Sure, we had ticked through an impressive number of aspirational destinations and world-famous sights during our years of nomading. But we had also logged more time on customer service calls with airlines and scrolled through more Airbnb listings than we cared to think about. Traveling with our two dogs has also layered additional complexity and worry over top of every flight, hotel stay, and apartment rental.

During our downtime in Medellin or Budapest or wherever we might be, we idly imagined what the concept of “home” might look like for us and, more practically, where in the world it might be located. Certainly after spending more than a decade overseas, first working in Singapore and then traveling the world, we were keen to reconnect with family, friends, and rebuild a sense of community back in Canada. This was especially important to us after years of passing through city after city as anonymous travellers with most of our important relationships all being maintained virtually.

Buying a house sight unseen

Much to our surprise, while winding down a month-long stay in Lisbon, our online search netted us the perfect little house in the perfect little village in Canada. Within a few weeks, we were suddenly the owners of a house that we had yet to even see in person. A few weeks after that, we were suddenly re-accumulating all the necessities of a household after having proudly streamlined our previous lives into a couple of suitcases and backpacks.

But just as we settled into our new life as homeowners, that’s when the debate about travel began. Gillian was properly burnt out from our nomadic lifestyle and looking forward to finally having a garden of her own for the first time. I knew I wanted to settle in my new community but also somehow keep exploring the world. Our highly-spirited discussions kicked off a multi-year experiment of trying to find just the right balance between home, adventure, and travel.

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The experiment begins

In year one, much to my surprise, Gillian agreed to a springtime hike to Machu Picchu shortly after we set up our new home. Then we had an autumn trip to revisit our favourite parts of Thailand followed by a couple months in our favourite cities in Mexico to wait out the winter. As we returned to Ontario in March and were met with bitter ice storms and record-high piles of snow, we both concluded that future winter getaways would need to be longer than 8 weeks. Fortunately, we were able to escape the final blast of winter by popping over to England for a beautiful hike through the Cotswolds.

The second year as homeowners saw us exploring the country of Georgia and then eventually heading off to the Canary Islands for 11 weeks which almost—but not quite—carried us through the fiercest part of the Canadian winter. Fortunately springtime had already arrived in Japan just in time for our hike across Shikoku Island.

In between these shorter adventures and lengthier travels, we’ve spent the other months of the year rediscovering what it means to have a home. Gillian is at work in her garden most days while I busy myself with volunteer work, including fostering for the local humane society (we’re at one dog, 19 kittens, and a mama cat by last count). We’re also entertaining friends and family on a regular basis and discovering the amazing number of events and festivals that crop up in a village of just 1,000 people. These are all activities that were out of reach to us back when we were traveling full time.

The winning formula

With almost three years of trial and error out of the way, we’ve finally agreed on the formula that works for us. Summers and autumns are when we want to be at home—at least most of the time. Both seasons are a delight in the countryside and it’s when our village is the most lively.

While winter in Ontario is stunningly beautiful for the first couple of snowfalls, it then becomes a fight against the elements for the subsequent four to five months. This is when we want to be off slow traveling the world with our two dogs, exploring a new destination each year. Meanwhile, the multi-day hiking trips that we love so much slot nicely into springtime and late summer.

We’ve finally found a rhythm that suits both of us. Now the next challenge is to see how long the current balance between home and travel lasts. We seem to have a talent for completely upending our lives every few years or so…

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A conversation about financial independence

I always enjoy sharing the story of our journey from expat life to financial independence to world travel. Most recently, I had a great discussion with Kornel Szrejber of Build Wealth Canada about what happens after you reach your financial goals. We explored the transition from accumulating wealth to spending with confidence, and how Gillian and I structure our finances to support the lifestyle we’ve built. Have a listen to the podcast here. More generally, Kornel’s podcast is a great resource for DIY investors looking to achieve their own financial freedom.

See you on the road,

Stephanie & Gillian

Our second visit to Japan was more focused. We were there for the Kumano Kodo pilgrimage, a five-day hike following ancient trails across the Kii Peninsula. It was exactly our style of adventure: days spent hiking through pine forests before ending with a hot bath and dinner at a traditional ryokan.

Discovering Shikoku Island

Fast forward more than a decade and we were ready for a return trip. I had recently come across the Shikoku Pilgrimage, a historic route that visits all 88 Buddhist temples dotting Shikoku island, following the path of 9th-century Buddhist teacher Kōbō Daishi.

I was immediately intrigued; it’s a hike that I had never heard of before on an island that I didn’t know existed. That said, I instantly knew that I would never dedicate the two months necessary for completing the entire circuit of the island. However, spending a week or so visiting the best trails and temples that Shikoku had to offer—that sounded eminently doable

We quickly discovered that there are many reasons why the very small number of international tourists heading to Shikoku typically choose to have a local company book their trip. The tourism infrastructure across the island is patchy; trails often start and stop far away from public transit; and booking a Japanese hotel as a non-Japanese person with a non-Japanese name and phone number is extremely complex. However, we had a very compelling reason for booking the entire trip ourselves: the cost savings were tremendous.

The trip began with a late evening flight into Tokushima; a scramble at the airport bus depot when we attempted to find any type of card—credit or debit— that would buy us a bus ticket; and dinner foraged from the aisles of 7-11. With our messy entrance to Japan out of the way, we were ready to kick off our pilgrimage.

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A week on the pilgrimage

After extensively researching the most popular trails and temples, we ultimately decided on seven days of hiking interspersed with cultural experiences (also known as rest days). The first day started in the suburbs of Tokushima, where the first of the 88 temples was located. Here we had the option of buying the official white garb and accessories that designates someone a pilgrim or henro. We decided to limit ourselves to a simple white vest but saw plenty of locals and international tourists in various permutations of what we called the “full henro”: white clothes, conical hat, staff, sash, and shoulder bag

From there, we headed off for a week of fairly serious hiking with lengthy stretches up and down steep mountainsides. We carried everything we needed in our backpacks and, once a couple litres of water were added, I quickly realized I should have left a few of my dressier outfits behind. (But it’s Japan, I remember saying to Gillian, we’ll be going out for nice meals.) The hiking was challenging but rewarding; we struggled our way up well-groomed trails with the payoff being a historic temple in yet another beautiful location. No matter how tired we were from the hike, we took time to have a moment of quiet reflection at each temple, keeping with the spirit of the pilgrimage.

Getting back and forth to the trail ends was a less serene experience. We regularly spent one to two hours traveling to the trailheads in the morning and then another one or more to our next accommodation in the evening. Often we had to race the clock at the end of the hike to make it to the train station in time

The joys (and challenges) of independent travel

As shared in our previous newsletter, Gillian demonstrated mastery-level use of Alltrails and Google Maps to line up our bus and train itineraries for each day. Then I found a Japanese freelancer on Fiverr to help us fill in the transportation gaps with local taxis. (We had the opportunity to meet our freelancer for dinner in the town of Kamiyama and it was one of those special evenings with a local you always hope to have while traveling but so rarely do.) Normally I would be hesitant to plan a hiking trip with so much time spent in transit. However, for Japan, we took each experience as a cultural enrichment opportunity.

Our accommodations gave us plenty more opportunities for cultural enrichment. We enjoyed the range from a modest temple stay to an artsy boutique inn to a series of quirky business hotels. While the business hotels largely felt corporate, they each had their point of differentiation: JR Clement Tokushima had an outstanding breakfast buffet while REF Matsuyama provided free soft serve ice cream in the evening and a flight of six kinds of orange juice in the morning. The Super Hotel Anan offered guests eight types of pillows to choose from off the shelf at reception, including everything from down to buckwheat to one mysteriously labeled “for woman.”

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Near the end of the trip, we treated ourselves to two very different luxury onsen hotels—Kadan in Kotohira and Umenoya in Dogo Onsen—featuring private hot spring baths and traditional minimalist rooms with tatami floors.

Mealtimes on the trail offered even more adventure. Breakfast was always included with our accommodation, the classic assortment of fish, rice, soup, and sides in little bowls. Lunch was whatever we could scrounge. Most often we made do with the offering at the local convenience store on our way out of town, typically rice balls stuffed with tuna mayonnaise, salmon, or beans. Occasionally our path would take us past a noodle restaurant midday but we had to dive deep into Google Maps to make sure wherever we were hoping to buy food would be open at the right time, especially in the smaller towns. The very best dinners were the kaiseki meals at the onsen hotels with course after course of artfully presented dishes, all while wearing traditional yukata robes.

For all the logistical challenges of this trip, it was a wonderful way to experience Japan. We particularly liked exploring a region that has yet to be discovered by other international tourists. That said, planning and booking the trip independently required a massive spreadsheet, advanced use of Google Translate, and all of our skills as very experienced travelers. This is not the trip that I would recommend to the novice traveler interested in a first-time visit to Japan.

Instead, the Kumano Kodo is a great option. It’s got all the beautiful temples and cultural experiences that one wants from a trip to Japan; it’s relatively easy to get to from Osaka; and it’s certainly easy to plan with the support of the not-for-profit community booking service. The service takes care of accommodations and luggage transfer; you just show up and hike. And the Kumano Kodo is a true inn-to-inn hike; there’s never a need to take a train at the end of a long day on the trail.

Still, our labour-intensive trip to Shikoku reminded us that some of the most memorable adventures are the ones that require just a little more effort to reach.

See you on the road,

Stephanie & Gillian

For lightweights like us, the best approach was a highly curated sampler with a handpicked selection of the best hikes and most picturesque temples. We spent our days hiking from temple to temple, over mountains, and through towering pine forests. At night, we stayed in a wide range of accommodations, from an arty boutique inn to quirky business hotels to luxurious, once-in-a-lifetime onsen hotels. Each stay gave us a fascinating view of Japanese culture.

Where things got complicated

The magic ebbed a little when it came time to travel either to or from the trail. We regularly started or ended our days with a combination of taxi, trains and buses, often spending a couple hours on the commute to our next stop. In fact, the logistics of this trip were so unwieldy that I eventually commissioned a Japanese freelancer from Fiverr to call local taxi companies on our behalf. On the upside, we ended up having a very memorable dinner with that same freelancer in a small town on our route, which was one of the highlights of our time in Japan.

We have two main takeaways from this trip. First, Shikoku Island and this pilgrimage have yet to be discovered by the international crowds, making this adventure feel even more special. We did encounter a handful of other international tourists on the trail but the majority of fellow pilgrims were Japanese. In fact, locals always seemed to be surprised but pleased that we had found our way to their island.

Second, planning the Shikoku Pilgrimage independently is not for the fainthearted. Booking Japanese accommodations and transit can be a bewildering experience for a foreigner. I can see why most people fall back on the handful of travel companies that offer this as a self-guided tour. However, by planning it ourselves, we were able to select the routes and accommodations that suited our tastes while saving thousands of dollars in the process.

We decided not to shoot a video as we felt that would detract from our experience. But we will have a blog post ready next month sharing our complete Shikoku itinerary—along with a recommendation of where to go instead if it’s your first visit to Japan.

Closing out winter in Tenerife

We’ve already shared highlights from our month in Gran Canaria and our five-day hiking adventure in La Gomera. But there’s one final chapter in the story of our winter escape to the Canary Islands: our stay in Tenerife, the largest and most popular island of the archipelago.

We based ourselves in Puerto de la Cruz, a city known for its dramatic black sand beaches and busy resorts. Naturally, we gravitated away from the most heavily touristed areas and settled instead in the neighbourhood of Punta Brava, a former fishing village with narrow streets and colourful houses. While this area still receives its share of crowds, it also feels authentically Canarian with a buzzy neighbourhood square where locals enjoy their morning cafe con leche. Here we stayed in a small apartment on the edge of a cliff with a 180° view of the Atlantic. At sunrise, sunset, and really any time of day, the view was truly magnificent.

Similarly to our time in Gran Canaria, it was a month for slow exploration. Each week, we hopped on a bus and tackled an excursion or two across the island. Highlights included wandering through the picture-perfect historic towns of Tenerife, most notably La Orotava, San Cristóbal de La Laguna, and Garachico.

