WOMEN MEETS WORLD

  • Why nomads shouldn’t sleep on Siem Reap

    History meets modernity in this vibrant Cambodian city.

    I didn’t really know what to expect from Siem Reap when I booked a flight there in early March. Obviously I’d heard of Angkor Wat, but the city itself didn’t seem to be talked about much in digital nomad circles online.

    At this point, I had been travelling around Southeast Asia as a freelance remote worker for four weeks. Having just wasted five days throwing up in Vang Vieng in Laos (don’t go there), I was keen to find somewhere I could properly base myself for a bit, get some work done, and have at least one significant cultural experience.

    I ended up spending a week in Siem Reap, working lightly from abroad, pampering myself, sampling the nightlife and visiting the historic sites. I have to say I was really pleasantly surprised by it and could have stayed longer – here’s why.

    A vibrant urban jungle

    First of all, it feels nothing like Bangkok or Hanoi, both of which I found a little overstimulating.

    Unlike Bangkok (where I started), the city is not full of high-rise buildings, and there seems to be a lot more space to roam around than there is in Hanoi – at least in the old French Quarter (in the centre). That’s partly due to a heritage rule that limits building heights, giving the city a less imposing, more town-like feel. In fact, it reminded me of a larger Luang Prabang (Laos).

    It’s also incredibly colourful. The first thing I did after leaving the airport was take an electric tuk-tuk into the city centre, about half an hour away. As we got closer, it seemed I was shaded by trees much of the time.

    The buildings are a mix of colonial-era French and traditional Khmer styles, as opposed to the more brutalist vibe of Phnom Penh, which is a constant reminder of Cambodia’s dark past. Many exteriors are covered in plants and foliage, giving the city a calm, verdant feel – something like an urban jungle, which I found quite soothing.

    Is there a nomad “scene”?

    There is definitely a remote-working community here, but it’s not massive. I overheard young English and European speakers chatting about their lives in cafes, and know people who are based there permanently as teachers.

    As a communications consultant, my work mostly consists of sending emails, writing articles, and taking video calls, so I cannot speak to wifi speeds in much depth – I defer to reddit forums for that kind of information.

    But a lot of the cafes were well set up for laptops, with decent WiFi, air conditioning, and private rooms to take calls, which is another giveaway.

    Some of my favourite spots to “plug in” in Siem Reap included:

    Footprint Cafe – feels like sitting in a small library. It has links to the University of Cambridge in the UK, and seemed like a good place to meet people.

    New Leaf Eatery – excellent vegan food, with noticeboards full of flyers for local events and clubs. The restaurant supports youth development in Siem Reap.

    Common Grounds – situated on one of the prettiest streets in the city, I came here twice for breakfast and the air conditioning. All profits support humanitarian and development work in Cambodia.

    Biolab Coffee – designed with nomads in mind, it also functions as a coworking space and is well set up for meetings.

    A conscious community

    Cambodia has a very painful recent past, which was one of the reasons I was keen to visit. During the late 20th century, the country suffered years of civil war, partly shaped by the wider conflict in neighbouring Vietnam.

    This was followed by the tyranny of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge, a brutally cruel regime that resulted in the deaths of around a third of Cambodia’s population. Because Pot targeted people he considered to be “intellectual”, after its collapse in 1979, the country faced a massive shortage of teachers and professionals. Illiteracy rates climbed to nearly 40%, and the education system had to be rebuilt from scratch.

    That history still feels present, and one noticeable outcome is how many businesses focus on reinvesting money and support back into the local community, as you’ll see from my descriptions about the cafes above.

    I talked a little in my Chiang Mai blog about the ethics of being a nomad, and the experience of being somewhere, whilst not totally immersed. The people of Siem Reap call you to do the opposite, and I really liked that about it.

    Which Wat is Wat?

    Another point of appeal for Siem Reap is that is is soaked in modern and ancient history – being home to the city of Angkor – so there’s quite a bit to get your teeth into on your days off.

    Built in the twelfth century, Angkor was the centre of the Khmer Empire, a powerful kingdom that once dominated much of Southeast Asia. At its peak, it was home to around a million people, making it the largest pre-industrial city known to exist.

    As the Khmer empire dissolved, Angkor became a ruin. Whilst it was known to the local community, it wasn’t until around 200 years ago that archeologists got their hands on it, and made it a major tourist attraction. It remains the largest religious (Hindu/Buddhist) monument in the world, at three times the size of the Vatican City, and a lot of it is still in tact.

