I recently read a BBC interview with Julie Williams, an IT consultant from Birkdale on Merseyside. She had decided to make a ball pit in her spare room, rather than rent it. Why? For fun. ‘You can never be sad in a ball pit.’
Stories like this are important because they remind you of your free will. Julie’s is especially unique because the ball pit came at the expense of financial gain.
For most people, that’s just not the default position – whether they need the cash or not.
I found myself thinking a lot about free will when I turned 30. I’ve never really clung to traditional milestones (house, baby, marriage, divorce), and count climbing out of credit card debt as the maturest moment in my adult life to date.
But the flood of birthday invites from friends – right before the hen dos – gave me pause to reflect. Was I happy? Had I challenged myself enough? Was I excited about the next decade?
Who am I?
Not to get too Lewis Carroll about it, but this last question was the catalyst for me in late 2024. In a way, I felt that I didn’t know myself anymore, or at least not all the versions of myself – just the city-shaped, university-fied version. And she was restless.
Meanwhile, semi-remote work in London had become my new normal. The days of spilling out to the pub every week with colleagues had gone. I had a lovely team in my PR job, but rotating schedules meant it took too long to get past the pleasantries.
People generally – and I include myself in this – seem to have become more protective of their time since I moved to London in 2017 (and perhaps all over the country).
I don’t think this is a bad thing. Hell, if you’re going to replace me with AI, at least give me another 30 minutes in bed / to read to my kids / paint / write / support a charity / or stare into the abyss.
Having one foot in, one foot out, however, began to wear on me amidst the rising cost of living in the capital. I still considered myself a creative and curious person, but did I really want my days to be defined by the price of flat whites and whether a Soho House membership was cost effective?
I take comfort from water cooler culture as much as everyone else, so I’m not bashing these things – they’re part of the fun.
But when I found myself googling ‘Martin Lewis wife’, something had to give.
Was it burnout? I’m not sure. But in need of a change of scene and some inspiration, I decided to give this digital nomad lark a go, beginning with three months in South East Asia in early 2025.
Who knew what would happen after that. But I’d work less, and live more, often with strangers – which would at least break me out of my comfort zone.
I’m not alone in seeing the attraction of nomadism, especially if your job allows it. According to a report by CV builder website LiveCareer UK, an estimated 165,000 UK professionals have relocated abroad to work remotely in recent years, seduced by better weather and (they hope) greater work-life balance.
Some roam around, as I did, making the most of the opportunity to see the world. Others seek stability in well-established hotspots that offer structured visa policies, tax incentives and ready-made communities.
To cut a long story short, I didn’t end up moving permanently abroad. But I did see a lot of cool things, regain a sense of direction, and create a stable freelance set up that now allows me to travel whenever and wherever I want, whilst keeping roots in the UK (which is how I like it).
Giving up a normal routine has not been without its challenges – anyone that’s become a nomad, travelled alone, or even that’s relocated will agree with that, I’m sure. But between the relentlessly positive portrayals of nomadism on social media and the often sceptical narratives found in the UK press, there is a lot of middle ground.
As a thirty-something experiencing this lifestyle for the first time, I hope this blog provides a balanced account of what it’s really like as work and life become increasingly flexible and multihyphenated.
A brutally honest review of Vietnam’s best-known excursion
Written March 2026 – updated April 2026*
UPDATED – The text below was written in March 2026 about my experience in March 2025. Whilst I have not changed the article, I have expanded some points with footnotes and further info at the bottom. This is in response to questions I have received after the death of a Welsh teenager on the loop this April.
It was a quiet day in March 2025 when I found myself in Hanoi, panic-buying warm clothes in anticipation for the Ha Giang loop. This is a stunning motorcycle pilgrimage into the northernmost mountains of Vietnam, known for its forested limestone and granite mountains, and unique Dong Van Karst Plateau.
It had been much lauded by backpackers throughout my three weeks in Vietnam, building a sense of anticipation that I had learned not to trust too much. It could be my age – could be jealousy – but I do not trust TikTokers that never have a bad word to say about anything.
Curiosity bites though, and I booked an organised tour with an easy rider (a hired driver). After two months of working and travelling in Asia, my capacity for careful planning had reached its maximum, and not bothering to analyse my options in detail, I opted for Bong Hostel. As someone who likes their peace protected, I sensed this could bite me in the bum..and it sort of did.
I rocked up in the evening with my loot of newly purchased thermals (essential even in March), hustled for a few quid, and caught the six-hour bus to Ha Giang.
As we pulled out, a German lad next to me threw a loud and prolonged tantrum to his pals (and in fact all of us) about the lack of USB ports on the bus. Whilst he wept over his dead phone, I smugly thanked my stars for my power bank and increasingly well-developed foresight.
There was a quick overnight stop and early breakfast before we split into groups of ten. We were then introduced to our drivers and escorted promptly into the mountains on the bikes.
