Dali sits in Yunnan, China’s southwestern frontier province, bordering Myanmar, Laos, and Vietnam – culturally closer to the Himalayas and Southeast Asia than to Beijing or Shanghai.

The old town lies at 2,000 meters, pressed between the 4,000-meter peaks of the Cangshan range on one side and the vast blue plate of Erhai Lake on the other. The altitude gives it a climate the Chinese call “eternal spring,” along with some of the cleanest air in the country. A flight from Shanghai takes three and a half hours and lands you in a different China entirely.

Dali ErHai

Nomads hike the Jade Belt Road, a stone path threading the Cangshan slopes at 2,600 meters with the whole valley spread below, and cycle the 120-kilometer ring road around Erhai, past fishing villages and wetlands. There is rock climbing, herb-foraging with local guides, and camping under star-filled skies. In spring, wild azaleas set the mountainside blooming. A standing joke among residents: in Dali, productivity is a seasonal condition.

And Dali was never quite “Han China” to begin with. This is the homeland of the Bai, one of China’s fifty-six ethnic groups, who ruled their own kingdoms here – Nanzhao, then the Dali Kingdom, contemporaneous with the Song dynasty, for five centuries. The town was a key node on the Tea Horse Road, the caravan route carrying Yunnan tea toward Tibet, and the traffic left its mark: Buddhism, Taoism, Islam, Christianity, and the indigenous Bai faith have coexisted here for centuries. Even the architecture is communal by design where Bai courtyard houses double as family space and neighborhood commons. Openness, in Dali, is not a vibe. It is infrastructure, a thousand years old.

That infrastructure has absorbed wave after wave of newcomers. In the 1980s, Dali became one of the first places in China to receive Western backpackers. The Lonely Planet generation drifting up from Southeast Asia left behind cafés, guesthouses, and a strip still called Foreigner Street. In the 2000s came artists and musicians fleeing the megacities; in the 2010s, families seeking alternative education and organic farms. Then the pandemic sent China’s remote workers and burnt-out “quiet quitters” looking for somewhere humane to land. Each wave didn’t displace the last. Instead, they layered, like sediment.

Local people are dancing and celebrating

What grew from that sediment is structurally different from other nomad spots such as Chiang Mai and Lisbon. In most hubs, the nomad is a customer: you buy the coworking desk, the retreat, the curated dinner. Dali runs on co-creation. Close to a hundred community events unfold every week, including organic farming mornings, contact improv, a Bai women’s choir that welcomes newcomers – almost none of them are run by companies. The communities anchoring the scene, NCC (Nomad Co-living & Co-creating) and CYC (Connected Youth Community) among them, are renovated and operated by their own members. And the economics allow experimentation: courtyard homes rent from 800 yuan a month, about €100, and a good meal costs €3.

Vegetarian Food in Dali

The calendar, meanwhile, belongs as much to the Bai as to the nomads. At the Third Month Fair; a market and festival that has convened for centuries every lunar March, horse races and antiphonal singing take over the valley, and foreign remote workers stand beside Bai grandmothers, picking through the same baskets of Erhai silverfish. At midsummer’s Torch Festival, the entire Dali valley goes alight, flames rising outside every doorway. During Raosanling, Bai villagers process between temples for three days of song. Nomads are not spectators at any of these; they are pulled in.

The Water-Sprinkling Festival

The Torch Festival

It is not untroubled. Rents have climbed, quiet lanes now know traffic jams, and a tension has surfaced between long-termers who learn Bai dialect and seasonal visitors who come for the photos. Whether Dali can stay open without being consumed is the community’s central question.

But there’s a running joke among Dali nomads: if you’ve spent a month there without picking up one useless skill: pottery, meditation, a few phrases of Bai, you haven’t really arrived. That joke contains the whole place. Dali is not a productivity hack or a tax strategy. It is a thousand-year-old experiment in absorbing outsiders, currently hosting its most digital cohort yet. Magic would be too strong a word. But it does cast a kind of spell: it makes you rethink what actually matters, and it was doing that to newcomers long before any of us carried laptops.

“Hugging Trees” Activity in Dali

So consider this an invitation. Come hike the Jade Belt Road at dawn, stand in the firelight of a Torch Festival night, learn three phrases of Bai from an auntie at the market. Come and feel a China that rarely makes the headlines. It’s slower, wilder, and woven with the traditions of its ethnic minorities. Dali has been absorbing newcomers for a thousand years. It has room for you too.

Sunsets in Dali

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About the Author:

Rainy Zhou (周莫) is a community builder and growth operator deeply embedded in China’s AI and digital nomad ecosystems. She led GTM and partnerships for China’s first national Digital Nomad Conference, bringing together 1,500+ participants across media, government, and global communities. Through coliving programs, APAC summits, and cross-border initiatives, she now works across multiple AI communities in China, helping teams navigate go-to-market, content strategy, and ecosystem connections. Rainy brings a rare on-the-ground perspective on how China’s AI landscape actually operates.

There was a time when being a digital nomad meant carrying three adapters, refreshing hostel WiFi every hour, and spending half your day trying to coordinate time zones. Remote work was possible back then, but rarely seamless.

In 2026, that reality looks completely different.

Artificial intelligence has become the invisible assistant behind modern nomad life. It books flights, summarizes meetings, edits videos, translates conversations, organizes finances, automates repetitive tasks, and helps freelancers run entire businesses from a laptop wherever they are in the world.

The rise of AI has fundamentally changed what’s possible for remote workers. Solo creators are scaling faster. Small teams are operating on a world-wide scale. Travelers are working smarter through optimization and tools.

For digital nomads constantly balancing productivity, movement, wellbeing, and business, the right tools can mean the difference between burnout and growth.

Here are 10 AI tools for remote work in 2026 and why they matter for the future of digital nomadism.

1. ChatGPT: The All-in-One Remote Work Assistant

For many digital nomads, AI starts here.

Whether you’re writing client proposals in Lisbon, planning a content calendar in Bali, or researching tax rules before relocating to Mexico City, ChatGPT has become the multitool of remote work.

What makes it especially valuable for nomads is flexibility. Instead of juggling separate apps for brainstorming, writing, research, summarizing, and planning, travelers are increasingly using one AI assistant to streamline multiple parts of their workflow.

Common uses:

• Writing emails and articles

• Summarizing meetings

• Translating text

• Creating social captions

• Planning itineraries

• Organizing workflows

• Brainstorming business ideas

For freelancers and solo entrepreneurs, AI dramatically reduces administrative overheads – invisible workload that often eats into personal time.

The biggest shift in 2026 is that digital nomads are no longer simply “using AI.” They’re building entire work systems around it.

2. Notion AI: The Second Brain for Remote Workers

Remote work can sometimes create information chaos.

Ideas scattered across notes apps. Visa screenshots buried in photo galleries of you exploring Cape Town. Half-finished client briefs sitting in tabs you’ll never find.

That’s why so many nomads are turning to Notion AI as a centralized operating system for life and work.

In 2026, the platform has evolved far beyond simple note-taking. AI-powered workflows can now:

• Summarize meeting notes

• Generate task lists automatically

• Build travel itineraries

• Organize research

• Draft content outlines

• Translate notes across languages

For travelers constantly moving between accommodations and projects, having one organized digital workspace creates a sense of stability.

3. Google Gemini: Real-Time Research While Traveling

One of the most frustrating parts of nomad life is decision fatigue.

Which neighborhood has reliable WiFi? What visa rules changed this month? Is that overnight train actually worth taking, or should I just spend more on the flight and get there quicker?

Google Gemini is increasingly becoming the research engine behind modern travel planning.

Unlike traditional search, AI-powered research tools now synthesize information into usable answers quickly, which is especially valuable for people that are constantly on the move.

Nomads are using Gemini to:

• Compare destinations

• Research visas

• Build travel routes

• Analyze cost-of-living differences

• Find coworking spaces

• Create packing lists

• Summarize long articles or PDFs

Instead of opening 20 browser tabs, travelers can now receive specific answers in seconds.

4. Motion: AI Scheduling for a Borderless Lifestyle

Time management becomes complicated when your coworkers live in five different countries.

Add in public transport, unreliable WiFi, timezone changes, and coworking schedules into the mix, and calendars quickly become chaotic. Traveling with your kids or a pet? You need help to keep juggling things.

Motion uses AI to automatically organize schedules, prioritize tasks, and restructure calendars in real time.

If a meeting runs late or a task takes longer than expected, the platform adjusts your day automatically.

For remote workers, this removes one of the biggest hidden stressors of nomad life: constant self-management.

Instead of manually planning every hour, you can focus on deep work while the system handles logistics behind the scenes.

In 2026, AI scheduling tools are becoming less about optimization and more about protecting your energy.

5. Wise + AI Finance Tracking: Smarter Money Management Abroad

Finances remain one of the least glamorous, yet most important, aspects of remote work travel.

Currency conversions, international invoices, tax tracking, subscriptions, ATM fees, fluctuating exchange rates: it adds up quickly.

Platforms like Wise, paired with newer AI finance assistants such as Cleo, are simplifying global money management for travelers.

AI-powered finance tools can now:

• Categorize expenses automatically

• Predict spending patterns

• Flag unusual charges

• Track subscriptions

• Generate freelancer income summaries

• Help with budgeting across currencies

For freelancers living internationally, this level of automation saves hours every month.

It also reduces financial anxiety, something many long-term travelers can struggle with.

In 2026, financial organization is becoming increasingly automated, making location-independent work far more sustainable.

6. GrammarlyGO: Writing and Editing on the Move

For content creators, marketers, journalists, and remote professionals, communication is everything.

But writing whilst constantly traveling isn’t easy. Long transit days, noisy cafés, jet-lag, and shifting routines can drain focus fast.

GrammarlyGO has evolved into far more than a grammar checker. It now acts as an AI writing collaborator that helps users:

• Rewrite content

• Adjust tone

• Brainstorm ideas

• Summarize drafts

• Improve clarity

• Generate outlines

For digital nomads working across multiple clients and platforms, quick turnaround time matters.

AI editing tools reduce friction between ideas and execution, especially when working from unpredictable environments.

Importantly, the best nomads aren’t using AI to replace creativity (editors still want to hear your unique voice!).

They’re using it to eliminate repetitive work so they can focus on storytelling and meaningful output.

7. Descript: AI Video and Podcast Editing Anywhere

The creator economy has become thoroughly intertwined with digital nomad culture.

More travelers are building remote income through YouTube channels, podcasts, newsletters, and social content than ever before.

Editing all of that content used to be time-consuming and technical. Descript changed that.

Its AI-powered editing system allows creators to edit audio and video simply by editing text. It can also:

• Remove filler words automatically

• Generate subtitles

• Clone voices for corrections

• Clean up audio

• Create clips for social media

For creators working from hotel rooms, airports, or beach cafés, speed and portability are critical.

AI tools are lowering the technical barrier to content creation, allowing more people to build sustainable remote careers independently. In many ways, AI is accelerating the rise of the solo media company.

8. Duolingo Max and AI Translation Tools

Language barriers remain one of the biggest challenges of long-term travel. But in 2026, AI-powered translation has become dramatically more natural and conversational.

Tools like Duolingo Max and real-time AI translators now help travelers:

• Practice local languages

• Translate conversations instantly

• Understand menus and signs

• Navigate bureaucracy

• Communicate with landlords or drivers

The result is a more connected travel experience.

Instead of remaining inside English-speaking nomad bubbles, more travelers are engaging locally because communication feels less intimidating.

One of the biggest criticisms of digital nomadism has always been disconnection from local communities. Better translation tools have the potential to reduce that gap, at least partially.

Technology, paradoxically, may be starting to help create more human travel experiences.

9. Zapier AI: Automating the Repetitive Stuff

One of the defining traits of successful digital nomads is systems thinking.

The people who sustain remote lifestyles long term aren’t necessarily working harder. They’re reducing unnecessary manual work wherever possible.

Zapier AI allows users to automate repetitive digital tasks across apps and platforms.

That includes:

• Automatically saving email attachments

• Posting social media content

• Creating invoices

• Updating spreadsheets

• Organizing leads

• Managing workflows

For freelancers and creators juggling multiple income streams, automation can save enormous amounts of time.

In 2026, AI automation is becoming a competitive advantage.

The less time spent on repetitive admin work, the more freedom people have to travel, create, rest, go to the gym, and explore.

And ultimately, freedom is the entire point of remote work, right?

10. AI Travel Planners: Smarter, Faster, More Personalized Trips

Travel planning itself is changing rapidly. Instead of spending hours researching routes, accommodations, and logistics manually, digital nomads are increasingly relying on AI-powered travel assistants.

Modern AI trip planners can now:

• Build personalized itineraries

• Recommend destinations based on weather or budget

• Optimize flight routes

• Suggest coworking spaces

• Predict crowd levels

• Find quieter neighborhoods

• Adjust plans dynamically

For travelers moving frequently, this dramatically reduces planning fatigue. In many ways, AI is making long-term travel feel lighter.

The Bigger Question: Is AI Making Nomad Life Better?

The rise of AI-powered remote work brings obvious advantages: speed, flexibility, automation, and efficiency.

But it also raises some bigger questions, too.

If AI handles scheduling, writing, editing, planning, and communication, what happens to the slower and messier parts of travel that once defined the experience?

Digital nomadism was originally about freedom, curiosity, and human connection. There’s a risk that hyper-optimized travel turns every journey into a productivity system.

The challenge in 2026 isn’t simply adopting AI tools. It’s learning how to use them intentionally, and knowing when to switch them off.

The most successful digital nomads aren’t automating their humanity away. They’re using technology to create more space for meaningful experiences:

• Longer conversations

• Focused creative work

• Better balance

• Slower travel

• More sustainable lifestyles

The Future of AI and Remote Work

The next generation of digital nomads will likely travel differently than the first.

They’ll rely less on fixed offices, less on large teams, and less on traditional workflows. Many will build location-independent careers entirely powered by AI-enhanced systems.

Remote work is now about designing a lifestyle where technology supports freedom instead of consuming it. And in 2026, AI is becoming one of the most powerful tools ever created for making that possible.

The question is no longer whether digital nomads should use AI.

It’s how they’ll use it to build smarter and more sustainable lives on the road.

If you’re enjoying Nomad Magazine, tap ❤️ and 🔄 at the top to help other curious minds find their way here. It means a lot.

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Thanks for reading! You can find more of awesome articles here.

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About the author

Jessica Holmes is senior editor and writer at Nomad Magazine. Find her on Instagram.

2018 was a year of change, discomfort, and discovering who I wanted to become in the bustling capital city of Spain. Madrid is a city that Barcelona often overshadows. Still, over the past few years, it has slowly become an ideal spot for remote workers and entrepreneurs due to its dense professional network, slightly cheaper cost of living, and the airport is one of Europe´s biggest hubs with more direct long-haul routes than Barcelona.

However, adapting to living abroad and remote working wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Though I’ve experienced numerous ups and downs, I’m finally finding my way, working remotely, traveling around Europe, and getting to call Madrid my home.

Discovering Community

Finding your people can be one of the biggest challenges of moving and living abroad for an extended time. It’s important to put yourself out there, go to events that welcome people from around the world, and introduce yourself to others.

When I first moved, I was desperate for some sort of athletic community to be a part of. I wanted to continue playing soccer (football) and meet people, and one day, as I was printing documents off to teach a class, I eavesdropped on a conversation between two women behind me discussing a coed community where they play football regularly.

I hesitated at first, and then bucked up the courage to put myself out there, so I turned around and introduced myself. I was immediately honest and told them I was listening in on their conversation and wanted to know more about the group and how I could join. They immediately added me to a group chat with over 300 people, and I was signed up for the game that coming weekend.

7 years later, I’m still friends with many of the people I met through that group, and they have become the core of my life in Madrid. Event platforms like Luma and MeetUp are two of the best tools to use when searching for events and communities of every kind in the city.