    One or two days in Angkor?

    Because there’s so much to see, visitors can buy either a one-day ticket ($37), a three-day ticket ($62) or a seven-day ticket ($72).

    I’d heard sunrise or sunset were the best times to go, so on my first day, I set an alarm for 3am and joined a Get Your Guide tour. The tour cost around £10, including transport – which felt like a bargain.

    By 5am, I was standing in front of the iconic towers of Angkor Wat with about 20 thousand other tourists trying to get a photo of the sun rising over the “pine cones”. As it turns out, these are actually lotus buds, and represent purity, divinity, and fertility. Lovely!

    As someone with no background on the place, I was really amazed by the scale of Ankor, and the level of preservation, which is why so many people advise getting the three day pass (which I opted for). But I will go out on a limb and say that one day was enough for me.

    This is the very ancient past we’re talking about, and there’s only so much your brain can take in when you’re tired and hot. Our guide wasn’t brilliant at bringing it to life either – much unlike our guide in Phom Pehn (which I visited after Siem Reap), who did an incredible job at illustrating the horror of the killing fields and S21.

    I had learned by this point in my trip to just take in what I could manage, and then read or listen to something later in order to get the full picture. When I went back at sunset a couple of days later, I booked a tuk-tuk to take me around the key buildings I hadn’t yet seen (costing around £15 for the day) and it was far less busy. more relaxing and I was able to google things on the way.

    If you’re taking a tour, bring plenty of water. It gets hot very quickly!

    Visiting Kampong Phluk village on Tonlé Sap lake

    Another cool thing to do is go to Tonlé Sap lake, just outside of Siem Reap, to see a “floating” villages.

    What’s fascinating about Tonlé Sap is that its river system reverses twice a year. In the dry season it drains into the Mekong, but during the wet season, silt from the Mekong Delta causes the river to back up, flooding much of the country and expanding the lake. So a lot of the villages here are built on tall stilts to avoid the rising water.

    We visited one called Kampong Phluk. It was dry when we arrived, so we could walk about the village easily enough. It was very lively, with a wedding underway, a school in full swing, and music blaring. The houses are beautifully colourful, which apparently helps keep flies and mosquitoes away at night.

    The highlight was when we were taken by boat to a “floating restaurant” on the lake, where we spent a few hours chatting over beers and watching the sunset. You cannot see land for miles, so it’s quite surreal to be sitting on a raft in the middle of the water drinking beers. I believe there are crocodiles in the water though, so do not advise swimming in it!

    A day tour felt like plenty, but I know someone who stayed there for a month, so there’s clearly more to it for those who want to dig deeper.

    Lots to offer and well connected

    It might not be a headline digital nomad hub, but if you’re a remote worker looking for somewhere cheap, lively, and historically intriguing to linger, Siem Reap has a lot to offer.

    Not only is it a great mix of culture, calm, and coffee, Koh Rong, Koh Rong Sanloem and Phnom Penh are all reachable within the day, and it has its own airport in case you needed to hop out of the country quickly.

    Yes, price are a little higher than Thailand and Laos – roughly £3 to £5 for a meal, for instance – but still very affordable. I could have certainly stayed longer, but the islands were calling me, so I spent the following week decompressing on the beach. It’s a hard life being a nomad!

  • Serendipity at Sanloem – what a week in the Cambodian islands taught me about gratitude

    “Trust me, it’s paradise.”

    Beach bliss at Koh Rong Samloem

    “Why have I done this?” I thought, looking up at the dirt track ahead of me. Some thirty minutes earlier, I’d left the gleaming white sands of Saracen Bay, on the Cambodian island of Koh Rong Sanloem. Now I was headed to the other side of the island for a digital detox. But I hadn’t expected the inner landscape to be so – well – natural.

    With no internet connection, I was relying on a screenshot of the map to get me through the brush before dusk. Noticing how late it was, I pulled my backpack higher on my shoulders, and ploughed onward.

    Crossing from Saracen Bay to Sunset Beach on the other side

    Bingo. A bit further along, someone had painted ‘Sunset Beach’ on a piece of wood, pointing down to the right. I headed into a copse of trees and started clambering back down toward the coastline. Five minutes later, I arrived at a big bamboo structure. Sunboo Beach Bungalows. “This better be worth it.” I thought.

