I’ve always loved change.
I thrive in unfamiliar environments and get a kick out of last-minute plans and spontaneous adventures. So, it’s hardly surprising I became an almost-accidental “digital nomad” — a term I’ve always found incredibly cringe-inducing, for the record.
By “accidental,” I mean it happened gradually. From weekend trips from London to Marrakech and Marseille, to a month in Barcelona, and six weeks exploring Europe by train, the more I traveled, the more I wanted to see.
So, I decided to pursue a life that would allow me to hop from place to place, working remotely as a freelance journalist and copywriter. And in 2019, I hit the road full-time.
Like others tagging #todaysoffice on social media, I spent the following years surfing badly in Sri Lanka, climbing volcanoes in Guatemala, skiing in Colorado, and so much more.
But after almost seven years of traveling full-time, I decided I was ready for something different.
The nomadic lifestyle caught up to me
Aside from an extended stint in the UK during the COVID-19 pandemic, I didn’t have a stable base for more than three months at a time.
My travels brought once-in-a-lifetime experiences, and I met incredible people along the way. However, over time, the cracks in the lifestyle began to show.
Of course, it’s hard not to sound ungrateful when talking about the downsides of traveling, but it would be dishonest to ignore them — especially in an age known for glamorizing everything.
For starters, maintaining relationships can be challenging when you’re always on the move. I learned that loneliness can linger even when you’re staying in five-star hotels or lounging on tropical beaches.
Plus, packing and repacking every few days becomes tedious. As does the endless search for short-term accommodations, trawling the internet for somewhere with decent WiFi and a table I can work from. (Finding the motivation to work in such beautiful locations is another challenge in its own right.)
And sadly, after a while, even the most objectively stunning sunsets become ordinary. I’m not sure when it happened, but at some point, I stopped feeling the rush I used to get from stepping off a plane in a new place (I know, play the world’s smallest violin).
A few years ago, in the Grenadines, I asked a captain who’d been traveling for nearly 50 years how he chose where to settle. “You can search and search all your life,” he told me as we sat on the bow of his catamaran, surrounded by a pale blue sky and shimmering sea. “But sometimes you need to know when you’ve arrived.”
I didn’t fully understand it at the time, but I do now: There’s no “perfect place” to live.
So, after almost seven years abroad, I finally decided it was time to find a home base.
The itch to keep moving hasn’t disappeared, but my craving for routine is stronger
Choosing where to establish my home base was harder than I expected. For a long time, nothing felt right.
I wasn’t looking for a traditional 9-to-5 or a forever home, just a place from which to explore, with friends and a community I wouldn’t have to say goodbye to every few months. Somewhere I could do the things I love consistently, like pottery, writing, yoga, and swimming in the sea, and return to familiar surroundings.
Like many decisions I made on the road, I stopped forcing it and followed what unfolded naturally.
Surprisingly, this led me to a place much closer to “home.” I decided to settle on the northeast coast of England near Newcastle, just an hour away from where I grew up. A windswept stretch battered by rain, with concrete skies and a brutally cold sea.
It’s not the tropical island I once envisioned, but it feels grounding, like I’ve actually arrived.
I have no desire to travel yet (it’s only been a few months), though I’m sure that’ll come. When it does, though, it’s unlikely I’ll disappear as often or for as long as I used to.
I’m not saying I’ve found long-lasting contentment just because I’m anchored to a place, but it’s given me the chance to be creative, slow down, and establish routines.
It’s also helped me appreciate the smaller things in my life that I’d missed, like catching up with friends, playing golf regularly with my old man, and working on projects that felt impossible to tackle while hopping between hotels.
And it feels good to know I don’t have to check out anytime soon.
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