This is when my heart sank a little. Noticing a sea of matching T-shirts ahead of me, I recognised that I’d been put in a group with eight or nine people who already knew each other from another travel stop.
Scenes from the Ha Giang Loop, Vietnam
They were a nice bunch, but situations like this make for an inevitably more challenging time, especially if your social battery is low (or if you struggle with English). It’s just more effort. That’s one of the challenges with going on a trip with a bigger hostel, but it’s also something you just have to get used to with trips like this, I’ve learned.
As we climbed the mountain, I revelled in the bliss of being able to enjoy the wonderful scenery on the back of a bike, driven by someone that knows the route inside out. With steep, winding roads, the loop is dangerous to ride, and hiring your own bike is not generally advised (although Bong does offer the chance to drive alone, with guides in tow)2.
There is a sweet serenity to popping in your headphones and soaking up the natural world with the feel of the wind in your ha- OH wait. We’re stopping already, are we? Hold on, just let me take my helmet off (again). Staggers off bike.
Thus began our routine. For the next four days, every thirty minutes or so, we would stop at a café for a lollypop, photo, and a game of Đá cầu (“foot badminton”), Vietnam’s national sport.
A couple of times a day, the pitstops were welcomed. Đá cầu was a lot of fun. But after a while, the routine started to grate on me. Am I the only one? “No, we agree,” said the girls in my group. “Way too much stopping. Let’s just keep going!” I’m all for a viewpoint, particularly on a trip like this, but the continuous stopping was giving me whiplash.
There are a ton of other groups on the loop, so it could be to do with traffic control3, but it felt a little forced. Obviously they want you to buy something at every stop, too. It’s economics.
Some of the cafés were really sweet, and enjoying a tea or coffee over a terrific view is truly special. I reckon doing the loop yourself and taking your time with it would be perfect, if you’re confident. Other establishments were a little more interesting – think karaoke on a cliff edge at 10am type stuff. That’s the deal in Vietnam though. They live loudly, even in the mountains!
Every evening, we would pull up at a hostel and settle in for dinner. The hostels we stayed at were very clean and comfortable, and we were extremely well fed, I must say.
However, before each meal, our drivers sat behind our chairs and forced us to repeat the Vietnamese drinking chant whilst knocking back shots of rice wine4. This was novel the first night – less so by night two – and by night three, I was ready to smash the shot glass and swallow the pieces.
By some twist of fate, it seems, my driver and I were spiritually aligned because he seemed as awkward and uncomfortable as me about the whole thing. “Are you an Aquarius?” I said on Google Translate. “Yes!” he said. As a rather awkward Aquarius rising myself, the immediate kinship was a comfort, especially when I saw him sneaking off to bed to avoid the singing.
On our last day, we stopped by a lake and went for a swim in the cave. That was a lot of fun and a nice way to end the experience. Apparently this is only available if you book the four day excursion. Everyone online suggested that I book the longer tour, so I did – but to be honest, you’ll get to see as much as you need to from the shorter trip, I reckon.
I’m a grumpy bugger at times, and had been backpacking for a while at this point, so don’t let my review put you off doing the Ha Giang Loop. I still had fun, and the scenery is wonderful – that cannot be overstated. It’s also very affordable, costing around £150, so not pricey at all for what you get to experience.
I am also a realist though, so do want to be honest about the fact that this trip won’t be for everyone. If I had my time again, I would travel with a smaller, quieter group5. Due to the young age range with Bong, there was way too much forced partying, and they couldn’t seem to read the room that we didn’t want that experience every night, given the 7am starts. On the other hand, I felt very safe, everything was prompt, the drivers were nice and it was very well organised.
My top tips for making the most of it as a solo traveller are:
• Check in with yourself before booking. What size group would you rather go with? You’ll likely bond more in a smaller group, but everyone’s different.
• Dress warm. This is so important. Check the weather, message people already there, ask on Reddit or Hostelworld. Find out what the temperature is like just before hand.
• Bring cash. For tips and snacks.
• Bring earplugs (I opt for Loops) to drown out the karaoke if you need an early night.
UPDATED April 2026* – Expanding on the above, given some questions I’ve had from people following the death of a British teenager in April this year.
I have not edited the blog post above, because it was my authentic experience. But following the death of a British teenager in April this year, I wanted to elaborate on some points of consideration for those of you considering the loop. I am not a journalist, so can only speak from my experience and opinion.