We also took on a couple ambitious hikes through Anaga Park, a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve with ancient laurel forests and steep trails that seem to tumble right into the ocean. In between, we enjoyed a relaxed lifestyle that included morning runs along the coastline, afternoons working on our remote volunteer jobs, and the occasional menu del dia. Catch all the highlights in our last video from the Canaries.

As for our final verdict on the Canary Islands? It’s hard to imagine a better winter escape. Mild weather, endless hiking opportunities, fascinating towns, and spectacular scenery made this one of our favourite getaways yet. The Canaries have officially set a very high bar for future winters. Fortunately, we’ve already started dreaming up where next year might take us...

See you on the road,

Stephanie & Gillian

That’s why our side trip to La Gomera was one of the successes coming out of this winter’s getaway to the Canary Islands. Sure, we loved our time in the more popular islands of Gran Canaria and Tenerife, including a smattering of day hikes that brought us to beautiful spots across each island. But the big win was having a chance to immerse ourselves in nature with a 5-day hiking trip across La Gomera.

Off the Main Circuit

La Gomera is one the smallest of the eight Canary Islands and a lesser known destination among tourists (with the notable exception of enthusiastic German hikers). Perhaps due La Gomera’s lack of an international airport, this island escaped the mass tourism encroachment seen in Gran Canaria and Tenerife. Instead, La Gomera is foremost a hiking destination supported by a very light tourism infrastructure; there are just a handful of scenic towns, some decent inns, and a largely reliable bus system. And trails—lots and lots of trails.

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This was the second most difficult hiking trip that we’ve planned (you can scroll further down to read about the most difficult one). First, simply getting to the island was a challenge. From Gran Canaria, we needed to take a series of buses and ferries to make our way to La Gomera. We ended up with a very pleasant weeklong stopover in Tenerife’s main city of Santa Cruz just to break up the journey.

A Logistical Puzzle

Next, we needed to plan our hiking route. While there are lots of places to hike across La Gomera, there isn’t one obvious trail encircling the island with conveniently placed inns along the way. Instead, Gillian spent long hours in Alltrails and on hiking blogs, trying to pick out the most optimal routes that would somehow stitch together—as long as we were willing to hop on a bus here and there.

Even more challenging was booking accommodations. To be honest, there were only a few inns that looked appealing to us; many of the local inns were very much on the rustic side. However, this short list became even shorter when we started to look for establishments that would also accept our dogs. Spain has proven itself to be less dog friendly than most of the other European countries we’ve visited.

In the end, we booked a few nights in a simple hiker’s hotel in Chipude, a village in the highlands. How simple, you may ask. Let’s just say that I was grateful when the concept of hot water in the bathroom returned to my life. We also had two nights in Vallehermoso, a popular tourist town near the coast. We closed the experience at a beautiful but painfully expensive Parador Hotel in the island’s major port town. While I’m always happy to pass the night in a high-thread count situation, the Parador was actually the only hotel in San Sebastian that would accept our dogs (charging a hefty fee for the privilege, of course)

The Reward

Logistics aside, the effort was well worth it. The views throughout our trip were breathtaking; steep volcanic mountains spilling down into the ocean; little villages with farming terraces dotting the hillsides. Often we were the only ones on the trail for hours at a time. For us, there is nothing more rejuvenating than setting off in the early morning with lunch in our backpacks and two happy dogs at our sides, ready to take on the challenge of the day. The biggest decision we needed to make that week was what to order for dinner after we’d kicked off our hiking boots.

For a look at what makes La Gomera such a special destination, we caught all the highlights in our latest video (watch here). And stay tuned, because our Canary Island series wraps in May with a video featuring an exciting month in Tenerife.

While we’ve only just recovered from our journey home from the Canaries—an exhausting affair involving three flights, two airport hotels and a lengthy layover in Charles du Gaulle airport— we’re already packing up for the next trip. Since Ontario is still cold and occasionally snowy during April, we’re headed to a faraway land that is already blossoming into spring: Japan.

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We’ve had two previous visits to Japan. The first was an exploration in and around Kyoto, Nara, and Koyosan; the second was to undertake the Kumano Kodo pilgrimage, a five-day hike following ancient trails through the Kii Peninsula.

Always looking to experience a beautiful country in a new way, our interest was piqued when we learned of the Shikoku Pilgrimage. This pilgrimage visits all 88 temples dotting the island of Shikoku, following the path of 9th-century Buddhist teacher Kōbō Daishi. For hikers aiming to complete the pilgrimage in one go, this ambitious undertaking typically requires 40 to 60 days.

The Art of DIY Travel

Since we didn’t have a full two months to spare, we curated a selection of the most beautiful hikes and temples for a 8-day itinerary. Considering the massive language barrier, our trip planning was a true do-it-yourself masterpiece. We pushed our use of Google Translate to its absolute limit by making all our reservations direct with the inns on their Japanese-only websites (including concocting the Japanese phonetic versions of our names). Gillian grappled at length with the train and bus schedules and hunted down local taxi companies in order to get us to and from the sometimes-remote trails we’d be hiking each day.

With the logistics behind us, we’re looking forward to a special pilgrimage that is well known in Japan but hasn’t yet been discovered by the rest of the world. If it occasionally takes us two hours by bus, train, and taxi to get to the trailhead, I’m sure that a long, quiet walk to a lovely temple will more than make up for the hustle.

See you on the road,

Stephanie and Gillian

Part of it was that we simply didn’t know enough about what the Canaries had to offer; instead, destinations like Mexico, Portugal or Colombia made for easier winter choices.

Now that we’ve finally spent a month in Gran Canaria, a week in La Gomera, and settled into another month in Tenerife, we’re kicking ourselves for not coming here sooner. The Canaries offer exactly what we’ve been looking for in a winter retreat and, in fact, outshine Mexico on a number of points, which was our previous top choice.

Just-Right Weather

First, the climate here during the winter months hits the sweet spot for us. The Canaries are a collection of eight subtropical islands, just across the Atlantic from Morocco. The winter climate is just as pleasant as on the Portuguese island of Madeira, where we spent a happy month in December the other year. The temperature on Gran Canaria was a steady 20℃ or 68℉ most days in January, and Tenerife looks to be a few degrees warmer.

For context, we are not beach people; we wilt once the temperature climbs to tropical levels. We often wonder about how we managed to live in Singapore for so many years, a place so hot that spending just five minutes waiting at a bus stop in our office clothes felt like an endurance test. For us, the warm days and cool nights of the Canary Islands are just about perfect.

The Freedom to Explore

These islands are also a true hiker’s paradise with wonderful views around every bend. While in Gran Canaria, we really appreciated how easily we could hit the trails. We just popped the dogs in their carriers, hopped on a bus, and could be hiking somewhere stunning in less than an hour, feeling safe and confident on a well marked trail. And if we planned well, the hike would end in a charming hillside village where we could enjoy lunch with a view.

This far exceeded our experience of hiking in Mexico. When we stayed in San Miguel de Allende or Oaxaca City, we would have happily hit the local trails—except for the many reviews that warned us off independent hiking due to safety issues. Instead, we ended up joining expensive group hikes with a busload of other tourists.

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Daily Life, Elevated

We also love living in a beautiful neighbourhood and were very pleased with our finds in the Canaries. For our month in Las Palmas, the biggest city on Gran Canaria, we chose an apartment in the historic centre of Vegueta and had the pleasure of taking our morning walks on cobbled streets amongst 15th and 16th century mansions and churches. While in Tenerife, we’re based in Punta Brava, a picturesque 1960s neighbourhood that has retained a local flavour despite all the resorts in the vicinity.

Even more important than living in a delightful neighbourhood is living in an attractive, comfortable apartment. Unfortunately, the local stock of apartments on Airbnb heavily emphasize small, basic condos; we had to put in long hours of research to find someplace special in each city.

Admittedly, we face a challenge that most people don’t have when locking down accommodations since we’re traveling with our two dogs. We lean heavily on our 65+ positive reviews on Airbnb when we reach out to hosts to request special dispensation for the pups. We received many declines from hosts—Spain is not as pet friendly as other countries we’ve visited—but ultimately scored a memorable place for each of our long stays.

We’ve included a full tour of our very unique Las Palmas apartment in our latest video, along with a sampling of the experiences that have made our winter getaway so memorable. If you’re curious what our first month in the Canaries actually looked like, you can watch it here.

When Menus Start to Blur

On the cuisine front, we’re enjoying our meals out, but have found that restaurants offer a very standard range of Canarian classics. This means that dining out is somewhat repetitive, usually featuring a simple combination of fish or seafood, sliced tomatoes, and papas arrugadas. These are new potatoes boiled in salt water and served with a zippy red pepper-based sauce called mojo. This is the most famous Canarian dish and was featured on every single menu.

To be candid, we feel a little uninspired by the restaurant scene after so many weeks of boiled potatoes. However, the same can be said for many of our slow travel destinations. At this stage, we’ve realized we’re happiest cooking most of our meals at home and saving dining out for special occasions.

What truly won us over about the Canary Islands wasn’t just the scenery or even the climate; it was the balance. There was room on this trip to spend a full week hiking the dramatic landscapes of La Gomera but also enjoy a steady rhythm of morning workouts, remote volunteering, and home-cooked meals. Increasingly, it’s this combination—adventuring while still having room for our routines—that defines a great winter base for us.

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Of course, we still have a few more weeks to go in Tenerife. Here’s hoping that the final leg of our trip proves to be just as enjoyable.

See you on the road,

Stephanie & Gillian

p.s. We’ve just created a new Destinations page on our blog where you can now find the very best content for each place we’ve visited—whether that’s a blog post, a YouTube video, or even an Instagram Story. If you’re researching a specific destination, this is the easiest place to start.

Back to old favourites in Mexico

With that, here’s the rundown of how we pursued those passions in 2025. The year started with escaping Canada’s winter by decamping to Mexico. We considered (and even booked) a lengthy journey down the Yucatan, with stops in Merida, Playa del Carmen, Tulum and other overtouristed beachy stops. But after reflecting on what we really wanted from our Mexico getaway (less pounding heat, more mountains and cultural experiences), we decided to return to Oaxaca City and Mexico City, our two favourite cities from our previous tour of Mexico.

Since it was our second go at Oaxaca City, we didn’t need to re-do the most popular sights, such as the Monte Alban ruins and Hierve de Agua, a stunning rock formation just out of town. Instead, we sampled some of the city’s many brunch spots, worked off the calories at a local gym, discovered an expat hiking group, and thoroughly enjoyed a farmhouse cooking class with free-flow mezcal.

In Mexico City, we instantly fell in love with the buzzy, atmospheric La Condesa neighbourhood. We spent many happy afternoons wandering the leafy pedestrian walkway that loops through the neighbourhood, imagining having our own apartment in one of the historic buildings. In the end, we decided that our winter getaways should be focused on variety and discovering new destinations versus miring ourselves in Mexico City’s complex real estate market. We’ll keep that idea in the back pocket for a later chapter.

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Trading ice storms for English footpaths

We returned home to our little village in Ontario just in time to be hit with an unseasonable April ice storm (that’s Canada for you), swiftly followed by major power outages throughout the region. Winter, it seemed, wasn’t done with us yet.

Fortunately, we were off again, this time to England for a 10-day hike of the Cotswold Way. We started in the scenic town of Chipping Campden and then wound our way through forests, fields and charming villages, all 102 miles or 164 km to the Roman city of Bath. Much to our delight, the weather held and it was mostly sunny skies and frolicking lambs for the majority of the hike. Despite some of our more questionable lodgings (we’ll charitably say that they were in need of a little TLC), the Cotswold Way ranks as one of our favourite hikes of recent years.

Inside a Mexican shelter with 400+ dogs

Volunteering took centre stage over the summer. In addition to my regular fundraising duties with Save Our Scruff Rehome & Rescue, an international dog rescue, I had the opportunity to participate in a trip to one of our beneficiary shelters located in Cholula, Mexico. The Funkytown Shelter provides sanctuary to over 400 dogs and the scale of the place was shocking, as was the sound of that many dogs barking. Many of them are former street dogs; others were abandoned by owners at the shelter gates. Some, usually litters of puppies, were simply dumped in boxes or bags at the doorstep. The lucky ones that are identified as adoptable get whisked away for new lives in Canada, which makes room in the shelter for even more rescued dogs.

