When I was in Thailand, I spent about a week in Bangkok before the friend that I was initially traveling with wanted to head north to Chiang Mai. By pure chance, I found a small hippie-style hostel in Bangkok that had the most welcoming environment and people. Immediately, I was so comfortable and at home – 8,500 miles away from home. As a 22 year old woman, I was still nervous about solo travel. Even more so in Asia where the language and customs are so unfamiliar. Although I didn’t want to leave Bangkok or the lovely backpacker community I’d stumbled into, I decided to go with my friend to Chiang Mai because I was afraid to be alone.

Our journey to Chiang Mai started off rocky. We went to the wrong train station at first, then found the right one and quickly realized it was buried inside an airport. After sprinting to make the train, we learned that booking third-class tickets in Thailand means you have a good chance of standing up for a large duration of the ride, and absolutely no chance of sleeping even though it is an overnight train. The train car was packed. By the time we got on, there was nowhere to store our bags and nowhere to sit. It was hot and buzzing with fluorescent lights.

Feeling admittedly miserable, I turned to my friend and told him I wanted to go back to Bangkok. As a seasoned traveler, he encouraged me to listen to myself and go for it. In fact, he’d been encouraging me to find the confidence within myself to not need him. I debated what to do for a bit before deciding that I’d take the leap and head back to Bangkok. Alone. I’d find him again later on in the trip. At the next stop, late at night, in a town I didn’t even know the name of and several hours outside of the city, I got off the train. That’s how I ended up by myself waiting at a dark bus station for a bus that wouldn’t come until 6 hours later because there were no available hostels at this hour, with a dying phone and no plan. 

After about 45 minutes of sitting outside, contemplating whether I’d made the right decision to split, an older Thai man approached me. Scared the crap out of me, actually. He spoke very little English, and through clumsy and mostly incorrect Google Translate messages, I pieced together that he wanted me to come back to his house. Every red flag in my brain went off. I refused several times, but eventually realized he wasn’t trying to lure me for kidnapping – he was actually the bus station manager and saw me on the security camera. Apparently, the town I was in is called Lop Buri*, and is known for its very angry “gangs” of monkeys; therefore, it’s generally not recommended to sit outside alone for long periods of time.

He brought me to his home at the back of the bus station, where I was met with his lovely wife, a hot coffee, a steaming bowl of noodles, and a phone charger. It was so cozy that I accidentally fell asleep for a few hours after sipping the last of my broth (…I know). Around 6am, the man woke me up. There was another bowl of fresh noodles that smelled deliciously salty and an already-typed out Google Translate message saying: “We have a daughter and a young grandbaby. You remind us of our granddaughter. We just wanted you to be safe and comfortable. Don’t be shy and enjoy some noodles. Here is our WhatsApp number if you’d ever like to return.”

So I enjoyed the noodles, and he led me back to the front of the bus station. I tried to pay him for the bus ticket back to Bangkok, but he would not accept my money. He said something in Thai to the bus driver, at which the driver looked at me and gave me a thumbs up. And on the bus I went. I was a little stunned, and so grateful, for their unexpected kindness. My very first night alone on a trip far away from home, and this couple whom I did not share a language with and who knew nothing about me helped me recharge and get back to where I needed to go.

Hours later, I showed up back to my hostel. They weren’t open yet, so I couldn’t book a room. I crossed the bridge to the back of the hostel, where my friend Poncho (from Argentina) met me halfway and gave me the biggest hug. As I was explaining to him what happened, my friend Fabi (from Chile) greeted me with shock and hugs. She even insisted I take a nap in her bed before I could book my own. I ended up staying in Bangkok for a few more wonderful weeks before hitchhiking north with a German traveler I’d met, and eventually made it to Chiang Mai.

That night in Lop Buri remains one of my favorite travel stories, and one of the most important lessons of my journey so far. Yes, the world can be dangerous. It is important to stay aware and observant, especially as a solo young woman. But my story is just one example of something I’ve witnessed again and again: most people, when they see someone vulnerable, want to help them – not hurt them. That night taught me to trust humanity a little more. The kindness of strangers – no matter the language barrier or culture – has reminded me time and again that the world is far less scary than the media can make it seem. My best advice is to get out there and see for yourself.

While I’m still a 22 year old solo woman, I no longer fear solo travel. Actually, I embrace it. I find unexpected kindness and real-world magic everywhere I go, in unexpected places. Goodness is everywhere if you open up your eyes enough to see it.

*For reference, Bangkok is the red circle, Lop Buri is the purple circle, and Chiang Mai is the yellow circle.

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