Here are some of my Madrid community recommendations:

Sports Communities

• Soccer Social

• HRS Run Club

All-female Communities

• Nuvia Hiking Club

• Chika Moments

• FoundHer

International Communities

• Guiris de Mierda

• The Meeting Scene

• One Thousand Club

• The American Club of Madrid

• Arte Degustado

Adapting to the Language Barrier

I thought I knew at least some Spanish before arriving in Spain. I studied it a little whilst at University, plus I’m originally from Texas, so I was regularly exposed to it growing up. Turns out, I did not know any real Spanish.

Spanish from Latin America is very different from Castilian Spanish from Spain, and learning the language is essential to living here. I learned every single day with intensive Spanish classes or by simply walking around the city. Not only has it made me feel more connected to the people and the culture, but it also makes daily life and bureaucratic processes easier.

Financial Realities

Spain isn’t necessarily a country where you come to make a ton of money, even in the capital. Madrid brings a wholesome sense of community to life, has truly an incredible food scene, and is one of Europe’s sunniest capital cities with just under 300 days of sunshine throughout the year.

After University, I moved back home to Texas and saved up for one year in order to prepare for my time in Madrid. I had around 5000 USD. Once I arrived, I secured part-time gigs at a few English academies teaching English to adults and kids. To supplement my teaching income, I began freelance writing for online communities in travel and lifestyle spaces, contributing to blogs on a semi-regular basis.

This was my first real remote working experience, and I knew I had to make this a full-time reality sooner rather than later. With rental prices rising all over the country, particularly in Madrid and Barcelona, making additional income outside a teaching salary was essential to maintain a certain quality of life.

I made the transition from education to marketing in 2023 and felt like I’d found my groove and also what I was good at. The following year, I secured a fully remote role as a copywriter at a tech company that allowed me to apply for Spain’s Digital Nomad visa. I felt like I had finally achieved my previous goal of making a fully remote career a reality. Traveling to the US, Thailand, and Iceland while keeping Madrid as an ideal home base full of friends and community.

The Bustling City Life

You’ll never be bored in Madrid. There are endless things to do and places to eat and drink, for any budget, with something for every kind of person. The city is full of art, an incredible food scene (including the world’s oldest restaurant, recognized by Guinness World Records), great people, and incredible sunsets.

Madrid has many layers and a very long history. The city’s original name was Mayrit, meaning the “land of abundant streams”. And if you ask anyone from the region, they will say Madrid has the best tap water in all of Spain.

Some of the top things to do in Madrid are:

• Walk around Retiro Park

• Eat at places like Hermanos Vinagre, Casa Macareno, La Embajada, or at any spot in Casa de Campo (if the weather is good and it’s sunny)

• Visit the Reina Sofia museum (if you’re a museum person)

• See the sunset from one of the popular rooftops or from Templo Debod (free park)

Remote Working in Madrid: What to Know

Madrid is very remote worker-friendly. You can go to one of the many coworking spaces or laptop-friendly cafes during the week for an affordable price. Several coworking spaces have all the amenities you need, including a private space to take calls, plenty of desks, and plugs to charge up. Some even come with an amazing rooftop view of the city.

Here are some of the top spots to work remotely from:

Cafes:

• Lazo Madrid

• Cafelito

• Maria Peperina Cantina

• Plenti Cafe

• Tambo

• Dromme Kaffe

• God Cafe

• Mosaik

• En Bruto

• Escala House

Coworking spaces:

• Cloudworks Cibeles (incredible rooftop view)

• Loom

• Impact Hub

• Talent Garden

• Blue Chair Coworking

Some things that make daily life here run smoothly:

• Knowing the best time to visit: The best time to visit Madrid is during “shoulder season”, September to the beginning of November, and the beginning of April to the beginning of June. Temperatures are milder, and it doesn’t rain too much (typically).

• Public transport: Madrid is very well connected within the region and to other cities in the country. You can take the high-speed train to Barcelona in 3 hours, to Valencia in 2.5 hours, and to Malaga in 4. The metro and suburban railway in the city will take you wherever you need to go for an affordable price (10-trip tourist card for about 8 euros). You don’t need to rent a car unless you intend to go to a very rural area where public transport isn’t really an option.

• Coliving options: Of the numerous coliving spaces in Madrid, here are a few worth exploring if you’re considering coming:

• The Residential Club

• Cohabs

• Urban Campus

• Kanso Coliving

The Adventure Abroad that Shapes You

My time in Madrid has been full of adventures: exploring the international food scene, traveling around Spain and Europe, meeting great people, making amazing friends, all while having the flexibility to work remotely from a coworking space or a nice cafe.

Madrid arguably rivals Barcelona in how international and remote-work-friendly the city has become. It’s an ideal hub to travel to the rest of Europe, where entrepreneurs are working on new ventures, and there are great restaurants on every corner that are worth exploring.

Moving abroad challenged me in ways I never imagined. There are days, especially in the beginning, when things can feel chaotic and frustrating. But over time, I realized that I am stronger and more capable than I ever thought possible. I’ve discovered not only a new culture and way of life, but also more about who I am. I’m still learning about myself every day while living abroad, and 7 years into the journey, I’m excited for what will come next.

If you’re enjoying Nomad Magazine, tap ❤️ and 🔄 at the top to help other curious minds find their way here. It means a lot.

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Thanks for reading! You can find more of awesome articles here.

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About the author

Salina Owens is a Texas-born travel & lifestyle content creator and travel writer who has called Madrid home since 2018. She writes and creates content about living abroad in Spain, slow travel, food & drink, and her remote working journey on her Instagram and Substack.

Flanked by stark, black mountains on all sides, I’m staying at Arctic Coliving’s Voss Mountain Lodge in rugged western Norway. Birds sing over the sound of ice cracking and melting down Mjølfjell mountain to stream into the Kleivelvi river. In the month I volunteered and worked remotely from the lodge, the sounds of city sirens and car horns became a distant memory.

A new coliving space in western Norway

This summer, Voss Mountain Lodge transformed into a coliving space for people to live, work remotely, and explore the mountains. A steep walk down from the Bergen train line’s Ørneberget stop, the lodge’s three main buildings lie next to the Raundalsvegen, or “Raun Valley Road” in Vestland county, Norway. The accommodation is located at the end of the 16-mile valley, and the lodge has a long history of bringing international travelers together. First completed in 1939, the lodge was the first volunteer-built hostel in Norway and originated as an international peace project.

The latest transformation honors the lodge’s international roots and introduces coliving.. As the inaugural community resident, I worked a few hours per week setting up workspaces, cleaning the pool and filling it with clear, fresh river water, and organizing kitchen amenities to get the lodge ready for people planning to stay for longer. The rest of my time was free for remote freelance writing work and exploring Voss’s hiking trails, lakes, rivers and incredible scenery.

A town built for mountain adventure

Known as Norway’s adventure sports capital, Voss is a mecca for hikers, water sports junkies, and cyclists. The town holds the record for the most medal winners per capita of any place in the world. Every June, the town hosts Extremsportveko, the world’s largest extreme sports festival, a weeklong extravaganza of palm-sweat-inducing sports from skydiving to gravel bike racing. During this time, international athletes descend on the town for a week of mountain sport adventure.

Voss’s mountains and rivers are accessible enough for casual adventurers, too. Most mornings I worked from my desk, the river pulling my gaze away from my computer screen. On sunny afternoons, I ended hikes to Lake Slondalsvatnet with cold-water dips, my body disrupting a paper-thin sheet of ice coating the water, and jogged back to the lodge for a sauna session. On weekends, I walked out the front door and onto hiking trails up Mjølfjell and Lojosanberget mountains, nodding at hikers I met along the way. I experienced stillness in the vastness of nature, with only the sounds of my breath and the crunching of my hiking boots in the snow disrupting the environment. Without the lines and shuttle buses of Norway’s busier hiking areas, I was a small speck in the landscape, with rivers snaking along the valley below, rocky trails underfoot, and snowy mountains in the distance. Here, I could be quiet for hours.

The friends you make when volunteering

After days outside humbled by nature, I bonded with adventurers from all over the world over shared dinners and during late-night sauna sessions. Two British Argentine hikers, a father and son, regaled me with stories from a year backpacking in South America. A Dutch teacher, ten days into a 5-month hike across Norway, shared her philosophy for a happy marriage; her husband was an avid cyclist while she loved long-distance hiking, so they split up every summer for solo adventures and come back together in the fall.

One night around the wood-fired pizza oven, two cyclists explained the ins and outs of Scottish bothy (mountain hut hiking) culture, leaving behind a handwritten list of trails and tips for Cairngorms National Park. Two fellow Americans convinced me to join them for a day trip to Flåm, one of Europe’s most scenic train trips. After a few days or weeks of conversation, I had invitations to visit other coliving guests in Scotland, Belgium and the Shetland Islands. Our shared love of exploring nature in remote, quiet places connected us to one another.

Plus, I made creative connections with other guests. A recovering Irish football journalist, two years into a cycling trip through South America and Europe, delighted me with book recommendations and story ideas for an upcoming trip to Central Asia. A Berlin-based adventure filmmaker pulled me aside for an impromptu camera tutorial, giving me pointers on how to improve my nascent photography skills. We stayed in touch after I left, commiserating over the difficulty of creative endeavors, exchanging tips and encouraging one another.

Norway’s Constitution Day

On May 17^th, I took a break from country life and traveled to Voss’s city center to celebrate Norway’s Constitution Day, the country’s largest national holiday. The day honors the 1814 signing of Norway’s constitution, a big step in the country’s eventual break from Sweden to become an independent nation.

The morning started with a children’s parade; kindergartners and stroller-wielding parents marching down main street wearing traditional Norwegian national dress, or bunad, adorned with gold and silver jewelry. The intricate patterns on each bunad signify the regional home of the wearer and are worn at regional celebrations all over the country.

Post parade, I joined the locals in drinking beer and eating hot dogs encased in lompe (Norwegian potato bread). Local high school graduates drove around town in Russevans, painted sprinter vans decked out in celebration, blaring techno music. Friends and neighbors passed at sidewalk cafes, greeting each other with hands full of ice cream and cotton candy.

Remote working in Voss: what to know before you go

WiFi: The WiFi was strong enough for video calls, streaming, and emails. On busy days, the WiFi slowed down slightly, but not enough to interfere with getting work done.

Best time to visit: I was there for the shoulder season, mid-May to mid-June, which had a moody, rainy vibe. Over the month, I watched the landscape change from patchy snow to rolling green hills. While I found the slower spring vibe perfect for writing-intensive projects, for warmer weather and a more social vibe, try the higher season of mid-June to mid-August.

Affordable off-season living: Accommodation is more affordable than the Norwegian average, allowing for longer stays. My expenses were limited to weekly grocery store runs (there’s one store within walking distance that has a decent selection of staples) and train rides to nearby towns. The prices for fresh fruit and meat are a bit higher than in central Voss, but communal dinners and groceries from larger towns cut down on the cost.

Coworking + coliving setup: Unlike some city coliving spaces, Arctic Coliving has enough space for coworking as well as solitude. You can reserve desk setups ahead of time and there are plenty of nooks and crannies to work and read solo between the lodge’s three buildings.

Accessibility: The lodge is right below Ørneberget train stop and regular trains run to Bergen, central Voss or Flam. The walk is steep, so I wouldn’t recommend bringing rolling suitcases, particularly if it’s been raining.

What Voss taught me about remote work

Reentering nomadic life after a long hiatus, my unspoken fear was that I’d be lonely on the road. The best part of my time at the lodge was the people I met, and being there reminded me how quickly you can make new friends while living together in a beautiful place. Freelance writing can be solitary and lonely at times, so it was lovely to be in community with others in the evenings.

What I didn’t expect was to leave the lodge with new friends and new skills, too. As a volunteer, I learned to balance my time working at the lodge with my own freelance writing work, plus exploring the countryside. By the end, I’d mastered how to turn on a Norwegian sauna (it’s harder than you’d think!), become a pro at lighting fires, and knew all the staples of a traditional Norwegian breakfast.

If you’re enjoying Nomad Magazine, tap ❤️ and 🔄 at the top to help other curious minds find their way here. It means a lot.

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consider subscribing 📧

Thanks for reading! You can find more of awesome articles here.

— Nomad Magazine ✨

About the author

An award-winning freelance travel journalist, Julia writes stories at the intersection of outdoor adventure and solo travel. Read more about her travels on her Substack, An Adventurous Life.

The usual playbook is well documented. Join a coworking space. Show up to meetups. Say yes to everything. I tried. I went to rooftop networking events where everyone asked the same three questions. I sat in cafes next to other people sitting in cafes. I joined Facebook groups where strangers organised bar crawls in Khao San. It helped a little. It didn’t solve anything.

Bangkok has thousands of expats, nomads, remote workers and travellers wandering through at any given moment. Access to people was never the issue. The issue was that none of these interactions transformed into anything permanent. You meet someone interesting at a Meetup event, exchange Instagram handles, and never speak again. The city puts you near people without giving you a reason to keep showing up for the same ones.

Football fixed that for me.

A WhatsApp group and twelve strangers

Pickup football simply means casual, drop-in games of football where anyone can show up and play without needing a fixed team or signing up for a league.

In October 2025, I posted in a WhatsApp group asking if anyone wanted to play football. Twelve people showed up to a pitch in central Bangkok. Some expats, some locals, nobody knew each other particularly well. We split into teams, played for an hour, and went home. People seemed happy enough. They said they would come back.

Most of them did. The next week there were fifteen. Then twenty. The games became regular, twice a week at the same venue, same time. Within a month, the WhatsApp group had its own vibe. People started recognising each other. They arrived early to warm up together. After the games, a few would walk to a nearby spot for food or drinks.

What started as a way to get exercise had become the centre of my social life in Bangkok. The friends I made through those games are the people I now call when something goes wrong or when I need to get out of my apartment.

Why football and not something else?

I have thought about this a lot. Why football? Why not running groups, yoga, any of the other social activities available in Bangkok?

Part of it is forced interaction. You cannot play a football game silently. You call for the ball, you coordinate positioning, you shout when someone makes a good run. The game makes you communicate whether you feel like it or not, which means you skip the part of socialising that most people find awkward. No small talk. No “so, what do you do?” on loop.

The bigger part is repetition. Show up to the same game twice a week and you start seeing the same faces. You learn names because you are yelling them across the pitch. You develop inside jokes about missed shots and questionable tackles. A guy you played against three weeks ago is suddenly someone you recognise at a cafe, and you stop to chat because you already have shared history. That is how friendships actually form, through accumulated contact over weeks, not one-off introductions.

A player named Thoï came to his first game completely alone. Thai local, quiet, visibly nervous. He wanted to meet people and improve his English but had no way in. At a bar or a networking event, he would have sat in a corner and left without talking to anyone. On the pitch, that was impossible. Someone needed him to mark a runner. Someone else passed him the ball and expected a decision. Within ten minutes he was talking. Within a few weeks he was one of the most social players in the group. He still comes at least three times a week.

I have watched that happen dozens of times. Someone walks onto the pitch looking uncertain and walks off sixty minutes later with three phone numbers and plans for the weekend.

What happens off the pitch

The part I didn’t expect was everything that happens off the pitch.

Players started doing business together. One guy runs an eCommerce brand and met a client at a game. Another player was launching a startup and found his first hire on the pitch. Nobody came to the games to network. But it happens naturally when you spend enough time with the same people. You learn what they do, and the trust is already there because you have been working as a team and sweating together for weeks.

Sunday mornings at one of our regular venues turned into something like a ritual. After the game, a player who had just opened a bakery would bring pastries. People sat around in the shade, chatting about nothing in particular. A few minutes earlier we had been competing hard. Now we were eating tarts and making plans for the week.

Thursday evenings were completely different. More intense, more tactical. Players showed up with their crews and wanted to win. The atmosphere was closer to a proper league match than a casual kickaround. Some people preferred that energy. Both versions existed in the same community, and people gravitated toward whichever one suited them.

