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.
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 giving up full-time work in the UK in early 2025, I travelled around South East Asia for two and a half months as a freelancer, spending time in a number of well-known digital nomad hubs across Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam.
Because of its long-established digital nomad scene, Chiang Mai in northern Thailand was a place I was particularly interested in visiting. It’s often held up as one of the best cities in the region for remote work, so I arrived with fairly high expectations.
But despite spending a week there, I didn’t find myself overly impressed with it (read this blog to find out why).
From Chiang Mai, I crossed the Thai–Laos Friendship Bridge into Laos and spent three days doing the Gibbon Experience in Nam Kan national park. After an intense and memorable few days in the jungle, I needed to knuckle down again and get some work done, so I took a slow boat down the Mekong River towards the town of Luang Prabang.
Having not really planned this leg of the trip, I arrived with zero expectations, but was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed Luang Prabang – and would even argue that it’s more desirable for digital nomads than Chiang Mai.
First – where is Laos and what’s Luang Prabang like?
Laos is the long thin country between Thailand and Vietnam. It was part of French Indochina from the late 1800s to the 1950s, and very heavily bombed in the 60s by the US. As a result, the country is pretty poor, and still deeply affected by unexploded ordnance.
You won’t see that in Luang Prabang, however. Here, the mix of French and local influence gives the town a very distinct feel. It’s very pretty with its leafy avenues, low-rise temples, and colourful wooden houses, in a way that I really didn’t expect after a 48 hour ride down the Mekong.
The town has a quiet, leisurely vibe (typical of Laos), with lots of cute french-style bakeries and Laotian markets and eateries. I spent five days or so working from the cafes, having massages, and doing yoga. On the additional days, I visited Kuang Si Waterfall, and took a two day excursion to the towns of Nong Khiaw and Muang Ngoi (details on all that, to come).
Comparison to Chiang Mai?
One of the reasons Chiang Mai is consistently ranked as one of Southeast Asia’s top digital nomad hubs, is due to its fast and reliable internet (often cited at 100–300 Mbps), large established nomad community, and abundance of coworking spaces and long-stay accommodation.
In Luang Prabang, average internet speeds are significantly slower (often cited at under 10 Mbps), and the remote-worker community is small and informal (i.e. not organised around coworking hubs).
But if you prioritise calm, beauty and balance over infrastructure and networking, Luang Prabang might appeal to you more. Having spent a week in both places, Luang Prabang felt far less busy, and like it hadn’t been manufactured for tourists. I had an easy time taking video calls, sending emails and uploading and downloading word documents.
I didn’t make an effort to investigate the long-term situation (e.g. Facebook groups etc), but did see and overhear a lot of people speaking English on calls and using their laptops. Overall, my Reddit research suggests Luang Prabang is becoming more popular with digital nomads, but it does not appear to be swamped by them.
My recommendations
Luang Prabang is the kind of place where you’ll leave feeling you left no stone unturned, which I personally enjoy. Here’s what I tried and loved there:
Excursions
Nong Khiaw and Pha Daeng Peak – this was one of my absolute highlights in Laos, second to the Gibbon Experience. The village is based a few hours north from Luang Prabang, on the Nam Ou river, and is famous for its Jurassic Park worthy karst mountains. You can climb the Pha Daeng Peak viewpoint relatively quickly (although it is very tiring!) and – if on a tour – sleep at the top to catch the sunset and sunrise. If you’re lucky, you’ll wake up at 6am to see a magnificent cloud inversion hugging the cliff top. Word of warning though, I nearly froze to death at the top (in March) – so bring layers clothes for night time.
Muang Ngoi – this is another, smaller village just down the river from Nong Khiaw. Whilst tourists can and do go there, it’s very traditional. You can only get there by boat which controls tourist traffic. That’s why it’s so charming. I went as part of a group trip that included an overnight stay in a home stay. We ended up having *quite a few* beers and playing petanque with the residents, and it became one of my more memorable nights out, that’s for sure! The beer could really be felt the next day, as our guide took us for another hike up the cliff (in his flip flops) and we almost passed away at the top.
Kuang Si Waterfall – this is an incredible multi-tiered waterfall about 29km south of Luang Prabang. You can share a tuktuk to the waterfront pretty easily. It’s one of those Instagram spots that attracts a lot of tourists and posers, sadly. But if you arrive at around 4pm, just before closing, most people will have gone and you can use the hour to swim and take photos. As far as natural waterfalls go, this is one you won’t want to miss.
Cafés and restaurants
Essential experiences for every tourist or nomad, and Luang Prabang really delivered on this front. Some of my favourites from the week included:
Saffron Coffee – right on the Mekong, great for a slow morning, and laptop friendly
Two Little Birds – a delicious vegan spot
Atsalin Restaurant – excellent mix of local food. Laos is so cheap, just order it all (I ended up sharing it with a girl next to me and we had a nice chinwag)
Spas
To get a facial for under £40 is impossible in the UK, so I treated myself every week pretty much, whilst in Asia! Highlights from Luang Prabang include:
MK Spa – This was a great little spa. I had a massage and body scrub. It was very affordable and really well done
KHMU Spa – More central. I had a decent massage here, and there’s a little heritage house next door worth popping into
Prices range from £8-15.
Yoga
I tried two studios:
Yoga Grasshopper Yoga
Luang Prabang Yoga
Both felt modern, and were run by Europeans. They had full schedules, with cafés attached and regular events so I imagine it would be a nice place to make friends.
Nightlife
There’s not much of a clubbing vibe in Luang Prabang, but the cocktail bars are genuinely lovely. I went for drinks with a friend at Sisavangvong Road, which is perfect for a chilled evening and felt like a classy ‘strip’.
If you’re backpacking, there’s also a weirdly famous bowling alley that everyone goes to at night. It sounds odd, but it was actually pretty fun and a nice change from the basic backpacker bars.
Final Thoughts
I wouldn’t say Luang Prabang is unmissable; but if you have the time and leisure, you won’t regret adding it to your itinerary – especially if you’re travelling from North to South Laos (or vice versa).
Prepare for a few days of good coffee, pampering, peaceful (and modest) temples, and easy trips into some of the most beautiful scenery in Southeast Asia.
It’s calm, welcoming, and – for me – was the perfect place to catch up on work and recover following the Gibbon Experience in Huay Xai. And did I mention the pastries?
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!
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.
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).
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.
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!
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
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.
