This week I hiked to Taktsang Monastery or the Tiger’s Nest as it is affectionately referred to, for the second time during my stay in Bhutan. Unlike my first trip up to the now iconic, international symbol of Bhutan, this time, I traveled with neither an entourage of fellow chilips (foreigners) nor with a registered tour guide. Both of these caveats are an almost constant for visitors to the Kingdom of the Thunder Dragon. This week I visited Taktsang as a part of a group of dozen or so Bhutanese people, a group of friends I have made at my internship that I cherish above all else in Bhutan. On this particular I was the only chilip, which unfortunately is a rarity on most days.

Because I was faster than the slower members of our party and slower than our fastest hikers I wandered through the jungle primarily on my own- another unfortunate rarity, being able to be completely alone. Bhutan’s image within the international community is one of a place of pure calm and serenity. Bhutan has not treated me exactly so. This is for a couple of reasons that while can be frustrating are certainly not negative.

The Bhutanese people are excessively social by nature. There is hardly a second of the day they do not spend in the company of friends and family. This includes going to the police station to pay a traffic fine, getting dressed for work and even going to use the toilet. My Bhutanese friends have a tendency to assume that I am either sick or upset when I decline their offers to sit on my bed while I do my homework.

Almost as soon as I sat on the steps of the monastery to jot down the first few lines of this article, a Bhutanese family immediately bombarded me. We Americans might label this family as “overly friendly.” It turns our one of their brothers had graduated from Royal Thimphu College, the school where I am currently studying. In talking with them I learned that it was their third time visiting the famed monastery. They were especially excited because that day was one of the most auspicious of all, the birth of Guru Rinpoche, the Tibetan saint who brought Buddhism to Bhutan. It was also the first time the family was bringing their infant son to the monastery. It was a special occasion, indeed.

This brings me to my second point: I am very obviously not from Bhutan. And every person who is genuinely from Bhutan notices this fact immediately after meeting me. I have incredibly pale white skin (a fact that my local friends love to tease me about), I cannot speak Dzongkha and I am rarely wearing a kira (the traditional dress). People love to stop me on the streets, at the market or while I am eating lunch to ask me where I am from. “How are you finding Bhutan?” is what they always ask me.

This question is so simple on the surface, but when faced with it I seem to always be at a loss. Bhutan has been everything and nothing that I could have expected, a sentiment I believe many millennials who have done any traveling will agree with. Before stepping off of my Druk Air flight in Paro in February I knew nothing more about Bhutan than the contents of the country’s Wikipedia summary. This lack of knowledge became apparent very quickly upon my arrival. What also became apparent was my lack of knowledge about myself. I felt confident, self-assured. I had already spent a semester in London and I was in my third year at a liberal arts college that was teaching me to be a global citizen. What I still had to learn was how to have a conversation with a family who stopped me only to find out why I was in their remote country and wandering around without a tour group.

As a child I suffered from a debilitating shyness. I spent most days terrified that I would not make friends, that no one would understand me and in turn no one would like who I was. I have grown out of this mostly, but I am still more likely to stand in the background rather than jump to the front of the party. Or at least I was before Bhutan.

Living in a culture, which is so much more social than the one I grew up in has taught me to smile to every person I see on the street, to shake hands with small children who do not speak English, but whose smiles speak of curiosity and excitement.

The same day I visited Taktsang and met the family with the small baby I also met a very elderly monk. This man did not speak a word of English and my Dzongkha is remedial at best. The only words he spoke that I was sure of were “hello,” “thank you,” and “see you again.” Before this semester abroad I would have been fearful of a stranger who did not speak my language approaching me and grasping my hands with such fervor, but this is not uncommon behavior in Bhutan.

I do not mean to say that we should not teach or children to be wary of strangers. Bhutan has taught me solitude is an incredible tool for reflection and being open to conversation, unexpected experiences and allowing strangers to become friends will teach you more than any book.

I used to jokingly tell my Bhutanese friends that if they ever came to visit the United States they should never smile at someone on public transportation if they did not want a fight to break out. Keep your head down and don’t make eye contact, I used to say. Now, on the precipice of my reentry into my home country, I wish those jokes had been less true. I have grown accustomed to talking to every person on the street, referring to him or her all as Uncle or Auntie. I am mourning leaving the overtly social culture of Bhutan, which I once deemed an inconvenience and discomfort. I can only hope that I will be able to continue to carry Bhutan’s greatest lessons with me. Be friendly, be open and don’t be afraid to feel uncomfortable- when the company is good you this will never be the case.

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