Map with our location in New Zealand…Why did we choose the North Island for our second visit in almost ten years?…

We are located in the top orange section in Northland on this map. A ferry is required to get from the North to the South Island.

When people hear that we’re spending time in New Zealand, the reaction is almost always the same. Their eyes light up, and they say, “Oh, the South Island!” as if there is no other possible answer. In many minds, New Zealand is synonymous with snowcapped mountains, turquoise lakes, dramatic fjords, and cinematic landscapes made famous by films and travel brochures. And yes, the South Island is undeniably beautiful. But beauty, we’ve learned over years of long-term travel, is only one piece of the puzzle. Livability is another. And for us, at this stage of our lives, that quieter consideration matters more than ticking off iconic views.

New Zealand’s two main islands are strikingly different, not only in landscape but in temperament. The South Island feels grand, wild, and often untamed. Distances are long, towns are small and far apart, and much of the land feels designed for short-term awe rather than daily living. It is a place that invites road trips, hiking boots, and a sense of adventure that thrives on motion. The North Island, by contrast, feels softer and more lived-in. It rolls rather than towers. It hums rather than roars. Life here feels less like a spectacle and more like a manageable pace.

The climate alone makes a noticeable difference. The North Island is warmer, more temperate, and generally more forgiving year-round. Winters are milder, especially in coastal and northern regions, and daily life doesn’t grind to a halt with snow or icy roads. The South Island’s colder winters, particularly in inland and southern areas, can be beautiful. Still, they also come with real challenges such as heating costs, damp homes, and limited services in rural regions during the off-season.

Cost of living played an equally important role in our decision. While New Zealand is not overly inexpensive anywhere, the South Island, particularly popular areas like Queenstown, Wanaka, and parts of Christchurch, can be surprisingly costly. Housing prices and short-term rental rates are often inflated by tourism, and many services are priced accordingly. Groceries can be more expensive due to longer supply chains, and dining out often feels like a luxury rather than a casual pleasure. The North Island, especially outside of Auckland, offers more flexibility. There are more towns, more options, more competition, and that translates into slightly lower costs and better availability of everyday essentials.

Healthcare access was another deciding factor, one we no longer take lightly. The North Island has a higher concentration of hospitals, clinics, and specialists. For those living with ongoing health considerations, proximity matters. In the South Island, particularly in remote or scenic regions, medical care can mean long drives or limited availability. While that may be manageable for short stays, it’s less appealing for long-term living, where predictability and access bring peace of mind.

There’s also the matter of community. The North Island feels more populated, more diverse, and more connected. It has a balance of rural charm and urban convenience that suits a slower, steadier lifestyle. Markets, small cafés, local events, and everyday interactions feel woven into daily life rather than existing solely to serve visitors. The South Island often feels oriented toward those passing through, hikers, skiers, and photographers, rather than those settling in for a while, like us.

That doesn’t mean we don’t admire the South Island. We do. Deeply. It’s a place we would happily visit again, explore, and photograph. But living somewhere is different from admiring it. We’ve learned, sometimes the hard way, that the places that look most spectacular in photos are not always the easiest places to live well. Beauty can be demanding. It can require effort, endurance, and constant movement. Right now, we value ease. We value warmth, access, and the ability to settle into ordinary days without friction.

Choosing the North Island wasn’t about settling for less. It was about deciding what fits us best. After years of travel, we’ve become less interested in what’s “most desired” and more attuned to what’s most supportive. The North Island offers us a gentler pace, manageable costs, better access to what we need, and a sense of everyday livability that aligns with where we are now. And in the end, that quiet alignment feels far more luxurious than any even more dramatic view.

We are soon off for Whangarai to the supermarket. We’re both still under the weather and weak from days of much-needed rest, but we will do our best to get everything we need for the next few weeks.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 22, 2015:

When we played bingo at the Princeville Senior Center last March, while living in Kauai, Tom always had a great time. For more photos, please click here.

Trying to prepare for Tom’s birthday and Christmas…

It’s been cloudy and rained for several days, with the sun peeking through from time to time.

Since we’re both still sick with this stubborn virus, even the simplest decisions feel heavier than usual. Lately, just thinking about meals for the upcoming week requires more energy than I seem to have. And this isn’t an ordinary week. It includes Tom’s birthday on the 23rd, followed by Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, three occasions I usually mark with intention, care, and a sense of quiet celebration, even when we’re far from those we love. I always try to make something special, something that says this moment matters, no matter where we are in the world. Right now, though, I’m struggling.

