Last year, I celebrated my birthday in a place I’d never been before, and in doing so, I marked a deeply personal milestone: I visited my 100th country.

A hundred countries. It’s still hard to wrap my head around that number — not because of the count itself, but because of everything those countries hold: stunning landscapes, vibrant cultures, soul-warming meals, and most importantly, the people whose lives and stories have quietly and powerfully shifted my own.

Until now, I’ve kept most of those stories to myself. For a long time, I was afraid to share them. I worried about the slippery slope between living for the moment and living for the gram. I didn’t want to commodify my memories or reduce real human connections to photo ops. I’ve seen how the lens — mine included — can act as a barrier between traveler and host, a filter between presence and performance. I’m not proud to admit that I’ve sometimes been guilty of this too.

But things have been shifting. Slowly. Intentionally.

I’ve come to realize that sharing doesn’t have to mean broadcasting. It doesn’t have to mean spectacle. Sharing, for me, can be an act of meditation, a way to relive and re-examine, to connect the dots I missed the first time because I was “too in” it. It can be a way to stretch the meaning of a moment beyond myself, to see what it might evoke in others. I’ve kept private blogs, archived thousands of photos, written bits and pieces of stories, all tucked away in digital folders and journals. Until now: as I look into the future, I’m also looking into the past with deep reverence for how it has shaped me.

There’s a quote I heard once that keeps echoing in my mind: “Happiness is only real when shared.” And after years of solitary reflection, I finally feel ready to invite others into my world — slowly, vulnerably, and with an open heart.

So I’m going back, but not in order. This won’t be a linear, country-by-country recount. Life isn’t like that, and neither are stories. There may be months when I don’t share at all, as stories need to be digested and inspired. This won’t be about the number of countries. It’ll be about the people I met, the smells and spices I can still taste, the lessons I carry with me. You’ll see memories from years ago alongside moments from this month. It’ll be messy, heartfelt, and full of soul. And always, there will be food — the universal language, the bridge across cultures, the centerpiece of so many of my most meaningful conversations.

As someone with a deep reverence for culture and a background in cultural anthropology, I know that storytelling comes with responsibility. I aim to honor the people and places I write about with accuracy, humility, and respect, always recognizing my place as an outsider, and always open to dialogue. Whether it’s the culinary journeys of indigenous communities, the quiet beauty of a daily ritual, or the joy of a shared meal, my hope is that you’ll see a bit of our shared humanity reflected in these stories.

My journey started in the Caribbean, on vacations to visit family and on cruises, not far from home, but places that left me wide-eyed and curious. Later, I ventured to Europe as a high school exchange student, and that curiosity only grew. Whether through my work with international organizations, collaborations with chefs and farmers around the world, or long, meandering conversations with strangers-turned-friends, travel has always been my way of learning from the source, of seeking truth, connection, and meaning.

Most of my loved ones don’t know the full extent of these stories. I’ve held them close, maybe out of shyness, maybe out of the fear that sharing them would change them. But I don’t want to stay small anymore. There’s too much beauty to keep hidden, too many small, ordinary moments that deserve to be seen.

This space — whether you’re reading it on my blog, on social media, or somewhere else — is for love, for joy, and for celebration. It’s a space where I’ll highlight what’s good in the world, even as I acknowledge its complexities. It’s a love letter to the cultures that have shaped me, the people who welcomed me, and the foods that nourished me — body and soul. It’s about places I’ve visited — some only once, and others countless times throughout my life.

If you’re reading this, you’re already part of my circle. Thank you. I hope my sharing inspires you to do so, too – to take a moment and give us a piece of your world, no matter where it is – and that it allows you an opportunity to look at the world and your place in it — with a bit more tenderness, a bit more curiosity.

We only get one life. I hope we get to live it, taste it, and share it — fully and generously.

With gratitude,

Earlene

Ps. Can you guess where this 100th visit was and what I was doing there?!