HYPE – my point about travel Tiktokers in the first paragraph still stands. Please remember that they are not journalists, or critical thinkers. Most are just looking for clout. That doesn’t mean they’re lying, of course, but my advice before booking any travel experience – especially a dangerous one – would be to use a variety of travel sources, including reviews, blogs, news articles, and books. If you don’t think you will be able to relax and enjoy it, just don’t go. ↩︎
SAFETY – Hundreds of people ride the loop every day, and the majority of them are fine. But there ARE accidents and deaths. I had a friend of a friend who died on the loop a few years back, which I was aware of before booking. I am not going to pretend to be a reporter, but this problem is clearly coming to light now in the press. I would encourage anyone reading to take notice of the stats if they can find them, and make a judgement call based on their research ↩︎
TRAFFIC – There’s a LOT of people on the loop. I personally did not feel that this was a massive issue on my trip, but it was clearly something that the local groups tried to manage (and, I believe, a reason for the continuous stopping). I imagine it’s only getting busier as social media pushes people to visit this part of the world. All those videos of girls with long hair throwing their arms up on the back of a bike? Picture hundreds of them at once, crowding the same roads and bends. ↩︎
ALCOHOL – As I said above – Bong (like many hostels) encouraged drinking in the evenings, which really bothered me. I had a really nice, sensible driver, but this cannot be said for all of them. It speaks to a party culture that just doesn’t feel appropriate on a dangerous journey. I had the sense that the Vietnamese think that this is what people want, so they push it hard. You just have to trust that the drivers know their limits, and that is scary. It’s also not just the easy riders you need to think about – consider that other drivers on the loop (fellow travellers) might have been drinking too, and may or may not be ready to go the next day. ↩︎
VIBES – If any part of what I have said is a concern for you, my advice would be to find a smaller group aimed at an older age group (no matter your age). There is no shame in it. ↩︎
I arrived in Australia at the end of April, when the temperature was in the low 20s. I’d always wanted to visit, but with over seven million square kilometres to choose from, planning a trip to this vast country requires a fair bit of thought.
I only had ten days to spare this time, with a couple reserved for a new freelance project that had come my way. So I kept things simple, splitting my time between Sydney (New South Wales) and Melbourne (Victoria), close to where my friend – who I was visiting – now lives.
Flying into Sydney from the lush jungles of Bali, I wasn’t particularly interested in spending time in the CBD (the city centre, basically). With a bank holiday approaching, my friend suggested we visit the Blue Mountains National Park instead.
This is a dramatic sandstone landscape around 60km outside the city. Imagine a vast basin, ringed by cliffs, with deep valleys and rock formations throughout – a bit like an alien crop circle.
The Blue Mountains is a rugged, World Heritage-listed region in New South Wales, Australia, located about 50 km west of Sydney
Why is it blue, you ask? If you look closely at the distant trees, you can make out a faint blue haze caused by the eucalyptus leaves releasing oil into the air. It’s a beautiful place, and a fantastic location for hiking. Cue a 90-minute train ride from Sydney’s Central Station, and we found ourselves back in nature once again.
There are a number of towns dotted around the park, including Katoomba (what a name!). This is the main town and administrative centre of the Blue Mountains. It doesn’t feel big, but there are plenty of cafés and restaurants – we even went to the cinema – and most importantly, the national park is easily accessible by public transport.
I must have stayed in around 50 hostels since my first solo trip in 2023, and I’m a huge advocate for them.
YHA has a long heritage, and this one in particular housed a lot of families, which gave it a safe, cosy feel. There’s a large kitchen and movie room, books and games to borrow – and like most good hostels, the staff had encyclopaedic knowledge of the area.
Becca doesn’t “hostel” much, and even she enjoyed it, especially given it cost us around £130 each in total for four nights.
As for the mountains themselves, there’s a reason Tourism NSW uses them so heavily in its imagery. They’re unlike any mountain range I’ve seen before, with plenty of easily accessible walking routes, many of them fairly flat, offering sweeping views in all directions. More challenging hikes are available too, so pack plenty of food. Nothing beats eating your sandwiches perched on a cliff edge!
We spent a couple of days navigating different trails, and on Becca’s recommendation, saved one morning to visit Scenic World. This cable-car attraction takes you down to the forest floor and across the famous Three Sisters rock formation, with views out towards Wentworth Falls.
It’s a fun way to access parts of the landscape you don’t see from the clifftops alone. That said, locals flock here on bank holidays, so my main tip would be to book accommodation and attractions in advance, as everything was fully booked when we tried our luck on the first day.
The good weather held for another day once we returned to Sydney, and after plenty of walking, we spent a glorious evening scoffing chips and watching the sun set behind the Sydney Opera House. I also made time to watch the wild waves rolling in at Bondi Beach.
Wacky waves at Bondi Beach
A day later, the heavens opened. I sought shelter in the State Library of New South Wales, tucked beside the Botanic Gardens (also worth a gander!) and got a solid chunk of work done for the week.
After two months in Asia, this felt like a real change of pace – and having access to a desktop computer was a small luxury I didn’t take for granted. Sydney has some beautiful libraries (check out this blog post by The Rachellist if you happen to be in need of one). If you’re a remote worker like me, I’ll always advocate for libraries, and this one is particularly lovely.
