I Backpacked Solo Through Vietnam — How It Helped Me Heal

Four days after my fiancé and I broke up, I packed up my life in Atlanta and moved to New York City. Two days later, I flew to Vietnam and backpacked my way through the north of the country as a solo female traveler. While those days were the hardest of my life, traveling to Vietnam was the best thing I could have done for myself. 

Backing up a bit, I had been living in Atlanta with my fiancé for two years. He had a demanding career, and I found myself spending much of my time alone in a city where I had no family and had only just started to make new friends. It just wasn’t working. Though I loved him, in the end we decided to part ways.

It wasn’t a decision that came easily; the intense combination of love and fear made choosing what to do seem nearly impossible. The worry I could never move on or would never find someone else had me at a standstill — until trusted friends and loved ones finally asked, “But what if you do? What if you move to New York and your life turns out better than you ever thought it would?” I thought about that. Could I really do it? Could I really move across the country and start my life over? They thought I could. They believed in me; they gave me the courage to see in myself what they saw in me. But what if I do?

Related: 15 Best Trip Destinations for Solo Female Travelers

So I did. The decision was made, but I knew I couldn’t start a new life without taking a moment to pause and process everything, and acknowledge all I was leaving behind. I booked a flight to Vietnam. While I have taken many trips alone, this one was special — more important, somehow. I spent so much of my life in Atlanta by myself, but with this trip I wanted to take back the power to choose to be on my own. I wanted to remember that I was strong and capable and could face this alone. I knew it would be the first step on a long road to healing and self-rediscovery.

Vietnam had been on my radar for some time; I had been wanting to go back to Southeast Asia, and it seemed like the perfect place to reconnect with nature, experience a new culture, and meet notoriously friendly, welcoming travelers — an important consideration as a solo traveler. Having visited 50 countries (and many of them solo), I was already a fairly seasoned traveler, but it had been a while since I had taken an international trip by myself. At age 29, part of me felt like I might be a bit too old for backpacking and staying in hostels — an experience most often reserved for younger 20-somethings fresh out of college, or European students taking the summer off.

I was feeling especially down on myself considering I had just been about to get married and start a family, and now here I was, single, nearly 30, and about to take yet another solo trip across the world. What if I didn’t make friends? What if people were unfriendly and I spent the entire trip feeling sad and lonely? My old fears and anxieties about traveling alone started to bubble up, as they always did before a big trip. But I steeled myself against my doubts and tried to lean into living my “Eat, Pray, Love” moment with confidence and excitement. 

My plan was to fly into Hanoi and make the city my home base, traveling to Ninh Binh and Ha Long Bay from there before flying back to New York. After a redeye flight and 10-hour layover in Istanbul, I finally made it to Vietnam. The second I stepped out of the airport into the sweltering heat of the afternoon, I felt a jolt of excitement rush through me; this was happening. I hopped in a cab to Central Backpackers Hostel and took it all in; the endless motorbikes zooming past on all sides, some with entire families riding on a single bike, and street vendors in traditional nón lá hats perched in villages built along the highway. The honking, beeping, and complete chaos awakened something in me I hadn’t felt for a long time. I arrived at my hostel in Hanoi’s Old Quarter and went on a walk through the area. Though I had been to Southeast Asia before, this was completely different from anything I had ever experienced. The lingering French colonial influence was evident in the city’s architectural style, but the buildings and sidewalks covered in vines and lush, tropical greenery felt distinctly Vietnamese. 

The intense humidity didn’t deter the locals from eating bowls of piping hot phở on every street corner, and tiny food stalls selling bánh mì and bún chả lined every block. I strolled through the winding maze of streets, dodging ceaseless motorbikes, street vendors, and cars, wishing my eyes were capable of taking in even more of it all at once. I made my way through shops and cafes until I reached Hoàn Kiếm Lake, a peaceful oasis in the heart of the bustling city. As I walked along the lakeside path, the waterfront was alive with groups of women taking dance classes, men practicing tai chi, families with children on a late afternoon stroll, and teenagers giggling and snapping pictures on their phones. To me it seemed like the perfect snapshot of everyday life in Hanoi. As I walked along the busy Vietnamese street, completely alone, dripping with sweat, I felt perfectly in my element. I thought to myself once again ... but what if you do?

