I still remember the moment I booked my one-way ticket to Kathmandu — a city I knew almost nothing about except for its promise of mystery and adventure. Why Kathmandu? Why Nepal? Why travel alone, halfway across the world, with no clear plan and no one waiting for me at the other end? These questions buzzed in my mind like restless bees as I stared at the glowing screen, my finger hovering over “Confirm.” I wasn’t sure if it was bravery, madness, or sheer curiosity pushing me forward.
What awaited me was a whirlwind of chaos and calm, dust and devotion, fear and unexpected friendships. Kathmandu wasn’t just a destination — it was a challenge to everything I thought I knew about myself and the world. I was a French woman stepping into a place where the streets seemed to have their own heartbeat, where I was invisible and yet completely seen, where every corner held a story that tangled with mine.
In this post, I’ll take you through the highs and lows, the laughter and tears, the lessons and surprises of solo traveling as a woman in Kathmandu — raw, real, and utterly unforgettable.
Leaving Lyon with Just a Backpack and a Gut Feeling
I didn’t plan to end up in Kathmandu.
After months of burnout, a breakup, and feeling like I was sleepwalking through life in Lyon, I finally snapped. I needed out. Not just a weekend escape or a digital detox—I needed distance, perspective, something that cracked me open.
So, I quit my job, packed my 38-liter backpack, and booked a one-way ticket to Kathmandu. No solid itinerary. Just a gut feeling that Nepal would teach me something I had forgotten about myself.
Spoiler: It did.
First Impressions: Chaos, Kindness, and Dust
Landing in Kathmandu felt like stepping into another planet—one where time doesn’t follow rules and traffic seems to have its own language.
Outside Tribhuvan Airport, the air smelled like incense, motor oil, and spices. People were shouting, cows wandered the streets like they owned the place, and the taxi I got into didn’t have seatbelts.
I was terrified. And yet… something about the chaos made me feel alive. It was real, unsanitized, and very, very far from the polished world I left behind.
Touchdown: First Moments in Kathmandu
Stepping off the plane at Tribhuvan International Airport, I was immediately hit by a wave of sensations — the humid air, the buzz of conversations in unfamiliar languages, the distant honking of horns, and the sight of colorful prayer flags fluttering against a hazy sky. Kathmandu was nothing like the neat, polished airports back home in France. It felt raw, alive, and a little chaotic — exactly what I had imagined, but also something entirely new.
As I made my way through the crowd, the mix of excitement and nervousness swirled inside me. My heart pounded — not just because I was finally here, but because I was truly alone in a place so different from anything I’d known. Would I be able to navigate this city? Would the people be kind or wary? And more selfishly — would I like it?
Outside the airport, a taxi driver’s eager calls pulled me toward the street. I hesitated, but eventually nodded and climbed in, my bags bumping in the backseat. The car crept through narrow roads lined with crumbling buildings, street vendors, and stray dogs weaving through the traffic. I watched wide-eyed, trying to absorb every detail — the vibrant chaos, the rich smells of spices and incense, and the colorful tapestry of life that was Kathmandu.
In that moment, the city felt like a living, breathing entity welcoming me — mysterious, imperfect, and utterly captivating.
Standing Out and Blending In
From the moment I stepped into Kathmandu’s bustling streets, I realized something strange: I was both completely invisible and painfully visible at the same time. As a solo traveler from France, with my pale skin and loud laughter, I stood out against the backdrop of the city’s warm tones and quiet humility. Yet, somehow, I also felt like just another face in the crowded, lively crowd.
Wearing my worn-out hiking boots and a simple scarf, I tried to move with the flow of people, hoping to blend in a little. But the moment I opened my map or paused to take a photo, I’d catch the curious glances — some filled with genuine interest, others a bit more hesitant or surprised.
The Curious Stares of Locals and Tourists
What struck me most were the eyes watching me — not in a threatening way, but with a blend of curiosity and wonder. Locals, especially children, would sneak peeks, sometimes shyly waving hello, while elders smiled knowingly as if they saw stories written on my face that I hadn’t yet lived. Tourists, on the other hand, often nodded in silent camaraderie, recognizing that same mix of excitement and uncertainty in my expression.