An unexpected detour through Georgia

Our next major getaway was a September trip to the country of Georgia, with a week in Tbilisi and another week exploring Georgia’s western half, including the remote villages of the Svaneti region, famous for its medieval towers. We found Tbilisi fascinating; the city has an eclectic mix of architectural treasures, some in excellent condition and others in magnificent decay.

The second leg of our journey didn’t go exactly as planned. We expected to take a short flight to the town of Mestia, which would be the start of a scenic village-to-village hike. When thunderstorms rolled in, the 45-minute flight turned into 10-hour train-and-minivan odyssey through the mountains, and our multiday hike became an exploration of Georgia’s western highlights, including the UNESCO village of Ushguli, the city of Kutaisi, and a stopover at a family winery where we were lavished with food and drink.

Life after financial independence

In November, we had the opportunity to share our reflections on life after financial independence with the podcast Our Family Invests. We shared our journey from high-pressure expat careers to financial independence and a life of full-time travel. However, most of the interview centred on the search for purpose and meaning once climbing a career ladder is no longer an overriding concern. It was an excellent conversation with podcasters Mike and Caroline, who have built their own financially independent lifestyle in beautiful Hawaii (we felt only a little envious).

Closing the chapter on 2025

That brings us to December, which saw us trade Ontario’s snow and ice for the balmy temperatures of the Canary Islands. While it may sound glamorous to say that we are wintering in the Canaries, our journey here was anything but. We flew from Toronto to Lisbon at 5:30pm; it was both too early and too short a flight for getting a full night’s sleep. Not that sleep was even a possibility—our entire foot space was taken up by two dogs and their pet carriers. We spent a lengthy five hours in the lounge at Lisbon, snoozing into our cappuccinos, which was followed by another two hours on the tarmac waiting for fog to clear so that we could finally take off.

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Still, as we came in for a landing on Gran Canaria, the stress of transatlantic travel melted away. After a solid 14-hour sleep, we were ready to embrace our new home for the next few months.

That’s a wrap on 2025. Here’s to many more adventures in 2026.

See you on the road,

Stephanie & Gillian

p.s If you prefer reading to listening, you can get the highlights of the interview on the Our Family Invests blog.

Past winter misfires

But where to slow travel for a few months in the winter isn’t the easiest dilemma to solve, especially if you’re hunting for brand-new destinations with decent weather and lots of outdoor adventures. During our first few years of nomad living, we never managed to plan winter properly. In the first year of living out of our suitcases, we spent the coldest, darkest months of winter first in Fethye, Türkiye and then in Florence, Italy. Both cities require a down coat and a sturdy umbrella during the off-season.

The next winter we faced global COVID lockdowns and found ourselves back in Türkiye and then Malta, both picked from the very small list of countries that were accepting Canadian passports at the time. This is when we learned (for the second time) that apartments in Mediterranean countries generally aren’t winterized. New purchases that season included slippers for the ice-cold tiles in our drafty Airbnb in Sliema, Malta.

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Year three we were in chilly Spain and — wait for it — Türkiye yet again. There had been another round of COVID lockdowns and Turkiye was, as usual, our fallback plan. This time we were hit with a wildly unseasonable cold front in the city of Izmir and found ourselves scurrying to tourist attractions wearing as many layers as possible.

By our fourth winter of full-time travel, we realized that perhaps a new continent was in order and happily explored Colombia, with the Coffee Region, beach-town Palomino and mountain-village Minca being particular favourites. Year five saw us on the balmy island of Madeira, where we were won over by Funchal’s historic downtown with its spectacular mountainous backdrop.

Our (very specific) wish list

Now that we’ve settled back in a northern country, the question of where to go for the winter is even more important. And selecting just the right place is increasingly difficult as we become more experienced travelers and our wish list for destinations keeps growing.

Here’s a small sampler of criteria from the brainstorm for our upcoming winter getaway: must be a new-to-us destination; great weather; great food; a decent gym nearby; easy access to nature for hiking; and clean, stylish Airbnbs available that are also pet-friendly (because naturally our two dogs, Jasper and Huxley, will be joining).

Very important, there must be enough varied experiences and attractions available that the destination merits a three-month stay. That last one is critical because our appetite for novelty is such that we aren’t content to stay in just one apartment in one city for an entire three months.

And the winner for 2026 is…

We weighed many options for the winter of 2026, including such wildly different countries as Taiwan, Argentina, South Africa, and Cyprus. After a decision-making process that made extensive use of a spreadsheet, weather forecasting websites, and a scoring system (yup, we’re nerds at heart), we finally landed on what will be our home-away-from-home this winter: the Canary Islands.

Although we’ve been to mainland Spain before, we felt that the Canary Islands are distinct enough to constitute a new destination, albeit with a familiar Spanish flavour. We’re looking forward to spending three months hopping from island to island and hike to hike.

We’ll start in Gran Canaria; make our way to Santa Cruz de Tenerife; pop over to La Gomera for a week of vanlife; and then circle back for a long stay in one of Tenerife’s more authentic neighbourhoods, far from the touristy resorts of the South Coast. We’re looking forward to sunshine, patio dining and long walks on the waterfront while Canada is blanketed in yet another layer of snow.

If you’ve been to the Canaries, please do send your best travel tips and favourite restaurants our way. And if you’ve got your winter getaway all lined up, we’d love to hear where you’re going.

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In the meantime, we’ll be busy shovelling the drive and counting down the days until our next adventure.

See you on the road,

Stephanie & Gillian

One of our favourite experiences was exploring the villages of the remote Svaneti region, which are famous for their medieval towers. These striking towers were both homes and fortresses for the families in the villages, and most of them — having been built a thousand years ago or so — are not exactly safe for visitors. Still, we were able to catch the views from one of the tallest towers in Mestia and check out the basement where people and their farm animals once lived side by side.

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We’re also still talking about our overnight stay at Baia’s Wine where we enjoyed true Georgian hospitality with a huge spread of traditional dishes, more wine than we could drink in a month, and a simple room in the family home. This winery was once a small family operation that Baia, the 19-year-old daughter, turned into an internationally-recognized label (winning many awards as a young entrepreneur along the way). This is exactly the type of hidden gem that we love to find on our travels: a warm welcome, great food, and a memorable backstory.

If you’re ready for a somewhat wild ride through Georgia’s western mountains, the video capturing our whole journey is now live and ready for viewing.

Our Second Chance at the Tour du Mont Blanc

The Tour du Mont Blanc (TMB) is one of Europe’s most beautiful, challenging, and popular hikes. It’s a 170-km, multi-day hike that circles Mont Blanc, passing through France, Italy and Switzerland. It also happens to be one of the most difficult hikes in the world to book.

This is our second go at the TMB. The first time round, we were able to squeeze just a week of vacation from our jobs. We flew in and out of Geneva, and I remember it being so expensive that Gillian and I could only afford to share a single bowl of pasta and a single glass of wine for dinner. With limited time available, we did barely half the hike, celebrated with pizza in the Italian town of Courmayeur, and returned to our start point in Chamonix via a cable car across the Mont Blanc glacier. I vowed to come back one day and give the TMB the full 11 days of hiking that it deserves.

However, in the intervening 15 years or so, the TMB has soared in popularity, along with the other iconic hikes in Europe. We attempted to book it last year and even purchased our flights. However, we quickly discovered that 8 months in advance was already far too late to book any lodgings along the trail. Even a bunk in a 20-person dorm room in the most basic mountain refuges were long booked up.

This year, we weren’t taking any chances. A full 11 months in advance — the point at which most lodges and hotels open their books for the next season — we sat down with Google Maps, booking platforms, “best of TMB” blogs, and locked down our itinerary. We were not alone. Apparently, the official Mon Tour de Mont Blanc booking platform was so flooded with traffic on opening day that it promptly crashed — but not before we managed to snag the bookings we needed, including much sought-after private rooms in high-demand refuges.

The question you might be asking yourself is whether the TMB is really worth all this trouble. Beyond the stress of committing ourselves so far in advance, we’ll be facing wildly expensive mountain refuges with cramped dorms, line ups for showers, basic meals, and the occasional bed bug infestation.

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We’re hoping that the physical challenge and the views will more than make up for the limited comforts. Almost every step of the way will be a panorama of alpine beauty; all the snow-capped peaks and glaciers that you’d hope for in an epic hike. As for whether it’s worth it, just check back in with us a year from now.

See you on the road,

Stephanie & Gillian

We’ll freely admit that we’re not the most spontaneous people; reservations booked well in advance and intricate logistics are more our speed. This trip was a good opportunity to test our capacity for improvisation, going with the flow, and being the type of laid-back traveler who doesn’t blink at making a same-day hotel reservation.

Buzzing through Tbilisi

The first part of the trip went like clockwork. We spent a week in Tbilisi, and from the moment we arrived, I was amazed by the city’s layers of history. Around every corner was a mix of old and new: 19th-century latticework balconies, monumental Soviet buildings, gleaming modern towers, and crumbling art nouveau mansions. It was even more eclectic and fascinating than we expected.

Georgian cuisine was the other significant draw for us and our first foray into traditional dishes was everything we hoped for: those famous khinkali dumplings, vegetable and walnut pâtés, stewed beans, cheese-filled fresh-baked breads. However, I will admit that by the end of the trip, I was more than ready to take a break from the onslaught of bread and cheese at every meal.

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Because our stay was shorter than usual—we normally settle in for a month when we’re slow traveling—we had to hit the ground running. We covered an impressive number of sights on our first day, starting with Tbilisi’s oldest church (an impressive 1,500 years old), a stroll across the futuristic Peace Bridge, and a cable car ride (only slightly terrifying to those of us afraid of heights) all the way up to the Mother of Georgia statue that looks over the city.

Back down on the city level, we wandered through the daily Dry Bridge Market, where all kinds of antiques, Soviet memorabilia, and miscellaneous bric-a-brac is available. After visiting so many so-called local markets that catered to tourists with mass produced products, this one was charmingly authentic.

Of course, we couldn’t resist capturing the whole experience on video. If you’re up for a whirlwind tour of Tbilisi—plus a peek inside our spectacular Airbnb—our newest video is now live: watch here.

When plans meet serious weather

Our next stop was Svaneti, a remote mountain region perfect for a multi-day hike from village to village. Svaneti is so difficult to reach that the options are either a 45-minute flight that’s often cancelled (ours was) or a winding ten-hour train-and-minivan marathon through the mountains.

Just as we were ready to lace up our boots, days of thunderstorms rolled in. While we were mentally prepared to hike through a reasonable amount of rain—that’s why we brought the rain gear along, after all—the thunder and lightning proved to be too much for us. When I found myself doing an online search for “what to do when caught in a thunderstorm on an exposed ridgeline” (answer: crouch low on the balls of your feet for 30 minutes), I realized that we needed a new plan. Our hike would have to wait for another, sunnier time.

So we pivoted. We came up with an all-new plan to explore western Georgia’s villages, monasteries, and wineries. And while it wasn’t the trip we originally imagined, we took it in stride. After all, we’ve been fortunate enough to have enjoyed excellent weather on every other hike we’ve done (including an unseasonably sunny trek through the Cotswolds last spring), so perhaps we were due for a little rain.

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Coming soon…

Our next video, out in a couple of weeks, will give you a ringside seat to those unplanned adventures. We’re braving the storm to visit a remote UNESCO mountain village, wading through a river to reach a monastery outside Kutaisi, and feasting at a winery where, no exaggeration, they opened four bottles of wine just for us, plus offered up a couple bottles of chacha for good measure.

See you on the road,

Stephanie and Gillian

I travelled there with Save Our Scruff, the Canadian dog rescue I’ve been volunteering with for the past year. Until now, my role has been very much behind a computer supporting fundraising efforts. This trip was an entirely different take on volunteering. It was my opportunity to get on the ground and as close as possible to the dogs whose lives were working to change.

