This summer, I received a travel grant from the Amherst College English department to conduct research in China for a self-directed writing project. It was my second time, in over a decade, returning to my native country, and my first time traveling alone. At first, I was terrified by the vulnerability of traveling by myself in an unfamiliar place. Yet as I proceeded with my itinerary, I began to revel in the thrill of wandering in unfamiliar cities.

My trip took me through six cities. Among them, Beijing and Xi'an held particular interest for me because of their historical significance: Beijing as China's capital and the center of Ming and Qing culture, and Xi'an as the ancient capital of earlier dynasties (Qin, Han, Tang, etc.) and the Silk Road's eastern terminus.

In Beijing, I was impressed with the city's historical sites, though not with the city itself, which seemed to be perpetually overshadowed by dense smog created by heavy air pollution. I found the city caught up in pre-Olympic frenzy with ubiquitous commercial billboards depicting the Fuwa, the five Olympic mascots (also known as "the Friendlies") inspired by the colors of the Olympic rings, alongside slogans of welcome. The public buses were filled with announcements reminding passengers to be civil, friendly citizens, while an electronic clock in front of the National Museum of China near Tiananmen Square counted down to the 2008 Summer Olympics. Even near the section of the Great Wall at Badaling there was a sign bearing the Olympic slogan: "One World One Dream."

I climbed up the Great Wall at Badaling and was amazed by the skill and labor it took to build the steep, sloping steps connecting the Wall's watchtowers. The view from Hao Han Po, the Wall's highest point, was dazzling, and revealed stretches of the Great Wall as it meandered atop craggy hills in the distance.

My visit to the Forbidden City and the Palace Museum housed within gave me a glimpse into the stunning luxury of China's imperial culture. The Forbidden City itself was a gigantic maze of rooms and halls, painted in yellow and red, colors that symbolized the Emperor's power and status. Meanwhile, the Palace Museum exhibited collections of housewares, timepieces, paintings and exquisitely carved wooden furniture, most of which date back to the Ming and Qing dynasties.

Xi'an, though a smaller city than Beijing, was even more interesting. The core of the city is surrounded by a thick fortress wall, still intact after its reconstruction during the Ming Dynasty.

I visited the Mausoleum of Qin Shi Huang and the Qianling Mausoleum, two imperial tombs situated in nearby counties outside of Xi'an. The former, a recently constructed funerary garden with tomb relics exhibited in glass cases, is the tomb of unified Ancient China's first emperor and is known primarily for the army of Terracotta Warriors housed in a museum a few kilometers away. The latter, lesser known among foreign visitors, is the joint tomb of Tang Emperor Gao Zong and Empress Wu Zetian, the first empress in Chinese history. Qianling turned out to be a magnificent burial site comprised of three mountain peaks and its surrounding valleys and hills. I walked through the Mausoleum's southern gate through a path lined with Tang stone sculptures, and ascended on horseback to the Mausoleum's northern peak, the location of its unexcavated underground palace. The sense of wonder I experienced there was equivalent to that of standing atop the Great Wall.

Aside from visiting these historical sites, the most pleasant part of my trip was the busy nightlife that I found in Beijing and Xi'an. Kites soared around Beijing's brightly lit Tiananmen Square, as crowds filled the surrounding areas to admire the night scene. In Xi'an, a street nicknamed "Snack Street" swarmed with patrons who frequented its eateries and restaurants serving local foods and snacks. The nearby marketplace was filled with vendors selling dry goods and souvenirs while the square in front of the city's Drum Tower became an area for leisurely strolls and other recreational activities. I felt safe as I walked amongst the night crowds. I was no longer self-consciously aware of my own foreignness, something I tried to hide during the day by passing myself off as a native from southern China to avoid being cheated as a tourist by local vendors who price discriminate against foreigners.

When I returned to New York, the streets at home felt rather quiet and empty in comparison to the ones that I had wandered through in Beijing and Xi'an. In moments of restlessness, I found myself fantasizing about setting out again and sojourning to Tibet and Yunnan, the more remote and culturally distinct regions of China. I've come to appreciate foreign travel as a maturing experience that tests my ability to be independent and my aptitude in a language other than English.