I wasn’t just observing Kathmandu anymore; I was being observed too. It made me self-conscious at times — was I loud? Was I respectful? Did I look out of place? But gradually, those stares became less about me and more about the shared human experience of discovering something new and unfamiliar.
Finding My Place in the Crowd
Slowly, I found my rhythm. I learned to read the river of traffic, to smile back at those curious children, to bargain softly with street vendors, and to sit quietly in temple courtyards watching monks chant. Kathmandu is a city that demands you pay attention — to its sounds, smells, and stories — and in doing so, I found my place within its pulse.
There was a subtle magic in becoming part of this ancient city’s daily dance, even as an outsider. It was humbling and exhilarating. I wasn’t just a visitor anymore; I was a participant — navigating the beautiful tension between standing out and blending in.
Thamel Nights and Momos for One
That first night in Thamel, I climbed the stairs to a rooftop restaurant, ordered steamed buff momos, and watched the city flicker with warm lights.
I felt alone—but not in a bad way. There was a strange comfort in being anonymous. No one knew me. No one expected anything. I could just be.
I pulled out my journal and scribbled:
“I don’t know what I’m doing here. But I’m glad I came.”
The Food Adventures: Spice, Sweat, and Smiles
One of the most unforgettable parts of traveling solo in Kathmandu was diving headfirst into its vibrant food scene. Nepali cuisine is a wild, wonderful mix of flavors—earthy spices, tangy chutneys, fresh herbs—that somehow dance together in every bite. But let me be honest: eating alone in a new city, especially one where the flavors hit harder than what my French palate was used to, was both thrilling and intimidating.
My first encounter with momos (those famous Nepali dumplings) was a spicy wake-up call. Each bite brought a burst of warmth that quickly turned into a sweat-inducing challenge—especially for someone not used to that level of heat! But instead of shying away, I found myself grinning through the spice and savoring every mouthful. The locals’ smiles as they watched me try to keep my cool were priceless; somehow, the food became a bridge, turning me from “outsider” into “guest.”
Street food stalls, bustling markets, and cozy cafés became my daily classrooms. I learned to ask for “not too spicy,” though I quickly realized that sometimes “not too spicy” in Kathmandu is still a fiery adventure. From sweet, milky chai shared with shopkeepers to unexpected invitations into local homes, food wasn’t just fuel—it was a joyful, messy, and heartwarming part of my journey.
Learning to Slow Down and Trust
In France, I was always rushing. Deadlines. Meetings. Expectations. Kathmandu had a different rhythm—slow, unpredictable, and strangely freeing.
One morning, I set off to find a temple I’d read about online. I never made it. Instead, I got hopelessly lost in a maze of alleys, ended up in a small courtyard where children were playing, and was invited in for sweet chai by an older woman who spoke no English.
That unplanned detour? Still one of my favorite memories.
Moments That Made Me Laugh at Myself
Solo travel isn’t glamorous. I once mistakenly ordered “extra spicy chili chips” thinking it was a light snack and cried actual tears at a street stall while a group of locals tried not to laugh.
Another day, I tried to take a “serene walk” around Swayambhunath (Monkey Temple) and got my snack snatched by an aggressive monkey who looked me in the eye like I’d betrayed him.
Humbling? Yes. Hilarious? Also yes.
The Women Who Made Me Feel Seen
Being a woman traveling alone can feel isolating—but in Kathmandu, I met other solo women from all over the world. A Swedish writer. A Brazilian backpacker. A Nepalese college student who practiced her English with me over coffee.
We shared fears, travel tips, and quiet encouragement. We swapped stories of missed buses, kind strangers, and that universal solo travel feeling: the mix of fear and freedom.
The Quiet Power of Being Unknown
No one in Kathmandu knew my past. My failures. My “shoulds.”
For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t performing. I didn’t need to be productive or perfect. I could wear the same jeans four days in a row. I could sit in Durbar Square for an hour doing nothing but people-watching.
There’s something oddly healing about being unrecognizable. I felt like I was slowly remembering who I was before the world told me who I should be.
Sunrise at Boudhanath: A Moment I’ll Always Carry
I woke up before dawn to visit Boudhanath Stupa. The streets were still sleepy, the air cool.
When I arrived, hundreds of monks were already there, walking in clockwise circles around the stupa, prayer wheels spinning, chants floating in the air like mist.
