It all started with a bag of mangos from a roadside fruit stand and ended with our van stuck in the slick mountain earth, tires spinning in place under a sky scattered with far-off stars. As I clutched the mangos, gifted by one of our guides, I watched strangers and fellow travelers rush to help, without hesitation or expectation. That moment cracked something open in me. Back home in the U.S., individuality is celebrated sometimes to the point where loneliness becomes background noise in our lives. We learn early to keep to ourselves, avoid strangers, and measure success in personal gain rather than community connection. In Nepal, I felt the opposite. For ten days, I experienced a culture where kindness was offered freely, where people let you in without guardedness, and where relationships, no matter how brief, were deeply cherished. From heartfelt goodbyes outside a tiny ice cream shop in Kathmandu to quiet connections built in the tea fields without a shared language, I saw how powerful it is when people lead with openness instead of fear. That’s what I brought home from Nepal: the determination to keep reaching out, to offer connection first, and to carry that sense of belonging with me, no matter where I am.
Namaste, my name is Sevi, and if you know me well, you're aware that my stepmom and two of our close family friends recently went on a 10-day trip to Nepal. I want to share the impact of Nepali culture with our community so that this experience can inspire others who were not fortunate enough to experience it firsthand to make a change, even if it's just a small adjustment to their lives. It all started with a bag of mangos from a roadside fruit stand, and ended with a very slick situation. The night air blew in through the cracked van window, crisp and clear, reflecting the expansive night sky, which was interrupted only by the pinpricks of light from far-off stars. Our engine revved, and I heard the sound of the tires spinning uselessly on the slick earth, impersonating a road beneath us, unable to find traction. I was holding onto my Nepali mangos, which were a gift from one of our guides, and watching all these people around us giving their time to help us, not only our guides, but the passengers from their vans stopped up the road, who didn't know any of us. In that moment, something was missing —a feeling that had become such a constant feeling in my life that it was almost a background noise; loneliness.
Our culture, specifically the culture of the US, endorses individuality, which is generally not considered a negative trait; however, the extent of individuality that people repeatedly seek can lead to lives where people feel alone, even when surrounded by loved ones. This culture is so evident in our communities that the U.S. Surgeon General has declared it an “Epidemic of Loneliness and Isolation”. This culture begins at a young age, ever since the first time an adult instructed you not to interact with strangers. As children grow into adults, the factors that lead to loneliness grow in number and intensity, encouraging the pursuit of individuality. When you get older, you are met with “The American Dream,” which, along with consumerism, both prioritize material goods and a single person’s gain over a community's well-being. Another factor that intensifies as your brain loses its innocence is the awareness of crime. News reports, although important, can heighten paranoia among people. If you're scared of someone harming you or the people you love, the natural response is to withdraw from others, especially strangers. Another bane of connection is social media, which increases not only screen time, which diminishes the amount of real-world interactions you have, but also increases social comparison, which drives wedges between individuals and communities. These factors lead to less community engagement and ultimately, individuals feeling isolated, even within their own homes. We adapt to loneliness; in fact, we adapt so much that we often don't even notice the feeling, but it does affect us. It affects our children and our partners, it affects our health, both physical and mental, and it affects our overall quality of life, not just for an individual, but for the community they belong to.
My experience in Nepal was extremely different. I want to reflect on my experience, what it was like to receive that connection, and all the kindness from our guides. I tried hard to avoid talking about the culture of Nepal, or to explain it, generally, to others, as I feel that would be wrong of me, to talk about a culture I don't belong to. So, I will focus on my experience of the culture. I will start just as the trip did, with our Nepal Tea Collective guides. We had 4 permanent guides throughout our trip, 3 stayed with us in the tea mountains, and one accompanied us in Kathmandu. They gave us everything, but I don't mean material goods, although they did ensure we were adequately comfortable, I mean they gave us kindness and were vulnerable enough to let us get to know their souls, and I will be eternally grateful for that opportunity. After the ten days we spent with them, it was heartbreaking to leave. I remember this moment, we were standing outside of a small ice cream shop in Kathmandu, the tight alley allowed for a small glimpse of the darkening sky and the illumination from the stars. It was time to say goodbye to one of our guides, and although I would see the other two the next day, it started to sink in that the trip, this amazing experience, was over. That it had to end. I was crying, the kind of crying that feels overwhelming, like it might swallow you. It wasn't the happiest moment of the trip, but I remember thinking that it was so impactful that I could cry over losing them, even if the loss wasn't permanent (because I am absolutely going back). It was only ten days, and our connection was so influential that I was in tears at the idea of leaving, because I felt I was leaving that part of me that could connect to anyone, that wasn't scared of what relationships brought, and I couldn't stand to lose that. I couldn't stand to lose them. I believe that the saddest, hardest moments of an experience often show the most about it.
Throughout the trip, I observed how we all connected with others, including those who spoke very little English. One of these moments occurred in the expansive, green tea fields beneath the stretching blue sky, which was dotted with scattered, ivory clouds. As we picked our tea, I paused to observe one of our family friends and our tea field guide for that day engaged in a thoughtful and connecting conversation. I knew that the guide spoke little English, but as I watched them, I realized that they were able to build a moving relationship on the mutual words that they knew and incredible amounts of perseverance from each side. As they ambled through the tea plants, they stopped to exchange smiles, grinning at their new friendship. This experience has stuck with me, as it's remarkable to consider the kindness and perseverance required to build a relationship with someone who doesn't share your language.
I'm going to ensure that the drive for connection stays with me, that I can continue to reach out to others, and draw inspiration from the amazing Nepali people who guided us, kept us safe, and gave their all to connect with us, disregarding the difficulties. Although on this trip, we were lucky enough to receive this kindness before we had to give it, studies have shown that to alleviate loneliness, we must first give connection, then receive. So, I urge you to give, to join a club, open the door for someone, ask the frazzled cashier how their day was, and truly listen to their response, or plan a family activity with the intent to connect. I hope we can spread this culture through the US and even the world, because if you can truly connect without fear, and you can hold those relationships you've formed in your heart, you will never be lonely, even if you're alone.
- Sevi
