After three intense months in India, I crossed the border with a backpack full of memories, a tired body and no real plan, just the hope that something quieter was waiting for me on the other side. Traveling solo in Nepal wasn’t originally part of the itinerary. In fact, i was just winging it. Within days, I found myself in Pokhara, a peaceful town tucked into the Himalayan foothills, surrounded by misty lake mornings, monsoon clouds and the kind of calm I hadn’t felt in weeks. This is where I started to recover — physically, mentally and spiritually. This is how Nepal helped me reset.

Leaving Rishikesh wasn’t just about geography, It was emotional. India had stretched me thin in ways I didn’t fully realize until I was on the road out. I split a cab with a friend I met at a café. She had finished her yoga teacher training and was heading to Nepal too. Our taxi dropped us off under a highway overpass at a place called Nepali Farms, where buses slowly pulled in and out.

We waited a couple of hours, then boarded an overnight sleeper bus to Delhi at around 11:30 pm. It wasn’t luxurious. There were no seats, just bunks. I was lucky to get a bottom one. The ride was noisy at first, filled with loud conversations and honking, but I eventually caught a few hours of sleep before we arrived at Kashmiri Gate in Delhi around 5 am.

Kashmiri Gate was chaos. Taxis swarmed like bees and everyone seemed in a rush to get somewhere. We found a cab to the airport for 1200 rupees and made the bumpy, honk-filled drive across Delhi. The city felt rough, filthy and fried and I was ready to move on. We finally boarded our flight to Kathmandu, and I slept most of the way.

Landing in Kathmandu felt like stepping into a cooler, calmer version of India. I checked into a budget hotel in Thamel, the city’s tourist district, which I quickly realized wasn’t where I wanted to spend much time. It was packed with shops, trekking gear, bars and lots of tourists. Within an hour, three people approached me trying to sell hashish. I wasn’t looking for any, but apparently, that’s part of the welcome package here.

Still, the energy was more relaxed than what I’d gotten used to in Rishikesh. The honking was toned down, the air felt clearer and the people gave you space. There were fewer cows in the street, and the ones I saw looked healthier. Street dogs were everywhere, many with missing fur and tired eyes. I think a lot of them had mange.

I met up with my UK friend for supper and made loose plans to meet another friend from my yoga course, Angie, before she disappeared into a 10-day monastery retreat. The next morning we rode the city bus and explored some of the old city in the Kathmandu Valley. We saw temples and took some photos. I Bought a few things like yak wool blankets, a kukri knife and some shorts. This Area was a really interesting place and seemed like it was frozen in time.

I stayed in Kathmandu for a few days and ran into a few people i knew from India who were traveling around and then eventually decided to set off for Pokhara.

My friend Gaia and I caught a night bus to Pokhara around 8 pm on what I think was July 3rd. The ride was brutal and it rained hard the entire night, monsoon-level downpour and we twisted through the Himalayan foothills on narrow, muddy roads that had clearly seen a few landslides that week. I was thankful it was dark so I couldn’t see how close we were to the edge.

Sleep was nearly impossible. The bus bounced nonstop and we stopped occasionally at a roadside store. Somehow, we made it. Around 6 am we pulled into Pokhara, and grabbed a cab to a hotel and I collapsed into my bed.

When I woke up a few hours later and stepped outside it was clear that this place was different. Pokhara was quiet and calm. Built around a lake with misty mountains in the distance and streets that actually felt walkable. After India and even Kathmandu, Pokhara felt like an exhale. It was exactly what I didn’t know I needed.

I moved into a homestay near the lake and started rebuilding from the inside out. For the first time in months, I had a routine that didn’t involve travel stress or constant stimulation. I joined a local gym which was very modern and committed to showing up every morning. I’d start with yoga upstairs for 90 minutes, then lift weights to regain some of the weight I’d lost in India. I had dropped to 62 kilograms, around 136 pounds, and felt like my skin was just hanging off of my bones. I was shocked when i first stepped on the scale as i typically weigh 165 pounds.

After the gym, I’d head straight to breakfast. Most days it was potatoes and eggs, or chickpeas and eggs with toast. I ate with purpose. I started tracking my weight. I bought protein powder. I even stocked my room with food like it was a college dorm. My goal was simple: feel like myself again and put on some weight.

Most days followed a routine:

• 5:00 am: wake up and do pranayama
• 6:00 am: yoga + weights at the gym
• 9:00 am: big breakfast
• 10:30 am: nap
• Afternoon: play guitar for hours, go for walks, eat and repeat

It sounds simple, but after months of intensity, this was sacred.

On one of my first weekends in Pokhara, I rented a kayak and paddled around Lake Phewa for a few hours. The water was still, the clouds hung low and I barely saw another soul. It was peaceful in a way that temples never quite were for me. I got a little sunburned but didn’t care, being out there was worth it.