The focus of the trip was Funkytown, a shelter that provides a sanctuary to over 400 dogs. These are animals who would otherwise be roaming the streets of the local communities hunting for scraps. Many of them are former street dogs; others were abandoned by owners at the shelter gates; and some — typically litters of puppies — were simply dumped in boxes or bags at the doorstep. 

The scale of the operation was simply staggering. There were dogs absolutely everywhere I looked. The most social and trusted ones were allowed to roam freely in a central area; the rest were housed two or three to a kennel in a maze of open-air enclosures that stretched across the property.

The first day was completely overwhelming. I’d never been surrounded by this many dogs all at once, every single one of them wildly excited by the arrival of new people. I also found it difficult to see hundreds of dogs living in outdoor enclosures with just a basic shelter to protect them from the sun and rain.

However, I quickly understood that all the dogs at Funkytown were well cared for relative to local standards; each one was sheltered, fed, vaccinated, and given medical attention. What they were really lacking was the individual attention and love that comes with being in a forever home.

Our role as volunteers was to identify friendly, approachable dogs that might be suitable for adoption in Canada. Over two days, we spent time with as many dogs as possible—handing out treats, offering cautious pats, observing behaviour. Ten dogs made the trip back with us (the maximum number allowed on the plane) and many more were earmarked for future adoption. This may not sound like a significant number but each adoption makes space and resources available to another dog in need. 

This trip was exhausting and intense, but also very meaningful. After years of travelling through countries where stray animals are just part of the landscape, I’ve often wished I could do something more than simply feel sad about it. 

If you’re curious to see what 400 dogs sound like when they all start barking at once — or just want a peek behind the scenes of Funkytown — you’ll find a few clips on our Instagram Stories @ourfreedomyears.

See you on the road,
Stephanie & Gillian

Overall, the hike was a success and we’re officially adding it to our list of favourite hikes around the world. The distances were quite manageable and the terrain offered just enough steep hills to justify the extra effort of bringing our hiking poles along as checked luggage (don’t even ask how many times we debated the pros and cons). We were also glad to be there in the springtime; braving a couple days of rain was a decent tradeoff for the blossoming trees and all those adorable lambs.  

That said, this is not a hike for those seeking a budget-friendly destination. We were amazed by the prices that we faced in this heavily touristed part of England. We managed to keep our accommodation expenses relatively low through very rigorous deal hunting (and also staying in some very quirky, lower cost options - can't say I love sharing a bathroom.). 

However, the cost to keep ourselves fed each day was a bit of a shock, likely due to the lack of restaurant options in the tiny villages along the trail. If you’re looking for a lower budget inn-to-inn hike in Europe, the Bohemian Paradise in Czech Republic or the Via Transilvanica in Romania are both excellent options. 

Of course, why just read about our trip when you can come along for the adventure? After a very lengthy hiatus from YouTube, we finally have a new video to share with you. We knew going into the Cotswold Way that it would be particularly scenic and made sure to bring along our video equipment. The end product is a fun round up of the highs and lows of the Cotswold Way, including the costs, of course. Have a look and let us know if the Cotswolds make it onto your bucket list. 

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Making a difference in Mexico 

You might recall that last August I traveled to northern Manitoba to participate in a spay and neuter clinic in the Chemawawin Cree Nation community. This was an eye-opening experience for so many reasons. It was my first time visiting a First Nations community and also my first time on the front lines of a dog rescue mission. I returned home somewhat worse for wear, having spent every waking hour tending to and cleaning up after dozens and dozens of anxious dogs. 

Still, it was deeply rewarding to know that I had contributed in a small way to the welfare of dogs in that community and now I’m looking forward to doing the same in Mexico. Later this month, I’m heading to an animal shelter in Puebla with a team from Save Our Scruff, a Canadian non-profit dog rescue (Gillian is kindly staying at home to take care of our own pups). There I’ll be helping out in the background however I can while the local vets operate on a couple hundred cats and dogs.  

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If you’re interested in finding out more about what it’s like to combine travel and volunteering, you can follow along as I share the day-by-day experience on Instagram.   

In the meantime, enjoy the video!  

See you on the road,

Stephanie & Gillian

This time round, we hopped across several beaches in the Gulf islands; headed north to Chiang Mai with a side trip to a mountain village; and then ended our journey with the big city vibes of Bangkok. This adventure included all the classic Thailand highlights we could hope for: beach time, street food, temples, village life, historic sights, and much more. 

The only thing missing was providing all of you with the complete post-trip report, including where we stayed, where we ate, and what not to miss. Fortunately, we’re addressing that oversight right now by sharing a comprehensive blog post with all our best tips for a memorable Thailand getaway. 

This is a great starting place for planning your own trip to Thailand and, for those who are already familiar with this beautiful country, we’d love to hear about your favourite experiences. 

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Hoping for sunshine in the Cotswolds

In just a week, we’re heading off for one of our biggest trekking challenges to date: an end-to-end hike of the Cotswolds Way in England. 

We’ll be starting in the scenic town of Chipping Campden and then winding our way through forests, fields and charming villages, all the way to the Roman city of Bath. The Cotswolds region has been officially designated as an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty so there’s no doubt that we’ll be hiking through one of England's most spectacular landscapes. 

While we may not be scaling any mountains - the Cotswolds is better known for its rolling hills - the distance is nothing to sneeze at. We’ll be hiking 164 km or 102 miles and, if that doesn’t sound daunting enough, we’ve decided to travel lean this time round. 

We’ll only be taking what we can carry on our backs and nothing more. That’s right, no cushy luggage transfer for this one - which means we’ll be desperately seeking a laundromat somewhere around kilometre 82.

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We’re somewhat concerned about the weather conditions that we’ll encounter this time of year. England is known for its unpredictable weather at the best of times and we’re expecting our share of spring showers. However, as yet another ice storm blasts through our village in Ontario, I’m feeling that even a rainy day in England has got to be a marked improvement on shoveling snow in April. 

If you’re looking for the day-to-day updates of our adventures and misadventures on the Cotswolds Way (and count how many rain days we actually encounter), you can follow along with our Instagram Stories. 

See you on the road,

Stephanie & Gillian 

After visiting almost every country in Southeast Asia, we can easily say that Thailand is our favourite. We’d been there a dozen times or more, usually for pleasure but occasionally for work (how I miss those all-expense paid trips that typically involved a luxury hotel and a rooftop bar). We’d ziplined in Chiang Mai; toured the floating markets of Bangkok; rock climbed in Railay; and explored some of Thailand’s most famous beach destinations from Phuket to Phi Phi to Phangan and more. 

Suffice it to say, we felt pretty confident in crafting what we considered to be the perfect itinerary for a month-long journey in Thailand. We’d travel from south to north and then back to Bangkok, ticking off a lineup of our old favourites plus a few new discoveries. 

Brief stop in Koh Samui

The timeframe for the trip was scheduled for late September so we made it a priority to start in the Gulf of Thailand, where the rainy season runs from October to December. We guessed (correctly, as it turned out) that we could still enjoy sunny skies if we headed there first. 

After an exhausting journey of three flights -- from Toronto to Copenhagen to Bangkok to Koh Samui -- we finally collapsed in the stylish and welcoming arms of the Zazen Boutique Resort. While we usually choose furnished apartments, this trip featured a mix of Airbnbs, boutique inns and even a couple luxury hotels like the Zazen, thanks to credit card points and judicious scanning for online deals.

Koh Samui is, of course, a very popular destination in its own right but it was just a one night stop for us. We had limited interest in its busy streets, underwhelming eateries and overpriced resorts, although we did enjoy our brief stint of being pampered with high thread count sheets and a respectable breakfast buffet at the Zazen. 

Instead, we were in pursuit of a lower key, off-the-beaten path, bohemian beach vibe that could be found on the neighbouring island of Koh Phangan, just a 30-minute ride away on a fast ferry.

Beach life on Koh Phangan

Koh Phangan has a number of beaches with plenty of accommodation options to choose from. It was important to select our location wisely as that can affect the entire tone of one’s stay. We wanted to be steps away from the beach and decent dining - always important when the scorching midday heat makes even the shortest walk feel like a debilitating expedition - but as far away as possible from any late-night party scene. 

We ended up choosing a bungalow by Hin Kong beach and couldn’t have been happier with our location. This is a quieter beach as its extensive sandbar makes swimming almost impossible. That said, the sunrise and sunset walks along the sandbar are just phenomenal, especially sunrise when we had the entire beach to ourselves. We were also minutes from a number of popular restaurants and the always-essential 7-11, our go-to spot for a few groceries and a blast of air conditioning. Our Airbnb was small and simple but offered an excellent view of palm trees and ocean from the hammock on our balcony.

We quickly found that we needed our own set of wheels to explore Koh Phangan. Between the scorching heat and the steep hills that characterize the island, we could only get so far on foot. Many travellers choose to rent a scooter but we felt more confident about tackling the terrain in a car, taking the minimum three-day rental. 

We toured the local temples, not seeing a single other tourist but getting a chance to watch a Buddhist ceremony at a respectful distance. We also rented snorkeling gear from a local hotel and took a look at the fish and coral off Mae Haad beach. And we had a chance to catch the buzz at the very popular and busy Haad Yao beach and feel very pleased with ourselves for choosing the more laid-back Hin Kong beach instead. 

A big part of each day was dedicated to exploring the local dining options. By the end of our time, we had a well-vetted list of favourites, including Happiness Thai Restaurant for fresh seafood at a reasonable cost; Indigo Cafe for international veggie mains and baked goods; the adjoining Chana Masala for Indian food; Segal’s for hummus and other Israeli classics; and Kikekla for somewhat pricey Thai dishes in a stylish beachfront setting.

The hidden paradise of Wai Nam

Hin Kong beach was a pleasant re-introduction to Thailand island life but we still had one more stop on Koh Phangan - and this one would be a complete immersion in the beach lifestyle. It took some work to get there: we had a 30-minute transfer over the steep hills of the island to Haad Rin, and then a 20-minute ride via a longtail boat to the hidden paradise of Wai Nam beach.

Wai Nam offers what we consider to be the ultimate beach experience for Thailand: no big hotels; no hordes of tourists; just a quiet slice of sand and sea enclosed by cliffs and jungle. 

There’s one hotel, the Whynam Beach Resort, which is a combination hotel/wellness centre/hostel/digital nomad retreat with an all-vegan menu and spontaneous dance parties on the beach. Meals are taken at low tables with pillows for seating; decorative feathers and flowing scarves are available for sale at the bar. The hippie vibe is palpable. 

We purchased our meals at the Whynam Beach Resort but stayed in what could only be described as a legitimate shack on top of the nearby cliffs. It was a charming, old wooden bungalow that was lightly restored and given a lick of paint by an expat couple. There was no air conditioning but we could catch an ocean breeze on the tiny porch. These were true barefoot luxury conditions, if luxury means a toilet that flushes once a bucket of water is poured in. 

Mornings were for sunrise yoga on a cliffside platform. I spent afternoons reading while Gillian hunted down that day’s mellow dance party (Bambu Jungle Lounge on Sunday was her favourite). And then we had evenings of vegan meals and people watching at the Whynam restaurant. It was perfect. 

On the morning of our departure, we were glad to have plenty of time to get to the ferry dock in Haad Rin. Our pre-arranged longtail boat had engine trouble and we had to wait 30 minutes in the blazing sun for another boat to be sent our way. After a jam-packed ferry ride back to Koh Samui (I was very relieved to see a light jacket at every seat), we had an overnight stay in a largely forgettable hotel and then onward to Chiang Mai by plane the next morning.

Food and temples in Chiang Mai

Once again, weather played an important role in the timing of our visit; we were hoping our arrival in Chiang Mai would coincide with the end of its wet season. In fact, we were fortunate to just miss a period of intense flooding that shut down many areas of the city and had an even greater impact on communities further north. 

