In early July, my father, mother and I took off to San Francisco for a weeklong family reunion and for me to attend summer camp at Stanford University. My mother's younger brother—my uncle–had moved to the Bay area 20 years ago with his wife and to raise a family. It had been 10 years since any of us had seen him, so in addition to bringing over some Beijing souvenirs for his two daughters, we had a decade's worth of hugs, smiles and picture taking together.

Uncle and Aunt waited for us outside of baggage claim, with 4-year-old Madison and 6-year-old Alyson. I caught glimpses of the anxious quartet over the shoulders of the border patrols. My mother, too, reciprocated the excitement as she shifted up herself over the windows behind the officers to snatch a first glance of her "Nam Dong Saeng"—the Korean word for "little brother." Then came the embraces, kisses and, for my mother, some joyful tears. Uncle marveled at how BIG I had gotten. My parents gushed over how adorable Madison and Alyson were. Gradually our extended clan moved out of the SFO terminal and toward the sky train that would take us to the car park and eventually to San Francisco.

Our first stop was the famous Fisherman's Wharf. Uncle brought us to Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. where we gorged ourselves on calamari, clam chowder and the oddly named "Bucket of Boat Trash"—it's actually an assortment of fried lobster claw, fries and shrimp. I especially liked the clam chowder, with its creamy, viscous mix of diced potatoes, sweet onions and jewel-sized portions of fresh clams. After much conversation, gossip and bragging about children, it was finally time to settle the bill. And then a battle ensued. It was odd to see my mother, who only hours ago had grabbed onto Uncle in an embrace, now pushing and trying to snatch the bill. She is the older sister so of course she should pay. Uncle scoffed, "Yes, but she is also the guest, so the host should pay." Up until then, I had only ever seen my mother as just that, my mother. But now, here she was jostling and play wrestling with Uncle in a way that they probably had done as kids. I laughed. For the record, Uncle paid the bill, but my mom would get the next meal.

We left Bubba Gump's and strolled over the pier's edge to take pictures of the barking, blubbering sea lions. Oh yeah, they also smelled horrible. There, under the late afternoon light, were hundreds of tannish, grey blobs splayed out on the wooden docks. Their musk, which only a sea lion could appreciate, was blend of briny water and poop. I aimed to snap an #artsy photo for my Instagram. It was great moment until my father joked that I belonged in that colony. #Ugh.

Next, Uncle drove us up to see the iconic Golden Gate Bridge. I read that the Irving Morrow, the consulting architect on the bridge, had deliberately chosen this red-orange color (called "international orange") because he felt the world's largest suspension bridge deserved an iconic hue. As it was around early evening, it was the perfect time to catch the majestic structure as it intermixed with the sky, fog, clouds and hills. I also took another #artsy picture. #Foggy.

My other favorite attraction was Lombard Street, also known as the crookedest street in America. Over eight tight turns, cars navigate their way down Russian Hill, outlined with colorful and perfectly manicured flowers and the San Francisco city in the backdrop. I was able to snap a quick photo before I felt two little tugs at my shirt. Madison and Alyson apparently weren't interested in taking photos for Instagram. Instead, they insisted that I take them to the nearby ice cream stand. After getting permission, I escorted my cousins over for three cones of strawberry ice cream and sat with them as they told me about their favorite dolls and favorite color (anything pink). I don't have siblings, so interacting with Madison and Alyson was as close as I'd ever get to know what it was like to have younger sisters.

After a week with Uncle and his family, I left for nearby Stanford University, where I had been admitted into their Stanford Pre-Collegiate Summer Institutes. For three weeks, I had the opportunity to study with young students from across the U.S. For my selected focus (writing), my classmates and I would gather in the morning to discuss writing techniques with a Stanford professor and work with Stanford students (aka my residential advisors) in the afternoon who would help us hone our skills. We also lived in the Stanford dorms and were responsible for our own daily schedules. It was my first taste of college life and maturity.

Looking back, I had a great summer in San Francisco and northern California. It was the perfect combination of spending quality time with my family, building new experiences with new students at camp, and learning more about my family and myself. Also I took great photos for my Instagram profile. #Happy.

I recommend checking out the view atop Hoover Tower at Stanford University. It has a sweeping panorama of the surrounding mountains and downtown Palo Alto. I also recommend visiting the original fortune cookie factory in San Francisco's Chinatown. The factory is still up and running and the cookies make excellent souvenirs as a taste of American Chinese culture.