What impact are nomad communities having in places like Chiang Mai? (2025)

Is another Bali boom and bust on the horizon?

March 2025

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, (“slowmadism”, as this woman calls it).

With access to much higher wages, there are obvious economic benefits. But academics worry there could be broader ramifications for destinations in the Global South already experiencing forms of transnational gentrification.

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). 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.

Part of Chiang Mai’s appeal is that it feels more “authentic,” or at least less mediated by mass tourism, than the southern islands. 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.

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 on a day trip with a group of 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,” Fon told me.

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’s 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?

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  • Singapore – more than just skyscrapers? (2025)

    Finding biophilic joy in the financial capital

    April 2025

    I arrived in Singapore at the end of a three-month trip from the UK to Asia. By then, my interest in forward planning was at rock bottom, but my confidence in my own tastes and intuition was sky-high.

    Singapore is a small island sitting just south of Malaysia, and one of the world’s most densely populated countries. It’s been independent since the 60s and, with historic links to British colonial rule via the British East India Company, is now a global financial hub.

    It’s also become known as a bit of a stopover city. Typically, you’re flying in or out for a meeting, or in order to get somewhere else – which usually means you’re tired, jet-lagged, and possibly dragging a big suitcase behind you.

    Luckily, it’s teeny-weeny. At around twice the size of the Isle of Wight – and roughly 2.5 times smaller than Greater London – you can enjoy what it has to offer within 24–48 hours, if you’re realistic about what’s achievable (spoiler – it’s not just skyscrapers!).

    Depending on the length of your layover, bear in mind that the airport is around 30–45 minutes from the city (longer at peak times). I took a taxi, which cost around £20, or $32 Singapore dollars.

    Here’s how I spent a perfect two days.

    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 sleep, I spotted a sign for kaya toast. This is a traditional breakfast in the country, so I decided to check it out.

    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 something more Western (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, spend some time exploring the old town – Kampong Glam in particular. Even before you’ve done any Googling, you can tell this is the ‘cool bit’.

    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’ll be pretty hot.

    So, after seeking shade in a market, I took the train into the centre, heading towards the Singapore Botanic Gardens. The gardens provide welcome relief 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. No idea why that is, but it’s blooming nice.

    I passed a peaceful couple of hours here watching otters and lizards, and stopping for lunch at the café, before the heat finally overwhelmed me.

    Towards evening, 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. It runs at 8pm and 9pm (with later shows on weekends). It’s genuinely impressive, 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 dummy and missed it, but I hear it’s fantastic.

    After the light shows, I advocate for taking a nice walk along the bay, soaking up the buzz of the city, or grabbing a drink nearby.

    Finally – don’t forget the airport!

    It’s a spectacle in itself. I had a midday flight the next day, so I arrived a couple of hours earlier than strictly necessary. You can head to Jewel Changi Airport, a kind of ‘lifestyle hub’ 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. If you’re going to make an airport, make it pretty right?

    Whether or leaving or entering Asia – don’t sleep on Singapore. A day or two in the country is plenty, so if you’re around this way, split your flight, dump your bag and let the city show you what it’s good at.

  • Is uni a con? Reflections from my week in Oxford (2025)

    When being an Oink works in your favour

    Feb 2025

    Now that I’m not chained to city living or an office, I’ve been booking more pet sits in the countryside and taking nice long walks. My most recent booking took me to Oxford, to care for a lovely dog called Murphy, and had me reflecting on the romanticism of university life.

    I had been rejected from Oxford and UCL at 18 to study English Literature – the year student loans rose from £3k to £9k per year. I didn’t have a clue about the working world, the cost of living, or wages at this point.

    I don’t even remember thinking about university in much detail, and actually wanted to go to drama school. No one in my family went to uni. But the influence of parents, teachers, Jack Wills and Evelyn Waugh, soon had me applying, even with the massive hike in tuition fees.

    Champagne was swapped for Bucky after I accepted a place at the University of Glasgow, which offered me a four-year degree at £27K, as opposed to the £36K I’d have paid at Edinburgh. Bargain!