The reality is simple and inconvenient: the only way to make those meals happen is to drive to the supermarket, a 36-minute drive from here. Under normal circumstances, that would be mildly annoying. In our current state, still coughing, still weak, still foggy, it feels monumental. This morning, hoping to avoid that drive altogether, I tried another route. I attempted to order takeaway meals that might carry us through Christmas, or at least ease the pressure. Fifteen minutes later, I was still on the phone, unsuccessfully trying to explain our order to the only person working at the restaurant. She didn’t speak English, couldn’t understand what we wanted, and didn’t grasp the importance of delivery. The conversation went in circles, growing more frustrating by the minute. Eventually, I gave up. There was no solution there.

That moment made the truth unavoidable. If we want to eat over the next several days, and especially if we’re going to acknowledge the holidays in any meaningful way, we have to make the drive. Tomorrow, we’ll need to get ready, hop in the car, and drive to the larger supermarket in Mangawhai. I had genuinely thought we’d purchased enough food during our last shop, but as it turns out, we went through it faster than expected. Shopping the morning after we arrived, while exhausted and feeling unwell, wasn’t ideal. In that foggy state, I missed things. Essentials. Items that would have carried us further. The small local market is fine for basics, but it simply doesn’t have what we need right now.

Sheep at a distance.

This, I suppose, is the only real drawback of this location. We’re far from full-sized supermarkets and far from restaurants. Once you’re here, you’re committed. It’s home-cooking from here on out, whether I feel up to it or not. In all our years of traveling, this is the farthest we’ve ever been from a proper supermarket. That fact still surprises me. We’ve stayed in remote places before, bush locations, and tiny villages, but somehow this feels different, perhaps because illness narrows one’s tolerance for inconvenience.

Still, as we always do, we’ll adapt. We always do. Tomorrow we’ll make the drive, and do our best to gather what we need not just to get by, but to mark the days ahead in some small, meaningful way. Even if the meals are simpler than usual, even if my energy runs out halfway through cooking, there will be intention behind them. That matters to me.

And honestly, the drive itself may offer a quiet reward. The scenery along the way is beautiful, rolling and expansive, and I know there will be photo opportunities worth sharing here. New Zealand has a way of offering beauty even when you’re tired, even when you’re sick. For tonight, at least, we’re fine. We have enough for dinner, enough to rest and regroup. But with Christmas approaching quickly, tomorrow is the best and really the only day to go. So we’ll do it, one careful step at a time, and trust that this, too, will become just another chapter in our ongoing lesson in adaptability.

Nonetheless, we are grateful to be getting a little better each day and to be in the beautiful country of New Zealand during the holiday season.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 21, 2015:

In Pacific Harbour, Fiji, there were no poinsettias or Christmas cactus in the stores; only colorful flowers bloom year-round. For more photos, please click here.

An update…

This morning’s rainy view from our holiday home.

We arrived in New Zealand a week ago today, though it feels both longer and shorter than that, depending on the moment. The night we left Auckland for the long drive north, I couldn’t stop coughing the entire way. Mile after mile of riding in the dark, I was hacking, hoping the hum of the road might somehow shake whatever had taken hold of me. By the time we reached our holiday home in Kaiwaka, exhaustion had settled deep into my bones, the kind that doesn’t disappear with sleep.

By Sunday evening, there was a glimmer of improvement. We attended a small neighborhood get-together at our landlords’ home, Dave and Eing, who live just down the road. It was low-key and welcoming, the kind of gathering that reminds us why we have such fond memories of spending time in New Zealand in 2016. Earlier that day, we’d even managed a grocery run, which at the time felt like a small victory. I remember thinking, maybe this thing is passing. Perhaps we’ve turned a corner.

But Monday morning quickly erased that optimism. We woke with the unmistakable feeling of an entirely new virus taking over, uncontrolled coughing, crushing malaise, and a weakness that made even standing feel like an accomplishment. Over the next few days, it worsened for both of us. Ordinary tasks became monumental. Laundry was an athletic event. Making the bed required rest breaks. Preparing meals felt like running a marathon. For me, the most challenging part was the brain fog. I couldn’t think clearly enough to write, let alone take photos or shape words into something coherent. Silence filled the days where stories usually live.