I noticed right away how safe I felt in Hanoi; there was no catcalling or leering from the locals; everyone was extremely respectful and kept to themselves. My biggest concern was getting hit by a motorbike when crossing the seemingly lawless streets, and I quickly learned to keep my head on a swivel and cross with locals whenever possible. As dusk began to fall, I hailed a tuk tuk back to the hostel, which was an exciting and inexpensive way to see the city after dark. Without the need to pay heed to oncoming traffic, I rode leisurely through the streets. I was captivated by the scenes of the city, as local shop owners started to prepare for the evening rush, motorbikes zoomed by beside us, and street vendors packed up for the day. My awe must have been visible, as my driver began pointing things out to me, feeding off my excitement, eager to show me everything and anything I might find interesting. I could tell he was trying to see the city through my eyes and imagine what it looked like to me, feeling as though he was seeing it all for the first time.

I arrived at the hostel and got myself ready for the night — they were hosting a free pub crawl starting on the rooftop terrace, which seemed like as good a place as any to try my hand at making friends. Though I was a bit nervous at first, I walked in and instantly met three other American girls who were eager to chat and socialize. From there we met other travelers from Ireland, England, Spain, the Netherlands, Australia, and everywhere in between, all of whom couldn’t have been friendlier or more accepting. As a solo female traveler, I’ve often found going out on organized tours through the hostel is the best way to experience a city’s nightlife safely and with other like-minded people from around the world, who can look out for you and will be returning to the same place at the end of the night. And in a city as hectic as Hanoi, that was certainly the case. We stayed out most of the night, visiting “Beer Street” and ending with late-night bánh mì sandwiches. It was the perfect introduction to Vietnam.

Over the next few days, I went on a walking tour with other travelers from the hostel and saw the rest of the sites, including the French Quarter, ancient Buddhist temples, and a traditional water puppet show at the Thang Long Theater, and ate some of the best food I’ve ever tasted at local restaurant Bep Viet (address: 1b Ng. Báo Khánh, Hàng Trống, Hoàn Kiếm, Hà Nội, Vietnam). I thought back to my arrival in Hanoi, remembering a sign welcoming people into the city that stated “Hanoi, the City for Peace.” And at first I thought it quite ironic, as Hanoi is easily one of the most chaotic cities I’ve ever visited. But after spending a bit more time there, I couldn’t help but realize the description rang true: Hanoi managed to bring me inner peace — something I had been reaching for and struggling to attain for months before my trip. It helped me come back to myself and remember who I was and who I wanted to be. 

Next up on my jaunt through northern Vietnam was Ninh Binh. I decided to take a full-day tour from Hanoi, since it was only around two-and-a-half hours from the city. Ninh Binh was breathtaking. Everything we did there was simply spectacular, from biking through the lush countryside with views of glistening rice paddies and soaring green mountains to taking a traditional boat ride through a peaceful river valley, with landscapes reminiscent of Jurassic Park. 

We ended the long but fruitful day with a near-vertical hike to the top of a mountain overlooking the valley we had boated through below. While the stiflingly hot weather had let up a bit by late afternoon, the 500-stair climb left me breathless and pouring with sweat. The steps were so steep and slippery I feared I wouldn’t be able to make it all the way to the top ... and if I did, I thought, how on earth was I going to make it back down again? But I pressed on, knowing the view at the summit would be worth it, forcing myself to think of nothing else. Finally I made it to the top, climbing up to the very peak on all fours. When I eventually allowed myself to gaze out at the view, it was sensational. I looked out over the endless valley, taking in the vibrant greens, stark browns, and pale yellows of the landscape, the bluest sky, and the bright red of Vietnamese flags blowing in the wind. I felt invincible. I felt alive. Fighting through the heat, the fear, the climb, and the physical and emotional exhaustion was all worth it to reach the pinnacle. The feeling was unmatched; to see a view so unimaginably beautiful laid out before me, and knowing I couldn’t have arrived at that point without first going through the challenges that brought me there. As I stood there sweaty, tired, and proud of what I had accomplished, I couldn't help but believe that everything was going to be alright. I realized there was a lesson in that hike: When life gets daunting, just take it slowly, step by step, and you’ll make it out just fine in the end.