Bangkok-specific realities

Playing football here has its own quirks.

The heat is the obvious one. An English tourist showed up to a game in April, peak hot season, having just flown in from London. He lasted about three minutes before asking to sit out. No cardio, no acclimatisation, thirty-five degrees at eight in the evening. Most nomads who stay longer than a few weeks adjust. But that first session in Bangkok heat is humbling regardless of fitness level.

Then there is the rain. Monsoon runs roughly June to October, and it rains hard. You’d think that cancels everything. It does the opposite. Most players love it. A light rain cools the pitch and makes the game faster. People show up in bigger numbers during the rainy months than you’d expect. Games only get cancelled for actual storms, lightning overhead or the pitch completely flooded. Otherwise, you play.

The diversity is harder to describe until you see it. In any given game you might have Brazilians, Japanese, French, Nigerian, Australian, and Thai players on the same pitch. Over a hundred nationalities have passed through since we started. A good pass does not require translation. That sounds cheesy written down, but on the pitch it is just true.

What other organisers get wrong

Before I started organising games, I played in a few of Bangkok’s existing pickup groups. Most are run through WhatsApp or Facebook, loosely organised, first-come-first-served.

In one group I joined, I showed up and spent most of the two-hour session sitting on the side. The regulars knew each other. They had their preferred teams, their preferred positions. New players filled the gaps and got whatever time was left. I played maybe thirty minutes out of two hours. Other people I spoke with had the same experience in different groups across the city.

That dynamic isn’t intentional. It’s just what happens when there is no structure. The people who have been there longest get priority by default. Someone showing up alone for the first time has no guarantee they will actually play.

That experience shaped how I thought about organising games. Everyone who books a spot plays the full session. Same price, same time on the pitch, whether it is your first game or your fiftieth. It sounds basic, but it matters. When someone knows they will actually get to play, they come back. And coming back is where the community part starts.

The compound effect

What surprised me most over the past year is how quickly things snowball.

A person comes once, alone. They came back the following week because they recognised a few faces. After a month they have a crew. After three months, those people are their friends in Bangkok. The group chat stops being about football. It becomes restaurant recommendations, weekend trips, apartment leads, visa advice.

I’ve seen people extend their stay in Bangkok because of the connections they made through these games. Nomads who planned to leave after a month decided to stay for six. Usually because of the people, more than the city itself. The hardest part of being a nomad isn’t the logistics. It’s finding people who feel like yours.

Football gave me that. The format is simple enough that it keeps working: show up, play, come back.

You don’t need to be good at football

If you’re reading this and thinking you’re not “good enough” to play, you’re probably wrong.

Nobody cares about your skill level. Some of the most well liked players in the community are average at the game itself but bring good energy or simply show up every week. All sessions are mixed and open to everyone regardless of gender or skill level. The people who get welcomed back are the ones who make it more fun for everyone else.

If you can run and kick a ball in the general direction of another person, you can play. It asks very little of you and gives back more than you’d expect.

Bangkok can feel very large and very anonymous when you first arrive. Having a recurring thing, a place where people expect to see you changes the whole experience. For me that thing happened to be football. It could be anything, really. But I haven’t found anything else that works this fast.

If you’re enjoying Nomad Magazine, tap ❤️ and 🔄 at the top to help other curious minds find their way here. It means a lot.

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Thanks for reading! You can find more of awesome articles here.

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About the author

Ludovic Lin Yoshimura is the Co-Founder of KickHub, a pickup football platform connecting players across Bangkok and Bali. Originally from France, he moved to Bangkok in 2025 and started organising games through a WhatsApp group that quickly grew into a community of over 2,000 players from 100+ nationalities. When he is not on the pitch, he is figuring out how to bring the same experience to more cities across Southeast Asia. Find games at kickhub.app, follow them on Instagram, and read about their community in Bangkok.

Once reserved for hardcore gamers or finance pros, portable monitors have become an essential tool for digital nomads and remote workers. Lightweight, slim, and surprisingly powerful, they plug into your laptop (or phone) and instantly double your screen space - meaning fewer tabs, less toggling, and more focused work.

For freelancers, founders, and full-time travelers, these portable monitors are helping to redefine what a productive, mobile lifestyle looks like. Sure, you can consider starting with what you’ve got and even an iPad can double as a second screen. But for longer work sessions, serious multitasking, or when you need more ports and pro-level flexibility, portable monitors are built to level up your setup wherever you are. Here are our top picks.

ASUS ZenScreen

Sleek, simple, and seriously effective. The ZenScreen is a fan favorite for remote professionals. It connects via USB-C and is ultra-light (just 770g), making it perfect for on-the-go work. The matte display reduces glare when you’re working poolside (we see you, rebels), and the smart case folds into a stand so you can set up shop anywhere.

KYY 15.6″ Portable Monitor K3
A budget-friendly, lightweight (770g!) favorite with a 1080p IPS display, dual USB-C ports, Mini-HDMI, and built-in speakers. The foldable smart cover doubles as a stand, making it easy to set up anywhere. Ideal for remote work, quick setups, or turning any table into a dual-screen workstation without breaking the bank or your back.

Espresso Display 15”

The minimalist’s dream. This ultra-thin monitor looks like it belongs in a design museum. At just 5.5mm thick and weighing under 900g, it’s ideal for creatives, visual editors, and anyone who likes their gear as stylish as their destinations. The optional magnetic stand is sleek and stable, and the quick response time adds another layer of productivity.

Desklab 4K Touchscreen Monitor

If you’re the kind of person who never skimps on gear, the Desklab is your high-performance pick. With 4K resolution, universal compatibility, and touch functionality, this portable monitor feels like a luxury workstation in your carry-on. Perfect for video editors, photographers, or those who just really, really like beautiful screens.

Xreal One (Curveball)

Not exactly a monitor in the traditional sense, but definitely worth a mention. The Xreal One is part augmented reality headset, part next-gen display. Plug it into your laptop or phone, and suddenly your “second screen” is floating in your field of vision like a sci-fi command center. It’s lightweight, immersive, and incredibly cool if you’re into futuristic workflows or want to present content in a totally unique way. It’s a wildcard, yes, but for creative professionals, tech lovers, or those simply bored of flat screens, it’s a seriously intriguing option.

Why Portable Monitors Are Essential for Remote Work

Portable monitors are quickly becoming a must-have for remote professionals who value efficiency and flexibility. By expanding your digital workspace, you can reduce the friction of switching between tabs and applications, allowing for smoother multitasking and improved productivity. Whether you’re coding, designing, or managing projects, having a second screen improves focus and workflow consistency, especially in changing environments.

Key Features to Look for in a Portable Monitor

When choosing the best portable monitor, you should consider display quality, weight, connectivity, and durability. A full HD or 4K resolution ensures crisp visuals, while USB-C compatibility simplifies setup. Lightweight designs are crucial for travel, and built-in stands or covers enhance usability. Battery-free models powered by your device can also reduce the need for extra charging cables.

Best Portable Monitors for Travel and Digital Nomads

For digital nomads, portability is everything. Slim profiles and universal compatibility make certain models stand out. Monitors that easily fit into a backpack without adding bulk are ideal for frequent flyers and café workers alike. Choosing the right device can turn any location into a reliable workspace, whether you’re in a coworking hub or a hotel room.

Portable Monitor Setup Tips for Maximum Efficiency

Getting the most out of your portable monitor comes down to how you set it up. Position your second screen at eye level to avoid strain and create a more natural workflow. Use it as an extension rather than a mirror of your main display so you can spread out tasks - try emails and message apps on one screen, focused work on the other.

If you’re working in public spaces, consider screen brightness and anti-glare settings to maintain visibility in different lighting conditions. A compact stand or adjustable case can also make a big difference, helping you stay comfortable and productive wherever you land.

How Portable Monitors Improve Productivity

Using a portable monitor can significantly boost productivity by creating a more structured workflow. It allows users to dedicate one screen to communication tools while keeping their main tasks uninterrupted on another. This separation reduces distractions and helps maintain a deeper focus, which is essential when working across time zones or tight deadlines.

Your Desk Just Got a Passport

At the end of the day, staying productive means being strategic with your gear. Portable monitors are no longer a luxury - they’re a secret weapon for focus, flow, and flexibility on the road.

So go ahead and book that one-way ticket, just make sure your gear’s as ready as you are. Leveling up your carry-on workspace has never been easier, and with the right setup, you can turn any table, café, or airport lounge into a productivity zone.

If you’re enjoying Nomad Magazine, tap ❤️ and 🔄 at the top to help other curious minds find their way here. It means a lot.

And if you liked this,

consider subscribing 📧

Thanks for reading! You can find more of awesome articles here.

— Nomad Magazine ✨

About the author:

Jessica Holmes is a writer and senior editor at Nomad Magazine. Find her on Substack at .

Collectively, we were all finally crawling out of the pandemic funk. My husband and I had moved from the Bay Area, California, to Los Angeles, a move we had been wanting to make for a few years. We were settled in an apartment we love, we were throwing dinner parties, making new friends – life was good.

I started to think I’d leaned into the “cozy blankets and rom-coms” vibe a little too hard during lockdown. So, true to my Type A eldest daughter form, I started thinking: What’s the next big thing? I’d already hit all the major adult milestones – marriage, college, grad school, starting two businesses – and I was itching for another personal goal – something just for me.

The next two big goals: kids and house buying, were things I would have to do with my husband. But before those, I wanted a project purely for myself. Something that required movement and something I could plan. I decided on a year of solo travel. I had two years to plan because I was going to depart when I turned 40. It would require physical movement which meant less time in front of my laptop, and I knew it would take me out of my comfort zone, which I desperately needed. So on the couch one night while watching one of our favorite shows, I brought it up with my husband.

He looked at me and saw I had my laptop out and was already planning it. His first question was, “when will you leave?” When I answered that I would leave in two years. He seemed relieved as this would give us plenty of time to figure out the next steps. He was worried that I would ask him to come along. But I knew his career wouldn’t allow him too. So once I reassured him that I would be happy if he just joined me every now and then, he was supportive.

This wasn’t my first rodeo with travel or remote work. My husband and I started exploring together three years into our relationship, when I was 24. And our trips weren’t exactly resort stays; we were the type to follow locals down back alleys in Mexico, swap stories with pizza lovers in Naples, or miss a bus in Ireland and stumble upon a hidden gem of a place to stay. During the pandemic, we worked from a residency in Oaxaca, and in 2022, we spent a month working across New York City and the Northeast.

All those years of exploring and working remotely – especially being stuck together during the pandemic – not only created closeness but, if I’m being honest, a bit of codependency. With working from home and shared routines, we had stopped experiencing each other as separate people. We were partners, coworkers, travel companions, and roommates all at once. There’s comfort in that kind of closeness, but there’s also a danger: routine can replace curiosity. When you see someone every day, it becomes easy to assume you know everything about them and takes away the need to work at a relationship.

We’d seen each other every single day since March 2020 because of the WFH life. I was about to trade that constant proximity for seeing him every two months or so. We didn’t take this decision lightly, especially since it meant putting everything we own into storage to live the digital nomad life in our 40s. Since paying rent wouldn’t make sense while I was away, my husband would live a digital nomad life throughout California while I was traveling.

So after two years of planning, a few days after my 40th birthday in October 2025, I boarded a plane and said goodbye to my husband. Now seven months into my solo travels, I can report the initial weeks were... quiet. Brushing my teeth in silence felt downright eerie and, honestly, a little lonely. But despite the loneliness, this time apart has strengthened my marriage in four significant ways.

How Long-Distance Travel Improved Our Communication

First, the time difference was actually a communication gift. To start, we had to find a specific time that worked for both of us to catch up, meaning one person had to commit to getting up early, and the other had to stay up late. We had to sort this out before we could even start talking. Once we locked it in, it forced us to be intentional with our words.

One of us was making a sacrifice: me getting up early (which is totally not my jam since I’m not a morning person), or him staying up late (not his jam, as he’s tired by 9 PM). So we learned to really respect each other’s time. Instead of just chattering for the sake of it, we always had genuine things to share.

Even a quick check-in squeezed between his meetings and my sightseeing or dinner plans turns into a serious talk about our relationship, finances, future trips, and all the stuff that really matters. Ironically, distance made us better listeners. When you only have a short window to connect, you stop filling silence just to fill it. You ask better questions. You pay attention. You become more deliberate with your affection, your time, and your words. Yeah, we missed the everyday small talk, but we have plenty of years for that later.

Time Apart Stopped Us Taking Each Other for Granted

Secondly, the distance has been an awesome fix for all those petty little arguments. I mean, we’ve been together for 20 years and have worked from home together for the last 5.

All those tiny fights about walking too loud, breathing weird, or forgetting I’m lactose intolerant and need almond milk for my coffee (you know the drill) totally vanished. That doesn’t mean we don’t disagree, but our arguments are actual healthy discussions now.

Constant proximity can blur appreciation for your partner. When someone is always there, their presence starts to feel automatic instead of intentional. Being apart interrupted that pattern. Suddenly, the things that once irritated us became reminders of familiarity and home. Now, we talk about the things that genuinely bother us instead of hiding behind silly spats.

Living Apart Reduced Family and Work Stress

Third, being apart gave us the space to tackle life’s curveballs without the pressure of our day-to-day grind. I once interviewed an author for my digital magazine, Epifania. I asked how she balanced motherhood and her career, and she told me it’s about priorities. Some days work had to be her priority; other days her kids were the priority. That really stuck with me after all these years.

This past year, my mother-in-law needed my husband more. She’s in her 80s and is slowing down, and since he’s the only able-bodied child she has, he stepped up to handle things at her house and with her business. This meant having to help her find care, set up an accounting system for her business, and so on.

Meanwhile, on my side. My family exploded! All my younger siblings had kids during the pandemic, so I went from three nieces and nephews to seven. In a Latin household, family is everything, so as the oldest, I basically became the family’s logistics manager. If there was a trip, I’m planning it. If there was a birthday, I would remind people of the location and time.

My husband and I used to bicker over these external relationship pressures, but being in different time zones actually lets us focus on our own responsibilities without the friction. We realize we are in a time where we have more responsibilities and we have to adjust to that. That we have to prioritize our families’ needs occasionally.

In our 20s, travel was about spontaneity. In our 40s, it looks different. There are aging parents, growing families, businesses, responsibilities, and people who genuinely rely on us. What has surprised me was realizing that independence and commitment don’t have to compete with each other. Sometimes giving each other room to handle real life separately is its own form of support and love.

Time Apart Made Our Marriage Stronger

Finally, we actually got to miss each other. Imagine that!

Like that Ariana Grande line in “NASA” from her Thank U, Next album: “I can’t really miss you if I’m with you.” My husband and I never used to have enough time apart to really feel that.

Sometimes you need to step back from a painting to see how it makes you feel. We got to miss each other and rediscover the things we fell in love with – all of our core strengths. Missing someone you’ve known forever made those reunions in different countries totally worth the wait.

We used to think closeness was the same thing as connection. But this year taught us that sometimes love deepens when two people are given enough room to grow independently and then choose each other again.

The greatest surprise of this experiment wasn’t that our marriage has survived the distance. It was realizing that sometimes we need space to grow as individuals so we can be better partners. Travel changed the way we moved through the world, but distance changed the way we showed up for each other.

If you’re enjoying Nomad Magazine, tap ❤️ and 🔄 at the top to help other curious minds find their way here. It means a lot.

And if you liked this,

consider subscribing 📧

Thanks for reading! You can find more of awesome articles here.

— Nomad Magazine ✨

About the author:

Nicole Moreno-Deinzer is an entrepreneur, co-founder, and CEO of the remote branding agency A La Mode Branding. Based in the Bay Area, California, she previously founded and ran the Latina lifestyle magazine Epifania from 2016 to 2023. You can follow her current travels and digital nomad journey on IG and YouTube @JustNicoleCo. When she is home, she enjoys bookstores and spending time with her husband, nieces, and nephews.