We had originally considered renting a condo in the trendy Nimman area, possibly with a pool in the building as an escape for the heat. However, we were very happy with our final choice: a bright and chic studio apartment located in one of the many charming back alleys of Chiang Mai’s walled city. We were thrilled to have a small but serviceable kitchen again and immediately stocked up on a few essentials at Rimping Supermarket, a gourmet grocery store. 

After so many easy-going days at the beach, it was time to ramp up the tourist activities. We kicked off our time with an excellent exploration of local food with A Chef’s Tour. This tour ended up being a private experience: just the two of us and the guide on the back of a songthaew truck, making our way across the city from one tasty hole-in-the-wall restaurant to another. 

While it was incredible to re-acquaint ourselves with Chiang Mai classics like khao soi, we had to be willing to forgo our often-vegetarian/sometimes-pescatarian diet and embrace meat eating for this one day. We tried to make up for it by frequently lunching at Tien Sieng Vegetarian Foods, a local eatery that was also popular with Buddhist monks. Generally, we found it quite challenging to follow our usual, healthy, sugar-free, mostly vegetarian diet; Thai cooking is big on meat and the liberal use of palm sugar. 

Other highlights included touring our way through the city’s most significant temples; visiting the high-end Maya Lifestyle Shopping Centre; and exploring some of Chiang Mai’s many markets including the Saturday night Wua Lai Walking Street, the Sunday night market on Ratchadamnoen Road and, our favourite, the daytime Jing-Jai Market. We also found respite from the heat and a decent cappuccino in the beautifully-designed Kalm Village, a free museum and cafe tucked away in the old town. 

Finally, our favourite activity was hiking the Monk’s Trail all the way up to Wat Phra That Doi Suthep, an impressive Buddhist temple with views of the whole city. The first half of the hike was well signed and we quickly made our way to a small, picturesque temple that feels quite hidden away. 

From there, the path was largely washed out and we found ourselves scrambling up steep hills with no signage in sight, just our AllTrails map to guide us. Eventually, however, we emerged from the jungle and had a lovely wander through the temple grounds. For those interested in this hike, be sure to check AllTrails for the latest reports on trail conditions - this is a hike to avoid after a rainfall. 

Northern Thailand beyond Chiang Mai

We were looking for a taste of northern Thailand beyond Chiang Mai and considered all the popular options: a visit to Pai, a favourite among backpackers; a hill tribe trekking experience; or maybe a road trip along the 600km Mae Song Loop. 

In the end, we decided that what we wanted most was a brief sojourn in a beautiful setting, a taste of village life, and absolutely no exploitative hill tribe or elephant tourism. And we also wanted a relatively short drive from Chiang Mai as we didn’t relish the thought of spending hours on bumpy backroads. 

We chose a short stay at the lovely Lisu Lodge , an eco-friendly boutique lodge surrounded by rice fields and orchards, just an hour away from Chiang Mai. The lodge has a close, working relationship with a nearby village that is predominantly populated by the Lisu people. We were able to have a non-intrusive guided tour of the village and learn about the customs and lifestyle of this tribe.  

Gillian also worked out a clever hack for our transportation to the lodge. Instead of booking a relatively expensive transfer from Chiang Mai, we joined a fun cooking class at Maetang Lanna Thai Cookery School, located in a nearby village. They picked us and our luggage up in the morning and then dropped us off at Lisu Lodge in the afternoon - all included in the cost of the class. 

Indulging in affordable luxury in Bangkok

We said goodbye to the peace and quiet of rural Thailand and flew into Bangkok for the final stop in our journey. Home for the next few days was a spacious room in the luxurious COMO Metropolitan Bangkok, which we had snagged for a great price after keeping a watchful eye for deals. The immediate neighborhood was not to our taste as it was largely dominated by large hotels and corporate buildings, but Lumphini MRT station was just a short walk away. 

While we had been to Bangkok many times before, I had never visited the Grand Palace and neither of us had toured the Jim Thompson House Museum, making these both must-visit sights. 

The Grand Palace, as spectacular as the name suggests, has been the official residence of the Kings of Siam since the 18th century. We had a fascinating walk through this highly decorated complex, with the obligatory peek at the Emerald Buddha housed inside what is considered the most sacred temple in Thailand. Pro tip: get to the Grand Palace as soon as it opens since the crowds can be overwhelming to even the most seasoned travelers. 

Our next stop was truly memorable. We both love touring historic homes that retain the original art and furnishings so the Jim Thompson House Museum was an easy win. The house is the former residence of American entrepreneur and art collector Jim Thompson, who is credited with revitalizing the Thai silk trade. The home, built in a traditional Thai style, was so lovely that I would have been happy to move in immediately. 

The theme for the rest of our time in Bangkok was self-indulgence.

We made the mandatory visit to our favourite massage place in Bangkok: Health Land, a chain of high-end spas where two hours is the minimum time allotted for a Thai massage. We snacked our way through the vast selection of dishes available at the Khlong Lat Mayom Floating Market, one of the less touristy markets. And we took part in one of our favourite Bangkok traditions: a buffet lunch at a luxury hotel, this one being La Scala at the Sukhothai Bangkok Hotel. For deal hunters, our best tip is to download the Eatigo app to access discounts for many Bangkok restaurants; we snagged our La Scala brunch at an incredible 50% discount. 

With that, our adventure came to an end. Our tour of Thailand’s greatest hits was everything we hoped it would be. We had impressed ourselves with the number of sights and activities that we managed to pack into the month while still leaving plenty of downtime for leisurely sunrise walks along the beach. And our experience was a wonderful reminder that even the beaten path has room to explore around its borders.

Those five years were filled not only with travel but also more than 150 YouTube videos and countless Instagram posts. After sharing so much of our journey on social media, it felt healthy to take an extended break while we assessed what our next chapter looks like. 

After all, 2024 was a significant year of transition for us. We shifted away from full-time traveling, bought a new home, plunged into small-town living, and dabbled in shorter trips with our jaunts to Peru and Thailand. 

Re-establishing a home base in Canada turned out to be the right move, allowing us to reconnect with friends and family after a decade overseas. Plus I can’t overstate the pleasure of having my very own bed and pillows, perfectly calibrated to my preferences, after sleeping on random mattresses in dozens and dozens of Airbnbs.  

At the same time, we still have a serious case of wanderlust and are looking forward to exploring new destinations. In fact, this year’s line up of trips is already starting to take shape and - exciting news - one of them is open to hiking partners who are up for a challenge.

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Exploring the wilder side of Georgia

Georgia has been on our wishlist for years and it's hard to say what’s been the greatest draw for us: the history, food, or the world-class hiking opportunities. In September, we’ll finally have our chance to discover this intriguing country, including a guided trek through the spectacular Svaneti mountains range. 

The trek includes ticking off many highlights of the region - the UNESCO-listed villages of Mestia and Ushguli; the Shdgura waterfall; the Chalaadi glacier; and more -all while staying in rustic guesthouses and feasting on traditional Georgian home cooking. Distances will range from 10 to 22 km per day with some solid elevation changes. 

We typically prefer self-guided hikes but decided to book a small-group tour for this one to make way-finding and logistics easier (I didn’t relish the thought of wandering off path in the remote hills of Svaneti with zero knowledge of the Georgian language). A tour also gave us the added bonus of luggage transfer - it’s always nice to be reunited with a fresh cache of socks and t-shirts during a challenging multi-day trek. 

Falling in love all over again with Mexico City

While we love our new home in Ontario, we knew that once the cold and snow set in it would be time to take flight to sunnier climes. We chose Oaxaca City and Mexico City, both places that we had visited previously. 

Second time round, Oaxaca still had lots of new experiences to offer. On our first visit, we explored the Monte Alban ruins and Hierve de Agua, a stunning rock formation that looks like a waterfall. We did a tasting at a mezcal distillery, toured artisan workshops and visited the sprawling Tlacolula Sunday Market. 

This time, we tried our hand at making Oaxacan classics at a farmhouse cooking class (highly recommended); brunched our way across the city; and made the happy discovery of an expat hiking group offering multiple hikes every week. 

Next up was Mexico City. During our last visit, we stayed in the green and charming neighbourhood Roma Norte. This time, we chose the greener and even more atmospheric neighbourhood of La Condesa. Within our first few days here, we could confidently say that this is a place we would be happy to come back to for future wintertime retreats. 

For fans of architecture, wandering through La Condesa is a visual feast with gorgeous art deco buildings wedged between modern apartments. We (not to mention our dogs) particularly loved the tree-lined pedestrian walkway that loops through the entire area, following the path of a former race track, with buzzy cafes and stylish restaurants on every corner. 

All too quickly, our month in La Condesa has come to a close. In just a couple days, we’re hopping on a flight back to Canada, trading in the perfect weather of Mexico City for still-wintery Ontario. Fortunately, we’re already looking forward to our next trip: a springtime trek through a country that we’ve never properly visited before (because 12-hour layovers don’t count). More on that in our next newsletter…

See you on the road,

Stephanie & Gillian 

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This month’s newsletter comes to you from the remote beach of Why Nam in the Gulf of Thailand. We’re staying in a little bohemian community that has sprung up around the legendary full moon parties of Koh Phangan. Gillian’s here for the free-spirited music and dance scene; I signed up for the quiet beaches, vegan food, and yoga at sunrise. 

This is easily the most rustic stage of our month-long journey through Thailand; we’re living in an actual shack on a cliff overlooking the ocean. There’s no air conditioning; the toilet flushes by way of a bucket; and insects and geckos have free run of the place. But, for the adventurous traveler looking for a true off-the-beaten-path experience, we feel that there’s no better beach in Thailand.   

If you want to follow the adventure in real time, join us over on Instagram. 

Saying goodbye to a special chapter

October also marks the closing of our four-year adventure recap. Starting all the way back in spring, I’ve been sharing an inside view of what our nomadic life was actually like during all those years. Our Instagram feed might create the impression that travel is all peak moments—a scenic lookout over Lisbon, cruising the Danube in Budapest, sunrise in Colombia’s Cocora Valley—but that’s just a small part of the story. 

The reality for us included avoiding pickpockets in Medellin, getting rained out in Vienna, and having to re-book all our plans over and over again. Some experiences were minor annoyances, like becoming overwhelmed by the daily influx of cruise ship tourists when we lived in Lisbon for a month.

Others caused a full-blown case of travel burnout, such as being denied boarding a flight in Santa Marta, Colombia and then hunkering down in an Airbnb for three days while we anxiously tried to secure another flight out for us and two dogs.

The final instalment is now ready for you on our blog. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I’ve had reliving all the memories of this incredible but intense chapter of our lives.

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Plan your own freedom years

If you’re thinking of planning your next chapter, join us at the virtual Canadian Financial Summit from October 23 to 26. It’s an exciting lineup of 40+ speakers, including financial planning heavyweights, journalists, and bloggers. For our part, we’ll be talking about the financial benefits that came from a career overseas and the economics of setting up a home base in Canada. 

Click here to get your free ticket.

See you on the road,

Stephanie & Gillian 

The final year of our adventure kicked off in Medellin, a city that turned out to be one of our least favourite destinations. We arrived with high hopes; we’d heard exciting things about Medellin from digital nomad blogs and vlogs. We were expecting swishy condos and an exciting food scene. 

All that was indeed available but we were also met with the reality of spending a month in a city with exceptionally high income disparity. We found it wearing to step out of our apartment in the middle-class neighbourhood of Laureles and face down a street scene that included a lot of homelessness and people in need. We learned not to sit too close to the patio rail at restaurants so that we could avoid the constant requests for money. 

For the first time in our travels, we chose to join group tours as a matter of safety instead of simply wandering the streets on our own. We got an introduction to Colombian tastes on a food tour through Laureles. We checked out the neighbourhood of Communa 13, once the scene of violence during the 1980s and 90s but now a family-friendly attraction complete with break dancers and food vendors. 

We also got an overview of Medellin’s history and toured the key sights, including the busy Plaza Botero—a place where police officers stopped our group to remind everyone to keep an eye on their belongings. 

Sadly, we were ready to leave even before the month was up. Unfortunately, once again, we had nowhere else to go. We had planned to be in Peru for the next leg of travel but the country was suddenly in a state of emergency due to political unrest.

