my eyes to the beauty of each moment. I made sure that my camera was with me every second, and each time I held it, my eyes searched intently for beautiful yet unassuming moments to capture, creating a story out of dappled leaves or smoke billows.

When our meal at a restaurant was delayed due to an ongoing music festival, I just staunched the pains of hunger in my stomach and grabbed my camera. While capturing photos of young girls performing trapeze acts and middle-aged adults drunkenly swaying alongside soulful guitar, I too lost myself in the hazy atmosphere, joining in cheering at the music and sipping a complimentary drink. By the end of my trip to Alaska, I had amassed nearly 2000 photos, and a lifetime of unforgettable memories.

Junior Cynthia Xie and her family pose holding a piece of a glacier in their hands while standing on a cruise ship in Alaska. (Cynthia Xie)
A small ski chalet sits atop a a ridge on Mount Denali. (Cynthia Xie)
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