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.
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.
As my trip draws to a close, my thoughts turn towards home.
“Oh my God. I want one!”
I was in Australia, arm in arm with my friend (and now expat) Becca.
Becca, like a lot of Londoners, committed the ultimate friend betrayal by moving to Australia in 2023.
Having finally forgiven her, we now found ourselves cooing over koalas at Moonlit Sanctuary, an award-winning wildlife park located 50 minutes southeast of Melbourne’s CB, following a fun filled weekend in Sydney’s Blue Mountains.
A long awaited trip
I’d always wanted to visit Australia. Every single member of my family had either lived or travelled here, and as an 18-year-old I’d mentally planned an entire gap year on the other side of the world, that I was too scared and too broke to execute it.
Just as the desperate migrants romanticised California in The Grapes of Wrath, Australia seems to have a kind of “heaven on earth” appeal for us intrepid Europeans. And more than a decade later, it felt thrilling to be standing on Ozzy soil, ready to wrap up a three-month stint as a digital nomad in Asia.
But where were the crocs?
Perhaps I’d gone a bit feral from all those weird nights in hostels, but Sydney itself hadn’t thrilled me – and when we reunited in Melbourne after a short hiatus, I was itching to get back into nature.
Half expecting to see crocs, snakes and spiders the minute I stepped off the plane, it was a little disenchanting to be surrounded by buses and McDonald’s; so, we decided to book a day trip South to see some of the country’s most dangerous animals – koala bears, wallabies and penguins.
Moonlit Sanctuary is an award-winning wildlife park in Melbourne
After several fun, but somewhat exhausting, months on the road as a digital nomad, I was ready for a cuddle; and luckily our first stop was Moonlit Sanctuary, a wildlife conservation park in Victoria focused on endangered native species breeding, education, and immersive visitor experiences.
Sadly, these adorable teddy-like creatures are not for handling, but looking up at the canopies of the sanctuary, it felt incredibly special to see koala bears in the flesh, even if they were simply napping.
After much pst psttting, and a short interaction with a wallaby (sort of like a tiny kangaroo), we then drove further South toward “The Nobbies”.
I wasn’t sure what to expect at the other end, and was surprised to learn that this is in fact a dramatic, and very beautiful clifftop area on Phillip Island – not dissimilar to Cornwall, I might add.
Leave it to the Aussies to call an area of outstanding natural beauty “the Nobbies”
It’s a great place to catch sea life apparently, and whilst we didn’t spoke any whales or seals, we had something special waiting for us down at the beach at dusk – the Penguin Parade.
Settling down for the Penguin Parade
This is a precious natural phenomenon where hundreds of tiny little penguins spend the day feeding at sea before returning to shore at sunset – all at the same time.
We passed an hour or two on the beach with our hot chocolates, watching the waves and wondering when the first penguins would appear.
It was a bitter evening, and as our steaming drinks began to cool, I wondered if the penguins had lost their way back.
But lo! Just as the light faded – a couple of tiny heads popped up over the water. Then a dozen, then a hundred. The birds, it turned out, were more organised than Becca and I had ever been in our lives. They had been waiting for darkness so that they could travel in safety.
Once on shore, the tiny creatures waited for their friends to arrive – preferring to travel in big groups – before panic-waddling up the beach to their burrows. Above their head, birds of prey circulated, observing the scene and braced to pounce on stragglers.
Luckily for us, there were no fatalities and all the penguins successfully scurried over the sand, before disappearing into the dunes, safe at home for another night.
Wherever you go, there you are
It was an adorable scene – somewhat similar to seeing the lollipop lady gather the children before crossing the road. And after three months of travel, watching the little birds shuffle back to a place of safety and familiarity felt particularly moving.
I didn’t know how this nomad experiment would go, or for how long I’d be able to sustain life on the road, having never backpacked this long alone before. But I had noticed by this point that I was struggling to stay present, due to anxieties about the future.
