What Moving to Nepal at 20 Actually Taught Me
I was 20 years old when I moved to Nepal. I had no plan, no itinerary, and barely any money. Armed only with a bag, a one-way ticket, and the kind of confidence that only exists for a 20-year-old with a minimally developed frontal lobe, I thought I could handle anything.
People always ask why, and honestly?
I was fascinated with developing nations. I had seen poverty in the U.S. and experienced so much happiness amidst it. My thought was that people in a third-world country must possess immense wisdom and an amazing outlook. I also simply wanted to see the extent of global hardship. I found answers to all my curiosities; as it turns out, I was right. I encountered immense wisdom, beautiful spirits, and heart-crushing poverty that should honestly have been called slavery.
Here’s what I actually came back with:
I developed a completely different relationship with patience. Nepal runs on its own clock; things happen when they happen. You either make peace with that or spend every day furious—and being furious is exhausting. The lack of schedules gave me an entirely different perspective on time, making life move both quickly and joyously. In happy moments, hours would pass like minutes, and the days began to blend together. Life became an adventure, with a 24-hour clock that reset every morning.
I gained a deep respect for personal struggles. You never know what someone deals with behind closed doors. The most joyous people I saw every day would often invite me back to their homes for tea, where I would witness heart-crushing circumstances.
One thing I’ll never forget came from the Sherpas. I’d ask if they ever found their jobs difficult—men ranging from 14 to 70 years old strapping over 200 kilos to a band around their foreheads, trekking alongside tourists who bragged about climbing Everest with oxygen tanks while the locals crushed the trail in flip-flops while smoking cigarettes. They’d say, "We don’t have a word for difficulty; it’s just our day."
I formed an extremely strong opinion about dal bhat. It’s a rice and lentil dish I ate twice a day, every single day, and I fully understand the hype. I still think about it. I enjoyed it best with chicken, goat, or gundruk (the Nepali national vegetable).
Then there was the guitar. Having plenty of time and zero distractions allowed me to truly sit with music instead of just playing it. Something shifted; I stopped just playing chords and started letting music flow through my emotions, focusing more on "vibes."
Finally, I learned enough Nepali to get a job, negotiate an apartment, and even delve into the Southeast Asian gambling scene (where I unfortunately lost a big toe in Kathmandu). When I returned home during the housing market crash, I couldn’t find work anywhere—I even spent six weeks as a day laborer at Home Depot until that dried up, too. However, I was able to walk into a local Nepali restaurant, tell the owner I’d lived in his country, and land a job making two dollars an hour plus free buffet leftovers. It was exactly what I needed. Ujwhal Adhikari delivered—thanks, man! It was the best job I ever had. Zero notes.
Would I recommend moving abroad at 20 with no plan? It depends on the person. If you learn by doing, sometimes the most useful move is throwing yourself somewhere completely unfamiliar to see what sticks.
Spring makes me want to go somewhere. Maybe not a one-way ticket this time though.
– Brad