Daniel Choi ’26 is a Government major with a minor in Marketing. He enjoys exploring new restaurants and writing food reviews, often during his travels whenever he finds free time, blending those experiences into his writing. On weekends, you can find him golfing, trying new coffee shops or trying different teas, or discovering unique fragrances from around the world. Contact him at dychoi@wm.edu.
The views expressed in the article are the author’s own.
When I first came to the College of William and Mary as an international student, I sat down at transfer orientation and asked the person next to me where he was from. “NoVa,” he said. I paused. “No, I mean, where in Virginia?” He laughed. “Yeah, NoVa.” As a person who was new to Virginia, it took me a few days and one confused Google search to learn that “NoVa” was not a town or a specific city, but an entire ecosystem. It is Northern Virginia, the flashing suburbia orbiting beside Washington D.C. Since then, I have realized that saying you are from NoVa is not just about geography; it is a lifestyle flex that makes you ‘different’ from other Virginians.
In Williamsburg, the best place to have fun on a Saturday afternoon might actually be the Food Lion on Richmond Road. It is where students wander through aisles of snacks they will never finish, buy a bunch of Nyquil to survive flu season and go just to feel like they have gone somewhere. Target comes close: you buy fluorescent lights and $5 candles for the comfort of routine. Beyond that, options thin fast. There is Busch Gardens, of course, but that is a full-day commitment and a $90 decision that requires courage, sunscreen and an Uber group chat.
Entertainment here is slow yet deliberate. You plan your fun the way you plan your midterms: carefully with a budget. Williamsburg’s energy is quaint, colonial and a little sleepy, like it still believes that joy should be earned and not found on every corner.
Then there’s Tysons Corner in NoVa, where it is the opposite pole of the Virginia experience. A place where parking garages have their own ZIP code, escalators hum like background music and every square foot competes to outshine the last. NoVa kids describe Tysons the way New Yorkers describe the city. It is just there, ever-present, always ready for something to do.
Where Williamsburg has brick sidewalks and candlelight tours, Tysons has LED signage and matcha cafes. You can spend hours people-watching, shopping and debating whether to get all you can eat sushi or Korean BBQ (my favorite) for lunch — and still leave with the feeling that you missed half of the options. Tysons is what I call Virginia’s ‘unofficial’ cultural capital. Half-mall, half-metropolis, where bubble tea meets bureaucracy, and everyone is in a hurry to have fun.
In NoVa, entertainment feels infinite. Movie theaters are humongous, escape rooms come with cinematic soundtracks and every highway exit hides a fusion restaurant. It is a version of Virginia that is constantly plugged in, and it is where “let’s hang out” does not require planning but just proximity.
Spending more than two years here in Williamsburg, my idea of ‘fun’ has recalibrated. Coffee at Aromas becomes an event. Ice cream at Baskin Robins is like a plan. A walk through Colonial Williamsburg at sunset counts as therapy. You start to appreciate how luxurious quiet can feel and how laughter carries farther when there is no traffic drowning it out.
Meanwhile, NoVa pulses at a different BPM. It is the rhythm of shopping-mall jazz, of late-night bubble tea runs, of group photos under neon restaurant signs. Where Williamsburg values charm, NoVa values momentum. One looks backward with nostalgia; the other looks forward with caffeine.
Both are Virginia, just tuned to different frequencies.
Every state has its regional quirks. North vs. South California, Chicago vs. “the rest of Illinois,” but Virginia’s split feels especially cinematic. You can drive three hours and move decades in vibe. One side is suburban velocity; the other, historical stillness.
What I have learned, though, is that neither is better. They simply mirror the people who live there. NoVa’s endless energy is what makes it ambitious and modern. Williamsburg’s calm is what makes it reflective and grounded. Between Food Lion’s comfort and Tysons’ chaos, Virginia somehow captures both edges of American life: the hustle and the hush.
So, no. You cannot see all of Virginia in a weekend. But if you ever find yourself wondering where the state’s personality lives, start by asking someone where they are from. If they answer “NoVa,” you will know what to expect: speed, lights and a Starbucks on every block. If they say “Williamsburg,” clear your schedule. You are about to rediscover the art of slow life.