I knew by now that I wanted to remain “nomadic” – but what that looked like in practice, I wasn’t sure. Thoughts were turning toward commitments at home; decisions about where I wanted to be and what I wanted to do could no longer be put off; and after weeks of hostels, airports and constantly being on the move, even daily decision making was difficult.
I believe this is a scenario that many people on the road find themselves in. On my route, I met lots of people who seemed to be avoiding problems they were having at home, processing something, or just generally lost and dissatisfied with life.
I don’t know if travelling is the right way to deal with those things or not. But as they say “wherever you go, there you are”. At some point you’ll have to confront internal or external challenges, or at least seek support from someone you know – whether that’s a local support network, or someone from home.
Having Becca there to take some of the weight off my shoulders reminded me that even the most independent travellers need help sometimes.
And, like the penguins making their way back to shore at dusk, I felt ready to call time on my adventure and head home too – but not before seeing Singapore.
*If you want to visit Philip Island, can either drive over yourself or take a full-day trip, which cost us around £70 including return travel from Melbourne. We also had a lovely guide who was funny, knowledgeable and genuinely passionate about the animals, which made the experience even better.*
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
Plus, how does Lisbon’s cool sister fair for remote workers?
Following an inaugural three-month stint as a digital nomad in Asia in early 2025, I returned home invigorated – but a little exhausted – by my new freelance lifestyle. Curious to understand what the European scene looked like, I started exploring options closer to the UK.
Europe is, unsurprisingly, not as cheap as Asia or South America for nomads; but some countries are waking up to the advantages of hosting foreign remote workers. Portugal is one of them.
Home to the first so-called “digital nomad village” on Madeira island, the country has made a concerted effort to attract location-independent workers. In 2026, it even introduced a dedicated D8 visa to make living and working there easier. With around 16,000 foreign remote workers, Lisbon has become so popular that the influx is now proving controversial, with concerns around gentrification and a siloed economy growing (see my blog about Chiang Mai in Thailand, where I touch on this).
Outside of these hotspots, though, I hadn’t heard much about Portugal’s second favourite city, Porto. Porto sits on the west coast, in the north of Portugal; around three hours away from Lisbon by train. In olden times, Portugal was one of England’s more important allies, according to my favourite podcast, The Rest Is History. Nowadays, it’s best known for its Douro wines (including Port), pastries and (love her or hate her) J.K. Rowling, who lived there in the nineties.
Curious, and having already had some success with pet sitting in the UK, I managed to secure a sit in Porto during October (full blog on how to get into this coming soon); making for a far more affordable trip. So, off I trotted for a week of exploration in the country’s wine capital.
Is there a nomad scene?
Unlike Lisbon, which has flourished as a long-term base for remote workers, Porto tends to attract fewer digital nomads setting up here permanently, it seems.
Based on my time there, my sense is that this is partly cultural; many cafés don’t encourage laptops for long stretches, and the nomad community isn’t yet large enough to sustain the same density of coworking spaces and regular meetups. Some nomads will no doubt disagree – but for now, Porto feels less geared towards full-time remote work. Of course, that may well change if Lisbon continues to feel over-saturated.
Coming at this from the perspective of someone who isn’t working full time, I found Porto to be a pleasant and peaceful location to work from, however. There’s reliable Wi-Fi, comfortable places to dip in and out of work (that allow for at least a few hours of focused work), and I felt like I was merging with local life. For freelancers, creatives, or anyone balancing work with travel (perhaps for shorter periods like me) – rather than clocking a strict nine-to-five – it was a good setup.
How I spent my time in Porto
There’s plenty to do in Porto, and it felt like a truly liveable city to me. Visiting in October meant it was mild (but a little rainy!) and wasn’t overrun with tourists. Locals were incredibly friendly and keen to make conversation, which really struck me. Here are some fun activities to add to your list if you’re visiting:
Admire the terracotta rooftops from the Dom Luis Bridge
Personally, the first thing I look for on a city break or solo trip is a walking tour. I booked one via my hostel, which took us around the local sites, including the fanciest McDonald’s in the world (which is nothing to write home about, but fun to see) and some beautiful viewing spots, including Sé (Porto’s cathedral) and the Dom Luís bridge, which crossed the Douro River.