A few days later, I joined a friend on a hike up to the World Peace Pagoda, a massive white stupa built by a Japanese monk. I’d done a tough leg workout at the gym that morning, so climbing straight uphill for 90 minutes felt like punishment. We decided to keep going, another hour through steep trails toward a Shiva temple in the mountains.

At one point, I stopped and she went on ahead. I climbed a massive tree overlooking the lake and just sat there alone, quiet and looking out over Pokhara and the distant Himalayas. This felt more sacred than any shrine, church or temple I’d ever visited.

The Tree of Life. I climbed it to sit still and watch the whole valley breathe in a state of meditation.

Temples are manmade. Nature doesn’t ask for your belief, It just is. I sat there in silence while ants crawled along the bark and wind moved through the trees. Three young Indian guys passed by and laughed when they saw me up there. I chatted with them for a while and they continued on their way.

Now, when you go to Pokhara — you must find this tree. If you walk from the Shanti Stupa to the Shiva Temple, you will no doubt find it. There is what looks like an old empty swimming pool next to it and you will also find a small Shiva statue next to its trunk. There is something very special about this tree. Let me know if you ever see it. E-Mail: jason@offandrunnin.com

Spending time in Nepal made me realize how tense I had been in India. In Pokhara, people kept more to themselves.

I noticed things like the lack of honking and locals seemed more relaxed. In India, even a walk down the street could feel like an obstacle course of stares, beggars, cows, dogs, trash and traffic. Here, I could walk to breakfast without having to brace for sensory overload.

Tipping is another thing. In Nepal, like in most places outside the U.S., tipping isn’t expected. Traveling has made one thing painfully obvious, Americans are often overcharged and under-informed. We tip because it’s normal back home but elsewhere it’s just seen as a sign that you’re rich. One of my friends from Peru even started calling me “the rich gringo.” She had no idea.

Then there were the stranger moments, like the funeral procession I passed on my last day in Pokhara, with a group carrying a body wrapped in white cloth, walking silently through the rain. Or the kitten I found on the street that had clearly been abandoned. I picked it up, got poop all over my shirt and tried to help but ultimately had to leave it behind.

Those are the moments that stay with you. The ones that aren’t filtered through a guidebook or planned tour. Just life happening.

I left Pokhara the same way I arrived, on a night bus through the rain.

It was pouring as we pulled out of the station. The seat was stiff, the road was rough and sleep was wishful thinking. I arrived in Kathmandu at 5 am, sore and sleep-deprived. I checked into the same hotel in Thamel again, knowing this would just be a short stop before I flew out to Vietnam.

That night, a friend from my yoga training invited me to dinner with her friends across the city. I downloaded a local app called InDrive which is similar to Uber and within minutes a guy pulled up on a Yamaha motorcycle to take me across town. It had just started to rain.

Here’s the thing: I’m not a motorcycle guy. No helmet, I’m wearing Flip-flops and we’re in heavy traffic in a huge city. I clung to the back of the bike like I was in an action movie, weaving through the streets of Kathmandu, dodging buses and getting soaked by the evening rain. Somehow, we made it and I must say that he was an incredible driver.

Dinner was good and i rode back to my hotel in a car this time. And just like that, my time in Nepal was almost over.

I thought leaving Nepal would be easy but It wasn’t.

My Vietnamese visa finally got approved just days before my departure, but printing it turned into a mission. The Wi-Fi at my homestay was nearly useless, so I had to track down a print shop in Thamel and upload files from my iPad.

I booked two flights: Kathmandu to Calcutta, then Calcutta to Hanoi with separate airlines and no connection. That meant I had to exit the airport, claim my bag and re-enter through customs and security between flights. It sounded like chaos but I was ready for it.

The first flight on Air India was smooth. The plane was clean, the staff polite and everything ran on time. In Calcutta, though, security flagged my bag. They pulled me aside and took me down to the lower level of the airport where officers carefully unpacked everything.

Their “suspicious item”? A backup battery case for my phone and they made a pretty big deal about it.

After that minor drama, I boarded my final flight, a late-night Indigo ride to Hanoi that landed at 2:10 am. I was exhausted, relieved, and grateful that everything had gone mostly to plan.

Nepal turned out to be exactly what I needed. After the intensity of India, it was the pause that let me catch my breath. The scenery was beautiful. Misty mountains and a quiet lake. But more than that, it was the energy. Things moved slower and people were calmer which gave me the space to take care of myself.

Traveling solo in Nepal gave me time to rebuild a routine, reflect on where I’d been and start thinking clearly about where I was going next. I had no plan and was making this all up on the fly, then deciding where to go next, on a whim. It was exhilarating. This was probably the time I started to fall in love with traveling.

Whether it was early mornings at the gym, peaceful paddles across the lake or quiet hikes into the hills, Pokhara helped me come back to myself. I didn’t just recover in Nepal, I reset and I left focused, grounded and ready for what was to come next.