My Singapore stopover

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.

I finally take a spin on those coconut boats.

After a whirlwind weekend in Ho Chi Minh City – my sixth week as a digital nomad in Asia – I took a short flight northward to the central coast of Vietnam. Having depleted my energy stocks in the capital, I was looking forward to some downtime in the cutesy, lantern-lit streets of Hội An.

Sitting about halfway up the coast of Vietnam, this ancient coastal town is popular with tourists and, like any popular location, attracts mixed feedback from nomads. From people I spoke to, most tend to go to the nearby city of Da Nang because it’s right on the beach, a little more built up, and, I suspect, offers more to people wanting to build a life out here.

Luckily though, I wasn’t planning on sticking around for long, so I could lean into being a tourist a bit. Everyone has a different goal when travelling, and the whole point of my trip was to take me out of my city comfort zone, dip my toe into nomad life, and take advantage of freelancing by seeing some of the places in the world I’d always wanted to. If that’s something you’re also considering, take a read of this blog where I talk about why I left London in early 2025.

Where I stayed

Wanting to be with other travellers, I booked a dorm bed at the adorable Saclo Hostel, where I met the loveliest bunch of people. Like most hostels I stayed at during my trip, it played host to a mix of travellers and nomads in their twenties and thirties.

We ended up doing ‘family dinners’, nights out, language lessons, co-working sessions, and simply roaming around the city together, with the help of our excellent host. There was something very restorative about falling into temporary routines with strangers after the intensity of Ho Chi Minh City, especially as I’d had such a brilliant time with the Koh Rong gang.

If you’re travelling alone (and are a bit older), I’d avoid the big-brand hostels and search for smaller ones offering activities, because it often results in a much better experience.

Is there a nomad scene?

As to whether there is a “nomad scene”, it’s hard to say because I wasn’t there long, but like I said – it’s common for remote workers in this part of the world to split their time between Chiang Mai and Da Nang, which is very close to Hoi An, so there will be some crossover.

Luckily I had met some of them in Chiang Mai, which meant I had some connections locally, and I took a day trip to Da Nang waterfalls with a group of people living in a newly opened co-living space.

There’s clearly some long-time nomads in Asia making a special effort behind the scenes to create a sense of community for remotees, which I really admire. It’s difficult moving abroad, so if this is something you plan to do, make an effort to search for those people – whether it’s via flyers, reddit, or chats over coffee – and get networking!

Cafés, co-working and coconut coffees

No matter if there’s a big scene or not, behind those lantern-lit fronts are a ton of modern bars, bistros, and cafés, which are perfect for people needing a bit of work downtime. There are loads of veggie and vegan spots too, some even built with yoga and co-working in mind. You really don’t need to pay for spenny yoga retreats when you’re in Asia – just do it yourself!

For the authentic views – try Hub Hoi An

Few things on social media are as wonderful in reality, but that can’t be said for Hub Hoi An. Set right in the middle of electric green rice paddy fields, it fosters an authentic, off-grid feeling whilst running like a proper co-working space, with all the facilities you’d need and community events to boot. I’d highly recommend coming here if you plan to stay for a while and want to make friends. Shout out to Matt for recommending it.

For slow breakfasts and laptop hours – Nourish Eatery

This place is fab for a big breakfast or brunch (think £4-5 for a hug meal). There’s a decent upstairs area for laptops and yoga during the week too (although it’s closed on Mondays).

For escaping the hustle – The Inner Hoian

Such a cute café, hidden down a side street and surrounded by lush greenery. It felt like the sort of place you accidentally spend three hours in without realising. Also has a very dangerous little gift shop if you’re a tote bag person. Very calming energy.

Where everyone settles in for the afternoon – Goodeats Hoi An

This spot is super relaxed and remote-work friendly, but I also noticed lots of families hanging out here too. One of those places where everyone seems to naturally settle in for the afternoon.

For the best iced coffee – Hoian Roastery

Home to the best iced coconut coffee I had in Vietnam, and the most accommodating manager.

Instagram reality check

Taking a bike through the paddy fields at sunrise, sampling cafés, and hunting for the best bánh mìs – this is the kind of thing that brings me joy. But like most spots in Asia, the town also offers the option of taking cooking classes, coffee-making workshops, visiting the nearby coast at Da Nang, or getting a dress or suit made (which I did do, although I’m yet to wear her).