    10 years later, I still owe Student Finance England £60K and live out of a suitcase.

    In the context of rising youth unemployment, potential student loan increases, and the growing use of AI in entry-level roles, this had me thinking – would I go to university now?

    I could definitely write press releases at 18, but I didn’t start earning a pay cheque until I was 23 (before that, I worked for three months for free as an “intern”).

    If the opportunity had been presented, I could have joined a PR agency after school, learned the ropes, and generated a lot of earning power in that five-year gap. I can’t think of one agency that offers this option, but I’m happy to be contradicted on this.

    Maybe I’d have done a part-time degree later. Maybe I’d have changed career paths. Who knows. But I might have built financial stability earlier – whether that meant savings, a deposit, or simply more flexibility. Not that life is just about those markers, but they do shape your options.

    Instead, at 32, I’m roaming from house to house as a full time pet sitter. Not because I have to, but because I made a choice to redesign my overheads. “Best to do it whilst I’m an OINK, Dad!”, I remember saying (one income, no kids). Hey, I may as well turn single life into an earner.

    Pet sitting saves me around £1,000 per month. That dramatically lowers my fixed costs, which means I can freelance fewer days, build other skillsets, and reduce the repayments that rise and fall with my income.

    As a result, my repayments reduce by around £3K per year, too.

    According to a report from the Education reporter Hazel Shearing on the BBC today, I’m not the only millennial thinking like this.

    One person featured in the report today (24th Feb) cut his working week to four days so that he could spend more time doing up his house. The extra day cost him around £80 per week due to the smaller repayment, but he also saved money by not commuting to work – and gained time.

    Obviously I recognise that in order to gain that privilege, you need a job first. But university isn’t the only path to competence or stability anymore. There are many ways to earn and live these days that don’t require you to spend £50k before you’ve entered the payroll – paths that have always been there, but maybe didn’t seem as “glamorous” at 18.

    I feel a lot of compassion for recent graduates struggling to get jobs and it’ll be interesting to see what the knock-on effect of their experience will be for lifestyles, workplaces and cities.

    But I’m hopeful. Necessity is the mother of invention, after all, and if any generation has proven the power of the phrase “work smarter, not harder”, it’s them.

  • Petsitting from Porto (2025)

    Oct 2025

    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 Luís 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 do Bolhão

    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 to 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

  • Is the Ha Giang Loop overrated? (2025)

    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.

    You’ll be jaded soon enough, bitches.*1

    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.

    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.

    1. 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. ↩︎
    2. 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 ↩︎
    3. 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. ↩︎
    4. 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. ↩︎
    5. 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. ↩︎
  • Can you watch Netflix? Lessons from my Chiang Mai “Monk Chat” experience (2025)

    It’s what the people want to know, right?

    Feb 2025

    Whether it was a war, invasion, or act of terror, ideological conflicts dominated the news agenda when I was in school. Keen to understand more, I took Religious Studies to A level, studying the world’s major faiths in relative depth.

    At their core, they share similar moral frameworks. But between the lack of wars, focus on selflessness and preservation of animal life, Buddhism was the easiest one to actively “lean into” (and – critically – didn’t involve worshipping some bloke).

    So when I visited Thailand earlier this year, I was excited to hear that you can book time to speak to monks there, as part of a nationwide scheme called “Monk Chat“.

    How prevalent is Buddhism in Thailand?

    With a temple around every corner, it’s not hard to see that Buddhism is still the dominant religion in Thailand. The country is home to around 200,000 monks and 85,000 novices at most times of the year, according to Buddhanet.

    Strikingly for me, is the fact that most Thai men ordain at least once in their lives. They’ll typically join a wat (monastery) before starting work or university – sometimes even returning mid way through life – and can leave, or rejoin, whenever they want. Like spiritual rehab.

    If you’re interested in why (and perhaps what the effect of this is) take a look at this article.

