That was the common response I received after telling people I would be interning in Beijing for the summer. Shortly after arriving, my supervisor asked the same question. I echoed the answer I gave to my family and friends, the only one I had: I don’t know.

My uncertainty bothered me at first. Having been in the city for only a couple of days, I was overwhelmed by its magnitude, its rapid pace and the culture shock. Here I was, some 6,000 miles away from home, lost in every sense of the word. I had left behind everything I had ever known to be thrown into this foreign world. Why?

Quite quickly I realized the question would answer itself. The first walk around the block of my apartment left my eyes wide and my mouth agape in a child-like sense of wonder. Breathing the greasy-sweet scent of street food, I listened to the locals banter in an unfamiliar language, whipping around to dodge mopeds every time I heard a horn, only to look forward in time to dance around another one whizzing past. It was surreal.

No movie, picture or piece of writing can completely capture what I had been living. But after a short while, the “foreign world” had become a bit more familiar through each secret it revealed and experience it offered.

In China, day to day tasks turned into cultural excursions that made me grateful for what I have and opened my eyes to what I have been missing. I visited the staple sites and came home with a camera full of obligatory Great Wall and Forbidden City photos. But beyond that, I unearthed so many hidden gems, like the crumbling “hutong” alleys that weave throughout the city like secret passageways, shaded by the shadows of towering modern skyscrapers, serving as rich, stubborn strongholds of a rapidly developing Far East.

Not many people associate China with freedom. Western media often portrays the country as a more or less closed society controlled by heavy-handed government. But the nights when I would sit on sidewalks with locals on small wooden stools, as I combated the summer heat with an endless supply of ice cold Tsingtaos, speaks a different story. And it will be one I will tell for years to come.

All of these answers to “Why China?” are really just a preface for what really makes the country so beautiful: the people. I had never been as nervous as the day I stepped off my airplane three months ago, venturing alone into my first overseas experience. Deciding to take the risk was one of the most important decisions I have ever made. Never in my life have I felt so welcomed by strangers or established so many genuine friendships in such a short period of time. That is why stepping onto my return flight was the most bittersweet of moments.

The further I travel away from home, the more I learn about myself. This experience has set a precedent for my life. As a reporter with a restless spirit, I now realize the necessity of seeing the world with my own eyes. It is easy to remain within my comfort zone and allow my beliefs to remain unchallenged and feel like I have it all figured out. But that comfort comes with the crippling price of a limited worldview. My stay in China has taught me a lot. Above all, it has showed me I still have so much to learn.

So why China? Because if I hadn’t come, I would not have had the best summer of my life, and I fear I might be the same person I was when I landed. And I would never have found a second home some 6,000 miles away from where I live.