As a matchmaker working with digital nomads, I hear day in and day out that prioritising a life of continuous travel means giving up on a stable, long-term relationship. And it’s often followed in the same breath by confessions of a deep yearning for love, intimacy, and connection.

It makes sense, at least on the surface. The effort-to-reward ratio of dating on the road is brutal. Moving around every month or three can make meeting someone and building something lasting seem as likely as winning the lottery. Some angrily insist it’s not possible for anyone, not just themselves.

The rare nomad who is intentional and proactive about love wants to channel a lot of energy into it, but there’s nowhere for it to go. Although single people everywhere have grown tired of the dehumanising meat market of dating apps, most remain hostages to them because they’re still the easiest way to meet people.

For nomads, it’s worse. Dating apps are location-based, and no one wants to invest in someone who’ll be gone in a few weeks. And as many nomads have pointed out to me, there’s no filter for us and likely never will be. We’re too small a community to be catered to. So there’s no easy way to meet other nomads looking for a relationship, too.

Colivings, coworks, nomad fests, conferences, and travelling communities all exist to combat the loneliness of continuous solo travel. But nomads are asking for someone they’re genuinely compatible with, whose travel dates overlap, whose future plans are flexible enough to avoid starting a relationship long-distance, and whose travel pace and style matches theirs. That’s a tall order.

Yet, I know so many beautiful, healthy, happy couples travelling the world together. So why have single nomads given up? Why have they equated the lifestyle with permanent singlehood, even when they want more?

I’ve seen friends give up the hope of a relationship to avoid constant disappointment. Rejecting the whole notion of a relationship protects them from feeling rejected or like a failure (if they equate their worth to their relationship status). If you didn’t expect it to pan out, you can’t be that disappointed when it doesn’t, right? Wrong. You end up carrying a small portion of that disappointment wherever you go.

What some people don’t understand is that anticipating defeat creates the defeat itself. If they assume the connection will go nowhere, they offer nothing of themselves but the surface level.

It’s not easy to get some nomads to go on dates. But I’ve been a fly on the wall of many nomad dates where the conversation never strays from travel. Cape Town is awesome. Tulum is past its heyday. Blah, blah, blah. No vulnerability. No authenticity. No depth. Even if there’s sexual tension. They’re wary, distant, maybe even rejecting. Intimacy can’t grow like that, let alone a relationship. This expectation of failure seeps into behaviour, ensuring the outcome they’re so dreading.

The result of all this negativity is that nomads assume other nomads are uninterested in relationships and incapable of commitment, even if they themselves are not. The refusal to commit to a home base gets mistaken for an inability to commit to a partner. But the two aren’t the same at all. Building a shared life and honouring an emotional commitment has nothing to do with geographical stability. Nomad couples tell me all the time that sharing this lifestyle with a partner who understands and celebrates it makes it exponentially more fulfilling.

The assumption that relationships force people to stop travelling isn’t wrong. Because dating apps are location-dependent, nomads end up dating locals when they pause somewhere for a few months. But locals have jobs, families, and lives that keep them rooted. When someone has to compromise, it’s often the one with more flexibility - the nomad.

A close friend of mine tells me she’s “looking for someone who will make her want to stop travelling”, yet looks so longingly at couples who travel the world together.

The thing is, people know that if they manage to meet the right person, nomadic relationships can be magical. Because the people in them are unusually intentional, flexible, and communicative. They just don’t think they can find them.

Deep commitment and intentionality are hallmarks of successful nomad relationships. I know a couple where she returned home for a brief visit and met him on Hinge. He, of course, had never even heard of digital nomads. They spent months long-distance until he landed a remote job, and now they travel together full-time. Another couple met while travelling. She was testing out the work-from-anywhere policy at her job while he was already a full-time nomad. Now she travels half the year, and he spends some months living with her at home. They spend about a month or two apart every year. A third couple spends a month or two apart every few months. There’s nothing forcing them to, but it’s the rhythm of their relationship.

Normalising time apart and being intentional about maintaining connection makes it possible for both partners to keep the flexibility and autonomy they value while still enjoying the emotional support of a committed partnership.

The idea that both partners must travel in exactly the same way, at the same pace, to the same places is a myth. But to prioritise togetherness, many nomad couples have to compromise and remain flexible.

I know two nomad couples where one partner slows down for part of the year to be with the other, who has work or visa constraints. Another couple goes wherever her job dictates, with her partner following along. Both sacrifice a little to make room for the relationship.

The ideal, of course, is the couple who travel together year-round, where neither has to change the cadence of their lifestyle. I’ve witnessed plenty of funny debates about where to go next, how long to stay, and how much they want to do versus how much they want to nap. Negotiation and communication are required to keep both people happy. But I’ve also seen energetic people who can’t sit still, be happy to lounge around, because it helps their partner feel more grounded. And more relaxed people pushing themselves to do more because their partner is so excited.

On the flip side, I’ve met many incompatible couples who stay together long after they know the relationship has run its course. They know how hard it is to find another relationship in this community and don’t think they can capture lightning in a bottle twice.

The forge from which nomad relationships emerge produces some of the strongest, healthiest partnerships I’ve seen, and they’re the reason I left my cushy 9-to-5 to become a nomad matchmaker.

So what can nomads actually do differently?

• Cultivate an internal locus of control, meaning, instead of focusing on elements of dating that you can’t control, focus on what you can.
  You can’t control timing, geography, or what someone else wants from a date. You can control how you show up. This means your openness, your energy, your emotional availability, and how intentional you are in dating. Research shows that people who have a higher sense of agency have a better time dating and end up in better relationships.

• Watch for scarcity thinking.
  The belief that “the nomad lifestyle makes relationships impossible” will lead people to hold onto the wrong connections for too long. They may overinvest, overlook incompatibilities, and burn through energy that could be spent meeting someone more suitable. The faster you’re willing to walk away, the more space you create for something that’s right.

• Put yourself where the right people are.
  If you want to meet other nomads, you have to go where they are. That means actively choosing environments that create natural connections like colivings, coworking spaces, nomad communities, conferences, and festivals. Delete that dating app that’s only putting your profile in front of locals and tanking your self-esteem.

A borderless life doesn’t stifle love. It amplifies everything: the intensity, uncertainty, and decisions that most people put off for later. Like all relationships, it requires intentionality, commitment, flexibility, and effective communication upfront. It requires a hell of a lot of courage and luck.

At times, it can feel impossible to find this kind of love, especially when it’s easier to give than to make it work. But when my matchmaking clients find someone worth the work, what they end up with is a real relationship, held together by a shared vision for the future.

If you’re enjoying Nomad Magazine, tap ❤️ and 🔄 at the top to help other curious minds find their way here. It means a lot.

And if you liked this,

consider subscribing 📧

Thanks for reading! You can find more of awesome articles here.

— Nomad Magazine ✨

About the author

Michelle is a matchmaker for digital nomads and runs an online community of single digital nomads at getofftheapps.app. She’s been living the nomad life, moving from place to place, filling her life with culture and adventure, and meeting many lovely digital nomads who struggle to date. Her job is to really understand you so she can help you build meaningful relationships without having to trade freedom for connection.

The move to a new life can often start with a one-way ticket.

Maybe it’s a move to Spain for the sunshine. A few months in Thailand to escape the grey winters at home. Or the freedom to work from anywhere with nothing more than a laptop and a decent Wi-Fi connection.

For many of us, that’s exactly what drew us to this lifestyle of digital nomadism. The ability to choose where we live, rather than letting work choose for us.

And we’re far from alone.

A recent study commissioned by Mills & Reeve found that 47% of Brits have considered moving abroad long-term or permanently, with younger generations leading the way. Better weather, a lower cost of living and a healthier lifestyle were among the biggest reasons people wanted to leave the UK.

None of that is surprising.

What is surprising is how many people are preparing for the move itself, but forgetting to plan for the life they’ll build once they get there.

Freedom Comes with New Responsibilities

If you’ve ever relocated abroad, you probably know the checklist.

Research visas. Compare healthcare systems. Find somewhere to live. Open a bank account. Figure out taxes. Buy travel insurance. Join a few local Facebook groups and hope someone has already answered your oddly specific question.

According to the research, visas, local laws, property ownership and tax residency are the areas people are most likely to seek advice on before relocating.

They’re all important.

But they’re also the easy things to Google.

The harder conversations are the ones most of us avoid because they feel too distant, too uncomfortable or simply too unlikely to happen.

What if your relationship ends while you’re living overseas?

What happens if you have children in another country?

Which country’s courts would deal with a divorce? Which laws apply? What if one parent wants to move back home?

These aren’t questions many people ask when they’re planning an exciting new chapter. But they’re exactly the kinds of situations that become far more complicated when your life spans multiple countries.

We’re Building International Lives

One statistic in the report stood out to us more than any other: 34% of respondents described themselves as digital nomads.

Whether or not that figure perfectly reflects reality, it highlights something bigger.

More people than ever are building lives that don’t fit neatly into one country.

We meet partners while travelling. We rent apartments across continents. Some of us marry abroad. Others buy property overseas or split our time between multiple countries every year.

The traditional idea of “home” is changing.

Our legal systems, however, haven’t caught up.

The more international your life becomes, the more complicated it can be if something unexpected happens.

The Questions Nobody Asks

Moving abroad is often presented as a lifestyle decision.

In reality, it’s also a legal, financial and personal one.

The Mills & Reeve research found that only 6% of people would seek advice about child custody before relocating, while just 4% would look into how divorce laws differ internationally.

It’s easy to see why.

Nobody wants to imagine a relationship ending before it has even begun. Nobody wants to think about wills, inheritance or legal disputes when they’re busy planning beach days and weekend adventures.

But ignoring those questions doesn’t make them disappear.

It simply means they’ll be much harder to answer if life takes an unexpected turn.

The same applies to practical issues many digital nomads don’t always consider:

• Is your will still valid if you become resident elsewhere?

• How will your pension or investments be affected?

• Are documents signed abroad legally enforceable in your home country?

• What happens if you own assets in multiple countries?

• If you eventually settle somewhere new, where are you legally considered to live?

They’re not the most exciting parts of moving abroad.

They’re also some of the most important.

Planning More Than the Visa

There’s a tendency in the digital nomad world to optimise everything.

We compare tax rates. Hunt for the cheapest destinations. Read endless visa guides. Debate the fastest internet speeds and the best cafés for remote work.

Yet we rarely spend the same amount of time thinking about the foundations of the life we’re creating.

Not because we’re careless.

Because those conversations don’t tend to happen until something goes wrong.

For many people, they’ll never need to navigate international family law or cross-border legal disputes. But if you do, you’ll be grateful you spent an afternoon understanding the basics before you boarded the plane.

Preparation isn’t pessimism.

It’s simply recognising that building a life across borders comes with opportunities and responsibilities in equal measure.

Where to Go for Advice

At Nomad Magazine, we often talk about the practical side of location independence - visas, destinations, remote work and the realities of life on the road. But perhaps it’s time we broadened that conversation.

If this article has prompted more questions than answers, that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

The goal isn’t to make moving abroad feel overwhelming. It’s to encourage you to think beyond the visa application and the packing list.

If you’re relocating with a partner, children or significant assets, it’s worth speaking to a family lawyer in your home country before you move. They can help you understand how relocating might affect existing legal agreements, parental rights, wills, inheritance, pensions or future legal proceedings should your circumstances change.

Having those conversations before you leave often gives you more options than trying to untangle complex legal issues after you’ve settled somewhere new.

That said, legal advice doesn’t stop once you’ve arrived.

If you’re planning to stay long-term, buy property, get married, have children or establish residency, it’s equally valuable to speak with a qualified legal professional in your new country of residence. Local lawyers can explain how the laws where you now live apply to your situation and help ensure your documents and arrangements remain valid and enforceable.

Every country has its own legal system, and while online forums and expat Facebook groups are brilliant for sharing experiences, they shouldn’t replace professional advice when it comes to major life decisions.

The freedom to live anywhere is one of the greatest opportunities of our generation. But building a life across borders also means understanding the responsibilities that come with it.

The dream of moving abroad is worth chasing. Just make sure you’re planning for the life you’ll build after you arrive, not just the journey that gets you there.

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Born in the United States to Ukrainian parents, Henry learned early that his instincts didn’t match the mindset around him. While his family’s background taught caution and stability, he felt an urgent pull toward the opposite: exploration, risk, and independence.

“I had to get out of my parents’ house,” he says, laughing. “At 16, I just knew staying wasn’t an option.”

The impulse to move, test, and question has defined his life ever since.

The Early Days of Entrepreneurship

Nomad Magazine: You left home at 16. What pushed you to do that?

Henry: I felt a strong pull to experience the world on my own. I love my parents and they raised me with a lot of care and protection. Having grown up in the former Soviet Union, their outlook was naturally cautious. I understood that, but I had a desire to explore and test what was possible for myself.

Nomad Magazine: You didn’t just leave, you also started building things very young. Where did that entrepreneurial instinct come from?

Henry: My parents bought me a computer when I was eight or nine, and that changed everything. I started messing around online, teaching myself how websites worked. I didn’t think, “I need a job to make money.” I thought, “I’ll just build something.”

My first real business was selling electric scooters online as a teenager. Terrible brand name, awful design, but somehow it worked. I made my own money, and that rewired my brain. I realized: this is how the world works. You try things and sometimes they work. Mostly they don’t, and that’s ok.

Nomad Magazine: What Soviet-era beliefs did you have to unlearn as you grew up?

Henry: Fear, mostly. Fear of strangers. Fear of doing things differently. There’s a kind of survival mindset that makes sense when you grow up in instability like they had, but I realized early on it wasn’t how I wanted to live.

I started questioning everything. Do I really need to follow the standard path? Do I really need permission? That questioning became a habit of mine and it’s probably why I kept trying new ideas instead of settling.

Leaving the Conventional Path

Nomad Magazine: Japan was the first place you went long-term. Why Japan and how did it change you?

Henry: I wanted the most different place possible to the US. Japan felt like another planet. I moved there at 16 for a study abroad program, lived with host grandparents who barely spoke English, went to a school with 4,000 Japanese students and only three foreigners. That experience forced me to grow up instantly. I always say: I was a boy before Japan and I became a man there.

Nomad Magazine: After Japan, did you ever consider a “normal” path such as going to college, getting a job, and living a conventional life?

Henry: I tried. I went to college for one semester. I hated it. I love learning, but I couldn’t stand wasting time on classes I didn’t care about while my business ideas were waiting. So I dropped out and went to Costa Rica to work remotely. That was before “digital nomad” was even a term. The internet was terrible, nobody was doing it yet, but it felt right.

Embracing Failure as a Stepping Stone

Nomad Magazine: You’ve tried over 100 ideas by your own count. Why didn’t you quit after the early failures?

Henry: Because failure felt normal to me. My first business worked, so I assumed that’s just how life goes – that things don’t have to succeed and make money to make them mean something. I never internalized failure as something personal. Most people quit after three or four failures because they think something’s wrong with them. I just thought, “Cool, what’s next?”

Nomad Magazine: What kinds of businesses did you experiment with before PeeSport?

Henry: I tried a lot of stuff. Design agencies, web development, copywriting, freelance work, photography, health coaching. I was constantly testing. Eventually I became obsessed with community as nomad life can get lonely. I ran apps, retreats, co-living experiments, worked as a community manager in a hacker house in San Francisco, helped manage nomad programs in Portugal and Thailand. Most of them didn’t make money, but they did teach me what I actually enjoy: hospitality, organizing people, and building environments where interesting humans collide.

Nomad Magazine: You’ve seen the retreat and co-living boom from the inside. Why do so many of those projects fail?

Henry: Because they’re terrible business models but make great passion projects. Co-working spaces almost never make money. Retreats barely break even. If you do them for cash, you’ll burn out. If you do them because you genuinely love hosting people, creating experiences, building community, that’s when they make sense.

From 100 Failed Ideas to a Seven-Figure Product

Nomad Magazine: Let’s talk about the product that finally exploded: PeeSport. How does someone go from retreats and apps to building America’s number one pee bottle?