Seeking refuge from the rain at the State library of New South Wales
Working while travelling might sound dull to some, but for me, visiting Australia was a reminder of how grateful I am to work remotely. Better still, freelancing means I’m not working every day.
We’re lucky in the UK to have a decent annual leave allowance compared to some countries, but a ten-day trip to Australia would still have eaten up a third of it – and probably delayed my decision to come at all. Knowing I can (hopefully) return made the whole experience feel lighter, calmer, and far less rushed.
Cooling off in Katoomba, the main town of the Blue Mountains
My capacity for animated exploration was pretty low at this point in my journey, and – knowing it was Asia’s financial hub – the prospect of being back in a sea of skyscrapers felt draining.
Fortunately though, the city is teeny-weeny – roughly 2.5 times smaller than Greater London.
As a result, I was able to cover a lot of ground within 48 hours. And it turns out there’s quite a bit more to this tiny island than first meets the eye.
Here’s how I spent my time there.
First of all – sleep. I flew in from Sydney, so it was a relatively short flight, arriving late at night. I decided to stay in an area called Kampong Glam, Singapore’s historic Malay–Muslim quarter (more on this shortly).
After a good night’s kip, I spotted a sign for kaya toast. This is a traditional breakfast in the country, so I went to check it out.
Kaya toast – a traditional Singaporean breakfast – is usually set alongside runny, soft-boiled eggs and local coffee (kopi)
It looks and tastes a bit like a peanut butter sandwich, but the filling is actually a sweet coconut–pandan jam (kaya). It’s served with soft-boiled eggs, soy sauce and pepper, alongside a strong coffee (kopi).
I didn’t really know what I was doing, but a kindly stranger advised that you’re meant to dip the toast into the egg and sort of lap it up.
I enjoyed it – but if you’re after more Western cuisine (which might be the case after a long trip away), there are plenty of cafés offering cooked breakfasts too. It’s a cosmopolitan city, at the end of the day.
Next, I headed to the old town, to Kampong Glam. Even before you’ve done any Googling, you can tell this is the ‘cool bit’.
Sights from Kampong Glam, Singapore’s Muslim Quarter – now a vibrant shopping and eating area
Unlike the modern high-rises typical of the Singaporean skyline, this small cluster of streets is made up of shorter, squatter buildings packed closely together, many adorned with colourful street art.
Walking around in the daytime, it was full of a mix of older and more modern cafés (including places like % Arabica, one of my favourites in Hackney), lots of cute shops, and the beautiful Sultan Mosque – the largest in Singapore.
Kampong Glam is made for Instagram, so if you’re a talented photographer (unlike me), you’ll want to kill some time here like I did exploring the artwork, buying trinkets and hopping between cafés and ice-cream shops.
By this point, it was pretty hot, and I needed some greenery.
So, after seeking shade in a market, I took the train into the centre, and headed towards the Singapore Botanic Gardens.
This park provides a welcome oasis from the chaos and closeness of the surrounding streets and buildings and – fun fact – are the first and only tropical botanic garden on UNESCO’s World Heritage List.
I was able to pass some peaceful hours here watching otters and lizards, and stopping for lunch at the café.
Later, I swung by Marina Bay Sands for a hot chocolate and a seat by the water to watch the evening light and water show, Spectra.
This runs at 8pm and 9pm (with later shows on weekends). It’s a fun watch, and worth sitting down to watch before wandering along the marina.
If there’s time, you can also head next door to Gardens by the Bay for the Garden Rhapsody show at the Supertree Grove. If you’ve ever seen photos of Singapore, chances are you’ll have seen images of these huge illuminated tree-like structures. I’m a fool and missed it, but I hear it’s fantastic.
Singapore is known for its iconic hotels, including Marina Bay Sands
After the light show, I took a nice walk along the bay, and soaked up the buzz of the city, before grabbing a drink nearby and heading back to my hostel.
And the final attraction was the – umm – airport!
Somewhat unsurprisingly for a nation know for its stopover flights, Singapore airport itself is quite a spectacle.
I had a midday flight the next day, so I arrived a couple of hours earlier than necessary and went to “Jewel Changi”.
This is a kind of ‘lifestyle hub’ in the middle, that feels more like a futuristic indoor jungle than an airport.
At its centre is the Rain Vortex – the world’s tallest indoor waterfall – surrounded by layered greenery and walkways.
It’s a little over the top, but the cross between function and foliage is very characteristic of Singapore in general, and makes for a nice way to round up a visit to what was – unexpectedly for me – not just wall to wall buildings and people in suits.
It’s quite possible that if you’re reading this blog from Singapore, you’re tired, jet-lagged, and dragging a big suitcase along, too.
But try to not let jet lag stop you from heading out. There is more going on beneath the surface than it seems, and a day or two in the country is plenty.
If you have the time, split your flight; dump your bag; and spend a few days letting this busy city show you what it’s made of.
After my week of work in Chiang Mai, I wonder – is a Bali-esque boom and bust on the horizon?
