One of the main reasons I wanted to come to Nepal was to do a silence retreat. But before leaving, I made a conscious decision to let go of the “Western way” - aka: planning everything ahead - and instead ride the waves as they come. I didn’t know who I’d meet or where I’d end up, and honestly, that felt kind of comforting.
That mindset, though freeing, meant I didn’t manage to book the 7-day silent retreat with monks I originally had in mind. So instead, Jet and I booked a yoga and meditation retreat - something more accessible and, for Jet (who hadn’t really done yoga or meditation before), a good introduction.
On our way to becoming zen
Our cab broke down in the middle of Kathmandu - on the only roundabout I’ve seen in the entire city. The driver got out, popped the hood, and started hitting the engine with a wrench while pushing us and our luggage along. Eventually, we just told him to stop; we’d get another cab. It felt too cruel watching him struggle.
When we finally arrived at the retreat, we were welcomed by a warm Nepali couple. The husband helped carry our bags and the wife greeted us with flowers. They told us we were now part of their family and they made us genuinely feel at home.
The group
Our group included a Dutch couple (though the guy was French), another Dutch guy, an American woman, a French woman, a Puerto Rican women (who works and lives there - she is part of their family) and us. Honestly, we didn’t really click with anyone, but then again, I don't think anyone really clicked with each other. There was polite small talk that felt forced and oftentimes also a silence during and after the meals, which felt quite awkward.
I must admit, I didn’t feel like I had the energy to put in the effort and keep the conversations going. You know how it is - sometimes you meet people you can talk to for hours and it actually gives you energy. And then there are others where even a five-minute conversation feels exhausting, like your energy is being drained.
When we ran into the Dutch couple before lunch, the woman asked if we were also from the Netherlands. We said yes, and Jet politely asked, “Are you from the Netherlands too?”
To which she replied: “Well, I don’t look Nepali, do I?”
We were... stumped. Jet tried to brush it off, and we figured it must be her sense of humor, but the vibe had been set.
Everyone was nice enough, but there just wasn’t much connection. Thankfully we had each other - if we couldn’t put the situation into perspective, we could at least laugh so hard we forgot why we cared in the first place.
The yogi in me
That evening we started our first yoga session. It began with breathing exercises - some of which I’d never done before.
The teacher had us inhale for 8 seconds - while my lungs tapped out at 5. He shouted the instructions like we were in a bootcamp, which didn’t exactly help with finding inner peace. Then came alternate-nostril breathing, which made me laugh way too hard. I was sitting behind Jet and every time she moved her fingers to close a nostril, I just knew what she was thinking. We couldn’t look each other in the eye without breaking into laughter.
The yoga poses themselves? A full-on mess. Out of 10 movements, I got maybe half of them right. He’d say left - I’d go right. Everyone turned one way, I turned the other. Every time our eyes met, Jet and I were just thinking: What the hell are we doing?
What happened to my yogi?
We ended up cutting the retreat short.
And that surprised me - normally, I love yoga. I like working with a teacher, adjusting and improving my posture, learning more. But this just didn’t hit right.
Maybe it was the teacher, whose energy felt more intense than calming. Maybe it was the group dynamic - or lack thereof. No one really connected, which made the vibe kind of awkward. And eating dal bhat three times a day? Delicious, sure - but not that delicious.
I also realized we were down to our final days in Nepal, and I wanted to spend that time (and money) wisely. The retreat wasn’t exactly cheap, and that made leaving feel even more justified.
Still, I’m not giving up on the idea. Different people, different place - maybe it would work better next time. I definitely want to try it again.
New (and slightly weird) experiences
Even though we left early, we walked away with some truly unique experiences.
Nasal irrigations
Every morning started with nasal cleansing - yep, with actual little watering cans. Apparently it helps with breathing (and maybe clears out the Kathmandu smog).
Jet really wasn’t feeling it, and I told her she didn’t have to. But then, morning came, and there we were, both holding our mini cans like pros-in-training.
It was hilarious. We tried so hard to keep it serious, but we couldn’t stop laughing. The process was weirdly satisfying, but if you tilt your head wrong and the saltwater slides into your throat - it's disgusting. Still, during morning yoga, half of us were blowing our noses. So… mission accomplished?
And… does it actually work?
Now, about those nasal irrigations - turns out, they’re not just a funny hippie thing. They actually have some solid science behind them. Nasal irrigation (using little watering cans, neti pots, or squeeze bottles) helps flush out mucus, dust, allergens, and pollution from your nasal passages. It’s often recommended for people with allergies, sinus issues, or even colds, and a lot of folks swear by it for clearer breathing and fewer sinus infections.
But - and it’s a big but - you have to do it properly. Using regular tap water can be dangerous, because it might contain tiny organisms you definitely don’t want in your nose. In super rare cases, contaminated water has led to serious infections, including a brain-eating amoeba. Yeah, not ideal. To stay on the safe side, you should always use boiled (then cooled), distilled, or sterile water. Also, rinse and dry your little watering can thoroughly after each use to keep things clean.
So, while it feels a little weird at first (and makes you feel like a human teapot), when done right, it can be experienced as satisfying. Just follow the safety rules, and you might find yourself becoming a nasal irrigation convert. Or at least laughing through it, like we did.
Tea-time songs
The owner’s wife had a song for every meal:
“Breakfast time, breakfast time, breakfast tiiiiime…”
Switch "breakfast" with tea, lunch, or dinner - and you’ve got the soundtrack of the retreat.
At first, we smiled. But at breakfast, we could barely keep it together.
Words of wisdom
When we told the Puerto Rican woman that we were leaving early, she didn’t try to talk us out of it. Instead, she just listened. We ended up having some amazing conversations with her - natural, flowing, and full of warmth. We found out she’s actually a therapist, which made total sense. There was just something really grounding about her communcation.
It felt like such a contrast to the rest of the group, where the vibe had been polite but distant. With her, things just clicked. We talked about why we were leaving, the mental load of always trying to do the “right thing,” and how it’s okay to prioritize your own happiness. She left us with one last piece of advice: “Live for yourself. Don’t apologize so much. You’re allowed to make decisions that make you happy - even if they disappoint someone else in the process.”
As we walked away from the retreat house with our bags, she and the owners stood at the top of the stairs, waving us goodbye. And strangely enough, that’s when we felt the first real connection to someone there. It made leaving harder than expected. And even though we had a great experience, when we arrived at the bus station, we were happy with the decision we made - choosing our own happiness.
And honestly? That might’ve been the most healing thing of the whole retreat.