The mix of ageing white and amber buildings lining the riverbank in the Ribeira district makes for a gorgeous sight and you’ll even find that the famous amber roofs sparkling in the sunlight, thanks to the sharp seagull deterrents. Magic!
Worth noting that Porto sits on a steep slope beside the river; its narrow roads and staircases don’t make it easy to manoeuvre around – even with Ubers – so bear this in mind if you have health or mobility issues.
Try a Francesinha
I hadn’t put much planning at all into this trip, but luckily a pal of mine was in Porto at the same time visiting a local pal. After sharing a couple of bottles of rosé at a bar called Bosco (recommended for its views of the city!), she advised that we head out for something called a Francesinha.
This is an indulgent Portuguese sandwich originating from Porto, featuring layers of bread, steak, ham, linguiça (sausage) and chipolata, smothered in melted cheese and a thick, savoury beer-and-tomato sauce. It tastes like eating a ham sandwich covered in spaghetti hoops. Bit weird, but sort of a must-try whilst in Porto.
Aside from the Francesinha, I can recommend the warm pork and cheese sandwich from Bó Tá Quente on R. do Souto – another good spot for traditional cuisine.
Sample the pastries
People like to celebrate French pastries, but wow do the Portuguese know a thing or two about sweet, flaky snacks.
One of the joyful things about Porto is that you don’t need to look far for a good pastry selection; although Confeitaria de Bolhão was busy, and had a big spread of goodies to choose from. Highlights have to be the pastel de nata (custard tarts with blistered pastry) and the ovos moles (a soft, sweet egg-yolk filling, traditionally wrapped in rice paper).
Visit the Mercado de Balhao
Described as a “recovered gem” following its restoration in 2023, this is a bustling indoor food market open every day other than Sunday. It’s a great place to grab a coffee and sample local treats, as well as do a bit of gift shopping.
On my list for next time
Walking the Camino
Ah, the famous walking pilgrimage. This is on my wish list this year, although I’m still undecided on my route. The Camino Portugués from Porto offers three main, well-marked routes to Santiago de Compostela – Coastal, Central and Litoral – all starting at the Sé Cathedral. The Coastal and Litoral routes feature ocean views, while the Central goes inland through historic towns. All routes typically converge in Redondela, Spain, before reaching Santiago.
Visit the Douro wine region
It’s not just fortified wine made in Porto. Northern Portugal is famous for its Douro Valley, a UNESCO World Heritage site that’s easily accessible from the city. If you’re a wine fan, it’s easy to take day trips to the vineyards (which sit alongside the river) from the city.
Pastel de nata cooking class
Why not find out how to make the wee eggy tarts yourself? I spotted an advertisement for this in the city and it struck me as a fun thing to do. I’d be genuinely fascinated to know how they’re made but sadly ran out of time for this, myself.
Final thoughts: don’t let the lack of “scene” put you off
So, is Porto digital-nomad friendly? Certainly – but I wouldn’t call it a “hub”.
If you’re looking for a slick coworking scene, endless laptop cafés and a ready-made remote-work community, Lisbon will likely suit you better.
But if your work fits around travel – a few focused hours here and there – Porto offers something quieter, more grounded and perhaps less performative. I’m looking forward to visiting Lisbon soon so I can compare them.
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?
I wasn’t even planning to visit Laos during my South East Asia trip last year. Then one day in November, whilst hunched over my desk planning my route, I saw a deeply enticing picture – a wooden treehouse, surrounded by leaves, and doused in sunshine.
It was a snap from The Gibbon Experience – a tourism-based conservation programme that allows people to stay in tree houses and zip wire across Nam Kan national park in Northern Laos.