It’s no secret that Thailand is popular with digital nomads. Interest in the Destination Thailand Visa (DTV) underscores this appeal – offering a five-year, multiple-entry visa, it surpassed 35,000 applicants when it launched last year (2025). Aimed at remote workers and location-independent professionals, the DTV offers an affordable and flexible long-term stay, making it a central pillar of Thailand’s strategy to boost tourism and strengthen its economy.
With great prices, food, weather, and landscape, Thailand does appear to have it all. But having worked from several international “nomad” hotspots in the last year, I have found myself becoming less interested in what I can get out of the places I visit, and more concerned with the impact I’m having there.
Definitions of digital nomads have changed, after all. The 2010 “stereotype” was that of a “joyful millennial working from a laptop on a beach” (Hart, 2015; Spinks, 2015). A handful of people were doing it, many of whom were bloggers, making it pretty harmless.
Now, an era of flexible working, long-term visas, and steep rents in places like Sydney and London mean people are choosing to work remotely abroad for the long haul, (coined as “slowmadism”).
Western incomes stretch further abroad, and that money benefits local economies. But academics worry there could be broader ramifications for destinations in the Global South already experiencing forms of transnational gentrification, as a result of remote workers.
Chiang Mai’s appeal might also be its downfall
Chiang Mai, a city in the northern mountains of Thailand, has attracted thousands of digital nomads in recent years. The effects of this migration are already being felt, with this case study suggesting the long-term nomad presence is reshaping neighbourhoods, increasing demand for foreign-facing businesses, and driving up rents – factors which affect both visitors and locals.
I observed some of this myself when I visited in February 2025. There’s still a ton of local food spots, of course, but it seemed that many of the cafés, services, juice bars, and co-working spaces had been created for foreigners (or those with laptops).
My lovely host in Chiang Mai
Fon, a restaurant owner, confirmed that even local food stops have “increased their prices by 5–10 Baht” since the 2020 pandemic. Whilst the minimum wage has increased slightly too, it is unclear whether it’s enough, or what the future repercussions could be over time.
What about integration? Of the nomads I met in Chiang Mai, some worked in tourism or as teachers, and others were learning Thai. Billy, an American who moved to Chiang Mai two years ago, loves his life here as a teacher. He said that despite the number of expats from Myanmar, China, and Western countries, local people still strongly embrace their mai pen rai – a “no worries” attitude – and hold tightly to their Lanna cultural identity. On the trips he’s been on, there’s just as many Thai locals as there are nomads and expats, he says.
Whilst that is reassuring, having spoken to a lot of nomads working from businesses based outside Thailand, most treated the city as a satellite office, and were there to enjoy the comfort and low costs rather than integrate into the fabric of the place. I can’t help but wonder how sustainable that is – especially given that most nomads leave in the early part of each year during “burning season” – which must affect rental competition, business, and the vibe.
Meals cost £1-3
Based on my chats with people there, part of Chiang Mai’s appeal – compared to say, the Thai islands – is that it feels more “authentic,” or at least less mediated by mass tourism. Fon is from Prachinburi, and moved here five years ago. “People from here have a strong sense of culture, pride, and local traditions,” she said. This is in part due to the highly esteemed university and active student culture.
Evening chants at Doi Suthep are popular
As more people move here to work, however – which is likely, in the wake of this visa – I suspect local businesses and authorities will keep shaping things to meet foreign interests, expectations and spending habits.
After all, nomads are not tourists in the traditional sense. They need a more fixed base, comfort, friends, places to live, reliable internet access, and familiar home comforts. I went for dinner with people from a newly launched co-living residence, for example – something that’s becoming more common, and speaks to the desire for permanence.
Another challenge that comes with growing numbers of long-term visitors, is waste management. Chiang Mai already feels stretched in terms of infrastructure, and more people inevitably means more rubbish. Bali, for example, is grappling with a well-documented waste crisis, and while I wasn’t able to investigate in depth here, this blog provides some interesting context about recycling and waste handling in Thailand.
I tried hard to minimise my footprint by carrying a Grayl water filter bottle and a foldable dog bowl for takeaway food, but the broader issue is harder to tackle. How the city will cope with more residents and their impact on waste, water, and energy systems remains to be seen. “Waste and water management have not kept up with growth,” said Fon.
Is it overcrowded already?
In terms of capacity – like I said, it already feels quite busy, and judging by comments on Reddit forums from long-term nomads, that seems to be the case. I found myself standing at traffic lights for around ten minutes in Nimman, trying to cross the road, for instance.
All the Grab drivers wore masks to protect themselves from the terrible air quality, which will surely worsen as traffic increases. Electricity wires hung about precariously, which had me wondering how much additional strain the desire for faster internet was putting on infrastructure.
According to Fon, my observations were valid. “The cost of utilities has risen dramatically,” she said. “The condition of the roads is abysmal, and there’s no real public transportation despite the demand. There are more vehicles on the roads each year as a result.”