Henry: I was traveling Europe in a camper van with my dog. I started peeing in the van sink and plastic bottles to save going outside or trying to find a public restroom. It was a terrible idea. Everything smelled, spilled, and felt poorly designed.

So I googled pee bottles. Every option was ugly, cheap plastic, low quality. And, with my mindset, of course I thought, “Why hasn’t anyone made a good one?”

From there I designed a sleek silicone version, put up a landing page with pre-orders, posted once on Twitter… and after that I actually forgot all about it.

Then an outdoor gear blog picked it up. Suddenly I had hundreds of pre-orders. That was the signal that this was a product that people would buy.

Nomad Magazine: From idea to delivery, how hard was it to actually make it real?

Henry: Brutal. It took over six months to deliver the first batch. Minimum order was around $25,000. I started by sourcing terrible products on Alibaba and slowly improving them by changing materials, shapes, and quality, until it became something I was proud of. We owned the molds, controlled the process, and iterated constantly. That’s when PeeSport became a real company.

Nomad Magazine: PeeSport grew fast to seven figures fully bootstrapped. Why do you think it worked when so many other ideas didn’t?

Henry: I think it’s because it’s a simple problem with a clear need. There was zero ego involved. Also, humor helps. Peeing is universal. People talk to us. We get heartfelt messages from people with disabilities, older customers, people who genuinely need this product. Helping people and making them laugh is a great combination.

The Future of Travel and Business

Nomad Magazine: You could be working nonstop, but you don’t. Why?

Henry: I’ve done the 100-hour weeks. They’re optional. Managing the company takes maybe 30 minutes a day. I could spend all day every day growing it, but instead I choose balance. Freedom was always the goal, not hustle for hustle’s sake.

Nomad Magazine: After all these years of movement, how do you think about travel now?

Henry: Can I say this to a nomad magazine? Confession time: I actually don’t love constant travel anymore. I like routines. Environment matters more than willpower. Now I choose places intentionally for things like good air quality, nature, and the people that base themselves there – entrepreneurs, builders, creatives. I stay at least three months to establish rhythm. The goal is to have a few home bases and move around less.

Nomad Magazine: If a 16-year-old is reading this, torn between college and carving their own path, what would you tell them?

Henry: The world is changing too fast for rigid plans. Four years from now when you finish any sort of studying, everything will be different, especially with AI. Travel if you can. Experiment. Build things. Share your journey honestly. Everyone has a unique perspective and that’s your leverage. Make an intention, and move toward it.

Nomad Magazine: Last one. What’s next for you?

Henry: PeeSport is just getting started, so watch this space. And one day, I hope to build a retreat center with beautiful nature, great people, good food, and animals. A sort of rooted freedom.

A Legacy of Iteration

Henry Snow’s story doesn’t follow a straight line, and perhaps that’s exactly the point. Rather than chasing a predefined version of success, he built his life through relentless trial and error, guided by curiosity more than certainty. Each move, each failed idea, and each unexpected win added another layer to his life experience.

In a world that often celebrates overnight success, Henry’s journey is a reminder that progress is usually built through repetition. Freedom, in his case, isn’t about endless travel or relentless hustle, but about designing a life where curiosity takes center space, community matters, and work serves real people’s needs. Sometimes it means building complex systems. Other times, it means spotting a simple problem and executing it exceptionally well. Either way, his success is the result of years of hard work and determination.

If you’re enjoying Nomad Magazine, tap ❤️ and 🔄 at the top to help other curious minds find their way here. It means a lot.

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Thanks for reading! You can find more of awesome articles here.

— Nomad Magazine ✨

About the Guest

Henry Snow is an American entrepreneur, founder and CEO of PeeSport, a portable pee bottle. He created the idea after experiencing challenges living on the road and built it into a fast growing and successful business. Snow gained national attention on Shark Tank Season 17, where he secured a deal with Kevin O’Leary, helping scale the brand and expand its reach in the outdoor and travel market.

Find Henry on Instagram and PeeSport on Instagram.

The sound of waves, a wooden terrace with a beach view, and the refreshing taste of coconut water straight from the coconut. You just woke up in a surf town with bohemian vibes. The day starts with a run or surf session followed by a crispy poke bowl, and reading a travel magazine. Don’t forget! You still need to open your laptop… and get some digital work done.

Let me take you through my journey – the experiences and challenges of working remotely as a digital nomad across five continents for seven years.

I’m Igor Kondrat and I’m a travel journalist. I work for my own company online as a digital nomad. I provide travel journalism services like writing articles, travel blog posts, copywriting, and video editing for travel media & tourism companies. I teach fellow creatives how to become a travel journalist through my Travel Journalism Academy, and get published in travel media to make an impact with storytelling.

Leaving the Netherlands for a location-independent life

In the rainy Netherlands I felt overwhelmed by the fast pace of the city, high cost of living, and gloomy weather conditions. So, I decided to make a change and go out there with my camera and laptop to be able to create a location independent lifestyle. I swapped my 9-5 work days for online work by freelancing. That gave me the freedom to explore new places and stay in more affordable locations whilst still doing my work remotely for my clients in The Hague.

The remote lifestyle gave me the opportunity to follow my passion for travel, discovering new cultures, and practising boardsports. I traveled to and explored five continents, and worked online from magical places like Japan, Mexico, Costa Rica, Morocco, Greece, Thailand, Sri Lanka, Peru, Ecuador, and many more. I usually love to stay longer in surf towns, and explore the country and its culture in my free time while documenting the differences in cultures through my camera.

The reality behind the laptop

The digital nomad lifestyle is not always barista-made coffees, wild adventures, and magical sunsets. You still need to get your work done, find clients, pitch, communicate, edit, write, do your administration, and pay taxes. That’s why your workspace is so important. I used to work a lot in crowded hostels, cafés, and libraries. Now I prefer to rent a place with a terrace to work remotely from or go to a co-working space nearby. It’s important also to have strong and stable WiFi, and choose a location with a timezone that fits your clients.

Today, the digital nomad world is moving fast because of new technologies with social media, blockchain, AI, and new opportunities in the online career market. Being a digital nomad gives you a great position to be ahead of the crowd. It’s also fantastic to see that many expats and digital nomads have started to nurture offline time because of the digital screen overload. Many nomads have begun to relocate to places which offer lots of nature, spaces to play sports, and opportunities for hobbies such as gardening or mindful outdoor activities.

Challenges on the road

When you travel as a digital nomad and hop from place to place with your laptop, you can expect some challenges. Whilst on the road, I’ve had my phone stolen, been caught in an armed robbery, dealt with injuries from surfing in Ecuador and snowboarding in Poland, and experienced food poisoning in Peru and an earthquake in the Philippines. These moments were challenging, but they built resilience and adaptability, skills you can’t learn from a guidebook. When things go wrong, staying calm, focusing on what you can control, and having basic contingency plans (backups, insurance, emergency contacts) makes all the difference.

Staying safe while traveling

Staying safe whilst traveling doesn’t have to be complicated, but it does require awareness and preparation. A few simple habits can make your experience smoother, more secure, and far more enjoyable.

• Stay streetwise and pay close attention to your surroundings.

• Keep family or friends updated on your whereabouts.

• Make sure you have reliable travel insurance.

• Have back up copies of important files and documents.

• Take time to connect with local people — they can be helpful if something goes wrong.

• Remember: most people are kind, but scams do exist.

Mistakes I made early on

As a digital nomad I made many mistakes during my initial travel years. I traveled too fast, so I didn’t have time to acclimatize to my new environment. I was also building a lot of short-term relationships with people, and not always choosing the right accommodation or a peaceful place to work.

Choosing the right base

Starting a digital nomad lifestyle is exciting, but choosing the right base can make a big difference to your success and wellbeing. Being intentional about where and how you live helps you stay productive while still enjoying the freedom of travel. With a bit of planning, you can create a lifestyle that balances work, community, and adventure.

• Choose a location where your cost of living is lower than your income.

• Find a place where you can work in a quiet, comfortable environment.

• Look for destinations with an existing expat or digital nomad community.

• Stay longer in one place to build deeper relationships.

• Consider time zones that help you stay connected with clients or colleagues.

• Make time to relax and enjoy your surroundings.

• Leave space in your schedule for spontaneity.

Building a sustainable career

This journey has been about building a sustainable career in travel journalism. By starting out as a freelancer, working with small clients, and gradually growing a portfolio, I was able to create the stability needed to take the leap into a fully remote lifestyle. The laptop and passport made it possible, but consistent work, pitching, and storytelling, made it last. Seven years in, it’s not about where I go, but the stories I produce and the career I’ve built along the way.

If you’re enjoying Nomad Magazine, tap ❤️ and 🔄 at the top to help other curious minds find their way here. It means a lot.

And if you liked this,

consider subscribing 📧

Thanks for reading! You can find more of awesome articles here.

— Nomad Magazine ✨

About the author

Igor Kondrat is a travel journalist & digital nomad. He helps creative people to get published in travel media, and be able to work remotely with tourism brands from anywhere in the world to make a local impact with storytelling. Find him at Travel Journalism Academy.

Most digital nomads can sketch Southeast Asia’s nomad trail from memory: Chiang Mai, Bali, Da Nang, each with its own mythology. Ask them about China, and you’ll usually get a blank stare.

But here’s what that blank stare hides: a nomad scene that looks nothing like the one you know, and not just one scene, but several. Artists living on $300 a month in a thousand-year-old mountain town. AI founders shipping products from co-living villages surrounded by bamboo forests. Hardware hackers and software builders choosing nomad life as an operating model.

Over the past three years, I’ve organized China’s first large-scale digital nomad conference, 数字游民大会 – China Digital Nomad Conference, mapped communities from fishing villages to megacities, and watched this landscape take shape from the inside. The map is bigger and more alive than you would expect.

Dali: The Origin

Let’s start where it all began. Dali, a thousand-year-old city at the foot of the Cangshan mountains in Yunnan, is China’s answer to Chiang Mai, except it didn’t grow from expat culture.

During the Bai people’s Third Month Fair, you’ll see foreign nomads and local grandmothers picking through the same baskets of Erhai Lake silverfish at a market that’s been running for centuries. A courtyard apartment with a garden rents for 800 yuan a month, around $110. Lunch costs $3. Coffee, $2. Every week, nearly a hundred community events unfold across the old town and surrounding villages: organic farming workshops, improvised music jams, contact dance sessions, and skill-sharing circles.

Dali runs on openness. The nomad communities here, such as NCC (Nomad Co-living & Co-creating) and CYC (Connected Youth Community), are not service providers; they’re co-created ecosystems where everyone is a participant.

Anji and Huangshan: The Unexpected Ones

Now let’s zoom east. In Anji, Zhejiang province, digital nomads work from a village called Yucun, surrounded by bamboo forests that inspired the movie Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. In Huangshan, the NCC brand has taken root in Qingshan Village, where centuries-old stone houses have been converted into co-living spaces.

What makes these places globally unique is that local governments are actively recruiting digital nomads to revitalize rural communities. Town officials visit nomad spaces, tourism bureaus provide support, and village infrastructure gets upgraded for remote workers.

Shenzhen and Hangzhou: The AI Shift

Fly south to Shenzhen and the vibe changes completely. Two years ago, the nomads here were trading crypto. Now they’re shipping AI products. Shenzhen, China’s hardware capital, and Hangzhou, its software stronghold, home to Alibaba and a dense ecosystem of young tech startups, are the twin engines of a new kind of nomad: the AI entrepreneur.

China’s nomad demographic is undergoing a revolution. The Web3 winter cleared out one generation and AI tools created another.

Coding agents and large language models have turned the one-person company from a meme into an operating model. Non-technical founders are building and launching products solo. The new wave is entrepreneurs who realized they no longer need a fixed address.

Sanya and Pingtan: The Islands

Further south, Sanya on Hainan Island offers China’s tropical nomad chapter. NCC has already established a beachside community there. Off the coast of Fujian, Pingtan is something rarer: an actual island-based digital nomad village, with ocean views and a growing creative scene. Think Bali, but with no tourist infrastructure and all the rawness and reality that comes without it.

And More

Chengdu’s tea-house pace. Nanjing’s modular “400 Box” community*. Anji’s DNA network**. Lishui’s mountain co-working. Seventeen communities are pinned on the map today, and the count keeps climbing.

What strikes me, after years of watching this landscape take shape, is that China’s nomad ecosystem isn’t a copy of anything. It’s not Lisbon with chopsticks or Bali with a VPN. It’s a network woven from village governments and bamboo forests, AI hackers and Bai ethnic festivals, $110 courtyard rentals and century-old stone houses. It’s fast-moving and almost entirely invisible to the world outside of China.

This is the first in a series. In the pieces that follow, I’ll take you inside each city: the people, the rhythms, the daily texture of building a life in places most nomads don’t know exist.

The map is unfolding. Come see for yourself.

Glossary:

“400 Box” Community is a community that integrates living, working, and entertainment. Built with movable rooms and modular furniture, it provides residents with smart services and a diverse range of interest-based community activities.

Anji’s DNA network refers to Anji province holding China’s first creative campus for digital nomads, nestled among the rolling tea fields and bamboo forests of Xilong Township.

If you’re enjoying Nomad Magazine, tap ❤️ and 🔄 at the top to help other curious minds find their way here. It means a lot.

And if you liked this,

consider subscribing 📧

Thanks for reading! You can find more of awesome articles here.

— Nomad Magazine ✨

About the Author:

Rainy Zhou (周莫) is a community builder and growth operator deeply embedded in China’s AI and digital nomad ecosystems. She led GTM and partnerships for China’s first national Digital Nomad Conference, bringing together 1,500+ participants across media, government, and global communities. Through coliving programs, APAC summits, and cross-border initiatives, she now works across multiple AI communities in China, helping teams navigate go-to-market, content strategy, and ecosystem connections. Rainy brings a rare on-the-ground perspective on how China’s AI landscape actually operates.

Let’s be honest: the internet loves a good “working from paradise” moment. But what is digital nomad life really like in 2026? In this article, we share real stories from digital nomads around the world, covering how they make money, the challenges they face, and what life on the road actually looks like.

We wanted to step away from polished narratives and hear directly from the people actually living the digital nomad lifestyle. We reached out to digital nomads, remote workers, creators, and entrepreneurs across social media that are real people building lives that work for them. We asked about their day-to-day routines, how they earn and manage money, what surprised them most about nomad life, and the adventures that keep them going.

The responses were honest, varied, and refreshingly imperfect. Some stories are aspirational, others grounding, but all of them are real.

At Nomad Magazine, it’s important to us that we don’t just perpetuate a lifestyle from the outside. We want to reflect the voices of the community itself, in all its diversity and complexity. In this article sit their words, their experiences, and their realities, shared to inform, inspire, and connect with those already on the road and those still dreaming of it.

What Is Digital Nomad Life Really Like?

Digital nomad life is often framed as freedom, flexibility, and working from anywhere, but in reality, it’s far more nuanced than that. It’s a lifestyle built on movement and adaptation. There’s not always a fixed routine or guaranteed stability, and there’s not a single path that works for everyone.

For some, it looks like slow travel – spending months in one place, building community, and creating structure. For others, it’s faster-paced, moving between countries while balancing work deadlines and logistics.

What these stories reveal is that digital nomad life means you’re more fully responsible for your income, your schedule, your environment, and your support system. The freedom is real, but so is the need for resilience and problem-solving.

How Digital Nomads Make Money

There’s several income models that define digital nomad life. Most people build a mix of income streams that evolve over time, often combining remote work with more flexible or creative pursuits.

Some rely on freelance work such as writing, design, marketing, development, or consulting, offering services to clients around the world. Others secure fully remote jobs that allow them to work while traveling, providing more stability and predictable income.

Many digital nomads work in content creation, blogging, affiliate marketing, brand partnerships, and online businesses.