The organisation protects the area from logging by creating an alternative income, and gives the locals here a way of life. Guests that come here have a small chance of spotting endangered black-crested Gibbons (did we see them? Read on to find out).
After a quick scan of reddit and TripAdvisor – my go-to for travel advice – it seemed legit. And as luck would have it, there was availability during the weekend I had planned to leave Chiang Mai (but not before – so book at least three months ahead!).
Without much further thought, I booked a two night stay (the “Classic” tour) for around £300. This was the most expensive thing I bought during my time in South East Asia, where I worked for three months as a digital nomad – so I didn’t hold back. How else does one spend their weekends off in Asia?
This was my first land border crossing of the trip, so I was a little nervous, especially as I’ve mostly travelled in Europe which is pretty straightforward as a Brit.
But having my passport photos and PRINTED e-visa in hand, made the process pretty simple. If you don’t bring this with you, ensure you have $50 crisp dollar notes so that you can pay for your visa.
Laos is a developing nation, so a little preparation goes far.
Most people heading into Laos this way will stop first at the nearest small town, Huay Xai (pronounced “Hox Aye”). Once I had crossed the border, a couple of buses took us into the town, making the process fairly straightforward and easy to navigate as a solo traveller.
Luckily, you don’t need to get Lao kip (LAK) before entering the country – they accept Thai baht, and sometimes even US dollars. So do NOT use up all your Baht when leaving Thailand. You’ll need some to pay for the bus over the Friendship Bridge, and the driver in Laos (it cost us around 200 baht each).
Once your baht is gone though, you’ll need cash. The kip isn’t a strong currency, and the country is cheap as chips – a clean dorm bed will set you back around £6–8, and meals are £1–3. The max you can get out of the ATM is 2M kip (around £70), so just grab the lot, and use it up – don’t get little amounts.
Another big tip – the ATMs in Laos can’t be trusted. Take your money from the machine as soon as it comes out. I was with a girl whose cash got swallowed back in and one took my bank card later in Vang Vieng (a story for another time).
Laos feels much smaller and rural after Thailand, because it is. Memories of the first five minutes include being overtaken by children on motorbikes, and wall to wall adverts for Beerlao.
With this in mind, I had pre-booked a dorm room at “Little Hostel”. I needed a good night’s sleep, and wanted somewhere clean and comfortable.
It really delivered, and the girl running it (who spoke excellent English) even made us a wonderful porridge breakfast. There’s a number of nice options for dinner too, but bear in mind, service will be VERY slow. That’s just what it’s like in Laos!
Heading to the park, and facing my fear of heights
The Gibbon Experience office is easy to find, and we headed there at around 8am to swap our bigger bags for overnight packs. After a rather glitchy safety video, we put our lives in the hands of the staff and started the two hour drive up the mountains.
The next four hours was a blur that consisted of weeing in holes in the ground (common all over Laos), swapping extremely rudimentary small talk with our guides (mostly just smiling and nodding) and not looking each other in the eye until we stopped at the Gibbon Exp. Headquarters for lunch.
There were eight people in my group (just three couples, and two solo travellers, including me), and after a filling lunch of glass noodles, we started to wake up, and managed to exchange names and back stories (long story short, we had a wonderful time together).
Stopping for lunch at the headquarters
The trip requires a fair bit of hiking, so be prepared
We then took a shortish trek into the forest, where we were taught how to use the zip lines.
It was a little nerve wracking to begin with, because – if you’ve seen the footage from my instagram – you’re extremely high up. In the tree tops, no less! In addition, neither of our guides spoke good English. For full transparency, there was a death in 2017, but since then, the organisation has tightened it’s health and safety (and critically, weight limit). I knew this ahead of time and felt comfortable, but do your research and consider what feels right to you.