A lot Chiang Mai is undeniably charming, and you can tell why people like it here. The Old Town is beautiful, a square of ancient walls, temples, lanterns, and slow, warm evenings. I really enjoyed my first few days staying just south of it, near Wua Lai Walking Street Market, a quieter part of town that still felt full of character.
There are some beautiful hikes nearby, and lots of stunning wats to explore – I even spent one day speaking to monks when I visited (you can read my blog about this here).
Overall though, I seemed to leave Chiang Mai with more questions than answers. It will be interesting to see how it changes over the next decade, and how the Thai government will manage the steady influx of people (or indeed, decline, if that happens). Is another Bali boom and bust on the horizon?
After giving up full-time work in the UK in early 2025, I travelled around South East Asia for two and a half months as a freelancer, spending time in a number of well-known digital nomad hubs across Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam.
Because of its long-established digital nomad scene, Chiang Mai in northern Thailand was a place I was particularly interested in visiting. It’s often held up as one of the best cities in the region for remote work, so I arrived with fairly high expectations.
But despite spending a week there, I didn’t find myself overly impressed with it (read this blog to find out why).
From Chiang Mai, I crossed the Thai–Laos Friendship Bridge into Laos and spent three days doing the Gibbon Experience in Nam Kan national park. After an intense and memorable few days in the jungle, I needed to knuckle down again and get some work done, so I took a slow boat down the Mekong River towards the town of Luang Prabang.
Having not really planned this leg of the trip, I arrived with zero expectations, but was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed Luang Prabang – and would even argue that it’s more desirable for digital nomads than Chiang Mai.
First – where is Laos and what’s Luang Prabang like?
Laos is the long thin country between Thailand and Vietnam. It was part of French Indochina from the late 1800s to the 1950s, and very heavily bombed in the 60s by the US. As a result, the country is pretty poor, and still deeply affected by unexploded ordnance.
You won’t see that in Luang Prabang, however. Here, the mix of French and local influence gives the town a very distinct feel. It’s very pretty with its leafy avenues, low-rise temples, and colourful wooden houses, in a way that I really didn’t expect after a 48 hour ride down the Mekong.
The town has a quiet, leisurely vibe (typical of Laos), with lots of cute french-style bakeries and Laotian markets and eateries. I spent five days or so working from the cafes, having massages, and doing yoga. On the additional days, I visited Kuang Si Waterfall, and took a two day excursion to the towns of Nong Khiaw and Muang Ngoi (details on all that, to come).
Comparison to Chiang Mai?
One of the reasons Chiang Mai is consistently ranked as one of Southeast Asia’s top digital nomad hubs, is due to its fast and reliable internet (often cited at 100–300 Mbps), large established nomad community, and abundance of coworking spaces and long-stay accommodation.
In Luang Prabang, average internet speeds are significantly slower (often cited at under 10 Mbps), and the remote-worker community is small and informal (i.e. not organised around coworking hubs).
But if you prioritise calm, beauty and balance over infrastructure and networking, Luang Prabang might appeal to you more. Having spent a week in both places, Luang Prabang felt far less busy, and like it hadn’t been manufactured for tourists. I had an easy time taking video calls, sending emails and uploading and downloading word documents.
I didn’t make an effort to investigate the long-term situation (e.g. Facebook groups etc), but did see and overhear a lot of people speaking English on calls and using their laptops. Overall, my Reddit research suggests Luang Prabang is becoming more popular with digital nomads, but it does not appear to be swamped by them.
My recommendations
Luang Prabang is the kind of place where you’ll leave feeling you left no stone unturned, which I personally enjoy. Here’s what I tried and loved there:
Excursions
Nong Khiaw and Pha Daeng Peak – this was one of my absolute highlights in Laos, second to the Gibbon Experience. The village is based a few hours north from Luang Prabang, on the Nam Ou river, and is famous for its Jurassic Park worthy karst mountains. You can climb the Pha Daeng Peak viewpoint relatively quickly (although it is very tiring!) and – if on a tour – sleep at the top to catch the sunset and sunrise. If you’re lucky, you’ll wake up at 6am to see a magnificent cloud inversion hugging the cliff top. Word of warning though, I nearly froze to death at the top (in March) – so bring layers clothes for night time.
Muang Ngoi – this is another, smaller village just down the river from Nong Khiaw. Whilst tourists can and do go there, it’s very traditional. You can only get there by boat which controls tourist traffic. That’s why it’s so charming. I went as part of a group trip that included an overnight stay in a home stay. We ended up having *quite a few* beers and playing petanque with the residents, and it became one of my more memorable nights out, that’s for sure! The beer could really be felt the next day, as our guide took us for another hike up the cliff (in his flip flops) and we almost passed away at the top.
