My time in Nepal is coming to a close. 

Tonight, I fly off to Hanoi, Vietnam, where I plan to spend anywhere from one to three months. 

Originally, I was going to be in Pokhara until June, taking full advantage of the 6-month visa. Somewhere along the way, though, something shifted and I began to reconsider how long I’d want to be here. 

A friend asked what led to my decision to leave, how I knew it was time, and I had to think about that. Ultimately, I think the answer comes down to a lot of things, but the sole underlying reason is this: I got a gut feeling that it was time to move on. My intuition is strong, and if I choose to listen to it, it usually guides me in the right direction. Leaving feels good. It feels right. Not leaving felt like wading through mud, like forcing myself to read through a chapter I’d already finished. 

For me, Nepal has been an experience with extremely high highs and low lows. It’s been a tremendous teacher, a wake-up call, an abrupt crash course in the realities of living in a developing world. Have I had fun? Yes. But I don’t think that’ll ever be the word I use to describe my time here, where I spent a good majority of it feeling uncomfortable, uncertain, and struggling to figure out what the heck to do now that I was here, living a life vastly different from anything I knew. Speaking honestly, the most fun I had was when Hayden came to visit, and that had more to do with his presence than it did bopping around the country with him. 

I don’t regret coming here at all, but it’s been a tough time. I wonder if I’d chosen a different country, one that was slightly more developed or a little more familiar, how different my experience would have been. I likely would have struggled, because culture shock and adapting to living in a place worlds away from anything you know is hard anywhere, but maybe I would have struggled less? I’ll never know, and it doesn’t matter. I was meant to come here first. 

And hey, from here on out, things will only get easier, right? 

None of this is to say that I haven’t enjoyed myself here. I have, and there is much I’m going to miss: the yummy restaurants and cafes I discovered; my morning runs along the lake; the warm Nepali hospitality; how easy it is to do, virtually, anything here; the low cost of living; random moments like riding next to a goat on a bus, and watching chickens be blessed at a temple knowing they were going to be that evening’s dinner.

I’ll miss the spirituality of this place, the ancient Hindu and Buddhist traditions that bleed into everyday life; the tired, bustling cities, the colorful saris that women wear and the vibrantly-painted houses; the cows wandering the streets and children waving hello to me as I pass them. I’ll miss the sprawling hills I drove past during the several hours-long bus rides I took, and the jade-blue river that carves a relentless path through them. And of course, the jagged Himalayan peaks that are impossibly huge. Heck, I’ll even miss the squatty potties because they are so quintessentially Nepal. I’ll miss all of that and more. 

The last one-hundred-and-two days have been a wild ride. I learned invaluable and revealing lessons about myself and the world and my place in it. I learned a lot about what I can tolerate, and what I don’t like. I learned that I do, in fact, enjoy creature comforts and that there’s nothing wrong with that. I learned I don’t actually enjoy living out of a backpack, nor do I like wearing the same clothes over and over again. I learned happiness comes from within, and that traveling is really hard and really, really incredible. 

One day, I would like to come back. I barely scratched the surface here. Until then, I am eternally grateful for what Nepal has taught me. 

And in the meantime, I am excited to see what Hanoi has in store for me. 

See you later, Nepal. Thank you for everything.