That said, like all places in Asia, it would be remiss of me not to do the old “Instagram v reality” wake-up call. Some fun, but slightly overrated, activities for me were:

The coconut boats

I had a feeling they wouldn’t really be my thing, but I did them anyway because they’re so iconic. It’s cheap and only takes about an hour, but the whole thing does feel a bit tourist-trappy. You’re basically spun around while people sing and ask for tips. That said, the area itself is beautiful, and it’s nice to spend some time in such an important natural space.

The lantern parade

The multicoloured canal boats are pretty enough to look at, that’s for sure. But this isn’t exactly the sweet, idyllic scene you see on TikTok. It was busy, loud, and a bit chaotic, being right by the strip with all the bars and nightlife.

I also can’t help but feel that lighting lanterns is an unsustainable practice, which really put me off. Perhaps in future there can be a way to do this that is kinder for the waterways and surrounding environment, but until then, I’m unsure how I feel about it.

Despite the slightly overrated tourist-grabbing activities – which is true for any location – I found Hoi An overall, to be as cute as a button, and ended up staying for a week (though three days is probably plenty if you’re a tourist or short on time). The chaos of Ho Chi Minh City felt miles away, replaced by the hum of scooters, the cluck of chickens, and the buzz of baristas whipping up coconut coffees.

Heading there in mid-March felt like the perfect time, as we caught a slightly cooler weather window. After March and April, it gets really hot, then really rainy, before cooling down again in January and February. (Central Vietnam can also see flooding in the later months, so check conditions before you travel.) North Vietnam gets properly cold in the early part of the year too, so plan your trip with that in mind – and do not underestimate its weird weather!

Reality bites (me) in the Vietnamese capital

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.

Breakfast at the Melbourne Cafe in Ho Chi Minh

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.

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.*

Having swapped life in London to work remotely abroad, what did the Thai capital have in store for me?

At the end of 2024, I quit my corporate job in London after eight years in the capital, and started life as a digital nomad in Asia.

It was thus that I found myself, two flights and 15 hours later, at Suvarnabhumi airport, Bangkok – freshly spray tanned, and braced for change.

After having successfully withdrawn baht, updated my family, filled my water bottle and downloaded my e-sim, I had a full two to three days to explore the city before moving North to the town Chiang Mai, a well known nomad hot spot.

I was staying in Asoke, right in the centre of the bustling mecca of Bangkok. It’s seriously busy – think wide streets laden with traffic – but a good location from which to see the main sights.

I got lost a few times, but for once there was no tube to catch, no meeting or engagement to get to. Nor was I a backpacker on a shoestring budget or timeline. Why am I rushing to my hotel? I thought with a thrill. I have time to figure it out.

As I traipsed through the streets with my rucsack, the heat started to wear a little, however. I was grateful that I’d limited myself to hand luggage only, packing just a few clothes and my refurbished MacBook Air – about the tiniest laptop ever made.

When I arrived at the lovely Samala hotel – which was later damaged in an earthquake – I cooled off with a little visit to the pool, a Singha (Thai Beer), and after a short nap, contemplated what to do next.

Snacks at Ruam Sab market

First up, food of course. The benefit of being in the business district of Bangkok is that you’re never far from a decent market.

I’d spotted Ruam Sab market on my way to the hotel, so journeyed back with my pockets jangling.

Having done a bit of prep for my time abroad (thank you RetiredWorking4U), I knew this food court was where the local office workers came for lunch. As such, it was best to arrive early – especially as I wanted to look about and soak it all in.

Vegetarians – look out for the yellow Je flag!

Whilst I was seriously tempted by the deep fried bananas, I eventually settled for some Morning Glory (water spinach) with rice, and some kind of broth, lathered with a mix of chillies, soy and fish sauce, which is typical all over Thailand.

Meat is eaten in the country, but veggie stalls sometimes have a yellow Je flag, which was a big help, as I don’t eat meat that often.

Stomach full, I was ready to get out and explore.

Touring Thonburi

Nothing beats a tour for getting your bearings, and I’d already found a business online called Hidden Bangkok Tours led by a local chap born in the area.