We decided to lean into what we love about travel. We would stay in Colombia but avoid the big cities. It was time to head into the countryside for hiking, home cooking and beautiful scenery. 

Hacienda hopping in the Zona Cafetera

With great relief, we said goodbye to Medellin and hopped on a plane headed to Colombia’s Zona Cafetera, or coffee region. We’d had our fill (and then some) of big city living and were hoping to discover a different side of Colombia. 

We started with a two-week tour of the region, famous for its coffee farms and colourful villages, including showstoppers Salento and Filandia. Along the way, we stayed in a series of haciendas that all featured the trademark architecture of the region: white walls, red trim, tiled floors. We also had our fill of rustic home cooking including the formidable bandeja paisa, a weighty platter of beans, rice, arepa, chorizo, plantain, chicharrón, avocado and beef, topped with a fried egg. 

Naturally, we had to include a tour of a coffee plantation that ended with tasting a series of truly strong brews. And we couldn’t miss hiking our way through Cocora Valley, which features the tallest palm trees in the world.  

Next, it was time to recharge. Spending a month in fast-paced Medellin while re-doing all our carefully-constructed forward plans had taken a toll. We rented a spacious, modern hacienda that was a 30-minute jeep ride from the nearest town and stayed there for five gloriously quiet weeks. We spent our days working out, wandering the hills, researching our next adventures, cooking, or just drinking in views of the region from our dining room.   

The reset worked. When our time in the Zona Cafetera was up, we were ready to face down the crowds in Colombia’s most popular tourist destination.  

Finding magic in Colombia’s north

Cartagena is Colombia’s most spectacular city but also seems to be its most crowded. At the crack of dawn, the city was blissfully cool and quiet and we could take a few crowd-free photos of the colonial architecture and colourful street art. 

As the day wore on, the temperatures soared and the streets absolutely teemed with tourists, touts, and vendors. It was an effort to keep up with our group for a tour of the historic centre and discussion of Cartagena’s sad history as a prominent slaving port.  

We were glad to have seen Cartagena but equally glad to say goodbye and head off to Palomino, a laid-back beach town. Palomino is becoming more popular but still retains its off-the-beaten-track vibe with plenty of vegan smoothie bowls and backpacker hostels to go round. Here we were finally able to relax, whether poolside at our swanky villa or wandering the endless coastline.  

The last stop on our journey was the most memorable. We made our way to Minca, an adventure town located in the Sierra Nevada mountains that offers waterfalls, hiking, and birdwatching. We stayed in a stunning eco-resort located on such a rutted, steep trail that only a sturdy local jeep could make the trip. This remote stay gave us a chance to learn about the Wiwa, an indigenous group that has lived in the region for centuries. The entire experience was magical and we couldn’t recommend it more.

We were on a high when we arrived at the Santa Marta airport for our flight back to Canada. Unfortunately, our happiness soon evaporated when we discovered that the airline had lost our pet-in-cabin booking and we wouldn’t be able to board the plane. Suddenly we were stuck in Santa Marta with no flight out and nowhere to spend the night. After three stressful days and countless hours on the phone with customer service, we finally secured our flights back to Toronto. By then, the travel burnout had truly set in.

A happy return to Europe

Our six months in South America offered up many wonderful experiences—hiking to the rim of Ecuador’s Quilotoa Crater, recharging in Colombia’s coffee region, adventuring in Minca—but it had also come with a lot of challenges. 

The reasons were many. A month in Medellin was draining; we were forced to change our Peru plans due to political unrest; the admin and vet visits required to import and export our dogs seemed unending; finally, we got stranded at the Santa Marta airport. All of it took a toll.

We were ready for travel to feel easy again, particularly travel with our dogs. It was time to head back to Europe where we could cross borders with the pups just by flashing their EU Pet Passports. We cooked up a highly ambitious itinerary that covered a cluster of countries we’d never been to before: Czech Republic, Austria, Slovakia, Hungary, and Romania. The best part was that, after our first trans-Atlantic flight,  we wouldn’t need to step onto a plane the entire summer; it was train travel all the way.  

We decided to speed through the most expensive destinations—Prague and Vienna—and then slow down to our usual snail’s pace. And we were determined to fit in as much inn-to-inn hiking as we possibly could. It’s the kind of adventure we love the most and Europe is the very best place for experiencing it. 

First, there was Prague, a beautiful gem of a city. Every building seemed to have a story to tell. Unfortunately, even in shoulder season, it was bursting with tourists. We followed the crowd to the city’s blockbuster’s sights - the Astronomical Clock, the Charles Bridge, Prague Castle—but happily peeled off in search of a more local experience. 

We took a train just a couple hours out of town to explore the Bohemian Paradise, an extensive nature reserve where we could walk through stunning geological formations by day and tuck into cosy inns at night. It was the perfect start to our time in Europe—and then our luck ran out in Vienna. 

Rained out in Vienna

We were on a high when we left the Czech Republic but quickly crashed down to earth when we realized that our visit to Vienna was going to feature rain—lots and lots of rain. It turned out that we had arrived exactly on time for an unseasonably wet May and it was going to last for our entire stay. Never mind, we said to ourselves. We’re only here for a week and we’re going to make the most of it. 

We popped the dogs in their rain gear, grabbed our umbrellas and headed into the historic centre for a very damp self-guided Rick Steves audio tour. It was a morning of struggling to hold onto umbrellas and wet poodles in the pelting rain, while simultaneously trying to say something noteworthy to the camera. Not exactly our most cinematographic YouTube video but full points for effort. 

That said, we couldn’t have picked a better city to visit during inclement weather. Vienna has an incredible number of world-class museums and galleries and we easily could have filled every day. Of course, the admission prices are also world-class so we limited ourselves accordingly. I spent a delightful afternoon wandering the Leopold Museum, famous for its Klimt and Schiele collections. Meanwhile, Gillian tackled the Sisi Museum, featuring the personal effects of the popular Empress.

Miraculously, just as we left Vienna for our weeklong hike through the scenic wine region of Wachau, the clouds parted and the sun came out. This particular hike never made it into our YouTube videos but offers relatively easy inn-to-inn hiking in the hills overlooking the Danube. It’s yet another of Europe’s lesser-known gems for a decent multi-day hike and makes our recommended list—especially if you like ending a day on the trail with a shot of apricot schnapps.

Then it was time for a break. We’d slept in at least 15 different beds in the past month and were ready for a change of pace, ideally in a country that was a lot less expensive than Austria.

Taking a breath in Bratislava

As we had discovered after more than three and a half years of non-stop travel, the nomad lifestyle is only sustainable if you can step away from being a tourist every so often and get back to everyday routines. We had found the perfect spot for just that in the small, laid-back city of Bratislava in Slovakia.  

Bratislava is the type of city where tourists usually just stop by for a short visit. It’s got a compact old town; you can cover off the main sights in a single day; and — to make it even easier — it’s just a short train ride away from Vienna. 

Instead of a day trip, we set down for an entire month and it was exactly what we needed after our whirlwind tour of the Czech Republic and Austria. We found a surprisingly stylish apartment that was just on the edge of the historic centre and a short walk away from the Danube. 

The apartment was perfect—almost. The owner made a bold design choice and placed the shower behind a clear glass window inside the bedroom, very much in full view. We considered it a small mercy that the toilet was located way down the hall. 

So began our love affair with Bratislava. Mornings were for exercise and leisurely breakfasts; afternoons for long walks along the waterfront with the locals. Dining out was affordable and there were even a few vegetarian options available to break up the roast duck and red cabbage meals. Whenever we were feeling ambitious, we could lazily tick off one or two of the main sights: the town square, Bratislava Castle, Michael’s Gate, the Blue Church, and all the quirky statues scattered around town.

We were feeling relaxed and restored by the time our month in Bratislava was up. Good thing too, because our next destination was going to be a lot more demanding. We were heading to a city that is one of Europe's top destinations for…stag parties.  

Budapest is still party central 

When we decided to spend a summer touring central Europe, we knew without question that Budapest would be one of our month-long stays. In our minds, Budapest was a low-cost destination where we could get big value for our spend. Unfortunately our research on this topic turned out to be about a decade out of date.  

Our clean and cute Airbnb smack in the middle of the tourist district was notable for two things: the breathtaking price and the general dirt and degradation of the building it was located within. We’d seen some filthy apartment buildings during our travels—including literally every Airbnb that we rented in Turkiye—and this one could compete with the best of them.

We quickly discovered that our Airbnb was based well within the party district. A person could barely walk from A to B without running into a stag party. The good times continued into the morning hours; Gillian would pass by the last of the revellers enjoying a morning beer on her way to the gym at 7am.

Still, Budapest has much to offer. We toasted the city's gorgeous architecture while on a cruise down the Danube; we tried the hot and even hotter pools at Gellert Thermal Bath, one of the city's famed bathhouses; we squeezed in with the other tourists to catch the views from the Fisherman's Bastion: we sampled decadent cakes at Ruszwurm Confectionary, one of the oldest cafés in town. 

We even peeked inside the stunning Central Market—worth a visit for the architecture only as it looks like only tourists shop here now. One of our favourite excursions was escaping the crowds entirely with a visit to the green and peaceful Margaret Island.

Overall, we found that Budapest suffers from the same tourist overwhelm as other European destinations, making for a less enjoyable experience. Nothing takes the magic out of travel like elbowing your way through the crowds to the best shot from the Fisherman’s Bastion. We were more than ready to get off the tourist trail by the month's end - something we were easily able to accomplish in the next destination. 

The last of Europe’s hidden gems

Despite the onslaught of crowds in Europe’s most popular destinations, there are still lesser-known gems waiting to be found, with Romania being a perfect example. We started with a truly rustic adventure: village-to-village hiking along the newly inaugurated Via Transilvanica trail.

We hiked all day and stayed in traditional farmhouses at night, usually hosted by a kindly villager who didn’t speak even a little bit of English. The meals were simple and hearty (raw onions for breakfast, anyone?) and the homemade wine was always plentiful. 

We capped that experience with a month-long stay in Brasov, a city that quickly became one of our favourites. Here was a slice of Europe that had everything we needed—charming old town, affordable dining out, decent Airbnb, a stunning mountain backdrop—yet without the crowds that had made the more popular European destinations so challenging. 

Sure, it’s a fairly small city. We were able to tick off the major attractions in just a couple days: the Council Square; the Gothic-style Black Church; Catherine’s Gate with its wonderful turrets; and the two hillside towers with views over the city. 

However, it was using Brasov as a base for exploring the region that worked really well for us. We went to Peleș Castle, the former summer residence of Romania’s very first King. We took a cable car to the top of the Poiana Brasov mountain and hiked the 11k back to Brasov. Gillian headed to Seven-Ladders Canyon to tackle a ziplining course that sounded truly terrifying to me (an hour long and totally unsupervised).

By the end of our time in Romania, our four-year non-stop adventure was getting close to the end. There was just one more country that we simply had to see before starting our next chapter. 

Could Portugal be our next home?

The final country in our four-year, slow travel adventure around the world was Portugal. This is a destination that has soared in popularity with tourists and expats over the past decade. In fact, we’d had many discussions about making a base there since we’d met so many others on a residency or even citizenship track. Could Lisbon, Porto, or one of the smaller towns be a place we could call home?

We gave it serious consideration during our visit. We started with a very rainy week in Porto to catch up with friends. Certainly it’s an intriguing city - we loved our afternoons wandering the maze of streets and sampling port at a tasting house - but I would save future visits for a drier season. 

Then we spent five weeks in Lisbon. This is another lovely city; we were charmed by the tilework on the buildings, the narrow streets, the vintage streetcars. However, less lovely were the mammoth cruise ships that pulled into port each day, disgorging thousands of passengers into Lisbon’s relatively small historic centre. 

We very much felt that we were living inside a tourist attraction and often wondered how the city’s residents coped with the daily influx. And this was the off-season; we couldn’t even imagine how busy Lisbon must be during the peak summer months. 

We still managed to have an enjoyable time in Lisbon. We did an early morning self-guided Rick Steves audio tour of the main sights; sampled classic Portuguese dishes in our little corner of Alfama; checked out some of the many scenic lookouts around town; and made our way to the artsy LX Factory warehouse district.