A common thread is experimentation. Very few nomads start with a perfectly functioning system. They test different income streams, learn what works, and gradually build something sustainable.

The Biggest Challenges of Digital Nomad Life

Whilst digital nomadism offers freedom, it also comes with real and often underestimated challenges.

One of the biggest of those is instability. Income can fluctuate, plans change quickly, and external factors such as visa issues, weather events, or global disruptions can interrupt even the best-laid plans.

Loneliness and mental health are also recurring themes for nomads. Constant movement can make it difficult to maintain relationships, and while you meet people quickly, those connections are often temporary. Without a stable support system, it’s easy to feel isolated.

There’s also the logistical side: managing time zones, booking travel and accommodation, finding reliable Wi-Fi, navigating new environments, and maintaining productivity without a fixed routine. Even simple tasks like healthcare or banking can become complicated and frustrating.

Unexpected Benefits for Digital Nomads

Despite the challenges, many of the most meaningful aspects of nomad life are the ones you don’t anticipate.

There’s a unique intensity to relationships formed on the road. Friendships often develop quickly and deeply, shaped by shared experiences and a mutual openness to connection.

Perspective is another major shift, where exposure to different cultures, ways of living, and inequality can reshape how you see the world and your place in it. It often leads to a stronger sense of independence and clarity around personal values.

Many nomads also experience significant personal growth. Being constantly outside of your comfort zone forces adaptability, problem-solving, and resilience. Over time, this builds confidence and a trust in your ability to handle things.

Real Digital Nomad Stories

Lora — Travel Creator & Airbnb Host

@explorewithlora

“I was never happy in my government job… every day felt like I was living someone else’s version of success.”

For Lora, dissatisfaction had been there for a while. It sat just under the surface, persistent, but easy to ignore. Then everything shifted at once. “My dad passed away suddenly, and a breakup followed right after. It was one of those moments where life gets very real, very fast… I didn’t want to wait for ‘someday’ anymore.”

What started as a year of personal leave became something else entirely. “I met so many people living these alternative lives, and it completely rewired how I saw what was possible.”

Today, her life is built on a patchwork of income streams. “My income is a mix of ads, affiliates, sponsorships, Airbnb hosting, and brand collaborations on my dog’s Instagram.”

But the defining moments aren’t financial, they’re visceral and raw. “Antarctica… it felt like we’d landed on another planet… the silence, the scale of the ice, it makes you rethink your place in the world.”

And sometimes, the smallest decisions change everything. “I came to Puerto Vallarta for what was supposed to be a three-month stopover… I ended up getting residency, buying an apartment, and adopting a Mexican street dog.”

That dog, Puglo, became both an anchor and a surprise. “I assumed it would hold me back, but traveling with him has only opened more doors.”

Across Every Border — Freelance Digital Nomads & Content Creators

@acrosseveryborder

“This might sound dumb, but we once left the airport without our luggage…”

For Ryan and Sara, life on the road isn’t just about transformation, it’s often chaotic, unpredictable, and occasionally ridiculous.

“The staff told us the only way to get it back was to cause a scene, so we did and it worked!”

But underneath the humor is something deeper: a relationship that began entirely by chance.

“The most meaningful friendship for us has to be the one between us, since we met while traveling in Bali… eventually that friendship turned into a relationship, and now we’re traveling the world together.”

They didn’t arrive at a digital nomad lifestyle from the same place.

“Ryan wanted to be his own boss and experience new countries and cultures. I (Sara) was going through a really dark period in my life and traveling felt like my only escape… it turned out to be the best decision I ever made.”

Together, they’ve built a life that continues to evolve. “We’re both freelancers… we also earn income through our own social media, and we’re currently transitioning to become full-time content creators.”

And while the road is often messy, it’s also unforgettable. “Our road trip through the Bolivian highlands… it felt like we’d landed on another planet.”

Marko — Content Creator & Trip Organizer

@marko.travel

Marko’s journey began with a feeling many nomads know well: dissatisfaction that refused to be ignored.

“I just wasn’t happy. That wasn’t life for me… I was overwhelmed. I was probably depressed at some point as well and I just wanted to change that.”

To fund his travels, he made a bold, clean break. “I sold everything I owned before I came on this trip… I also organize group trips and have started doing collaborations in UGC content for brands.”

The ocean has become his anchor, especially in places like Australia and the Philippines.

“I went free diving on the Great Barrier Reef… it was whale season. I could hear them calling to each other underwater… It was the most amazing experience of my life.”

Community plays a huge role in his nomadic life. “Those other backpackers… have something in them that is curious about the world. They want to discover. It makes you want to keep discovering alongside them.”

But he notes that travel can quickly remind you who’s in control. “The typhoon I’m facing right now has been an unexpected challenge… we’ve gotten stuck in El Nido (Palawan, Philippines). The roads are blocked and the airports are closed… there’s no way around it, we’ve just got to wait.”

Yvette Bax — Professional Travel Writer

@yvettebax.traveljournalist

Unlike many nomads, Yvette didn’t leave an old life behind, travel has always been her profession. “I never had an ‘old life’ that I left behind… I have been a travel writer basically my whole adult life.”

With 135 countries under her belt, her relationship with travel has matured over time. “I now notice I lean more towards very unique landscapes that feel ‘alien’ to me.”

From Antarctica to the Galápagos, her most powerful moments often come in silence. “These special and remote places give you such a serene sense of peace, it is priceless.”

Her career has been built on persistence and craft. “I just started writing a lot, pitching stories… after that I became the editorial head of the travel section of a big Dutch newspaper.”

But even a life built around travel isn’t immune to disruption. “I got stuck twice during Covid… that was probably the most stress I have ever experienced while traveling.”

Still, moments of awe make it all worthwhile for her. “In Antarctica… three HUGE humpback whales came swimming beside me and underneath my kayak… I cried. I will never ever forget that moment.”

Freeman Fung — Life Coach & Entrepreneur

@freemanfung.global

“I grew up in Hong Kong… everything is nonstop, financially driven. I was conditioned to chase money and status, but I wasn’t good at playing that game.”

By 19, that pressure had reached a breaking point. “I felt I had two choices: either to end my life, or to do something very radical.” He chose the latter, embarking on a solo trip to Romania. “It turned out to be the best summer of my life… I realized we’re here to live our own path, not someone else’s.”

That shift became the foundation for a life of travel. Today, Freeman earns through a mix of income streams, primarily life coaching.

His travels have also reshaped his worldview and a visit to Mumbai’s Dharavi left a lasting impact. “Seeing that level of inequality in real life… it changes you. You realize how much you don’t see when you stay in your comfort zone.”

His biggest challenge came when his health collapsed in his mid-twenties. “I was diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome… I had no energy and severe insomnia.” That forced a reset. “As a traveler, you have to take full responsibility for your health.”

Recently, he marked a milestone that once felt unimaginable. “I received my Australian citizenship… my third passport at age 33. For someone who left home at 19 not knowing anything, that feels pretty wild.”

For Freeman, nomad life isn’t about escape. “It’s about creating a life where freedom and stability can coexist.”

Lis Kanzler — Creative & Digital Nomad Coach

@liskanzler

“The idea of simply ticking boxes… felt suffocating rather than safe.”

Lis didn’t reject the conventional path immediately, but it never quite fit.

A prestigious job in New York triggered a deeper realization for her. “I remember standing in that elevator one morning and thinking, ‘Is this it?’”

So, she booked a one-way ticket to Brazil and never looked back. “Less than a month after arriving, I landed my first fully remote job… Suddenly, the vision I had felt for years became reality.”

But, her life and career hasn’t necessarily been straight-forward since then. “My career is not a straight line, but a dynamic ecosystem of creativity, courage, and self-expression.”

After a decade on the road, the challenge became less external and more internal. “I began to feel fragmented… trapped inside my own freedom. This challenge led me to help countless digital nomads reconnect with themselves.”

In the end, the biggest transformation wasn’t tied to a specific place. “The most extraordinary adventure hasn’t been one single experience, but rather the person I’ve become along the way.”

Will Hatton — Travel Blogger & Entrepreneur

@willhatton__

“I had a traumatic injury when I was 19…”

Before traveling, Will’s life was heading in a very different direction.

“My plan had been to join the army, but after this injury I was no longer able to get in. I went through a very difficult period struggling with my mental health… I worked a bunch of really terrible jobs for minimum wage and quite quickly came to the conclusion that being in the UK wasn’t the right fit for me.”

He left and spent two years in India. “Living on a budget of $10 a day, hitchhiking, couchsurfing, sleeping in train stations, and picking up odd jobs… I became a lot less shy, a lot less anxious, and gained a lot of skills. And I was like, wow, this is where I’m supposed to be. I need to find a way to make this into a lifestyle.”

Turning that into a sustainable life took a lot of trial and error. “I’ve had about 30 different online ventures. A lot of those didn’t work out.”

Some did. “My travel blog The Broke Backpacker I monetized for affiliate marketing… I also lead my own tours… And I own a hostel in Bali catering for digital nomads and aspiring entrepreneurs.”

In earlier years, he hustled in creative and sometimes difficult ways. “I’d stuff my backpack with silver jewellery, leather satchels, pashminas, bring it back to the UK, and sell a backpack worth of stuff to make a couple of grand. I could live off that for ages.”

When it comes to friendships on the road, he has a lot of insight. “When you meet people traveling, things happen a lot quicker… It’s a bit like speed dating but with friends.”

Will speaks candidly about the darker edges of life on the road. “The repeat offender for me is dealing with mental health challenges, depression or anxiety whilst I’m traveling… When you’re on the road you can feel very lonely as well. It’s two sides of a coin.”

Still, the awe inspiring hold of adventure remains his anchor. “Whilst hitchhiking across Iran I camped for a week on the island of Hormuz. Crystals were bursting out through the sand in shades of purple, red, silver… It was psychedelic.”

What These Stories Share

When you read these stories side by side, a theme of courage emerges.

Lora refused to wait for “someday,” instead choosing to honor the fragility of time after personal loss; Ryan and Sara chose movement over stagnation and built a relationship in motion; Marko sold everything he owned and stepped into uncertainty with nothing but curiosity; Yvette committed to decades of craft, turning travel into disciplined mastery rather than escape; Freeman redefined his life after hitting rock bottom, turning travel into a vehicle for purpose, healing, and connection; Lis confronted the internal cost of unlimited freedom and chose to rebuild from the inside out; and Will transformed injury, depression, and minimum-wage frustration into a portfolio of experiments that ultimately became entrepreneurship.

They each have different starting points and income streams and yet their stories intersect and align in powerful ways.

Ultimately, what unites them is that they experimented relentlessly, failed both publicly and privately, diversified their income streams, worked odd jobs, built blogs and brands and tours and creative ecosystems, and allowed themselves to be reshaped by the people and places they encountered.

They formed relationships quickly and thoroughly because the road demands you to be in the present moment; they sat in the silence of Antarctica and felt small; they caused scenes at airports to retrieve lost luggage; they waited out typhoons; they swam with whales; and they learned, again and again, how to steady themselves when the external world refused to be stable.

Nomad life, through their words, is resilience and reinvention with no safety net. And perhaps that is what is missing in so many surface-level narratives: this lifestyle is not about running away from responsibility, but about running toward autonomy, curiosity, growth, partnership, healing, and meaning, and accepting that those pursuits require discipline as much as freedom.

There is no specific pathway here and no guaranteed income formula. But there is grit, determination, and agency, and in a world that still prescribes just a few narrow definitions of success, choosing to define your own might be the most radical adventure of all.

FAQs

Is digital nomad life realistic?

Yes, but it’s not as effortless as it’s often portrayed. Digital nomad life is realistic for people who are willing to build remote income streams, adapt to uncertainty, and take full responsibility for their lifestyle. It usually takes time to establish financial stability and find a rhythm that works long-term.

How do digital nomads make money?

Digital nomads make money through a mix of remote jobs, freelancing, online businesses, and content creation. Common income sources include marketing, design, writing, software development, consulting, affiliate marketing, and brand partnerships. Many rely on multiple streams rather than a single job.

Is it lonely being a digital nomad?

It can be. While nomads often meet new people easily, those connections are sometimes short-lived. Without consistent community or long-term relationships, loneliness can become a challenge. Many nomads address this by slow traveling, returning to familiar places, or actively building community on the road.

How much do you need to live as a digital nomad?

Costs vary widely depending on location and lifestyle. Some nomads live comfortably on $1,000–$1,500 per month in lower-cost countries, while others spend $3,000 or more in expensive cities. Key expenses include accommodation, food, transport, insurance, and workspace. Flexibility is one of the biggest advantages as you can adjust your lifestyle to match your income.

What jobs can you do while traveling?

There are many jobs that support a digital nomad lifestyle. Common options include freelance writing, graphic design, web development, social media management, virtual assistance, online teaching, and remote corporate roles. Increasingly, people also build their own businesses or monetize content through blogs, YouTube, or social media.

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About the author:

Jessica Holmes is a writer and senior editor at Nomad Magazine. Follow her on Substack , or Instagram @hitchedhikingandhousesitting.

A taste of Greece through its most iconic and time-honored dishes.

Greece may be celebrated for its sun-drenched islands and historic ruins, but its cuisine is just as compelling a reason to visit. Whether you are dining in a seaside taverna or a traditional mountain kitchen, food is one of Greece’s greatest treasures—connecting travelers directly to the country’s culture and way of life. Rooted in centuries of Mediterranean tradition and shaped by influences from the Balkans and the Middle East, Greek cuisine tells the story of its heritage through simple ingredients, time-honored techniques, and bold natural flavors.

From freshly caught seafood drizzled with olive oil and lemon to slow-cooked dishes rich with herbs and history, every meal offers a taste of place and tradition. It is a cuisine built for sharing, lingering, and savoring, where even the simplest dishes carry a sense of occasion.

Here are the must-try dishes that define the country’s rich culinary identity—dishes that will have you dreaming about them long after your trip, and quietly plotting your return.

Moussaka

Greece’s most well-known dish, this hearty casserole layers ground lamb or beef with tender eggplant, potatoes, and a rich tomato sauce, all topped with a creamy béchamel. Moussaka is baked until golden, sliced into thick portions, and served hot. It’s typically enjoyed as a main course and often paired with a simple Greek salad or crusty bread. Hints of cinnamon and nutmeg give it warmth, while fresh, sun-ripened tomatoes and olive oil ground it firmly in the Mediterranean.

Moussaka’s roots stretch back to the Middle East, where comparable layered dishes appeared in written recipes long ago. It was in Greece, however, that moussaka first took shape and became the beloved classic recognized around the world today.

Where to try it: For an authentic yet upscale experience, head to Apanemi Restaurant within the iconic Mykonos Theoxenia Hotel. Here, traditional moussaka is reimagined with refined technique and elegant presentation—a modern take on the classic while honoring its rich Greek roots.

Spanakopita

In Greece, spanakopita is more than just a savory pie—it’s part of daily life, wrapped in paper for the walk home or laid out on family tables beside olives and fresh salad. These flaky, golden pastries are usually made with spinach, feta cheese, onions, fresh dill, herbs, scallions, and olive oil.

The filling is wrapped in delicate layers of filo pastry and baked until irresistibly crisp. It’s perfect as a starter, a quick snack, or a light lunch.

Where to try it: In Thessaloniki, visit Albeta Bakery, a local favorite known for its flaky pastries and traditional Greek breads, where freshly baked spanakopita is prepared daily.

Gemista

Gemista is made by stuffing fresh vegetables such as tomatoes and peppers with rice, herbs, onions, olive oil, and sometimes minced meat, then baking them until tender. Preparing gemista is a labor of love, as each vegetable is carefully hollowed out and filled with the fragrant mixture.

It is a traditional favorite across Greece, commonly served as a hearty main dish at family meals or festive gatherings, accompanied by feta cheese and crusty bread to soak up the rich juices.

Where to try it: Enjoy it at Mistrali Restaurant in Chania, a well-regarded local spot known for its traditional Cretan cooking and flavorful gemista, prepared with fresh, seasonal ingredients.