Kuang Si Waterfall – this is an incredible multi-tiered waterfall about 29km south of Luang Prabang. You can share a tuktuk to the waterfront pretty easily. It’s one of those Instagram spots that attracts a lot of tourists and posers, sadly. But if you arrive at around 4pm, just before closing, most people will have gone and you can use the hour to swim and take photos. As far as natural waterfalls go, this is one you won’t want to miss.
Cafés and restaurants
Essential experiences for every tourist or nomad, and Luang Prabang really delivered on this front. Some of my favourites from the week included:
Saffron Coffee – right on the Mekong, great for a slow morning, and laptop friendly
Two Little Birds – a delicious vegan spot
Atsalin Restaurant – excellent mix of local food. Laos is so cheap, just order it all (I ended up sharing it with a girl next to me and we had a nice chinwag)
Spas
To get a facial for under £40 is impossible in the UK, so I treated myself every week pretty much, whilst in Asia! Highlights from Luang Prabang include:
MK Spa – This was a great little spa. I had a massage and body scrub. It was very affordable and really well done
KHMU Spa – More central. I had a decent massage here, and there’s a little heritage house next door worth popping into
Prices range from £8-15.
Yoga
I tried two studios:
Yoga Grasshopper Yoga
Luang Prabang Yoga
Both felt modern, and were run by Europeans. They had full schedules, with cafés attached and regular events so I imagine it would be a nice place to make friends.
Nightlife
There’s not much of a clubbing vibe in Luang Prabang, but the cocktail bars are genuinely lovely. I went for drinks with a friend at Sisavangvong Road, which is perfect for a chilled evening and felt like a classy ‘strip’.
If you’re backpacking, there’s also a weirdly famous bowling alley that everyone goes to at night. It sounds odd, but it was actually pretty fun and a nice change from the basic backpacker bars.
Final Thoughts
I wouldn’t say Luang Prabang is unmissable; but if you have the time and leisure, you won’t regret adding it to your itinerary – especially if you’re travelling from North to South Laos (or vice versa).
Prepare for a few days of good coffee, pampering, peaceful (and modest) temples, and easy trips into some of the most beautiful scenery in Southeast Asia.
It’s calm, welcoming, and – for me – was the perfect place to catch up on work and recover following the Gibbon Experience in Huay Xai. And did I mention the pastries?
History meets modernity in this vibrant Cambodian city.
I didn’t really know what to expect from Siem Reap when I booked a flight there in early March. Obviously I’d heard of Angkor Wat, but the city itself didn’t seem to be talked about much in digital nomad circles online.
At this point, I had been travelling around Southeast Asia as a freelance remote worker for four weeks. Having just wasted five days throwing up in Vang Vieng in Laos (don’t go there), I was keen to find somewhere I could properly base myself for a bit, get some work done, and have at least one significant cultural experience.
I ended up spending a week in Siem Reap, working lightly from abroad, pampering myself, sampling the nightlife and visiting the historic sites. I have to say I was really pleasantly surprised by it and could have stayed longer – here’s why.
A vibrant urban jungle
First of all, it feels nothing like Bangkok or Hanoi, both of which I found a little overstimulating.
Unlike Bangkok (where I started), the city is not full of high-rise buildings, and there seems to be a lot more space to roam around than there is in Hanoi – at least in the old French Quarter (in the centre). That’s partly due to a heritage rule that limits building heights, giving the city a less imposing, more town-like feel. In fact, it reminded me of a larger Luang Prabang (Laos).
It’s also incredibly colourful. The first thing I did after leaving the airport was take an electric tuk-tuk into the city centre, about half an hour away. As we got closer, it seemed I was shaded by trees much of the time.
The buildings are a mix of colonial-era French and traditional Khmer styles, as opposed to the more brutalist vibe of Phnom Penh, which is a constant reminder of Cambodia’s dark past. Many exteriors are covered in plants and foliage, giving the city a calm, verdant feel – something like an urban jungle, which I found quite soothing.
Is there a nomad “scene”?
There is definitely a remote-working community here, but it’s not massive. I overheard young English and European speakers chatting about their lives in cafes, and know people who are based there permanently as teachers.
As a communications consultant, my work mostly consists of sending emails, writing articles, and taking video calls, so I cannot speak to wifi speeds in much depth – I defer to reddit forums for that kind of information.
But a lot of the cafes were well set up for laptops, with decent WiFi, air conditioning, and private rooms to take calls, which is another giveaway.
Some of my favourite spots to “plug in” in Siem Reap included:
Footprint Cafe – feels like sitting in a small library. It has links to the University of Cambridge in the UK, and seemed like a good place to meet people.
New Leaf Eatery – excellent vegan food, with noticeboards full of flyers for local events and clubs. The restaurant supports youth development in Siem Reap.
Common Grounds – situated on one of the prettiest streets in the city, I came here twice for breakfast and the air conditioning. All profits support humanitarian and development work in Cambodia.