Lisbon is a beautiful city with an interesting history—but it wasn’t going to be a home for us. Fortunately, just as our visit ended, my online research uncovered a perfect gem of a house in the last place I expected to find it: a tiny village in our home province of Ontario. The only challenge was that we were already off and running to our final destination in Portugal, the far-flung island of Madeira.  

A beautiful ending to our journey

We arrived in Madeira in a state of nervous excitement that had nothing to do with our destination. After Gillian's million and one questions to the realtor about our dream home in a little village in Ontario—and an in-person visit by Gillian’s parents—we were finally ready to make an offer. 

Given the time difference between countries, the back-and-forth of negotiations ended up stretching through the week. We kept waking up in the middle of the night to check our phones and see if the next counter-offer had come through. Needless to say, the charms of Madeira largely slipped by us during these nail-biting days. 

The deal finally closed and we were ready to take stock of our surroundings. Madeira is a beautiful sub-tropical island that really comes alive during the December holiday season. The old town of Funchal already has a wonderful combination of 18th-century architecture and palm trees, with mountains in the background. When it gets festooned with lights during the holiday season, the whole effect is magical. 

We couldn’t have been in a better location to enjoy the season; our Airbnb was just steps away from the Christmas market. While the markets of mainland Europe are much larger, this one came with earnest performances by local choirs and dance troupes, all in traditional outfits.

It was a beautiful way to close out an incredible but intense chapter of our lives. We were saying goodbye to nomadic living after four years on the road. We’d packed in a lot of once-in-a-lifetime experiences during those years, but it was no small amount of work to make our way from country to country, two dogs in tow.

Our home closed in early January and we spent the rest of the month frantically shopping for furniture and everything else we’d need to fill a house that we suddenly owned. While travel continues to be an important part of our lives—in fact, I’m writing this from a remote beach in the Gulf of Thailand—it’s a relief to know that we now have a place that we can always come home to.  

The entire operation was managed very professionally by Manitoba Underdogs Rescue, which has been building a relationship with this community for over a decade. We took over the local schoolhouse, which meant bunking in the classrooms, eating our meals in the home economics room, and the rest of the action happening in the gymnasium. This included the surgeries taking place in full view, which was a lot for me to digest considering that I don’t even like to see my dogs get their annual rabies jab. 

My role as a newbie volunteer was to pitch in anywhere and everywhere. For the most part, that meant I spent a lot of time cleaning up after very anxious dogs. But I also had an opportunity to go on an outreach drive through the community and help with rounding up dogs due for surgery. This was an eye-opening experience; the school house may have been an impressive, modern building but I was saddened to see how many homes were in need of repair.

That said, the trip was considered a success with 59 dogs being spayed or neutered and another 24 dogs surrendered into care. These pups joined the convoy for the return trip to Winnipeg where they were distributed to fosters and will eventually find their forever homes. It was also a personal success for me as I’ve never volunteered in such a hands-on capacity before. And once I’ve fully recovered, I’ll certainly consider signing up for another one in the future.  

For photos and videos, check out my Instagram Stories.

Nothing ever goes to plan

The recap of our nomad years continues on the blog. While the world was hit with wave after wave of COVID in 2022, we somehow managed to carry on with our travels —although we were often left scrambling as travel restrictions came and went.

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Case in point, Morocco and Portugal were two meticulously planned destinations—flights and Airbnbs included—that we didn’t actually visit that year. Instead, we found ourselves rushing to book Türkiye once again (that’s the third trip in as many years, for those of you keeping track). 

Here what you can expect in this month’s instalment:

• Why we never once had dinner out in Spain (and what we did instead)

• Where to go in Turkiye once you’ve already been to Istanbul

• What happened when we foolishly booked a non-air conditioned, open-air apartment in Puerto Escondido

• Our honest take on the expat enclave of San Miguel de Allende

Thailand is calling

After a four year absence from Southeast Asia, we’re finally heading back there in September. It’s going to be a month of revisiting our favourite haunts and exploring new places; during our expat stint in Singapore, we’d travelled to Thailand at least a dozen times (sometimes for business but mostly for pleasure). 

Our previous trips had typically been two or three days but, this time round, we’re heading there for a full, glorious month. We’re starting with a couple weeks on Koh Phangnan, a gorgeous island in the Gulf of Thailand—fingers crossed that monsoon season is slow to arrive this year 😂. From there, it’s a week in Chiang Mai to explore Thailand’s cooler north, then we’ll close out with a romp through Bangkok.

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Naturally, we’ll be sharing the highlights on Instagram as we go. And let us know if you want an in-depth blog post on all the trip details, including how much an action-packed adventure in Thailand costs in 2024. 

See you on the road,

Stephanie & Gillian 

We kicked off 2022 and our third year of travel in the beautiful city of Seville, which is a relatively temperate place to spend January and still be in mainland Europe. This time, we had the perfect apartment in the perfect location. It was a stylish Airbnb in the heart of Alameda de Hercules, a buzzy pedestrian area famous for its trendy bars and restaurants. We were also right around the corner from the Guadalquivir River, a perfect spot for walking the dogs while watching the local rowing teams practice.   

Mornings were spent enjoying a brisk walk down historic streets to the city’s main attractions: the Cathedral, Giralda Tower, Plaza de Triunfa, the Santa Cruz neighbourhood, Parque de Maria Luisa, the Alcazar. Each day brought a new treasure to explore. 

Late afternoons were for tapas and vino right on the Alameda. To be honest, we really struggled with the Spanish hours for dinner out since it’s the time when we generally head to bed. In fact, during our two months in Spain, we didn’t have a single dinner out. We did, however, manage to get out for a thrilling evening performance of flamenco, which is truly an essential for any visit to Seville. 

It was a perfect month—almost. Our next stop was supposed to be Morocco but the latest wave of COVID had shut down borders yet again. We needed a new destination fast. It had to be outside the Schengen Zone but within an easy distance from Europe. Warm temperatures were a must-have. The debate went on and on; we came up with and then dismissed at least a dozen possibilities. And that’s how we found ourselves heading to Türkiye for the third time since the pandemic began.     

Falling in love with Antalya

If you like what Istanbul has on offer—food, culture, history—but find the scale of the city to be a little intimidating, we think that Antalya is the perfect alternative. Antalya was the 19th destination in our four-year adventure and, upon arrival, the city immediately jumped onto our list of favourites. It’s on Türkiye's Mediterranean coast and offers an excellent combination of natural beauty, historic charm, and affordable dining out. 

Here’s what we loved about Antalya:

• Dramatic cliffside walking paths for taking in stunning views of the Med

• A picturesque historic centre that was just large enough to get lost in

• Abundant food stalls, cafes and decent mid-range restaurants, including many options for a lavish Turkish breakfast spread

• Enough ancient ruins to satisfy a archeology junkie, with Phaselis, Olympus and Termessos all within driving range

• A high proportion of warm, sunny days even during the relatively cool and rainy season of February

That said, we ran into the same old problem of finding decent lodgings in Türkiye. Now that we had a more practiced eye with picking our Airbnbs, we could tell immediately which ones would be overly atmospheric, overly cluttered or just plain uncomfortable. 

We finally found an apartment that was clearly a winner: newly renovated, stylish, modern. The only problem was the shockingly high price being asked, especially in comparison to the overall low cost of living—which is the same issue reported by other nomads on the hunt for an Airbnb in Türkiye. I was willing to pay whatever it took, even a highly elevated tourist price; Gillian needed some convincing.  

As much as we loved Antalya (and our overpriced apartment), there was underlying stress during our stay. For the second time in as many months, our carefully-made forward plans were thrown into complete disarray with more COVID travel restrictions. This time, Portugal had suddenly closed to Canadian tourists. With a “here we go again” feeling, we scrambled to find a new destination and a new apartment to live in for the month. 

Yet another Airbnb fail in Türkiye 

Izmir was the obvious choice as our next destination. It was just an hour flight away from Antalya and also offered a seaside experience but on a much larger scale. Sadly, our timing couldn’t have been worse. It was a record cold March that year, and even mild Mediterranean destinations like Izmir were close to freezing some days. We were miserably underprepared for the cold weather and layered up with every warm piece of clothing that we had. 

Our choice of apartment only made matters worse. We selected what we thought looked like the nicest Airbnb in town and paid a premium for it. First impressions were not good; the building entrance was truly filthy (I used my elbow to flip on the dirty light switch) and appeared to be functioning as a refuge and occasional litter box for the neighbourhood cats.

Unsurprisingly, the apartment was not winterized, and the chilly wind pretty much whistled right through. It also offered our least favourite type of Airbnb kitchen; months of neglect had left it full of other people’s half-used food products and sticky pots and pans.

Minor inconveniences aside, Izmir is still an exciting and vibrant city to discover. We sampled pickle juice and olives along Karsiyaka’s buzzy pedestrian streets; joined the commuters for a ferry ride across the bay; sipped strong coffee in the atmospheric Kemeralti bazaar; and popped into the 16-century Hisar Camii Mosque, famous for blending Ottoman and European styles. We also hopped in a car to visit one of the region’s most significant attractions: the ancient site of Ephesus and its stunning library. 

By the end of our stay, however, we were ready for a completely different experience. After shivering in our down coats for the past many months, we wanted sunshine, warm temperatures, and a beach. We would find all that and much more in our next destination on the other side of the world.

Battling the elements in Mexico

Our month in Puerto Escondido, Mexico was a case of be careful what you wish for. After a chilly time in Türkiye, we were ready for sunshine, warm temperatures and a dip in the ocean. We picked Puerto Escondido on the Pacific because we’d heard that it was a laid-back alternative to the over-Instagrammed beach towns on the Caribbean side.  

What we hadn’t really considered was how hot 90 F / 32 C feels day after day. We’d managed to arrive exactly in time for the hottest month of the year (that’s May, for any of you planning a visit). Once again, we found ourselves going on excursions in the relatively cool early morning and hiding from the sun for the rest of the day. However, this time we didn’t even have the mercy of air conditioning; in fact, we basically lived outside for the entire month. 

For some reason, we thought it would be an interesting experience to live in an open-air apartment with our only shelter from the elements being a traditional palm thatch roof. There were no walls or windows or even a mosquito net—just a fan which we kept running all night to blow away any insects that might be gathering while we slept. We also had to evacuate for a couple nights when a Category 2 hurricane descended on the coast. 

Fortunately, Puerto Escondido offered enough distractions that we didn’t spend too much time mulling over the perils of outdoor living. Gillian learned how to surf the baby waves at scenic Playa Carrizalillo; I released a baby turtle into the Pacific as part of the local turtle conservation efforts. We woke up extra early for a dawn boat ride to spot dolphins; sampled our first grasshopper-and-guacamole snack; and enjoyed sundowners on Playa Zipolite.

In the end, we didn’t have any regrets about renting an open-air apartment; it turned out to be fun to try on a different style of living. At the same time, we were more than ready to say goodbye to the blistering hot beach and hello to one of Mexico’s most popular expat destinations. 

Life in an expat enclave

In many ways, San Miguel de Allende was our kind of place. It’s a picture-perfect colonial town up in the cool mountains with a rich history—one of Mexico’s pueblos mágicos. However, it was our first time in a place with such a significant expat population and we found it to be a very educational experience. Traditional markets and local eats were still available but there were also plenty of upscale brunching options and English-language events. 

As an example, we took a morning to explore a food-and-crafts market and were quite surprised to discover that it was almost exclusively expats selling pricey homemade soaps and baked goods. It wasn’t exactly the authentic taste of Mexican culture that we were hoping for. Not surprisingly, a month in a decent Airbnb was shockingly expensive.

Still, we enjoyed our time in this beautiful city. We did a tour of the historic centre and hiked up to the city’s best lookout point. We wandered the lush Parque Juarez, which was hosting a women’s basketball tournament, street food vendors, artist’s shows and dog walkers all at the same time. We checked out the art galleries of Fabrica la Aurora, a reclaimed factory that is now a creative space. 