Grilled Fish

Island living in Greece means seafood is always within reach, making the catch of the day a reliable choice at any seaside taverna. Mostly it is caught daily and often displayed on ice for guests to select the exact fish they want to eat. The fish is usually grilled with olive oil and herbs, and a squeeze of lemon brings out its natural flavor. It’s often served with salad, greens, or fries—a simple and satisfying meal.

Where to try it: For a memorable seafood experience, head to Gia Mas Taverna in Poros, a welcoming seaside spot known for its fresh seafood and perfectly prepared grilled fish. If you have a bigger appetite, the taverna also offers excellent seafood pasta.

Pastitsio

Imagine baked pasta, but richer, full of explosive flavor, and hearty. That’s pastitsio—like a Greek lasagna with thick tubes of pasta layered with a warmly spiced meat sauce, typically seasoned with cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg, and a creamy béchamel sauce. It’s then topped with grated kefalograviera cheese and baked until golden on top.

Across Greece, pastitsio is the kind of dish that shows up at big family lunches and festive gatherings. It’s filling, flavorful, and always served in generous slices.

Where to try it: Enjoy it at O Vasilis on the island of Naxos, a warm, family-run restaurant celebrated for its Greek classic dishes. The pastitsio stands out for its abundant use of local cheese, adding depth and richness to every bite.

Grilled Octopus

There’s a sort of magic that comes from sitting at a seaside taverna in Greece—the ocean lapping gently just meters in front of you, and freshly caught octopus hanging on a clothesline to dry in the sun before being prepared for diners.

Once dry, it is grilled until tender and lightly charred, and often served with nothing more than olive oil and a squeeze of lemon. It can be ordered as an appetizer or a main course; best enjoyed slowly, with the breeze, the ocean, and soft traditional Greek music drifting around you.

Where to try it: At Astakas Restaurant in Milos, the menu features crowd-pleasers like seabass and Greek salad, yet it’s the beautifully tender grilled octopus—prepared with effortless simplicity—that truly steals the spotlight.

Plate hopping in Greece

To truly experience Greece is to follow your appetite as much as your itinerary. We’ve all heard of island hopping—jumping from Santorini to Mykonos, or Paros to Naxos—but what about plate hopping? From flaky pastries in bustling cities to just-caught seafood on sun-soaked shores, each dish tells you exactly where you are without ever needing a map. This is slow travel at its most delicious: working between bites, wandering between meals, and letting your next destination be decided by what you’re craving.

Because in Greece, food isn’t just something you eat—it’s something you chase. One taste leads to another, one taverna to the next, until suddenly your trip becomes a full-blown culinary quest. Call it edible exploration or a fork-fuelled adventure; either way, it’s reason enough to come back to Greece again and again. After all, if island hopping is a classic, then food hopping might just be Greece’s best-kept secret—and one we’re more than happy to indulge in.

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About the author: Samuel Sobande is a travel food writer who savors the flavors of new destinations. His words whisk readers away to street food stalls, local eateries, and culinary hotspots, exploring the intersection of culture and cuisine. Find him digging into the story behind the dish.

Remote working is one of those topics that instantly sparks debate, and your perspective often depends on your generation. For some, it represents freedom, flexibility, and a long-overdue shift in how we think about work. For others, it signals declining culture, lost collaboration, and blurred boundaries.

What’s undeniable, however, is its rapid rise over the past decade — a transformation dramatically accelerated by the Covid pandemic. Yet just as it seemed remote work was here to stay, the tide began to turn. Some companies have started rolling back remote options for reasons that are not always entirely clear, whilst others have continued to embrace, and even double down on, this way of working.

So what does that mean for the future of remote work?

Current Landscape of Remote Working

As of 2026, the great remote-work experiment sparked by the pandemic is clearly entering a new phase. Many companies that enthusiastically adopted remote policies during the height of Covid-19 are now rolling them back. With the immediate health threat behind us, leaders are reassessing whether remote work truly fits their long-term strategy.

What makes this shift particularly interesting is the contradiction at its core. A substantial body of evidence suggests that remote work benefits employees and improves productivity — as the IMF has documented. Yet despite these findings, many corporations are dialing back flexibility and calling employees back to the office.

At the same time, there’s another side to the story. A significant number of companies (particularly in the tech sector) are increasing remote work roles. They’re building their entire operating model around it. For these organisations, remote work is a deliberate choice.

There’s also a noticeable divide among individuals. Some people genuinely prefer a hybrid setup, enjoying the balance of focused time at home with a few days in the office to connect with colleagues face-to-face. Others thrive fully remotely and have no desire to return to a physical workplace.

Successful remote work requires a particular mindset. It demands discipline, independence, and strong planning and organisational skills.

Trends in the Remote Working Space

Several clear trends are shaping the future of remote work. The most prominent is the rise of the hybrid model. Many companies have settled on this middle ground, arguing that in-person interaction is still essential for collaboration and culture. Employees may work from home part of the week, but are typically expected in the office once or twice. The result? Greater flexibility, but not complete freedom to travel and work from anywhere.

Another major shift is the move toward asynchronous work. In distributed teams, especially across time zones, constant meetings simply aren’t practical. Clear, concise written communication has become a core skill. So has the ability to run efficient meetings when they do happen, with strong preparation, clear agendas, and defined decisions. In a remote environment, clarity isn’t optional; it’s foundational.

The Digital Nomad Factor

Many countries are offering ‘Digital Nomad Visas’ to attract remote workers, who often have more spending power. I believe in the coming years we’ll see more of these kinds of visas appearing, especially for countries that could benefit from an influx of such workers.

I first worked remotely in Spain and now in Thailand — a move I wrote about on my blog. The freedom to work from anywhere is not just about being location independent — it’s about working on your own terms, when you want to, and not having to stick to standardised working hours. The opportunity to discover new countries and cultures is something that many people would like to experience, and remote working enables that to happen.

One of the biggest challenges is economic displacement. When large numbers of remote workers with higher spending power move into a city, prices inevitably rise, and locals are often the ones who get pushed out. We’ve seen this happen in Portugal, and the same pattern is emerging in many other digital nomad hotspots.

If remote work and digital nomadism are to remain sustainable, governments will need to anticipate these side effects more carefully. That means putting thoughtful policies in place to address rising living costs, housing shortages, and the broader socio-economic tensions that can follow in their wake.

The Future of Workplace Technology

Technological innovation is reshaping almost every industry, and remote work is no exception.

One of the most intriguing developments is the rise of VR for collaboration. Virtual reality meetings can create the feeling of sharing the same workspace, potentially countering the argument that remote teams lack “real” collaboration. Some of my colleagues have experimented with it, and while it’s a uniquely immersive experience for a few hours, longer sessions can strain the eyes or cause dizziness.

Beyond VR, the ecosystem of digital collaboration tools continues to expand, building on platforms like Miro, Slack, and Basecamp.

And then there’s AI. New tools are dramatically increasing efficiency in remote environments, from automated meeting transcripts and summaries to smart follow-up suggestions. Solutions like Notion AI even connect multiple apps, allowing you to retrieve information across platforms with a single command.

Challenges To Be Solved

Remote work still comes with challenges. In hybrid setups, inequality can creep in. Employees who live near the office often gain more visibility, which can translate into promotions and pay rises, even if remote colleagues perform at the same level. Physical presence can still influence perception.

Pay is another contentious issue. When salaries are based primarily on location rather than role or performance, large gaps can feel arbitrary and demotivating, especially in fully remote teams where geography has little impact on output.

There are also legal and tax complexities when hiring across borders, leading some companies to restrict where employees can work from. While employer-of-record services and global payroll platforms help, they are often expensive and difficult to scale. Until these systems become more streamlined, some companies will continue to limit where their employees are allowed to work from.

At the same time, remote work creates opportunities for people previously excluded from traditional offices. The challenge is making sure it truly expands access, rather than simply shifting advantage from one group to another.

Predictions

In industries like software, tech, and digital marketing, remote-first companies are increasingly the norm. They’re continuously refining how teams collaborate and stay productive, with AI and emerging tools like VR playing a growing role. In person meetings won’t disappear, but they’ll be more intentional, focused on connection and strategy rather than spontaneous office interactions.

Remote work will become a competitive advantage for talent retention. I believe smart, skilled workers will ultimately demand remote working and will only work for companies that offer this way of working. Meaning, that there is a fair chance that companies who do offer remote work will start to outperform those companies that don’t offer it — at least in the long run.

Then there’s the rise of AI and VR tech and tools that will help shape the way we work (remotely) as well.

Remote work will likely evolve beyond the “work from anywhere” ideal into something more structured and intentional. Companies will need clearer policies around communication, performance, and well-being to prevent burnout and isolation.

If done right, remote work has the potential to offer more flexibility, better work–life balance, and access to opportunities that were once limited by geography.

The question is not if remote work will stay, but how intentionally we shape what comes next.

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About the author

Nina Hoeberichts is the owner of Things Nomads Do, a travel and lifestyle blog for digital nomads and remote workers. Follow her on Instagram @thingsnomadsdo.

Nestled on an island, over 800 miles away from mainland Portugal, I found myself quite literally working remotely. After having previously navigated bustling Italian cafés to work from, this cliffside retreat overlooking the sea felt like the peaceful work haven I’d been searching for.

A coliving space above the Atlantic

Dwell Azores, a charming coliving and coworking space, is situated on São Miguel, the largest and most populous of the nine islands that make up the volcanic Azores archipelago. It was here, perched on a cliff overlooking the Atlantic, that I found a new kind of remote work sanctuary. It became my base in September last year where I could bask in the golden glow of late-summer sun whilst enjoying the slower rhythm and cheaper off-peak season.

An island built for slow living

Known as the “Green Island,” São Miguel lives up to its name with a tapestry of lush, unspoiled landscapes. Drives inland revealed new wonders: calderas filled with glassy lakes, valleys carpeted with tea plantations and abandoned buildings slowly reclaimed by roots and vines. The roads themselves were enchanting, framed by flourishing hydrangeas and homes made from basalt volcanic stone and coated in pastel shades. The coastline offered its own magic, from steaming natural rock pools to quaint fishing villages and stretches of surf-ready shoreline. The island offered an ever-changing panorama of experiences with evenings spent trading tips among fellow travellers on hidden treasures yet to be uncovered.

The people you meet while working remotely

The coliving was equally steeped in wonder—a kaleidoscope of nations under one roof. Home to both long and short-term visitors, yet even the briefest of stays left something meaningful behind. Some offered tangible gifts, like a home-cooked meal, while others shared stories and traditions that opened windows into their culture. Though many had travelled from far-flung corners of the world, the spirit of community and the richness of shared experience bound us together. One of my contributions came in the form of Portuguese baked goods—pastéis de nata prepared from scratch. I also organised a communal “bring a fish dish” evening, where the table featured parrotfish and triggerfish freshly speared by a group of us just beyond our doorstep. Dinners often ended with a late-night plunge into the sea, the water lit only by starlight, a quiet reminder of how far we were from anywhere else.

What fascinated me most, however, was hearing how others sustained their travels. Many were software engineers and business owners, but creativity thrived as well. A musician who could switch seamlessly between guitar, keyboard, and saxophone filled countless evenings with impromptu gigs. A novelist, immersed in her manuscript, wandered the island’s old whaling stations as part of her research. Perhaps most memorable of all was the “ethical hacker,” whose work involved breaking into the systems of major corporations, not to exploit, but to protect them from future threats.

Festival season on São Miguel

The highlight of island life was the annual religious festival, the Lady of Light, dedicated to the local patron saint. What I had imagined would be a peaceful retreat quickly transformed into ten days of vibrant festivities centred around the village church, just 100 meters from our home. Mornings began with fireworks at 7 a.m., and nights stretched into the early hours with pounding DJ sets. Each day brought its own culinary theme: from a spit-roast feast to an entire evening devoted to soup. For the latter, we were given a wooden board carved with three slots—for a bowl, a dessert, and a glass of wine—perfect for endless rounds of hearty soup. All of this, plus access to 30 soup stalls, cost only €8. Each night, we capped things off with a shot of local honey liqueur and a malassada, a Portuguese doughnut dusted with cinnamon sugar.

The live music was hit-or-miss, often veering into Eurovision territory, but we rarely skipped a night as there was always the chance of stumbling upon something unforgettable.

The local beauty pageant, for example, defied all expectations: the winner, a woman in her seventies, earned her crown not for glamour but for devouring a corn on the cob faster than anyone else. The festival culminated in a breath-taking procession.

Streets were transformed as locals blanketed the ground with intricate carpets of hydrangeas, roses, lilies, and brightly dyed wood chips. The air was heavy with a floral perfume as marching bands paraded over the vibrant trails.

Remote working in the Azores: what to know before you go

For anyone considering remote work in the Azores, São Miguel offers a good balance of nature and convenience which is ideal for digital nomads looking for a slower, more intentional pace.

A few things that made day-to-day life especially easy:

• Reliable internet: The wi-fi was strong enough for video calls, streaming and full workdays without issue. Storms can occasionally affect island-wide connectivity, but disruptions didn’t happen during my stay. I’d recommend booking somewhere with reliable wi-fi.

• Best time to visit: September felt like a great time to visit. The island was quieter after the peak summer season, accommodation and car prices were lower, and the weather still hovered around a warm 24°C.

• Affordable off-season living: Compared with many European remote-work destinations, the Azores felt refreshingly affordable, especially when sharing accommodation and cooking communal meals.

• Coworking + coliving setup: Dwell Azores blended work and social life naturally. There were dedicated workspaces for focused days, but community dinners and spontaneous adventures made it feel far more personal than a standard coworking hub.

• Car rental is essential: Whilst public transport exists, renting a car quickly became necessary for exploring the island properly. Many of São Miguel’s best spots—crater lakes, hot springs, hiking trails and beaches—are tucked far beyond the main towns. Car sharing was easy to organise when arriving at the coliving.

For remote workers craving both productivity and proximity to nature, the Azores feel wonderfully untapped compared to Europe’s more saturated digital nomad hotspots.

What the Azores taught me about remote work

My time on the island was a very special time of my life. Both the rugged beauty and community have since left an indelible mark on me. It changed the way I think about remote work.

Before arriving, I measured a destination by its practicalities: Wi-Fi speed, coffee shops, cost of living. But island life shifted my focus toward something like community and rhythm.

In the Azores, productivity became secondary to presence. Work still happened, but it unfurled around shared dinners, bathing in hot springs and traditions that pulled people together. The island reminded me that remote work is not only about the freedom to travel, but about creating space for experiences and connections that ordinary routines rarely allow.

Long after leaving, I still think about the hydrangea-lined roads, the midnight swims, and the sound of fireworks echoing across the Atlantic at dawn. Of all the places I’ve worked remotely, nowhere has felt quite so far away, or quite so connected.

If you’re enjoying Nomad Magazine, tap ❤️ and 🔄 at the top to help other curious minds find their way here. It means a lot.

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Thanks for reading! You can find more of awesome articles here.

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About the author:

Fran is a UX designer and writer who works remotely across Europe and South Africa in search of the best remote work spots and running trails. She shares her travels as @wild_workspaces on Instagram and is CMO at NAiO, a startup building an all-in-one platform for digital nomads.

Read more of Fran’s travels on Wild Workspaces (Substack).

While guidebooks are helpful for historical context, they often struggle to capture the practical reality of traveling through the Mongolian interior. To move through this landscape is to move away from a world of predictable checkpoints and into a space where the environment dictates the terms of the journey.

For the traveler willing to leave the familiar behind, Mongolia offers more than wide-open steppes and rugged mountains — it offers a test of resourcefulness, patience, and adaptability. Each river crossing, each unmarked trail, and every encounter with nomadic communities reveals a side of travel that no map can fully convey.

This article invites you to step beyond the curated tourist experience and into a journey defined not by convenience but by discovery, challenge, and the raw beauty of one of the world’s most untamed landscapes.