I stood there in silence, hands in prayer, tears quietly forming. Not from sadness—but from awe.
In that moment, I felt small in the best possible way. Like a part of something timeless.
How Kathmandu Changed Me
Kathmandu didn’t just show me a new place — it changed the way I see the world and myself. When I arrived, I thought I was ready for anything. But this city, with its chaotic streets and sacred silence, taught me humility in ways I never expected.
I learned to embrace unpredictability. Flights delayed, power outages, and unexpected detours became less frustrating and more part of the adventure. I discovered patience—not the forced kind, but a gentle acceptance that things don’t always go according to plan, and that’s okay.
The kindness of strangers touched me deeply. From the tea shop owner who insisted I try her special chai, to the elderly monk who offered a quiet blessing, I felt welcomed in a way that transcended language or culture. Those moments reminded me that connection is possible anywhere, even when you feel most alone.
Kathmandu also challenged my sense of comfort. The narrow alleys, the crowds, the intense smells—they pushed me out of my bubble. But in that discomfort, I found growth. I became more observant, more grounded, more present.
Most importantly, Kathmandu taught me that travel is not just about seeing new places, but about letting those places change you — sometimes in small, unexpected ways that last long after you leave.
The Challenge of Homesickness
No matter how exciting the adventure, homesickness is a shadow that sometimes follows you around. In Kathmandu, amid all the vibrant chaos and new faces, there were moments when I missed the quiet familiarity of home—my family’s laughter, the smell of fresh croissants in the morning, even the usual background noise of my own neighborhood.
It would hit me unexpectedly. Maybe while sitting alone in a bustling café, watching strangers chat in a language I didn’t understand, or late at night when the city’s energy slowed and silence crept in. Suddenly, the thrill of discovery felt distant, replaced by a deep longing for the known and the comfortable.
But I also learned that homesickness is a sign of connection—it means you carry your roots with you, no matter where you go. Instead of fighting it, I started to embrace it. I called home more often, shared my experiences with friends and family, and even brought little pieces of home with me—a favorite scarf, photos, or a journal filled with memories.
And interestingly, the feeling didn’t weaken my journey; it made it richer. It reminded me why I was traveling in the first place—to grow, to learn, and to appreciate both where I come from and where I am going.
Lessons Learned From Traveling Alone
Traveling solo taught me more about myself than I ever expected. It’s like holding up a mirror in a foreign land—one that reflects not just the person I was, but the person I could become. I learned patience when flights got delayed and plans fell apart. I discovered resilience as I navigated unfamiliar streets without a map or guide. And I found courage every time I said “yes” to an invitation, even when fear whispered to stay safe.
Most importantly, I realized that being alone doesn’t mean being lonely. I met strangers who became friends, shared stories that touched my heart, and experienced moments of profound connection in the most unexpected places. Solo travel forced me to trust myself — my instincts, my decisions, and my strength.
It also humbled me. I saw how much there is to learn from other cultures, and how often I carried biases I hadn’t noticed before. Traveling alone means being open — to new ideas, new foods, new ways of living — and that openness transformed me.
If there’s one lesson I hold closest, it’s this: sometimes the best journey is the one inside. And solo travel gives you the time and space to take it.
Daily Routines That Became Lifelines
When everything around me was unfamiliar—the language, the streets, the people—I found comfort in small daily rituals. Mornings began with a cup of chai from the same bustling street stall, where the vendor greeted me with a smile that felt like a tiny thread of home. Those few quiet moments, watching the city come alive, became my anchor.
Walking through the narrow alleys of Kathmandu, I made it a habit to pause at the same little temple, lighting a candle and taking a moment to breathe. It was a simple act, but it brought a sense of peace amid the chaos.
Evenings were for journaling in my tiny guesthouse room, trying to untangle the jumble of feelings the day had brought. Writing became my way to process, to celebrate small wins, and to remind myself why I chose this path.
These routines weren’t about rigidity; they were lifelines — little islands of familiarity that helped me feel grounded when everything else felt like a whirlwind. In a city full of surprises, my daily rituals became moments of calm, self-care, and reflection.
Packing Up, But Taking More Than Just Souvenirs
As my time in Kathmandu drew to a close, I found myself packing more than just clothes and souvenirs into my bag. With every fold of fabric and tuck of a scarf, I was carefully wrapping up memories, lessons, and moments that had reshaped me in ways I hadn’t expected.