The final leg of my journey brought me to Ha Long Bay, a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of the new Seven Natural Wonders of the World. I signed up for a two-night, three-day excursion with Halong Hideaway tours who took care of everything from start to finish, which I was so grateful for, as it would have been nearly impossible to navigate my way from Hanoi to Ha Long Bay on my own. We left from Hanoi by bus, then took a speedboat-ferry, then another bus, and then another ferry to finally arrive at our destination, which was an enormous yacht equipped with two Jacuzzis, spacious cabins with private balconies, and three top decks with breathtaking views of the surrounding bay. Regardless of the taxing travel day, it was great to be in a phenomenally beautiful locale with fellow travelers who were ready to relax and have a good time. We cruised through the bay, astounded by the otherworldly limestone karsts jutting out from the water. 

Over the course of the next few days, we cruised to hidden beaches, hiked and biked around Cát Bà Island, kayaked through the bay, and enjoyed parties on the boat with people from all over the world. I spent a lot of time with other travelers of all ages and backgrounds, all with different stories, and found each person friendlier than the next. They were people I never would have met otherwise, doing anything else. We couldn’t have been more different, but we were all connected by the here and now. I was touched by the understanding, compassion, and genuine concern of other travelers, especially the younger ones, when they heard my story, and was moved by their insightful responses and advice. A young Irish couple told me to “romanticize New York.” It’s the city; anything can happen there, they said, encouraging me to get excited about my fresh start. Others told me to “be patient" and that what’s meant for me would come in time. 

In the mornings I woke up early, before the rest of the ship began to stir, and sat in solitude up on the top deck. I savored the quiet time with the dramatic landscape all around me, admiring the ever-changing view as we glided through the ancient bay. It was in those slower moments, in the stillness of early morning, when I finally let myself stop to think, reflect, and just be. Vietnam had been good to me, I decided. Each day that passed had something exciting and new in store; I woke up with something to look forward to, which I hadn't felt in some time. It was good to have some perspective and to step away from the stress of my everyday life. However, I also acknowledged that at times throughout the trip, I felt bitterly alone and afraid. There were moments when I felt despair and sadness about losing the life I left behind. I knew I was entitled to those difficult moments and tried to just feel them rather than push them away, knowing that part of healing is going through it all and coming out on the other side better for it. 

Finally, it was time to make the journey back from Ha Long Bay to Hanoi. Drained from a long travel day, I decided to take a break from the hostel and spend my final evening in the luxurious (yet budget-friendly) Allure Hotel down the street, where I was greeted with warm Vietnamese hospitality and the cool flow of air conditioning. 

My trip to Vietnam was the perfect transition from my old life to the new one. It gave me time to grieve and space to think about everything from far away, instead of throwing myself right into something new before I was ready. It allowed me to get back out there and reignite my curiosity and excitement for the world. It brought me home to myself. Vietnam made me realize that no matter how much time passes, travel always welcomes you back like an old friend. You’re never too old (or too young) to get out there and start exploring everything this extraordinary world has to offer. This trip opened me up to self-love, self-rediscovery, and personal growth, and served as a reminder that sometimes it’s OK to take a leap of faith into the unknown.  

I know things still won’t be perfect for a while as I process the ending of my most recent chapter, but I’m ready to face whatever comes next with positivity and openness. For so long I was focused on the life I thought I should have, and not the life I actually wanted to have. Now I’m determined to choose myself and do the things that make me feel happy and whole. The ache in my chest gets a little bit duller with each passing day, and while it still hurts, I’ve started to let myself find joy in starting over. 

In the end, you might never solo travel the world, decide to radically change your story, or live a life that’s most authentically yours. But what if you do?