This morning, Saturday, was the first day we awoke feeling a little better. It’s not much, but it’s something, and right now, something feels like everything. In the past few days, Tom read a Facebook post about a survey asking cruise passengers whether they’d gotten sick during the cruise, near the end of the voyage, or shortly after disembarking. Thirty-four percent responded yes. One passenger had even been hospitalized with Legionnaires’ disease, a terrifying and potentially deadly illness. Reading that stopped us both cold.

We have another cruise coming up, fully paid, 25 nights, beginning April 14. Before that, once we reach Tasmania, we plan to get prescriptions for Tamiflu to take for the entire length of the cruise. This experience has made me seriously rethink cruising in the future, unless it’s on much smaller ships, where the risk of getting sick is lower. The romance of it all fades quickly when illness lingers this long.

For now, our only real goal is getting better. Sightseeing can wait. Photos can wait. Even grocery shopping and dining out feel like distant ideas rather than plans. We are deeply grateful to the many readers who’ve written with kind words and well wishes; it means more than we can say.

Despite everything, we’re happy to be in New Zealand, surrounded by sweeping views, wildlife, and genuinely friendly people. When our bodies finally catch up with our hearts, we know this place will be worth the wait.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 20, 2015:

In Pacific Harbour, Fiji, a private drive to an upscale home in our neighborhood. For more photos, please click here.

The revealing reason why….Photo of our new location…

The view from the kitchen in our holiday home in Kaiwaka, New Zealand.

I don’t like sharing this news, but because we’ve always promised transparency in our stories, today I had no choice but to let our readers know what’s really been going on. It’s embarrassing for me, which is precisely why I’ve hesitated to share it sooner. As someone who was once intensely active, committed to health and fitness, and proud of a strong, capable body, admitting vulnerability does not come easily. In fact, it feels like swallowing a truth I’ve been avoiding for weeks.

For the last 42 days of our 47-night cruise, I said nothing. I kept thinking I would get better, that this would pass, and there would be no need to explain why we were doing so little, why I often disappeared early, or why I skipped excursions I would usually jump at. Instead of improving, though, I slowly got worse. And that’s still the case right now.

Since my open-heart surgery in 2019, my immune system has never fully bounced back. It feels fragile, easily overwhelmed. If I’m exposed to someone who’s sick, I almost inevitably get sick within a few days. While we were in Marloth Park, I had far fewer issues, most likely because of the low population and limited close contact with others. When I knew someone was sick, I asked for their understanding and avoided them until they recovered. It worked surprisingly well.

A cruise ship, however, is an entirely different environment. There is no avoiding coughing, sneezing, or close quarters—especially when so many people are curious about our unusual lifestyle and stop to chat. Add to that the fact that about five days into the cruise, I tripped over my own feet and injured my right knee badly enough that I could barely walk. I knew it wasn’t broken, so there was no need to see the ship’s doctor. I did exactly what they would have told me anyway: iced it, rested it, and stayed off it as much as possible. By the final week of the cruise, the swelling had gone down significantly, and I could walk better again.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, at the first sign of a virus, I started taking Tamiflu. Thankfully, it worked incredibly well. What could have been awful turned into a relatively mild case of coughing and sneezing. We stayed in the cabin for a few days and nights, and not long after, I was around people again. Still, I didn’t feel well enough to go on excursions, especially those involving a lot of walking.

When we saw Louise and Danie early on in Cape Town, and later Rita and Gerhard in Bali, I genuinely thought I was improving—even though I continued coughing a lot at night. During all of this, Tom was coughing and sneezing too, though thankfully, he’s doing better now.

Then, during the last few days of the cruise, I started feeling worse again. The worst moment came the night we drove from Auckland to Kaiwaka, a drive that should have taken 90 minutes but turned into three hours after a wrong turn. I was coughing so hard I could barely breathe, and I honestly don’t know how I got through that long drive.

Once we arrived at the house and got settled, I thought I was on the upswing again. We even attended a several-hour party at Dave and Eine’s home, our landlords, and I managed pretty well. But yesterday, everything flared up again, worse than when it first started. Why does it come and go like this? Today, I feel like I could spend the entire day in bed. I took a two-hour nap yesterday, something that is very unusual for me.

Thankfully, our grocery shopping is done, and we have enough food to last a few weeks. Hopefully, by the time we need to shop again, I’ll be on the mend. So there it is, friends. This is why we did so little on the cruise and why I don’t feel well enough to go anywhere right now. I need to get better so we can truly enjoy our time here in New Zealand, in this lovely, albeit remote, location.

