What Every Parent Should Know Before Their Young Adult Backpacks Southeast Asia

What Happens When You're the Oldest Backpacker Around

People like to say that once your children turn 18, your job as a parent is done. Anyone with a young adult knows that's not true. The rules change. Your role changes. But the love and the worry never really go away. You stop making their decisions, but you never stop hoping they're safe, making good choices, and finding kind people along the way.

The funny thing about traveling solo in your fifties is that you keep getting adopted by groups of twenty-somethings. I've lost count of how many young backpackers I've met over the last five years. Some I've only shared an afternoon with. Others still check in months or even years later. Those unexpected friendships have become one of my favorite parts of traveling alone and one of the things I love most about this lifestyle.

Somewhere between swapping travel stories and answering questions about Thailand, the conversations often become something else entirely. More times than I can count, someone has told me, "I wish my mom were doing what you're doing." Other times, there have been tears, homesickness, and long hugs goodbye.

Those moments have become one of the greatest gifts of solo travel, and I wouldn't trade them for anything.

The Blue Lagoon Conversation

In May of this year, I took a solo trip to Laos and ended up having one of those rare moments of absolute clarity, in the middle of a blue lagoon outside of Vang Vieng. As per usual, I was alone, floating in my inner tube and observing the beautiful scenery when some other floaters caught my attention.

Curiosity got the better of me, so I bravely paddled over in my inner tube to a group of young ladies with names like Chloe and Emma and asked about their travels. They were mostly from the UK, had just come from Pai, where many of them met, and were making the most of the classic Southeast Asia backpacking circuit.

One of them politely asked what I was doing here in a Blue Lagoon in Laos alone on an inner tube. I told her I lived in Koh Tao and was on a visa run from Thailand.

The mood shifted almost instantly. I wasn't the random middle-aged woman anymore, floating over to interrupt their afternoon. Suddenly, I was the interesting one.

They wanted to know everything: what it was like living in Thailand, whether Koh Tao was worth visiting, how scuba diving worked, where the best parties were, and how I'd ended up living in a hut halfway around the world.

These girls reminded me so much of my own friends and me at that age: excited, fearless, and convinced the adventure would never end.

But as we talked, I couldn't stop thinking about something else.

In November 2024, six young backpackers died in Laos after unknowingly drinking alcohol contaminated with methanol. The tragedy had made international headlines, and it was impossible to forget.

I couldn't help but think about my own 23-year-old back in the United States, as well as the parents of these adult children and several of my friends whose young adults were taken too soon.

Watching these girls laugh, compare itineraries, and excitedly plan their next destination, I realized something. If my own child were backpacking through Southeast Asia, this is exactly the group of friends I'd hope they found. Kind. Curious. Looking out for one another.

But I'd also wish that, every now and then, they crossed paths with someone who had been doing this a little longer. Not someone to tell them how to travel. Just someone willing to answer the questions they didn't yet know to ask.

The Role I Didn't Know I Had

As I floated back to shore, another metaphoric lightning bolt hit me.

I'd been having versions of this conversation for years, in Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, on ferries, in cafes, and at dive shops. The Blue Lagoon wasn't the beginning. It was simply the moment I finally understood why those conversations mattered.

Somehow, I had quietly become the person younger travelers connected with, not because I had all the answers, but because I'd spent enough time getting lost, making mistakes, and finding my own way through them. I'd become the kind of traveler I would have wanted to meet when I was 22.

The Moment Everything Came Full Circle

Before I ever became a full-time traveler, I spent more than 20 years working as a mental health counselor. Along the way, I also worked for AmeriBen, a company whose mission was "Developing great leaders in family, business, community, and the world."

At the time, I thought those words belonged in conference rooms, leadership training, and corporate culture. I never imagined they would take on an entirely different meaning years later while floating in an inner tube in a blue lagoon in Laos, talking with a group of young backpackers.

That's when it finally clicked. Maybe this wasn't a new chapter after all.

The setting had changed, but the purpose hadn't.

The counseling office had become a beach. Scheduled appointments had become chance encounters. The conversations were about border crossings, scooters, and scuba diving instead of life transitions. But at their heart, they were still about helping someone feel a little more confident before taking their next step.

The Connections We Never Expect

Some of those backpackers still send me messages from places I recommended years ago. Others check in from home, from new jobs, or from their next adventure. It's a reminder that sometimes the most meaningful part of travel isn't the destination—it's the relationships we form along the way.

Sometimes the person who stays with you long after a trip isn't the one you boarded the plane with. It's the stranger who crossed your path for an hour, offered a little wisdom, a little kindness, or simply reminded you that the world is still full of good people.

And the most meaningful part of a journey isn't the place you visited or the photo you brought home. It's the unexpected connection that reminds you we're all finding our way through the world together.

Planning a first trip to Southeast Asia?

Whether you're traveling solo, backpacking through the region, or you're the parent of a young adult preparing for the adventure of a lifetime, I'm always happy to share what I've learned after five years of living in Thailand.

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