Biolab Coffee – designed with nomads in mind, it also functions as a coworking space and is well set up for meetings.
A conscious community
Cambodia has a very painful recent past, which was one of the reasons I was keen to visit. During the late 20th century, the country suffered years of civil war, partly shaped by the wider conflict in neighbouring Vietnam.
This was followed by the tyranny of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge, a brutally cruel regime that resulted in the deaths of around a third of Cambodia’s population. Because Pot targeted people he considered to be “intellectual”, after its collapse in 1979, the country faced a massive shortage of teachers and professionals. Illiteracy rates climbed to nearly 40%, and the education system had to be rebuilt from scratch.
That history still feels present, and one noticeable outcome is how many businesses focus on reinvesting money and support back into the local community, as you’ll see from my descriptions about the cafes above.
I talked a little in my Chiang Mai blog about the ethics of being a nomad, and the experience of being somewhere, whilst not totally immersed. The people of Siem Reap call you to do the opposite, and I really liked that about it.
Which Wat is Wat?
Another point of appeal for Siem Reap is that is is soaked in modern and ancient history – being home to the city of Angkor – so there’s quite a bit to get your teeth into on your days off.
Built in the twelfth century, Angkor was the centre of the Khmer Empire, a powerful kingdom that once dominated much of Southeast Asia. At its peak, it was home to around a million people, making it the largest pre-industrial city known to exist.
As the Khmer empire dissolved, Angkor became a ruin. Whilst it was known to the local community, it wasn’t until around 200 years ago that archeologists got their hands on it, and made it a major tourist attraction. It remains the largest religious (Hindu/Buddhist) monument in the world, at three times the size of the Vatican City, and a lot of it is still in tact.
One or two days in Angkor?
Because there’s so much to see, visitors can buy either a one-day ticket ($37), a three-day ticket ($62) or a seven-day ticket ($72).
I’d heard sunrise or sunset were the best times to go, so on my first day, I set an alarm for 3am and joined a Get Your Guide tour. The tour cost around £10, including transport – which felt like a bargain.
By 5am, I was standing in front of the iconic towers of Angkor Wat with about 20 thousand other tourists trying to get a photo of the sun rising over the “pine cones”. As it turns out, these are actually lotus buds, and represent purity, divinity, and fertility. Lovely!
As someone with no background on the place, I was really amazed by the scale of Ankor, and the level of preservation, which is why so many people advise getting the three day pass (which I opted for). But I will go out on a limb and say that one day was enough for me.
This is the very ancient past we’re talking about, and there’s only so much your brain can take in when you’re tired and hot. Our guide wasn’t brilliant at bringing it to life either – much unlike our guide in Phom Pehn (which I visited after Siem Reap), who did an incredible job at illustrating the horror of the killing fields and S21.
I had learned by this point in my trip to just take in what I could manage, and then read or listen to something later in order to get the full picture. When I went back at sunset a couple of days later, I booked a tuk-tuk to take me around the key buildings I hadn’t yet seen (costing around £15 for the day) and it was far less busy. more relaxing and I was able to google things on the way.
If you’re taking a tour, bring plenty of water. It gets hot very quickly!
Visiting Kampong Phluk village on Tonlé Sap lake
Another cool thing to do is go to Tonlé Sap lake, just outside of Siem Reap, to see a “floating” villages.
What’s fascinating about Tonlé Sap is that its river system reverses twice a year. In the dry season it drains into the Mekong, but during the wet season, silt from the Mekong Delta causes the river to back up, flooding much of the country and expanding the lake. So a lot of the villages here are built on tall stilts to avoid the rising water.
We visited one called Kampong Phluk. It was dry when we arrived, so we could walk about the village easily enough. It was very lively, with a wedding underway, a school in full swing, and music blaring. The houses are beautifully colourful, which apparently helps keep flies and mosquitoes away at night.
The highlight was when we were taken by boat to a “floating restaurant” on the lake, where we spent a few hours chatting over beers and watching the sunset. You cannot see land for miles, so it’s quite surreal to be sitting on a raft in the middle of the water drinking beers. I believe there are crocodiles in the water though, so do not advise swimming in it!
A day tour felt like plenty, but I know someone who stayed there for a month, so there’s clearly more to it for those who want to dig deeper.
Lots to offer and well connected
It might not be a headline digital nomad hub, but if you’re a remote worker looking for somewhere cheap, lively, and historically intriguing to linger, Siem Reap has a lot to offer.
Not only is it a great mix of culture, calm, and coffee, Koh Rong, Koh Rong Sanloem and Phnom Penh are all reachable within the day, and it has its own airport in case you needed to hop out of the country quickly.
Yes, price are a little higher than Thailand and Laos – roughly £3 to £5 for a meal, for instance – but still very affordable. I could have certainly stayed longer, but the islands were calling me, so I spent the following week decompressing on the beach. It’s a hard life being a nomad!