    Saved by the board

    “Georgina! Welcome!” A voice stopped me in my tracks. It was Paulo, the owner. “I’ve got you a lemonade.” Gasping with gratitude, I gulped down the liquid and thus began an adventure that would leave me reflecting deeply on the power of serendipity.

    “A decade ago, nothing was here.” Paulo told me. Portuguese by birth, he came to Sunset Beach around this time to support a friend launching a hotel business. The result was Sunboo, a mix of tipis and bamboo dorms situated right on the beach (thank you, solar power) complete with a restaurant, kitchen, yoga platform, tiki bar and hammocks.

    Despite feeling luxurious, there’s nothing posey about Sunboo. It has a cosy, rustic feel, led in part by its small team, who have been there since the start. It’s the kind of place where you’ll find yourself chatting to them all by name (and vice versa) and actively spending time with the staff during the week. You’re not just a faceless guest here, which felt very reassuring to me, after six weeks alone.

    Robinson Crusoe eat your heart out

    The bay itself, with its pink, green, blue and yellow hues, is otherworldly. At only 500 metres long, it feels like a safe little cocoon. Every evening, people come together on the beach to watch the sunsets, which are the best on the island (expect different colours depending on the weather).

    Hues of heaven – the view from Sunboo

    Flanked either side of Sunboo, is a handful of other small businesses including a surf and dive shop, some small restaurants, and some other places to stay. Paulo was quick to inform me who they are, and what they do: “we help each other out.” He said.

    For instance, Sunboo doesn’t provide WiFi, but we could get a little bit next door as long as we bought a coffee (fair). Later in the week we found ourselves swapping games with another place down the beach: “ah, Kamaku has it!” They said. If they couldn’t fit you into the dorm another night, they’d see who else has a free room. Everyone worked together as opposed to against each other.

    I was particularly lucky the week I was there. There were only a handful of guests, and they were mostly solo like me.

    One day I was watching the bright white lighting on the beach from a blacked out hut, before seeking refuge at Sunboo’s protective bamboo fortress.

    As the hot, heavy rain hit the sand, Paulo, Nadia and Cori (spearheading yoga) sealed the walls with material shutters, and we settled in for a pizza from Sunboo’s incredible kitchen, and a cosy game of Catan.

    Taking shelter from the storm

    Forming a fast bond after that, we spent eight glorious days doing yoga, playing games, eating fresh fish, snorkelling, kayaking, reading and getting progressively drunk at the Tiki Bar with Hiro.

    Ready for my nightcap

    It was the highlight of my time in South East Asia and it all happened by chance.

    I’d actually made plans to visit the Thai islands instead, but changed my mind after spending a rather depressing day in Phnom Penh seeing the Killing Fields and S21 (essential learning).

    Then it was a choice of Koh Rong or Koh Rong Sanloem. I knew nothing about either of them, but had heard that the latter is smaller, less developed and had just gotten an internet connection a couple of months prior (and that’s only at Saracen Bay.) After a miserable bout of food poisoning in Vang Vieng, Laos, it felt like the right decision.

    Whether it was the setting, timing, or company, our special week was the result of many factors working in quiet harmony. And that analogy speaks to Sunset Beach as well.

    Yes it’s beautiful. But that’s not the only thing that makes it stand out. It’s the history; the mix of Cambodian and international businesses; the relationships that have been formed over years. The people all come with a unique story and personality, adding colour to the place that is their home. And this blend of ingredients cannot be replaced or taken for granted.

    Devastatingly though, it is. Because the businesses here have been asked to pack up and leave within the next four years to make way for developments.

    Whilst they’re hopeful for more time, if the landlord decides to sell the land to investors, the bamboo structure, which the founders of Sunboo lovingly and painstakingly assembled into their home and livelihood, will be dismantled.

    The hammocks will be taken down, the games packed away, and this magical community divided. All to make way for bigger, glossier, pricier hotels.

    We’ve probably all read or watched The Beach by Alex Garland.

    As I looked out at the Gulf of Thailand one day, I thought about how that story captured hearts, and its parallels to Sunset Beach. Despite descending into darkness, the concept of a legendary self-contained community fascinates people. As a result, many tourists went searching for it – ultimately destroying the “real” magic Maya Bay in Thailand, where it was filmed.

    You cannot recreate the lived experience, the serendipity, or connections that make a place alive.

    That’s why the idea of wiping out Sunset Beach in favour of a bunch of soulless hotels feels appalling. Meaningful places, whether for travel or in everyday life, are rarely manufactured. They are nurtured over time, by people, stories, and happenstance – so they need to be appreciated for what they are, in the moment.

