Bhutan, Again. But This Time, Just Me.

I booked my flights yesterday.

And I’m leaving next week.

No plan, no checklist, no “strategic timing.” Just that sudden, electric feeling of now or never.

This will be my fourth time traveling to Bhutan. But this time, it feels different. This time, I’m going alone.

There’s something beautifully bold about buying a ticket before you’ve figured out the details. All I know is: I’ll fly to Bangkok next Friday. Then take that familiar Druk Air plane into the Himalayas. I still get goosebumps just thinking about the descent into Paro.

I don’t fully know what awaits me. But that’s part of the magic.

This trip started with a phone call from a friend in Bhutan. “Hey… what if we started something together?”

I didn’t even ask for the what. I just said yes. Because somehow, I knew—this is the right move.

So now I’m here, mentally packing.

Thinking: Which hiking boots?

Do I bring the tripod?

What presents shall I bring to my dear friends?

And also: how do you prep for a place where you can’t just run to the next supermarket if you forget something?

You can’t.

You pack with intention, and a little bit of surrender.

I’m excited to meet people around my age. To maybe have a spontaneous night out in Thimphu. Dive into their world for a little.

Discover new hikes.

Talk about everything and nothing at 3,000 meters above sea level.

Feel the sun. And the slowness.

It’s off-season. Which I actually love—quiet trails, warm weather, and a Bhutan that doesn’t perform for tourists. Just Bhutan, as it is.

This isn’t a holiday. It’s not a content trip.

It’s something deeper. I don’t have the words yet - but I’m on my way to find them.

More soon.

Promise.

– Anna-Luisa