    The “Monk Chat” scheme specifically, allows people to learn how monastic life shapes Thai society, in exchange for a bit of English language practice. Chiang Mai – in the North – is considered the centre of the movement, so I booked a half-day meditation retreat at Wat Suan Dok, in the centre of the old town, when I visited last February.

    Introduction to Buddhism

    After a quick cup of tea, our teacher, the head monk, began by outlining the basic history and core principles of Buddhism.

    A lot of people assume Buddhists worship Buddha, but that is not true. They do not worship a creator God or idol – not even the Buddha himself, although his journey toward enlightenment, and teaching of Nirvana, is central to the philosophy.

    Instead, Buddhism is better understood as a practice rather than a belief-based religion. “Train against doing bad; train to do good; and train to purify the mind,” he wrote on the whiteboard, summarising its ethical framework. Simple, right?

    As to how much of this the average Thai person follows, I’m not sure. But it’s widely understood that 90% of the population define themselves as Buddhist, and pay close attention to the main principles.

    Meditation specifically, our teacher explained, is a tool for observing and regulating emotional responses, helping practitioners return to these principles rather than act against them in moments of difficulty.

    We then had a go at this ourselves – sitting for no less than 40 minutes – as he guided us through a seated meditation. I’ve always found meditation easier in a group, and after an emotionally charged first ten days of travel, the enforced stillness provided a rare opportunity to switch off.

    Meeting the monks

    Following this introduction, there was a group Q&A where you’re allowed to speak to the junior monks. I’ve been looking forward to this the most because I was genuinely interested in their way of life.

    Can you watch Netflix? Can you discuss the news? Play video games in your spare time? We found ourselves asking.

    I really wanted to understand what their habitual lives are like – especially at a novice level – as well as the role that monks play in the community. If I compare to the UK, for example, the Church is very active, and runs sort of like a charity / business. And who could forget the Benedictine’s at Buckfast Abbey? They’re making booze!

    We didn’t get far with these questions, which was a little disappointing. Our hosts were happy to talk about the importance of meditation but overall, I felt there was a slightly missed opportunity to understand the social contribution that monks make in the modern age.

    But I guess it’s not their job to explain some of this, and we wanted to be respectful. There was also a language barrier, which is fair and understandable.

    We did make headway on the topic of female monks (nuns), which felt significant, because they are not officially recognised by the state.

    According to a 2019 article I read in Reuters, though, more Thai Buddhist women are seeking to become full-fledged “bhikkunis”, or female monks, by getting ordained overseas, usually in Sri Lanka or India.

    Our companion clearly viewed these women as legitimate, but explained that nuns are required to follow 311 rules, compared with 227 for their male counterparts. This distinction comes from the Vinaya Pitaka – specifically the Pāṭimokkha – which sets out the monastic code of conduct. Like the men, women shave their heads and eyebrows upon ordination.

    If you want to understand more about why this is, and how this landscape is shifting, take a look at this compelling interview on the topic. I’ve also added some videos from the sessions on my instagram (@womanmeetsw0rld).

    Pause for thought

    If you’re curious to understand Buddhism and meditation at a surface level, I’d absolutely recommend trying Monk Chat whilst in Chiang Mai.

    I’m interested in religious teachings and philosophies without any real intention to practise, so this half-day experience suited me well – though more in-depth meditation retreats are available for those looking to go deeper.

    It’s a donation-based scheme offered at numerous temples across Thailand, and I imagine each one feels slightly different: some more open and modern, others more structured and traditional.

    It was a genuinely enjoyable thing to do in Chiang Mai, and even if the session felt a little too focused on meditation for me personally, I found myself reflecting deeply on the topics covered afterwards.

  • Travel fatigue in Ho Chi Minh city: my sixth week as a digital nomad in Asia (2025)

    Most people go to Vietnam with intention – whether that’s to enjoy the history, the food or the landscapes. But too much planning can kill the thrill of travel, so when I arrived in April 2025, following a week of pure luxury on the golden sands of Koh Rong Sanloem in Cambodia I didn’t have much of a view as to what to expect.