    Because I stayed longer than anticipated, on my second to last day, I had to return to Saracen Bay to work. After another thirty minute walk across the island to Sunset Beach, I arrived once again at the uphill dirt track. But I wasn’t frustrated this time. I was energised. Because I knew, on the other side I’d be met with a cold lemonade and a slice of paradise.

  • Is Luang Prabang better than Chiang Mai for digital nomads?

    Why this Laotian town is an unexpected delight.

    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.

    Firstwhere 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?

  • Swinging from the tree tops at The Gibbon Experience, Laos

    I cross from Thailand to Laos, for a proper weekend off.

    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?

    Entering Laos via the Thai Laos Friendship Bridge

    First of all, I had to get from Chiang Mai in Thailand – where I’d been working for the week – to Laos. That meant crossing the Thai Laos Friendship Bridge.

    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

  • What impact are nomad communities having in places like Chiang Mai?

    After my week of work in Chiang Mai, I wonder – is a Bali-esque boom and bust on the horizon?

    It’s no secret that Thailand is popular with digital nomads. Interest in the Destination Thailand Visa (DTV) underscores this appeal – offering a five-year, multiple-entry visa, it surpassed 35,000 applicants when it launched last year (2025). Aimed at remote workers and location-independent professionals, the DTV offers an affordable and flexible long-term stay, making it a central pillar of Thailand’s strategy to boost tourism and strengthen its economy.

    With great prices, food, weather, and landscape, Thailand does appear to have it all. But having worked from several international “nomad” hotspots in the last year, I have found myself becoming less interested in what I can get out of the places I visit, and more concerned with the impact I’m having there.

    Definitions of digital nomads have changed, after all. The 2010 “stereotype” was that of a “joyful millennial working from a laptop on a beach” (Hart, 2015; Spinks, 2015). A handful of people were doing it, many of whom were bloggers, making it pretty harmless.

    Now, an era of flexible working, long-term visas, and steep rents in places like Sydney and London mean people are choosing to work remotely abroad for the long haul, (coined as “slowmadism”).

    Western incomes stretch further abroad, and that money benefits local economies. But academics worry there could be broader ramifications for destinations in the Global South already experiencing forms of transnational gentrification, as a result of remote workers.

    Chiang Mai’s appeal might also be its downfall

    Chiang Mai, a city in the northern mountains of Thailand, has attracted thousands of digital nomads in recent years. The effects of this migration are already being felt, with this case study suggesting the long-term nomad presence is reshaping neighbourhoods, increasing demand for foreign-facing businesses, and driving up rents – factors which affect both visitors and locals.

    I observed some of this myself when I visited in February 2025. There’s still a ton of local food spots, of course, but it seemed that many of the cafés, services, juice bars, and co-working spaces had been created for foreigners (or those with laptops).

    My lovely host in Chiang Mai

    Fon, a restaurant owner, confirmed that even local food stops have “increased their prices by 5–10 Baht” since the 2020 pandemic. Whilst the minimum wage has increased slightly too, it is unclear whether it’s enough, or what the future repercussions could be over time.

    What about integration? Of the nomads I met in Chiang Mai, some worked in tourism or as teachers, and others were learning Thai. Billy, an American who moved to Chiang Mai two years ago, loves his life here as a teacher. He said that despite the number of expats from Myanmar, China, and Western countries, local people still strongly embrace their mai pen rai – a “no worries” attitude – and hold tightly to their Lanna cultural identity. On the trips he’s been on, there’s just as many Thai locals as there are nomads and expats, he says.

    Whilst that is reassuring, having spoken to a lot of nomads working from businesses based outside Thailand, most treated the city as a satellite office, and were there to enjoy the comfort and low costs rather than integrate into the fabric of the place. I can’t help but wonder how sustainable that is – especially given that most nomads leave in the early part of each year during “burning season” – which must affect rental competition, business, and the vibe.

    Meals cost £1-3

    Based on my chats with people there, part of Chiang Mai’s appeal – compared to say, the Thai islands – is that it feels more “authentic,” or at least less mediated by mass tourism. Fon is from Prachinburi, and moved here five years ago. “People from here have a strong sense of culture, pride, and local traditions,” she said. This is in part due to the highly esteemed university and active student culture.