And if you’re wondering why we keep traveling, it’s because we’re not done yet. We trust this is a season, not an ending, and we’re holding onto the hope that it will pass, allowing us to continue forward with joy.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 16, 2015:

Breathtaking shades of pink bleeding hearts at Suva, Fiji, farmer’s market. For more photos, please click here.

We’re baaaaack!…WiFi issues resolved…Kaiwaka, New Zealand…Our new home for the next two months…

Sheep, at a neighboring farm.

Getting here after we disembarked the cruise wasn’t easy, and that’s putting it gently. After weeks of floating predictably from port to port, we were abruptly returned to the realities of schedules, logistics, and fatigue. Two hours of flight delays set the tone almost immediately, including a long wait before we even lifted off from Brisbane Airport. By the time we landed in Auckland, we assumed the worst was behind us, only to find ourselves sitting on the tarmac for another forty-five minutes while the plane waited for a “parking gate.” It was one of those moments where you’re too tired to be annoyed and too resigned to feel anything at all. You stare out the window and wait.

Collecting the rental car took even longer, and when we finally found it, we both laughed. Tiny doesn’t quite cover it. Tom, however, turned out to be a magician, somehow coaxing an impressive number of bags into a space that looked barely capable of holding groceries. Despite his best efforts, two carry-on bags had to stay in the front seat with us. One was wedged under my feet, making comfort an ambitious goal rather than a realistic one, but at that point, practicality trumped everything else.

The drive from Auckland to Kaiwaka usually takes just under two hours, but we stretched it to three. A wrong turn onto a toll road, with no exits and no possibility of turning around, cost us a whole extra hour. It was late, dark, and the kind of mistake you only make when you’re exhausted and overconfident all at once. By the time we finally pulled up to the house at 1:00 a.m., we were running on fumes.

Taking photos in the rain was tricky this morning. More photos will follow when it clears.

Dave, our landlord, incredibly kind and patient, waited outside to guide us to the house and help Tom unload the bags. That small act of generosity felt enormous at that hour. Even in the dark, we could tell the house was just as lovely as we’d hoped, and despite our exhaustion, there was a quiet thrill in knowing we had arrived. We didn’t unpack that night. We took out what we needed and collapsed, grateful to finally rest.

Morning, however, brought an entirely different kind of magic. In daylight, the location revealed itself in full glory, rolling green hills, sweeping ocean views, and, to our absolute delight, sheep and cows everywhere. There’s something deeply grounding about waking up to that kind of landscape, especially after weeks at sea and a long, trying journey. It felt like we had landed somewhere both new and oddly familiar, a place that invited us to exhale.

We took this photo on the way to the market on Sunday.

Sunday was devoted mainly to unpacking, though “unpacking” might be an optimistic word. With limited drawer space (but plenty of closet space and hangers, I left many of my clothes in my suitcase. Over the next few days, we’ll wash them, hang them to dry, and I’ll repack everything neatly back into the bag. Since we’re only here for a short time, I don’t mind living partially out of a suitcase. It makes repacking easier when it’s time to leave on February 12, and there’s something freeing about not fully settling in.

Yesterday, grocery shopping topped the agenda. By noon, we were out the door, heading toward the closer of the two markets. The larger supermarket, with better prices and a wider selection, was another twenty minutes beyond the small, minimally stocked (and noticeably more expensive) shop near the mini-mall. Convenience won this round.

We filled the cart carefully, doing the quiet mental math that seems to follow us everywhere these days, and walked out, having spent NZ$ 584 (about US$338.35). It felt like a lot, and it was, but the bags held enough food to last us close to two weeks comfortably. There’s a certain relief in opening a well-stocked fridge and pantry after weeks of ship meals, a feeling of being temporarily anchored.

The rolling hills will look better on a clear day.

When those shelves start to thin out, we’ll make the longer drive to the distant supermarket everyone swears by, the one with better prices and more variety. For now, though, we’re settled and grateful for small but meaningful victories as we ease into daily life here.

As if the day hadn’t already offered enough warmth and welcome, Dave and his dear wife, Eing, who live a short distance down the road, had planned a get-together with local friends and invited us to attend. After such a long and complicated arrival, that invitation felt like a gentle affirmation that we’re exactly where we’re meant to be, for now.