He runs boat trips in Thonburi, the quieter, more traditional part of Bangkok on the western side of the Chao Phraya River – the “city behind the Pagoda”, he said in one YouTube video.

There’s no doubt social media can kill your brain, but one of the lovely takeaways is finding unusual activities you might not typically consider, like this one.

Desperate to see some lizards, off I popped to Thonburi. As we journeyed through the khlong (canal) in our brightly coloured tail boat – right in the shadow of the giant golden Buddha, in fact – we had what I felt to me like a more authentic insight into the city.

Before I arrived in Bangkok, all I could picture in my head was roads, wires, and hotels – which is accurate – but I was surprised to learn that it’s also lined with waterways. In fact, it’s at huge risk of climate change due to rising sea levels from the low-lying Chao Phraya delta.

Until the late 19th century, the rivers served as the primary means of transportation for people and goods, earning it the nickname of “the Venice of the East”. Venice – in Thailand! Every day’s a school day.

Our guide explained how the old wooden houses lining the canal were what most local Thais lived in, with many families still working directly on the river (although some were now Airbnbs).

We met a couple of them, including a lady who’d sold fish on the river her whole life and, if I remember correctly, had funded her children’s university education with her earnings. I’m not sure how true this is, but either way, it’s a cool story.

Shots from Thonburi, a riverside community located on the western banks of the Chao Phraya River

Being over a century old, many of the properties – which were built on stilts – were beginning to fall into the river. Rebuilding requires official permission, which makes it difficult for residents to maintain them, although I didn’t get to the bottom of why such permission was difficult to secure, sadly.

We then stopped for coffee at an adorable, centuries old wooden house called Baan Silapin, the “Artists’ Village”. It appeared that this was where the young Thai’s hung out, and I spotted a couple on a date feeding catfish by the water – as you do.

All the colours at Baan Silapin “Artists’ Village”

Others – a mix of locals and tourists – were painting in the cafes, observing the local art, picking up trinkets, and generally slowing down. It wasn’t overcrowded, and felt a bit hipster – like a slower, hotter, Hackney Wick. Without the beanies (thankfully).

After the intensity of Asoke, this was a refreshing change of pace – a chance to see a side of Bangkok that I suspect often gets missed.

Do make time for a visit here if you need to unwind from the city.

There’s no need to get a tour, but it certainly adds context and colour. Importantly, I learned how to say Bangkok in Thai – possibly the longest word ever said – check it out:

Trying my first Khao Soi

After my cultural baptism, what else, but more food? Bloggers advised I try Pad Krapao or Khao Soi, a noodle soup in a curry broth, topped with crispy fried noodles. I was keen to work out if I could find vegetarian versions, so later caught the bus down to the thriving Vadhana District in central Bangkok.

Having been kindly directed to the right stop by a group of local ladies who’d teamed up to ensure I didn’t get lost, I found – by chance – a little place called Zong Peep, serving tofu Khao Soi. I promptly tucked into a huge bowl and a coke for the price of about £3. It was a delicious mix of salt and spice.

Khao Soi is one of the best loved dishes in Thailand

Belly full once again, I was pretty shattered and ready to hit the sheets. Do you know the way to Samala? I asked a security guard at a nearby hotel. My mate will take you, he said, shouting over to a guy on a moped.

Better not add this to my stories, I thought, knowing my Mum was watching. But no time to dwell. I pulled the helmet on and off we went, slithering down Sukhumvit in a game of real-life Mario Kart.

Back at the hotel I dived under the covers and set my alarm for an early start. Contrary to my parents’ expectations, I hadn’t been killed, kidnapped or poisoned – so all in all, a great first day.

My first moped ride of the trip

By the end of 2025, I’d completed ten months of flexible work and travel, following a stretch of steady living in London.

Between the bustle of Bangkok; the beaches of Cambodia; the quiet jungle of Bali; and the historic streets of Europe – there’d been much to absorb.

But while they were all meaningful experiences in their own way, I craved more purpose for my next adventure. 

That’s when I spotted an email from the volunteering platform, Workaway: “Hi Georgina. We saw your profile, and wondered if you would like to help out at our English language school in Scotland this December?”

Rarely in need of a reason to visit the home of the brave, a month later, I found myself in Moffat, a small town in Dumfries & Galloway.