    Evening chants at Doi Suthep are popular

    As more people move here to work, however – which is likely, in the wake of this visa – I suspect local businesses and authorities will keep shaping things to meet foreign interests, expectations and spending habits.

    After all, nomads are not tourists in the traditional sense. They need a more fixed base, comfort, friends, places to live, reliable internet access, and familiar home comforts. I went for dinner with people from a newly launched co-living residence, for example – something that’s becoming more common, and speaks to the desire for permanence.

    Another challenge that comes with growing numbers of long-term visitors, is waste management. Chiang Mai already feels stretched in terms of infrastructure, and more people inevitably means more rubbish. Bali, for example, is grappling with a well-documented waste crisis, and while I wasn’t able to investigate in depth here, this blog provides some interesting context about recycling and waste handling in Thailand.

    I tried hard to minimise my footprint by carrying a Grayl water filter bottle and a foldable dog bowl for takeaway food, but the broader issue is harder to tackle. How the city will cope with more residents and their impact on waste, water, and energy systems remains to be seen. “Waste and water management have not kept up with growth,” said Fon.

    Is it overcrowded already?

    In terms of capacity – like I said, it already feels quite busy, and judging by comments on Reddit forums from long-term nomads, that seems to be the case. I found myself standing at traffic lights for around ten minutes in Nimman, trying to cross the road, for instance.

    All the Grab drivers wore masks to protect themselves from the terrible air quality, which will surely worsen as traffic increases. Electricity wires hung about precariously, which had me wondering how much additional strain the desire for faster internet was putting on infrastructure.

    According to Fon, my observations were valid. “The cost of utilities has risen dramatically,” she said. “The condition of the roads is abysmal, and there’s no real public transportation despite the demand. There are more vehicles on the roads each year as a result.”

    A lot Chiang Mai is undeniably charming, and you can tell why people like it here. The Old Town is beautiful, a square of ancient walls, temples, lanterns, and slow, warm evenings. I really enjoyed my first few days staying just south of it, near Wua Lai Walking Street Market, a quieter part of town that still felt full of character.

    There are some beautiful hikes nearby, and lots of stunning wats to explore – I even spent one day speaking to monks when I visited (you can read my blog about this here).

    Overall though, I seemed to leave Chiang Mai with more questions than answers. It will be interesting to see how it changes over the next decade, and how the Thai government will manage the steady influx of people (or indeed, decline, if that happens). Is another Bali boom and bust on the horizon?

    Dinner with a gang of travellers I befriended

    Exploring the local temples

  • Can you watch Netflix? Lessons from my Chiang Mai “Monk Chat” experience

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

    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 to experience life as a digital nomad, 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?

    It’s all about balance

    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.

    Question time

    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. 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.

    What about the women?

    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.

    This interview on the topic expands on why this is, and how this landscape is shifting. I’ve also added some videos from the sessions on my instagram (@womanmeetsw0rld).

    Is it worth attending?

    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.

    It’s not a bad way to spend a day off from work, is it?

    Trapped by traffic in Nimman, Chiang Mai

  • Had I bitten off more than I could chew? My third day as a nomad in Asia

    As a headache took hold at the Grand Palace, I wondered if I’d made a mistake moving abroad.

    On the third day of my first-ever trip to Asia – having started a new chapter as a “digital nomad” at 32 – I awoke full of adrenalin and ready to see some other ‘must sees’ on my list.

    Equipped with snacks from the 7/11 – a backpackers’ sanctuary – I headed out toward a local market, dodging traffic at every turn.

    Suddenly, whilst approaching a railway track, I noticed a curious sight. Tucked along either side were small houses beneath the Expressway, and people were crossing the tracks and disappearing from view. Where are they going? I wondered.

    As I ventured further, it became clear that the place was quietly teeming with life. To my left, a family was sitting down for a meal; to my right, a man was gutting fish. It was a tiny community, living in a traffic sandwich.

    Life must be loud for this community under the expressway

    A fish restaurant alongside the railway track

    Bangkok – home to 11.4m people – is not a place where wealth is equally distributed. To think they were wedged beneath the underpass like this, with cars and mopeds on all sides and trains cutting through (I presume), demonstrates how crammed with people it is.

    Visiting the flower market

    Eventually, I found myself at Pak Khlong Talat, the city’s primary flower market, tucked into the Wang Burapha Phirom subdistrict. Unlike the railway community, this one I found in Condé Nast. Because sometimes you need a little guidance!