The friends/neighbors were delightful, and we fit right in. The conversation flowed easily, interspersed with laughter, much of it prompted by Tom’s natural gift for entertaining those around him. It was a fun time with more such gatherings to come in the future.

We’d planned to do laundry today, but it’s raining. Tomorrow’s another day.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, December 15, 2015:

In Pacific Harbour, Fiji, colorful trees were blooming in the neighborhood. For more photos, please click here.

One day and counting…Tomorrow’s the big day!…

Royal Caribbean Voyager of the Seas.

No words can express how thrilled we are to be boarding our 47-night cruise tomorrow morning. Our local friend Carlos will arrive at 10:30 am to help Tom take our luggage down the three levels and load the taxi when it arrives. Some taxi drivers don’t help much with bags.

It’s a 20-minute ride to the cruise terminal, and when we arrive, baggage handlers will tag our bags and take them to our cabin later in the day. They guarantee we’ll have our bags by no later than 7:00 pm, so we will keep everything we may need with us until then.

The clothes we’ll be wearing when we arrive will be the same we’ll wear through dinner and the evening, so we won’t have to worry about unpacking everything when the bags arrive. Most likely, as always, we’ll unpack what we need and finish unpacking after breakfast.

Typically, we don’t unpack everything; we only unpack the items we’ll use on the cruise. Being organized is crucial in the small cabin with minimal storage space.

Today for dinner, we have enough chicken salad left for me, but not enough for both of us. This morning, I ordered Tom one last meal of lasagne from Uber Eats. We’ll scramble the remaining eggs to supplement the small portions of our main dishes.

This morning, Tom packed his clothes. We have one more load of laundry for later today and then we’re done, done, done. Tonight, will be relaxing while we finish a few shows we’ve been streaming since it’s doubtful we’ll stream anything while aboard the cruise.

On most evenings, while cruising, we stay out of the cabin until we’re ready for bed, only returning during the day to change for dinner and, if Tom needs a nap, possibly returning in the early afternoon. He never seems to sleep enough at night, so he gets up very early; a short 20-minute nap may be on the agenda.

That’s it for today, folks.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, October 26, 2015:

Rasnesh, our driver, took this photo of us in front of the Vuadomo Waterfall in Fiji, on the chief’s property. We were hot and sweaty, but the long trek was worth it! For more photos, please click here.

Two days and counting…Applying or renewing a passport during the government shutdown?…

Applying for a US passport.

From Travel+Leisure online magazine:

“What to Know About Applying or Renewing a Passport During the Government Shutdown

The government shutdown, which started on Oct. 1, continues to drag on. Here’s how it’s impacting passport applications and renewals. By   Published on October 24, 2025

Applying for or renewing a passport can be stressful, especially when preparing for an international trip. The government shutdown, which began on Oct. 1, 2025, has impacted many federal services, but for those traveling abroad, there shouldn’t be cause for concern, as passport processing hasn’t been affected. Passport processing is part of Consular Affairs, which is considered an essential service. “During the lapse in government funding, consular operations domestically and abroad will remain operational. This includes: passports, visas, and assisting American citizens abroad,” according to the Department of State website.

Congressional appropriations don’t fund passport processing; rather, processing is primarily funded by passport applications, so the government shutdown doesn’t directly impact this service. “Passports are funded through the U.S. Department of State and are primarily fee-funded, meaning passport issuance isn’t dependent on government funding,” says Sarah Silbert, managing editor for Points Path.

Processing times haven’t changed since the government shutdown. Routine processing time is 4 to 6 weeks, and expedited service is 2 to 3 weeks, according to the Department of State website. Mailing times are not included in these estimates; it can take up to an additional month for them to receive the application and then mail out the completed passport.

Traveling internationally in two weeks or less? Request an appointment through a passport agency or center. “Those needing urgent travel documents should book an in-person appointment at a regional passport agency and bring proof of imminent travel within 14 days,” says  Reza Motalebpour, founder and CEO of INGWE Immigration.

Dr. John Rose, chief risk advisor for Altour, renewed his passport and book this October, with the whole process taking 13 days. “That shows the system is working efficiently right now, but travelers should not assume that will remain the case if the shutdown drags on.”

