A Year in Southeast Asia, Yet Nepal Still Stunned Me

A Journey Through Southeast Asia and the Unexpected Shock of Nepal

After spending six months in Southeast Asia, I thought I had seen it all. From tree rats to squat toilets, zipline-only treehouses, Komodo dragons, and monkeys with a taste for laundry detergent, I was confident that nothing could surprise me anymore. But when I landed in Nepal, everything changed.

Over the past year, I've traveled through Southeast Asia, fulfilling a promise I made to myself as I turned 40: to seek out adventure. This journey was similar to the six months I spent traveling through South America in my early 20s. This time, however, I wanted to explore a different part of the world. In July 2025, I packed my new backpack (after an unfortunate Marmite-based incident with the old one) and flew to my first destination—Singapore.

Since then, I've visited six other countries: Malaysia (including Borneo), Indonesia, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, and Thailand. I’ve slept in a jungle treehouse accessible only by zipline, volunteered with sun bears in Borneo, peered into the crater of an active volcano, and even posed for a selfie with a Komodo dragon (with the guide’s approval).

I spent a month in Chiang Mai and two months in Da Nang, Vietnam, experiencing life like a local—though definitely not a poor one. I thought I had acclimated to whatever travel could throw at me, from tree rats in Laos to monkeys stealing my laundry tablets in Borneo, geckos (or maybe rats) in my bed in Thailand, and giant flying cockroaches in Vietnam.

There were also non-animal-related culture shocks: the lack of sidewalks making walking dangerous in most cities, the lingering impact of Agent Orange in Vietnam, learning to be a passenger princess on Grab bikes, and coming to terms with squat toilets.

But nothing prepared me for Nepal.

Smooth Sailing in Kathmandu

Nepal isn’t in Southeast Asia, so I knew things would be different. I did some research and expected certain differences, especially regarding road travel, which I knew could be dangerous. However, I hadn’t realized how much culture shock could still hit me.

My arrival in Kathmandu started off smoothly. The airport was chaotic, with shouting taxi drivers and disorganized baggage claim, but nothing too shocking. My first hotel was amazing—a solid 3-star "treat" hotel with friendly staff who welcomed me warmly even at midnight.

I liked Kathmandu more than I expected. It has a reputation for being busy, crowded, and polluted, but there is so much history in the capital. I visited Durbar Square, which was heavily damaged by the terrible earthquake in 2015. The visible damage was an early sign that Nepal wasn’t going to be like the rapidly modernizing Southeast Asia I had just come from.

I engaged a great tour guide who was reading The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood when we met. That gave me confidence he’d be a good fit. We saw all the sights and ended up having coffee and a deep discussion about books.

Gender Disparity and Other Differences

Beneath the history and hospitality, I began noticing deeper differences that challenged my perspective. It wasn’t until I tried to find laptop-friendly cafes that I noticed one of the biggest differences between Nepal and many Southeast Asian countries—the gender balance. I struggled to find cafes that weren’t male-dominated, and women were far less visible than in Southeast Asia.

In Vietnam, I spent a lot of time in cafes and coworking spaces run by female entrepreneurs. In Nepal, front-facing roles were mostly filled by men. I found NGOs across the country dedicated to empowering women economically, and Kathmandu is full of shops selling cute felted bag charms, offering home-based employment opportunities for women.

Later, I read an eye-opening non-fiction book that highlighted how entrenched patriarchal structures are in Nepal. While this was just my perspective, it stood out as a significant difference compared to many parts of Southeast Asia.

Transport Challenges

Transportation was another major culture shock. Much of Southeast Asia has invested heavily in airports, with new ones even in remote destinations like Sumatra or southern Laos. Kathmandu’s domestic terminal felt like a time warp, with manual destination boards, handwritten luggage tags, and staff wheeling bags away from desks, hoping they'd end up on the right flight. But everything worked out, and I even sat next to a staff member on my tiny plane who pointed out different Himalayan mountains during our short journey.

The roads were another shock, even when compared to the notoriously bad roads in Laos. My initial concern was that we’d go too fast and crash, but I soon realized that was the least of my worries. The roads were so bad we could barely get up any speed, rocking from side to side like a fairground ride. My bigger worry was not throwing up!

The Bus Journey from Hell

My final bus journey was meant to take eight hours, but it turned into fifteen after we got stuck just 5 km from Kathmandu when the only westbound road into the capital was closed. Between sudden lurches forward and stretches of numbing boredom, I ended up in a shouting match with the driver to secure a toilet break for the female passengers. Meanwhile, the male passengers were hopping off every few meters to pee on the side of the road.

As we finally made it through, the heavens opened, and torrential rain poured down. We nervously eyed the sides of the road where we could see endless “Beware: Landslides” signs.

The Deepest Well of Shock

My biggest shock came in Bhaktapur, another UNESCO Heritage site in Kathmandu. This beautiful area is full of history, but as I wandered around, I realized that not only were there still many historic wells dotting the city, but women were visiting them regularly to draw water for necessities such as washing. It was deeply surprising to witness how many families in central Kathmandu still rely on wells for basic needs, something I’ve seen in rural areas of Southeast Asia, but never in major cities.

This experience gave me a powerful reminder of how uneven global access to infrastructure still is, even in capital cities.

Positives of Culture Shock

There were also happier experiences of culture shock. My guide in Bhaktapur took me to his tea shop for a cup of delicious Nepali tea and made some for all his neighbors at the same time, something you’d never see in Western cities. There were bookshops everywhere, whereas in much of Southeast Asia, books are so expensive that they’re out of reach for many people.

When I went paragliding in Pokhara, we were greeted by a traditional local band on our descent, celebrating the first time in years that particular spot had been used for paragliders.

The Good and the Bad: Broadening Horizons

Why did I find this experience of culture shock so valuable? Southeast Asia is easy to navigate if you're not a novice traveler. Countries like Thailand, Vietnam, and Indonesia see significant economic benefits from tourism, which makes travel as seamless as possible. After months of traveling, it's easy to think you've seen it all.

Being in Nepal shocked me out of that mindset. It reminded me that there are so many glorious differences in the world, alongside the terrible ones like a lack of running water. The bad culture shock, like the taxi driver in Kathmandu who fell asleep and nearly drove into oncoming traffic, goes alongside the amazing, like seeing rhinos up close in Chitwan National Park or paragliding over Pokhara Lake. These experiences make the overall journey so much richer.

After a year of tree rats, flying cockroaches, and being outwitted by monkeys, I thought I was unshockable. Then Nepal threw me a 15-hour bus ride, a dozing taxi driver, and women collecting water from wells in the middle of a capital city. Nepal reminded me that travel doesn't just broaden your horizons—it humbles them.

As I head into my forties, that's exactly what I'm after: not comfort, but challenge; not predictability, but discovery. There's still so much left to see, and I'll never stop traveling.