Burnout is real, and so is turning 50.
As I neared both, I knew it was time for a sabbatical. I needed a break from my job as a social worker and from my hectic life in the concrete jungle of New York City. I craved travel and needed to recharge. I decided that it was time.
Sabbaticals are an almost foreign concept in my field and for most Americans in general. Losing both of my parents at a young age and working for years with families who had lost loved ones made it clear to me that life is short.
As with most things, dreaming it up was easy; actualizing was not.
I cherished many aspects of my job and life. I loved the neighborhood free store and composting initiative I started. I relished opportunities to dance and partake in happenings around the city.
But those all-too-familiar feelings of stagnation, burnout, and wanderlust prevailed. While I didn’t quite know how I would spend my break or exactly when I’d start it, I handed in my notice.
It was transformative, even though my actual last day on the job came 6 months later.
In January 2023 my journey began. Single and without children or aging parents to care for, I was free of responsibilities and faced no objections to traveling into the next half-century of my life with positive energy and openness.
Jeeban Bastola
Traveling solo, at my own pace
I used the airline points I had accrued to book a one-way flight to India, unsure of how long I would stay or where I’d head next.
Eliminating my primary expense, housing, came easy, as a friend was more than happy to use my affordable, centrally located apartment in my absence.
Once abroad, I opted for the adventure of low-cost public transportation. This included a 24-hour bus journey from Kathmandu to Delhi and sitting on sacks of rice with someone’s child on my lap for segments of a packed bus ride toward Muktinath in Nepal.
Similar to my life back in New York, I avoided lavish spending and saved money by living a socially conscious lifestyle — bicycling, camping, gardening, volunteering, foraging, eating home-cooked meals, and wearing secondhand clothes.
My background in social work gave me a sense of openness while I moved about the world.
Kishor Lohani
I lived with the Lohani family in Nepal, volunteering on their farm and eating the best home-cooked dal baht, a rice dish with lentils. We hiked through the mountainside to join the entire village for its rice planting festival and for a baby’s rice feeding ceremony.
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Self-discovery through solo travel
I traveled slowly and covered a lot of ground, from Nepal and India to Eastern and Western Europe, the Middle East, both coasts of the US, and lots in between.
A friend from home joined me to trek the mountain villages of Svaneti, Georgia. I spent time with new friends at gatherings in Germany, a festival in the Czech Republic, a conference I presented at in Croatia, and on a canoe trip back in the US, on Utah’s Green River.
But nothing compared to the powerful serendipities and exchanges I experienced while traveling alone.
On the day of my 50th, I didn’t get any hugs, phone calls, or even text messages. My phone was in a drawer at the picturesque Kopan Monastery in Nepal while I spent 10 days in silence, with people from across the globe, learning, meditating, reflecting and just being. It was idyllic.
My sabbatical turned out to be more than just a break; it transformed my way of being.
Two years later, I’m back in New York.
I’m still in love with the city and still disillusioned by the rat race and concrete jungle. The trip taught me to continue to prioritize living over making a living.