    What I did know is that it would be very busy (or “cognitively demanding” as this article puts it) – and pulling into Saigon after eight days on a paradise island was certainly an assault on the senses.

    Real life Mario Kart

    In some ways, my biggest takeaway from those first few days was simply the traffic. I’d been quite cavalier about jumping on motorcycles (Grabs) through Thailand, Laos and Cambodia so didn’t change my routine initially. But if you’re going to Ho Chi Minh City, I’d actually advise taking cars wherever you can (see my instagram reel for chaos in 4K).

    The density of traffic here is some of the worst in the world, and whilst the idea of playing real-life Mario Kart sounds fun, it’s best enjoyed against friends from the sofa in my book and I wish I’d been more careful (though I clearly survived to tell the tale!). Don’t risk your life to save a couple of pounds on a Grab. I’d also think twice before riding your own bike in Ho Chi Minh (!) unless you truly understand this part of the world. 

    If you need more convincing, even my Uber driver was visibly scared picking me up during rush hour. And crossing the road? Don’t even try it. Saigon does not stop for you, and I nearly learned that the hard way.

    A long overdue history lesson

    Anyone that’s spent time in Asian cities will understand how overwhelming they can be. Rather than attempt to get to know Ho Chi Minh in much detail, I preserved my energy with visits to two of the city’s most important historic attractions – the War Remnants Museum and the Cu Chi tunnels.

    I’d been having a great time on my trip, soaking up the recent history of Laos and Cambodia. The Vietnam war – or as they’d call it, the “American war” – is something I was never really taught at school, and I felt a pull to understand it better. 

    If you like to dig into the weeds of things like I do, my biggest tip for the museum would be to go there with some background context. On the 9 hour coach trip from Sihanoukville, I had been listening to The Rest Is History series on the conflict (something I continued with whilst on the Ha Giang Loop) which gave me a helpful grounding in the events leading up to it. Otherwise, it could feel overwhelming – it did go on for twenty years, after all!

    In my naivety, I didn’t expect the museum to be so anti American. It’s obviously curated from a communist Vietnamese perspective, and being able to compare the two narratives side by side, was one of the most interesting parts of the experience. Whilst it helped me hold both viewpoints in balance, the long and short of it is that it was a painfully drawn out shit show, especially right at the end.

    Keen to deepen my knowledge, I took a tour to the Cu Chi tunnels, where the Viet Cong (communist resistance) lived underground during the war. Crawling through the tunnels, and hearing about how terrible it was for them (and also the soldiers they killed) really provides a reality check of how brutal that conflict must have been. I noticed a lot of Vietnamese people I spoke to still used the name Saigon to describe the city, which speaks to the differing political viewpoints people there still have. 

    Re-energising myself with a cooked breaky

    But aside from my history lessons – and some very good vegan bánh mì – I didn’t spend a huge amount of time exploring Ho Chi Minh, so apologies that I can’t give more of a deep dive. Simply put, ‘travel fatigue’ had set in, and it was especially acute given I’d just had a wonderful time in Cambodia.

    I’d been travelling around Asia as a digital nomad for about six weeks. I wasn’t working full-time, but moving constantly, leaving people behind, meeting new ones, and planning every next step was a lot to process, both mentally and physically. At just over a month in, it was starting to take its toll, and I simply didn’t have the same energy for new experiences as I had at the beginning.

    Rightly or wrongly, this most likely shaped my first impressions of Vietnam. For an insight into my head space – on my second morning, I got in an Uber and asked to be taken to Melbourne Café for a fry-up. My first Western meal of the trip, in Vietnam! Some might find that sacrilege, but you’ve got to have those home comforts some times. I’d never been so happy to see a baked bean, but I assure you that I went straight back to eating local food after that.

    It’s good to know your limits, and given that so much ‘nomad’ content is overly positive, I’m happy to share that perspective. After all, I want this blog to be an honest reflection of my experience. So, after two days, I headed north, arriving in the lantern-lit streets of Hoi An – where things immediately brightened up.

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