    I went in the late afternoon and watched the vendors setting up while people drifted through. Spotting yellow flowers (marigolds) everywhere, a quick Google revealed that they’re closely associated with Buddhism and the late King.

    You’ll find references to the monarchy all over Bangkok, and it appears central to Thai life.

    I learned how to say good morning (“sawatdee kha”) and we had a little tête-à-tête in broken English, between lots of smiling and cooing at the dogs and cats – luckily there’s only one language for cute!

    Insiders say to visit the flower market at 3am

    Word has it, the best time to come here is in the middle of the night, when the freshest blooms arrive. But it’s a great place to cool off during the day.

    OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

    China Town and Khao San Road

    Toward nightfall, I headed to Chinatown for some chow. What did I fancy? I asked myself manoeuvring down the stalls. Scorpions? Crickets? I was (sort of) tempted to try the edible insects but didn’t want to get sick straight away.

    Scorpions, anyone?

    I eventually settled on some Chinese chive cakes followed by some “kanom krok” – little coconut pancakes.

    Locusts aside, if you’re vegetarian, you’ll find some decent options here, even though Asia is generally a pretty meat-heavy place.

    Delicious veggie dumplings in China Town

    By this point, it was getting a little late. But Bangkok buzzes at all times. Do I want to go to Khao San Road? I pondered, between mouthfalls. For the uninitiated, this is a famous street in Bangkok, known for its thriving nightlife.

    I truly did not, but knew I’d regret not seeing it. It wasn’t far away, so I hopped into my first colourful – and probably overpriced – TukTuk by the market, for around £7.

    The ride itself was great fun. But the strip at Khao San – not for me. I’ve always preferred to watch the Inbetweeners from behind a screen, not as a lived experience, so this was a good early lesson in trusting my instincts.

    The throng of drunk bodies in the heat was overwhelming, and I took nothing from it, save cooling down in the breeze from the TukTuk.

    Ever impressed by the public transport in Bangkok, I spared my lungs the Grab bike this time (although I was getting hooked on them!), and caught a bus all the way home.

    Visiting the Grand Palace

    By the next day, I needed some greenery.

    Bangkok might look and seem like a concrete jungle, but a third of the city is parkland, and I’d vowed to visit Lumpini Park and Bang Kachao, the so-called ‘Green Lung’ of Bangkok, for a bike ride.

    Unable to postpone my ‘flexible’ flight ticket to Chiang Mai, however, I panicked and decided to visit Bangkok’s famous temples instead: Grand Palace, Wat Pho and / or Wat Arun.

    I really hate when tourist attractions are rammed down my throat, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that the Grand Palace was a bit over-hyped. But I was in South East Asia, so it felt like an attraction I couldn’t miss.

    Wat did I think of them? It’s tricky. Religious Studies was my favourite subject at school, and I resonated strongly with the story and teachings of Buddhism. As a 15 year old, it was the first religion I’d encountered that didn’t seem to be predicated on power.

    I respect that they are culturally important and tried my best, in the heat, to take in the majesty of it all. But after a two hours, I was a little bored.

    Not just that, but – quite unsurprisingly – the place is hugely overcrowded. They don’t show you that on TikTok or Pinterest do they!

    Wat Pho is famous for the immense Reclining Buddha

    Reality check at the temples – they’re crowded!

    I wish I’d followed through with my first plan. Does this mean I lack depth? I thought with panic. Maybe. But who cares. Life’s short. There’s nothing wrong with chasing lizards in the park. They’re cool as hell!

    Monitor lizards roam the park and canal freely

    As a headache took hold, I learned my first lesson as a digital nomad: if I wanted to work and travel, I’d have to manage both my time and my energy levels properly. I was alone, in a foreign place, in a much hotter climate – that’s a lot to navigate on top of a job, and I hadn’t even got started yet.

    Sitting on the flight to Chiang Mai, clutching my carry on, I wondered – had I bitten off more than I could chew?

  • Dodging lizards in Bangkok – My first 24 hours as a nomad in Asia

    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

  • I swapped London for nomad life in Asia. Was it worth it?

    In early 2025, I left London and headed to Southeast Asia to see what life was really like as a digital nomad. One year on, was it worth it?

    FEBRUARY 24, 2026 WOMEN MEETS WORLD

    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.

    Happy reading.

    Chiang Mai, Thailand (February 2025)

    Blue Mountains, Sydney, Australia (April 2025)

    Porto, Portugal (September 2025)

    Moffat, Scotland (December 2025)