I’m actually slightly afraid of heights, but the minute I jumped off the ledge, I was just buzzing. Nothing can prepare you for the incredible views of the canopies, and the quiet sound of the forest around you as you’re speeding along the wire – that’s for sure.
After a couple of hours, we zip wired towards our treehouse and retired for the evening (at around 4pm).
Dinner at our treehouse
As the sun started setting, it was time to explore our home for the weekend.
The treehouses, raised over 40 metres off the ground, are wonderful. It was just like being in Swallows and Amazons, but with modern accompaniments. I’m talking a flushing toilet, electric lights, and a waterfall shower. Yes it’s cold – but it comes with a view of the jungle, so compromises must be made!
Dinner consisted of spring rolls, eggs, rice, noodles and coffee, and was wired in by the guides, who also joined us for traditional shots of rice wine.
Zip wiring for days on end is tiring, so when the guides left, after helping us with our beds, we deftly located the biscuit box and guzzled them down whilst playing card games.
When darkness truly fell, the six of us turned off the lights and listened to the sounds of the dense wildlife, before getting into our enclosed ‘bed tents’ and settling into a deeply comfortable sleep.
The forest is noisy at night, so bring ear plugs if that bothers you (I quite enjoyed it).
Bonding with the wildlife
Up at 7am for brekky, which – given it was a repeat of the last evening – was a bit of a shock to the European tummy. The food remained the same for the next 3 days, with slight variations each time, and allowances for the vegans in the group.
After coffee, we were back out on the zip lines until 11.30, with a fair bit of hiking in between. Not unmanageable, but something to keep in mind – you don’t slow down much, and even our group (20s–30s) was getting tired. Luckily we had a solid three-hour break back at treehouse five for lunch and a nap.
In the afternoon we explored the other treehouses – the 50m-high one, the big 11-person one, and the honeymoon suite where we met a lovely retired couple that had met in Cambodia. All were wonderful, but we still felt that ours had the best view.
We spent the evening looking at the giant spiders in the rafters and trying to catch a rat we saw deep-throating our ketchup bottle. There were also some bats flying through – they didn’t bother us, but definitely get your rabies jabs before coming. I will stress that the sleeping situation unnerved me before I left, but the mosquito nets around our tents were solid, and nothing was getting in. It was plenty warm, and pretty cosy!
After another brilliant sunset, we were up at 5.30 the next morning for a final hike to the viewpoint. This time we headed toward a special viewpoint where the gibbons tend to feed. Unfortunately, despite lingering for some time, we did not see any – but we did hear them singing in the distance, which was a highlight.
We packed in a little more ziplining that day, and by midday, we were back at the village for lunch, photo swapping, and the journey home. We were absolutely shattered by this point, but having bonded on the trip, much laughter was had on the way home – a sea change from the way there!
It really was a wonderful and unique experience, for not that much money by UK standards. You can take a one night trip, but the “Classic” two night tour is less popular, more intimate, and only slightly more expensive, so I would suggest doing this. Just ensure that you book well ahead (at least three months in advance).
My top tips:
Bed sharing – As a solo traveller, I did have to share a bed with a guy my age. I was comfortable with this because we got on very well, but some people might not be
Wildlife – Whilst I was anxious about spiders and rats, they didn’t prove to be a problem. The beds are really secure, and as long as you put your net right around it (which we did), you’ll be fine. For the spiders, my advice is to simply not look at the rafters. We did see a rat but the experience turned out to be more amusing than scary. Don’t bring snacks though, as they will eat through your bag. There are bats flying around, so get your rabies jab!
Games – Bring card games for evening time. I advocate for Monopoly deal
Timing – I’d opt for dry season, but the trips do run in the rainy season too
Clothes – Pack as little as you can manage, but long sleeves for the evening (I went in dry season / February). Bikini for the shower (although there is a curtain)
Gibbons – Accept that you probably won’t see them, but you’ll still have fun
Length – Do the Classic / longer tour (not the Giant Loop)! It’s a more intimate group and you see a lot more