It’s advised to plan ahead and allow for possible delays in processing if you’re currently applying for or renewing a passport. “There could be delays if passport-processing staff are impacted by furloughs or shutdown of other government agencies,” says Silbert. Reduced agency staff and staffing disruptions within the government could cause processing to take longer than normal. Motalebpour adds, “In the 2018-2019 shutdown, for example, passport operations continued at most locations, although delays of one to two weeks were common due to reduced staffing and slower security clearances.”

Fortunately, we renewed our passports last year for the second time since we began traveling in 2012. Currently, we have nine years remaining on each of our passports. At one point, we also had four-year passports as an adjunct to our ten-year passports, which enabled us to apply for visas that, at that time, may have required us to send in our passports with the applications. But processes have modernized and changed in most countries where applications are submitted online.

Packing continues today with only two days until we board the ship.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, October 25, 2015:

Typically, in rainforests, we’ve observed insects and birds to be more colorful than in less-dense areas of vegetation. Tima spotted this caterpillar we’d easily have missed. For more photos, please click here.

Packing has begun…Three days and counting…

We’re getting ready to board the ship in three days.

This morning, I woke up determined, knowing it was time to face the inevitable…packing. It’s never a task I look forward to, but it always signifies that another chapter of our world travels is about to begin. I started early, methodically folding and organizing all my clothes, leaving out only what I’ll wear on boarding day. Each item felt like a small piece of my nomadic life, a collection of memories from so many places we’ve called “home,” even if only temporarily. By mid-morning, I had neatly stacked the neatly folded clothes into my suitcase, feeling that quiet relief that comes when the bulk of the job is finally behind me.

All that remains now are the small but time-consuming things: the supply bag, a few kitchen items, and our toiletries. Those always take more effort than expected, with so many little decisions: what to keep out until the last minute, what to tuck away now, what we might suddenly need again before we leave. Over the next few days, I’ll chip away at it all, bit by bit, until everything has a place. That’s the secret to managing these constant transitions: staying organized and refusing to let the process overwhelm us.

Packing may not be fun, but we’ve learned how to make it efficient. After all these years, we’ve developed our own rhythm, our unspoken teamwork. When flying, as opposed to sailing, I fold while Tom checks weights, tucking the scale under each bag, calling out the numbers. We shuffle items back and forth until we’re comfortably under the airline’s limit. It’s a bit of a dance, but we’ve become experts at it. Everything goes neatly into its designated bag, and when it’s all zipped up and stacked by the door, I always feel a quiet sense of accomplishment, like we’ve conquered another small hurdle on this never-ending journey.

This time, with our two new suitcases, we’re slightly ahead of the game. They’re sturdy and spacious, rolling smoothly across even the roughest tiles. We also have one additional extra-large bag for the 47-night cruise, a practical solution for the constant unpacking and repacking we’ll do while living aboard the ship. It’s amazing how quickly a cabin can feel like home once everything is tucked neatly away in drawers and closets. Cruise lines have no restrictions on the number or weight of bags.

Still, in the back of my mind, I can’t help but think about December 13, the day we’ll have to fly to New Zealand from our disembarkation location, Brisbane, Australia. That date hovers like a distant checkpoint, a reminder that no matter how well we pack now, we’ll soon face the same challenge again, but with the added dilemma of airline baggage fees. After a long cruise, our belongings always seem to multiply, although we don’t buy souvenirs or trinkets.

That’s the nature of living without a permanent home. Everything we own must fit into our suitcases and travel with us from one continent to the next. There’s no closet somewhere waiting for our return, no basement filled with storage bins. It’s both freeing and challenging at once. Sometimes I miss the luxury of “extra space,” but there’s something deeply satisfying about knowing that everything important fits into just a few bags. It keeps life simple, and it keeps us moving forward.

As I looked around the apartment this afternoon, my clothes packed, I felt that familiar sense of excitement. Each time we pack, we close a small chapter of our story, but another adventure always awaits just beyond the next boarding gate or, in this case, the ship’s gangway. And with everything packed neatly and ready to go, I can finally let myself feel that anticipation again.

Shortly, I’ll head to the kitchen to put together the chicken salad we’ll eat over the next three dinners. Yesterday, we peeled all the boiled eggs and diced the onions. Now, all I have to do is make the dressing and stir it well. It will be a pleasant day.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, October 24, 2015

Handmade raft for fishing for tribespeople in Fiji, which Rasnesh, our driver, explained is safer than a boat when there’s no chance of being stranded or sinking. For more photos, please click here.