Maps vs. The Territory

On a map, Mongolia appears as a country that can be crossed with measured time. However, once you leave the city’s paved infrastructure, those clean lines lose their authority. What looks like a short distance on paper often translates into hours of slow navigation across gravel, high grass, and riverbeds.

In the countryside and wild steppe of Mongolia, “roads” are rarely fixed or permanent. Instead, they are organic patterns of tire marks etched into the soil. These tracks frequently split into several directions, with none clearly marked as the primary route, and no signposts. Because weather can reshape a mountain pass or a valley floor overnight, a map is often just a starting point for a day-long negotiation with the terrain.

Standard travel guides depend on fixed landmarks, monastery ruins, or specific viewpoints. But the reality of the Mongolian landscape is found in the intervals between these stops. The value of the trip is usually found in the unplanned events: a sudden encounter with a moving herd, the shifting light across a range, or the total solitude of a track that hasn’t seen another vehicle in days.

Traveling by Local Knowledge

In an environment where digital maps are unreliable, certainty is replaced by human exchange. Navigation in the countryside is relational rather than technical. When you ask for directions, they rarely arrive as precise actions; instead, they are delivered as gestures toward distant ridges or valleys. A person may point in a direction that implies “keep going that way” rather than “at this exact coordinate.”

By asking for help, you enter a temporary partnership with someone else. Your path is shaped by a local’s real-time knowledge of wind, water, and the current state of the tracks. You begin to rely less on printed guidance or navigation systems, and more on human presence. The route becomes something that you inherit from the people who live along it at that moment.

This shift forces a change in how you handle a schedule. Instead of trying to control the movement, you learn to respond to the environment. Your plans must be flexible enough to bend around weather and animal migrations. You stop moving through the landscape as a visitor following a map and start moving through it with the adaptability of a real nomad.

Practical Field Notes:

- Reading the Braids

In the Mongolian interior, a road is rarely a single path. When the tracks split into five different directions, it is usually a response to the terrain; travelers detour to avoid recent snowmelt, deep mud, or washouts. Look for the freshest tracks. These are the paths locals currently use and are almost always the safest.

- The Skyline

Digital maps are secondary to landmark orientation. An Ovoo, a shamanic rock cairn, typically marks the highest elevation in the area and serves as a navigational beacon where road signs are absent. It is a common local quirk: herders traveling on the highways often ignore exit numbers and route signs entirely, instead navigating with the same mountain-and-ridge orientation they use on the open steppe.

- Navigational Etiquette

On the steppe, especially further away from main routes, asking for directions is a social encounter. It is common to be invited into a ger, where you will be offered tea or airag (fermented mare milk). In this environment, you engage with discussion about the place you left and the place you’re visiting. A simple request for a direction becomes a cultural connection.

- Packing Essentials

As well as your standard travel gear, it is practical to carry a supply of sweets or small treats. Most nomadic families have children. In remote regions far from any settlement, these items are big gestures of kindness. While nomadic hospitality doesn’t ask for anything in return for refreshments and directions, offering treats for the children is greatly appreciated, and watching their eyes light up is priceless.

The Logic of Open Space

To move effectively through Mongolia, you have to understand that you are traveling through inhabited land, even when it appears empty. Nomadic life is defined by continuity. Families move with the seasons, and their relationship with the land is one of belonging rather than possession.

Staying in a ger can give you a direct look at this logic and lifestyle. A ger is not anchored to the earth with permanent foundations, yet it is a highly sophisticated piece of engineering designed for mobility. Hospitality here is not a formal service industry; it is a natural extension of living in a wide space. You aren’t visiting a tourist site; you are being folded into a daily rhythm where tea is poured and food is shared because that is what the environment demands of its inhabitants — to welcome and help others that they meet.

This nomadic perspective teaches us that movement is a constant part of living. The valleys you cross are the same ones used by children walking to school or herds moving to better pastures. Paths exist because they have been walked or criss-crossed for generations, not because they were designed for visitors.

In Mongolia, the landscape writes its own rules, and the best stories come from the roads you can’t see on a map.

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About the author

With over 25 years of experience navigating through Mongolia, Gongor Bandi has been establishing remote routes with sustainable logistics. As the founder of Gobi Travel, he specializes in matching the “unmapped” reality with refined attention.

Remote workers spend a lot of time searching for the next place to live. Lisbon, Bali, and Mexico City tend to dominate the conversation.

But there is a small island in the western Pacific that never shows up on those lists.

I get the same reaction every time I tell someone where I live.

“Saipan? Where’s that?”

I’ve been answering that question for almost four years now, ever since I left Charlotte, North Carolina for a three week visit to a small island in the western Pacific and never quite made it back.

My first week here, I was walking my dog along Beach Road at sunset. No crowds. No competition for a view of the ocean. Just me, my dog, and a few other people taking in the water like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

Coming from Charlotte, it did not feel ordinary at all.

Photographs in this article were provided by the author.

Saipan is the capital island of the Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands, a U.S. territory about 120 miles north of Guam and roughly 6,000 miles west of the mainland.

Living here means warm weather year round. No heating bills. No scraping ice. No checking the forecast before leaving the house.

What you notice first, though, is the humidity. I was used to the humidity in North Carolina, but not in May. In Saipan, it is constant.

The closest comparison I have found is Florida in winter. The heat never becomes oppressive the way it can in the American South.

Rain showers move through quickly. Sometimes you duck under a tree for a few minutes and the sun comes back out before you finish your walk.

Almost nobody in the remote work conversation has heard of this place, but that is starting to change.

Why Remote Workers Are Starting to Notice Saipan

On my first trip here, a friend took me to get pizza in Garapan, the closest thing the island has to a downtown.

The restaurant was not really open yet. No chairs. No tables. Boxes stacked everywhere. They were doing takeout and some deliveries.

Since my hotel was not nearby, I asked if someone could ride with me to drop it off. The owner, Joel, said he would do it himself.

We climbed into his car, which looked more like something a high school student might drive than a business owner. On the way over he explained his plan.

Authentic Italian pizza that could compete with anything in the United States, made in a stone oven he ordered directly from Italy. It took six months to arrive and they had only been using it for about a week.

I tried the pizza.

I knew Joel’s business was going to do well.

That box-filled room is now packed with tables and a revolving door of guests eating homemade salads, fresh pasta, and pizza that would not feel out of place in a top restaurant back home. It sits right next to the beach, slightly out of place but somehow completely at home.

Then there is RJ. His restaurant is named after his two sons and he runs it with his wife, who still works her day job at the hospital while they grow the business.

RJ serves Filipino style fried chicken. Think Jollibee, except I think it is better. When I told him that he laughed and shook his head. He just keeps cooking.

The first thing that caught me off guard was how American the island still feels.

People speak American English. The same shows you grew up watching play on television. There is a USPS office on the corner. Speed limits are in miles per hour. Prices are in U.S. dollars.

For people who want to live somewhere different without navigating a foreign system, that combination is harder to find than it sounds.

It is also a U.S. territory in the legal sense, which matters practically. You do not need a passport to move here if you’re American. Social Security deposits in dollars. Medicare Part A and B apply. Opening a bank account or seeing a doctor works the same way it would anywhere in the U.S.

Arriving in Saipan is a hybrid process. Immigration is handled by U.S. Customs and Border Protection, while customs itself is managed locally by the Northern Mariana Islands government. It reflects the island’s status in a nutshell: American in some ways, distinctly its own in others.

For non-American visitors, the CNMI operates its own visa waiver program separate from the U.S. mainland. It currently covers twelve countries across the Asia-Pacific region, plus the United Kingdom; but does not yet include most of continental Europe. Eligible travelers apply through a simple electronic authorization before departure, similar to the U.S. ESTA process, and can stay up to 45 days.

If you’re from outside these countries, longer stay options exist but require more planning.

Once you arrive, the practical details are easy to sort out. My first place here was a three bedroom house that allowed pets, so my dog and I took it.

I paid $1,500 a month with water and electricity included. In Charlotte, something comparable would have cost far more.

A more modest one bedroom usually rents for $700 to $1,200 depending on the area. Dinner out at a local restaurant often costs what dinner out cost on the mainland twenty years ago.

The Things Nobody Tells You

Saipan is not a good fit for anyone who needs regular access to specialized medical care. The hospital handles the basics, but serious procedures mean flying to Guam, Manila, or Seoul.

You will need a car. The island does not have meaningful public transit. Because of its size, though, you rarely drive more than fifteen minutes anywhere.

Luxury goods are not here. Neither are major conference centers or nightlife districts. But most people curious enough to come here aren’t looking for those things anyway.

For those who do get restless, Saipan sits within short reach of several major cities. Tokyo is about three hours away by direct flight. Manila, Seoul, and Hong Kong are not much farther. Guam is a thirty minute hop.

Now, let’s talk about typhoons.

Yutu hit hard in 2018 and changed how this community thinks about resilience.

Today you see rooftop solar panels storing energy in batteries, backup generators running on diesel or gas, and a growing interest in local agriculture.

The island did not just recover from the storm. It adapted so that next time it can cope better and recover faster.

Longtime residents treat typhoon season the way people in Florida treat hurricane season. Preparation and respect, not panic.

When I first moved here I stayed in one of the island’s villages in a house on a hill with an ocean view I struggled to process at first.

Views like that back home meant a hotel weekend. Here it was just Tuesday.

I expected isolation. Instead I found Joel and RJ. I found trivia nights, movie nights, board game meetups, and more community groups than I expected for an island this size.

Remote workers are beginning to find their way here, and the island is starting to see its first efforts to build coworking and coliving infrastructure.

When someone new arrives and you exchange contact information, it is not a phone number they give you. It is a WhatsApp QR code.

Local Facebook groups are where people rent homes, sell cars, promote businesses, and debate the news. The infrastructure for connection is already there.

You just have to show up.

Who It Is Really For

The people I see doing well here are the ones that are ready to stop collecting destinations and start actually living in one.

They work during the day, explore the island in the evenings, and become part of the rhythm of the place instead of passing through it.

Saipan is not for everyone.

But for remote workers looking for a quieter environment to focus, build projects, and live well, it is worth paying attention to.

The word is starting to get out.

The question is, would you rather arrive now, or after the rest of the world catches on?

If you’re enjoying Nomad Magazine, tap ❤️ and 🔄 at the top to help other curious minds find their way here. It means a lot.

And if you liked this,

consider subscribing 📧

Thanks for reading! You can find more of awesome articles here.

— Nomad Magazine ✨

About the author

William Davis is a direct response copywriter based on the island of Saipan in the Northern Mariana Islands. He moved there from Charlotte, North Carolina in 2022 and is a co-member of Casa Marianas, the island’s first coliving and coworking space.

If you’re expecting a dramatic story as to how I became a digital nomad, mine is almost boring in how typical it is: a job I didn’t love, a breakup that pulled the ground out from under me, grey weather in northern Europe, and one recurring thought: I just need to leave for a while.

I told myself it would be temporary. A few months. A reset. Enjoying life somewhere warm, then returning to Germany and being a responsible adult again.

Instead, I turned my whole life around: I flew to Bali, fell in love with the tropical vibe, and built a remote work setup that let me spend the next couple of years moving between Southeast Asia and Europe. I was living my dream, and I absolutely loved it. The friends, the places, and the new version of myself that I discovered along the way.

But I quickly realised that no matter where you are, there’s ups and downs to everything.

After two years, I found that being free to travel anywhere I wanted came with a hidden cost. I didn’t just change locations frequently, I’d also had to restart my life over and over again.

Every new place I visited came with necessary life-admin attached: finding a new apartment, a new gym, a new community, a new workplace, booking flights, adjusting to a different time zone, new SIM cards, travel insurance, and all the other tiny logistics around it. None of these are dramatic, but they can stack up over time and cause exhaustion. And after a while, the possibility of going anywhere I wanted, started to feel like managing a never-ending series of micro-decisions.

Building something to lighten the load

To help with the research needed to adjust to a new location, my co-founder Jonathan and I decided to create Nomadwise, a platform for digital nomads that aims to help when arriving in a new location by listing good places to work from, the best eSIMs in specific countries, travel insurance and other logistics related to the remote work lifestyle.

And it worked. We started getting messages from people saying they used Nomadwise to land in a new place and skip the usual trial-and-error week by getting the basics handled faster.

What began as a small side project suddenly felt like something worth building properly. We were giving people back time and energy they’d otherwise spend on travel admin. Because of this, my relationship with my work changed from a means to fund my travels to something I truly cared about.

At the same time, trying to grow the business exposed a limit I didn’t want to admit at first. The lifestyle that once gave me freedom made it hard to focus on growing the project.

I’d try to sit down with my laptop, but realised my head was already full of the admin I needed to sort for myself: the next accommodation, the next flight, the next social reset. I noticed my productivity slipping, not because I didn’t like what I did, but because my mental capacity was already occupied with thoughts around my next destination.

Choosing a base without quitting the life

At some point, I had to admit that my priorities had changed. In the past 2.5 years, I’ve collected unforgettable memories and seen more places than I did in the 10 years before. It was exactly what I needed after leaving Germany. But I also knew that with my new goal of building a business, I was craving a different rhythm. I didn’t want less freedom, but I needed more stability. Which left me with the uncomfortable question: do I have to stop being a digital nomad in order to help other digital nomads?

For me, the answer wasn’t as extreme as it sounds: I didn’t have to stop traveling, I just had to change the way I lived the “nomad” life. I chose the small town of Ericeira in Portugal as my base, for now at least.

The transition wasn’t some big identity shift. It was small, practical upgrades: staying a month to test it out, coming back for 3 months next time, and then suddenly renting an apartment long-term. I started creating a routine I really liked, making friendships that could deepen, and, step by step, built a place I could return to.

Do I miss travelling full-time? Mostly I miss being in a tropical country in January and that “anything can happen” energy I often experienced on random days. But I also love the calmer version of working remotely, because it gives me space to build. These days I think of myself as a part-time nomad: I will travel again towards the second half of the year for a few weeks or months, and then be able to come back to a place that feels like mine.

What I’ve noticed at this stage

If you’re in a similar headspace as me, this is what I’ve noticed many nomads do at this stage:

• Slow down without settling: you don’t need a 5-year plan, instead, stay longer in a place you like and see what happens.

• Choose a base: keep your ability to travel, but create a space you can always come home to.

• Go seasonal: travel on bigger trips once or twice a year, and keep routine the rest of the time.

• Redefine the label: treat digital nomadism as an option you can use, not a rule you have to follow.

Digital nomadism is often defined by movement: how many countries, how often you relocate, and how far you go. The reality is that most of us will slow down eventually. That’s normal and doesn’t mean giving up on our freedom. We can still call ourselves digital nomads.

To me, the core of digital nomadism isn’t constant motion. It’s freedom of choice, the ability to design a life that serves me, and redesign it when I feel like it. So if you’re in the phase where the excitement of destination hopping is fading and you’re questioning if the travel lifestyle is still for you, you’re not alone. You might just be ready for the next chapter of your nomad journey. Not retiring, but evolving.

Personally, it took me almost a year to listen to that growing feeling of craving a home. And when I finally decided to act on it, life started to feel light again. Not because I stopped being a digital nomad, but because I chose the right version of life for me at that time.

And that might be the real point: digital nomadism is an experience, not a lifelong obligation.

You’re allowed to step in and out of it however often you like.

If you’re enjoying Nomad Magazine, tap ❤️ and 🔄 at the top to help other curious minds find their way here. It means a lot.

And if you liked this,

consider subscribing 📧

Thanks for reading! You can find more of awesome articles here.

— Nomad Magazine ✨

About the author

Leonie is a freelance project manager and co-founder of Nomadwise. She began working and studying remotely during the Covid pandemic and transitioned into full-time nomad life in early 2023. Today, she splits her time between Portugal and trips around the world. For Leonie, the ideal perfect place to live is near the beach, surrounded by like-minded people, and within easy reach of a bakery serving excellent croissants.