I wasn’t just carrying postcards or trinkets—I was bringing home a new understanding of resilience, a deeper appreciation for kindness from strangers, and a richer sense of who I am when stripped of all familiar comforts.
Kathmandu had gifted me stories of laughter in awkward moments, tears in quiet corners, and the courage to navigate unknown streets alone. These weren’t things I could fit into any suitcase, yet they felt like the most valuable treasures.
Leaving felt bittersweet—not just goodbye to a place, but to a version of myself that had grown a little braver, a little wiser. I realized that travel isn’t just about destinations, it’s about transformation. And in that transformation, I took something much bigger than any souvenir.
Coming Back… Different
I returned to France eventually—but not as the same woman who left.
I came back more patient. Less afraid of uncertainty. More trusting of myself. I stopped needing constant distraction. I started listening—to my gut, to people, to silence.
Kathmandu didn’t “fix” me. But it woke me up.
Why Every Woman Should Travel Alone (At Least Once)
Solo travel doesn’t mean you never get scared. It means you learn to move with your fear, not away from it.
You discover how resourceful, brave, soft, and strong you really are. You fall in love with the world—and with yourself in it.
I went to Kathmandu searching for something. I left realizing… maybe I already had it. I just needed to go far enough to see it clearly.
To Anyone Thinking About It—Just Go
If you’re waiting for a sign to travel solo, here it is: Go.
Go with your messy heart. Go with your fear. Go with your curiosity.
The world is so much kinder than you think. And you?
You’re braver than you know.
Suggestions for Other Travelers
- Embrace Curiosity Over Comfort
Don’t be afraid to step outside your comfort zone. The magic of travel often lies in unexpected moments, so stay open to new experiences—even if they feel a bit uncomfortable at first. - Learn Basic Local Phrases
A few words in the local language can open doors, create smiles, and show respect. Simple greetings or thank you’s can make your interactions richer and more genuine. - Stay Present and Observe
Take time to just sit, watch, and absorb your surroundings without rushing. Whether it’s a bustling market, a quiet temple, or a lively street, being fully present helps you connect deeply. - Trust Your Instincts But Be Open-Minded
Solo travel requires balance. Listen to your gut for safety, but don’t let fear close your mind. People often appreciate travelers who are respectful and genuine. - Pack Light, But Bring Essentials
Travel light to stay mobile, but carry essentials like a portable charger, a reusable water bottle, and a small first aid kit. Preparedness brings peace of mind. - Connect With Locals and Fellow Travelers
Whether it’s joining a group tour, attending a workshop, or just chatting in a café, these connections enrich your journey and can lead to unexpected friendships. - Document Your Journey
Keep a travel journal, blog, or photo diary. Writing down your thoughts and experiences helps you process and remember the nuances of your trip. - Be Patient With Yourself
Travel can be exhausting and emotionally challenging. It’s okay to have tough days. Allow yourself rest and kindness, just as you would at home. - Respect Local Culture and Customs
Take time to learn about cultural norms and etiquette. Being respectful shows appreciation and helps you blend in more smoothly. - Celebrate Your Independence
Solo travel is a powerful way to build confidence and self-reliance. Celebrate your small victories, whether it’s navigating a tricky street or ordering food in a new language.
Final Thoughts: Why I’ll Keep Traveling Solo
Traveling solo has been more than just an adventure—it’s become a way of life. Every trip I take alone teaches me something new about the world and, more importantly, about myself. The freedom to choose my own path, the unexpected friendships formed in the most unlikely places, and the moments of quiet reflection in foreign streets—these are experiences that only solo travel can offer.
Yes, it can be challenging, sometimes lonely, and even a little scary. But those challenges have shaped me into a stronger, more confident person. They’ve helped me embrace uncertainty instead of fearing it, and find joy in the unexpected. Solo travel has taught me to trust myself, listen to my intuition, and be open to whatever comes next.
I’ll keep traveling solo because it reminds me that the world is vast, beautiful, and full of stories waiting to be discovered—many of which I get to write myself. It’s a journey without a fixed destination, and that’s what makes it so thrilling. No matter where I go next, I know that traveling alone will always be a part of who I am.