Stats and facts on digital nomads…

We thought it would be fun to share some key statistics (as of 2023-25) about U.S. citizens living a full-time travel / location-independent (“nomad”) lifestyle, that is, working while moving around the world without a permanent home base. These figures may help frame the broader picture for people like us who are making the world our home.

Size and growth of the community

  • As of mid-2023, about 17.3 million U.S. citizens described themselves as “digital nomads.”

  • In 2024, this number rose to around 18.1 million Americans.

  • To put that in perspective: in 2019, the number was about 7.3 million, and by 2020, around 10.9 million.

  • In global terms, there were about 35 million digital nomads worldwide as of 2024, and U.S. citizens accounted for a substantial share of that total.

Demographics & characteristics

  • Most U.S. nomads are in the millennial age range: for example, one source shows that about 47% of digital nomads globally fall in the 30-39 age bracket.

  • Educational attainment tends to be high: one estimate puts the figure at around 90% of digital nomads having completed higher education.

  • Income levels: for U.S. digital nomads, many earn between US$50,000 and US $100,000 annually; in one dataset, around 34% fall into that range.

  • Gender: one dataset indicates that about 56% of digital nomads in 2025 are men (i.e., ~44% are women).

Lifestyle & travel habits

  • One source notes that among digital nomads, choosing destinations is driven by cost of living, internet connectivity, and safety.

  • More extended duration stays appear to be increasing. For example, a study of U.S. Airbnb usage found that stays of ≥28 nights nearly doubled from pre-pandemic levels to around 2.2% of bookings in the post-pandemic period.

  • There is continued intent to “stick with it”: for example, one report states that 95% of nomads say they will definitely or maybe continue the lifestyle.

Implications and observations for full-time world travellers

  • The fact that ~18 million Americans are nomads suggests the lifestyle is now much more mainstream than the “fringe traveller” image of a decade ago.

  • High levels of education and earnings, in many cases, mean that this isn’t simply budget backpacking; many nomads are professionals who’ve decoupled location from work.

  • However, the rise in longer stays suggests that more of us are adopting a “slow-travel” or “base-once-in-a-place-for-a-month” pattern, rather than moving every few days.

  • Even so, while the data is strong for “digital nomads” (remote workers travelling/working), it is less precise for the subset who have no permanent home base anywhere in the world. Some may retain a home-country address, a bank account, or a tie to a residence. So if your definition is fully location-independent with zero permanent home, the stats are less finely tuned.

  • For people like us (U.S. citizens travelling full-time around the world), these figures suggest we are part of a growing community, but also that we might still be a smaller niche within it, given the broad definition of “digital nomad”.

Limitations & caveats

  • The term “digital nomad” covers a wide range, from someone who works remotely but keeps a home base to someone who constantly travels with no fixed residence. Many data sources don’t separate those nuances.

  • Self-reporting: the figures rely on how people self-identify as nomads. Some may include short-term remote travel rather than full-time global living.

  • Country-specific data: Most figures relate to U.S. citizens, but travel patterns, visa/tax burdens, and mobility may vary significantly for full-time world travellers.

  • Income/tax/legal implications: Many nomads may face complex tax, insurance, health care, and visa issues when living globally. The stats don’t fully reflect those burdens.

It’s interesting for us as long-term world travelers to see these stats. On October 31, we’ll have been traveling the world for 13 years. Out of curiosity, we’d love to hear from other nomads who’ve been traveling as long as we have.

Be well.

Photo from ten years ago today, October 23, 2015:

The Fish Shop, where we purchased kava for the chief, as a token of appreciation for allowing us to visit the waterfall on his land. For more photos, please click here.

Traveling to Greece?…Euphoria Retreat…Five days and counting…

Not our photo. Euphoria Retreat in Greece.

Many of our readers are cruising and flying to Greece for their vacations/holidays. Today, we stumbled across this article that may be of interest to those interested in wellness and spas. This article was written in the first person by the author from her personal experience.

From Travel+Leisure online magazine:

“This Might Be the Most Transformative Wellness Retreat in Greece—Where Ancient Philosophy Meets Modern Healing

At Euphoria Retreat in Mystras, timeless philosophy and holistic therapies help guests rediscover balance and purpose. By Janine Di Giovanni Published on October 11, 2025

Photo from ten years ago today, October 22. 2015:

There were no photos posted on this day ten years ago.