Arriving in Moffat: Europe’s first dark sky town

Whether it’s my genes calling me home; my inner introvert sighing with relief; or long-dead dreams of witches and wizards stirring once again, something about travelling from England to Scotland felt instantly calming on that mild December evening.

The undulating hills that appear like a fortress when you cross the border are – in my mind – the perfect paradox. Comforting and haunting; cosy and spooky: inviting, and at the same time, a little threatening – especially if you’re half English.

Arriving in Moffat around 4pm, I was instantly engulfed by the velvety Scottish night. It’s especially dark here, and there’s a reason for that. 

Moffat is one of Europe’s first ‘dark sky’ towns. That means the community was so keen to see the stars, that they asked the council to lower the street lamps to reduce light pollution. 

They also built an observatory – which is very impressive, considering some towns can’t even get their potholes filled!

Our home for the period was Moffat Independent Hostel. Pulling up to the grey stone house, with its twinkling lights, oak panels and deep red carpets felt gorgeously festive, and immediately inspired my inner child.

Bonding by breaking bread  

The organisation – English Al Fresco – hosted groups of seven to eight people at the hostel for four-day stretches, during which they got to see different parts of the local area.

On arrival, I was introduced to another volunteer, Lora, whom I shared a very comfortable room with for two weeks.

We were there to help ensure the guests had a good time and could practise their English in a safe space. Not a hard job at all really!

We spent a wonderful two weeks with our guests; cooing at Highland cows, clambering around castle ruins, playing pool by the fire and drinking drams at the pub.

Every morning and evening, we ate breakfast and dinner together in the drawing room. Think eggs; coffee; cheese and hot cross buns – a feast that Hogwarts would be proud of.

Breaking bread every day became a special ritual that we all looked forward to.

Sunshine spectacular at Grey Mare’s Tail

We also had unusually mild weather, which meant we could explore the stunning scenery around us.

One morning, we took a drive to a nearby spot – Grey Mare’s Tail – for a hike.

It was drizzly, but our host promised that once we got halfway up, we’d find a surprise at the top.

Up we went on a steep incline. Around me, gasps and curses in German, Italian and Spanish mingled with the lowland fog.

When we eventually reached the top, the trail flattened out. At the same time, the clouds dispersed and the heath was plunged into bright sunshine.

The rest of the walk was a bucolic mix of browns, greens and caramels – like a rugged, tartan carpet, sitting beneath a milky blue sky.

Before arriving at the loch for lunch, we passed a guy in shorts who’d been camping at the top. In December! If you need a reminder of how resilient the Scots are, that is certainly it.

Compèring a major international event

On another evening, we headed down to the local pizza place, Kayantics, where we found a group of lads of similar age circled around the outdoor oven.

Beers were exchanged, and soon they were inviting us to an event taking place in Moffat that week; the international yodelling Olympics, no less.

“People from Sweden are attending.”

It sounded very significant indeed, and a little later, Dutch courage took hold and I found myself agreeing to compère the competition. 

Turns out, it wasn’t as serious as it sounded, but the whole town did attend for a big Christmas yod-along – some adorned with lederhosen. 

Being welcomed into the community like that was completely unexpected, and made for one of the most memorable evenings of the trip.

Bringing my year to a calm close 

I loved walking the silent, dark streets of this kind lowland town in the late afternoon, and looking up at the glimmering sky.

It wasn’t stargazing season, but when I later returned in April to look after the hostel as caretaker, volunteers at the observatory kindly guided me through a three-hour tour of the sky, where I was able to see Jupiter and its moons up close through the telescope.

After each day’s adventure, we took comfort in returning to the sparkling windows, and impenetrable stone walls of Moffat Independent Hostel for a hot chocolate (or something stronger) and a good night’s sleep.

Volunteering with English Al Fresco was exactly the kind of meaningful slow travel experience I wanted, and I came away from it feeling especially grateful, fulfilled and excited to explore more of home. 

But before then – a little rest. The year of 2025 had been a wonderful whirlwind, but my mind needed time to reflect, digest and reset, before I took off again. 

In fact, I haven’t don’t much travelling at all since then, focusing instead on building my petsitting side hustle. But as I revisit those weeks in this blog, my feet are starting to tingle.