The highlight of our stay in San Miguel de Allende was actually a trip out of town; we did a very memorable food-and-history tour of nearby Guanajuato, pairing my two favourite topics into one glorious day.

Eventually, it was time to trade in the slow-paced San Miguel lifestyle for something a little more lively. We headed to Mexico City for what would be the most action-packed, exciting month of our entire time in the country.

Possibly too much fun in Mexico City

We’re not normally big city people but, for so many reasons, we instantly fell in love with Mexico City. It might have been our neighbourhood. We were staying in surprisingly green Roma Norte, an upscale area known for its many spendy restaurants and cafes. While we dabbled in the local dining scene, what we really enjoyed were our daily walks on the tree-lined pedestrian paths. 

It also could have been our luxurious Airbnb. We reached out to over 20 hosts but only one would accept a booking with two small dogs. It just happened to be the most expensive on our list: a beautifully designed and decorated apartment with wine in the fridge and a soaker tub in the bathroom (I was in heaven). 

But, most likely, it was the many exciting, interesting activities that filled the month with plenty more available for the next visit. We enjoyed a rowdy night of wrestling at Lucha Loco; drank a little too much tequila on the colourful canals of Xochimilco; checked out early Mexican history at the Museo Nacional de Antropología; spent a day exploring the magnificent pyramids of the Teotihuacan archeological site—and those are just the activities that made it into our video.

Of course, the food is yet another reason to love Mexico City. We tried sweet buns and hot chocolate for breakfast; found our favourite street food carts for tacos and gorditas; and munched on dorilocos, a snack consisting of Doritos slathered with sauces and topped with vegetables, nuts and gummies (definitely a one-time thing). We also sampled chiles en nogada—stuffed poblano peppers with a walnut-cream sauce—a special dish that’s only available during the run-up to Mexico’s Independence Day. 

A (mostly) authentic experience in Oaxaca

All too soon, the month was up and we were off to the final destination in our tour of Mexico. It’s a city we enjoyed so much that we’ve already booked a return visit for this coming winter. Of course, we had no idea that we would enjoy our time in Oaxaca so much. We were mainly keen to visit because of its reputation as a foodie city. 

Sure enough, we were quickly sampling our way through all the regional specialties. We tried it all: memelas topped with cactus from the streetside cart (similar to an extra thick taco); tlayuda with zucchini blossoms in one of the many markets (looking something like a pizza); a traditional piedrazo, which can best be described as crunchy bread soaked in a pickled salad (an acquired taste); and the ancestral drink of tejate, a cacao and corn-based drink. And that was just the beginning of our food adventures. 

However, we quickly discovered that Oaxaca had much more to offer than just interesting dishes. We toured the charming historic centre, the significant churches and the biggest markets in town, the Mercado Benito Juárez and Mercado 20 de Noviembre. We explored the archeological site of Monte Alban, a pyramid complex occupied by Mixtecs, Zapotecs and Olmecs. 

We hiked up to Hierve el Agua, a spectacular petrified rock formation that looks like a frozen waterfall, and made sure to stop for a mezcal distillery tour on our way back. We joined the crowds at the massive Sunday market in Tlacolula, a market so large that it seemed to take over most of the town. This was truly a spot for locals; tourists were a rare sighting indeed. 

In fact, of all the places that we explored in Mexico, Oaxaca seemed to offer the most authentic experiences for travelers. Sure, we encountered lots of other tourists and even met a few expats making a home there. But, generally, we felt that Oaxaca was a place where the local culture was still thriving despite its growing popularity among tourists. That’s likely why we’re looking forward to heading back there this winter --that, and having a hankering for more memelas from our favourite street vendor.

Ready for a different style of travel 

As our time in Mexico came to a close, we realized that something had been missing from our travels so far. We started our journey with a dream of tackling epic hikes and exploring scenic villages. Instead, our travels were divided into month-long city stays in cushy Airbnbs. This was the most economical and easiest way to plan nomadic living, especially when carting around two little dogs. On occasion we would squeeze in a day trip, but certainly not the multi-day treks we originally imagined. 

If we wanted more adventure, we would have to do things very differently. And we decided to get started right away during our next few months in Ecuador. The trip began with a week in the cloud forests of Mindo, a village in northern Ecuador best known for being a birder’s paradise. Then it was a few days in Quito—just enough to see the sights while holding on tightly to our valuables (every single blog post, video and forum had warnings about petty crime). 

Next, we put on our hiking gear and headed into the highlands for a spectacular and challenging trek through remote villages and up to the rim of the Quilotoa Crater. From there, we spent a week in the adventure town of Banos, famous for ziplining, rafting and hot springs (Gillian covered the first two activities while I focused on the third).

Finally, we landed at our home for the month, the well-preserved colonial city of Cuenca. This city is famous for its lovely architecture, mild weather and, not least of all, the very affordable lifestyle that it offers to expats and retirees. 

We recovered from our highland adventures by touring the historic centre; trying out a spiritual cleansing offered by the local healers; exploring the local Inca ruins and the Pumapungo Museum; and indulging ourselves at a luxurious thermal water spa, mud bath included. And we spent a lot of time just chilling out, because it turns out that adventuring our way across Ecuador by car is a really exhausting proposition.😅  

Up next: We kick our travel into high gear during our last year of nomad living. Part four lands next month.

As you might imagine, this is promising to be a rather rustic trip. Upon arriving in Winnipeg, our team of volunteers will be hopping in a van and heading five hours north to a remote community -- in fact, the furthest north that I’ve ever been in Canada. 

Days will be spent helping with the spay-and-neuter clinic; at night we’ll be camping on air mattresses in the local elementary school. I’m still waiting to hear whether showers will be available (fingers crossed for that one). 

If you’re interested in following along, check out our Instagram stories for the highlights.

The adventure recap continues

If you enjoyed reading about the ups and downs of our first year of nomad living, the next instalment is now live on our blog. 

Sadly, the second year of our travels started with a desperate scramble to get back to Canada at the height of the pandemic. After dealing with a family tragedy, it took many months until we were ready to pack our suitcases once again and resume a life of travel. 

Here’s what else you can expect in our year two recap:

• Loving Belgrade but wishing that we picked any time of year other than August 

• Booking a challenging group trek as a party of four: two humans and two poodles

• Discovering that there’s no place quieter than a Mediterranean beach town in the offseason

• Arriving in stylish Valencia, Spain with only the clothes on our backs

That’s it for our August update. Coming to you in next month’s newsletter: It’s our long-awaited return to Southeast Asia and we couldn’t be more excited to rediscover this region that has a special place in our hearts. We’re heading off for a month in Thailand and the itinerary is a mix of old favourites and new finds. More details to follow but keep an eye on our Instagram for the latest updates.  

See you on the road,

Stephanie & Gillian

We started the year in Malta, which was a breath of fresh air after our somewhat grim month of COVID lockdown in Istanbul. Malta is a tiny country with a population of less than half a million on a small but spectacular island in the Mediterranean. 

We loved Malta for the sunshine and glorious cliffside hiking, and for all the layers of history to discover. The capital city of Valletta, dating back to the 1500s, is just magnificent, and its cathedral, built by the Knights of St John, was one of the most lavish that I’ve seen. Since tourism was at an all-time low due to COVID, I had the opportunity to appreciate the cathedral—the country's greatest treasure—all by myself. 

We were interested in exploring the cuisine of Malta—it was an intriguing mix of Sicilian, North African and British influences—but the price tag for dining out quickly convinced us to stick with home cooking. Malta is not an ideal destination for the budget traveler. Our very stylish Airbnb in the sought-after town of Sliema was only affordable because it was both the off season and a pandemic. 

Throughout this time, and all the previous months of travel, I talked to my mother almost every day. My job was to share amusing anecdotes from my wanderings through foreign lands and hopefully provide a distraction from her ongoing chemo treatments. 

During our calls, I picked up rumblings that her cancer recovery wasn’t going as well as we’d hoped. Then one day the rumblings turned into a very loud alarm bell. The chemo wasn’t working and my mom had taken a very sudden and dramatic turn for the worse. 

I had to get home and it had to happen immediately. The only problem is that we were on a small European island during the height of COVID restrictions with two small dogs and limited flight options. Getting home wasn’t going to be easy but we had no choice.

A sad and stressful homecoming

Charting a route from an island in the middle of the Mediterranean all the way to North America at the height of the COVID pandemic turned out to be a formidable task. By this point in the pandemic, airlines had given up all but their most essential routes; the pickings were slim. Moreover, we wouldn’t be able to fit in an overnight layover to give the dogs a break from air travel. There was not one country between Malta and Canada that would allow non-residents to step foot on their soil beyond the airport terminal. 

We’d have to book it all with one airline and do it as a continuous journey. After hours on the phone with multiple airlines, we finally had a path home: Malta to Frankfurt to Montreal to Toronto. 

We shelled out for the most expensive COVID test of our travels; avoided all human contact while we packed up our Airbnb; and then we were off for our marathon journey. The only saving grace was that airlines were selling business class seats at almost the same price as economy; after all, the lounges were closed and the in-flight meals were packaged. 

In Toronto, after waiting 45 minutes at an empty baggage carousel, we accepted the fact that our luggage containing all our worldly possessions was lost somewhere in transit. All we had as we headed into two weeks of quarantine in Gillian’s parent’s basement were the clothes on our backs and two exhausted poodles. 

I won’t go into great details about the subsequent months as it’s still a difficult topic. Suffice it to say that the entire focus of my life narrowed to caring for my mother and, at some point, our efforts shifted from helping her get better to helping her become more comfortable. 

I’m deeply grateful that we were able to care for her in her own home while COVID raged on in the hospitals and that we were all together when the moment came. My mother was my best friend and the loss was just tremendous.  

Starting over in Serbia

After closing out the worst period of our lives, we were eventually ready to travel again. Of course, we were still feeling absolutely devastated but desperately needed a distraction. At that time, nothing was more distracting than researching destinations and booking flights. 

We knew we wanted to position ourselves in eastern Europe; all our research told us that this was a region where the slow traveler could live cheap and live large. After months of cheerless lockdown in Toronto, we were ready to at least enjoy a meal and a drink on a patio again. 

We started with a month in Belgrade, Serbia. We found a stylish, reasonably-priced apartment close to the pedestrianized historic centre; the large and leafy Kalemegdan Park; and the Sava River. In short, an outstanding spot for a scenic evening stroll in any direction. Belgrade, it turns out, is a truly lovely city. 

We may have done well with the location but, once again, we completely failed with our choice of season. In case you’re wondering, Belgrade is baking hot in August. Just like Athens, we found ourselves trying to enjoy the city’s amenities in the morning and evening, and sticking close to the apartment’s air conditioner during the rest of the day.

Fortunately, as anticipated, the low cost of living in Belgrade translated into an instant lift in our lifestyle. Suddenly we were dining out as much as we wanted to, bouncing between classic Serbian eateries and bougie avo-and-toast restaurants.  

I wish I could say that the distraction of travel worked. I was at a point in my grieving process where anything that reminded me of my mother would make me burst into tears. Since everything I looked at reminded me of her -- even in completely unfamiliar Serbia --  I was pretty much always on the verge of tears. 

But we kept going. Our next stop took us out of busy Belgrade to a lesser-known gem in northern Serbia.

Won over by charming Novi Sad

If we liked Belgrade, we absolutely loved Novi Sad. This small, quiet city in northern Serbia was exactly the rest stop we needed. It’s a fraction of the size of Belgrade but still offers a lovely pedestrianized historic centre and great dining.

We enjoyed long morning walks beside the Danube river; shopping for local produce in the farmer’s market; wandering through the old town; and winding our way up to Petrovaradin Fortress for a wonderful view of the city. 

Novi Sad is also an excellent jumping off point for regional excursions. We combined our favourite activities into one glorious day when we hiked through Fruska Gora, a national park; visited the charming Rakovac monastery, one of many hidden away in the park; and tucked into a farm-to-table feast at a local winery -- including generous pours of rakija, the local spirit. 

We were also impressed by our visit to the city of Subotica, most famous for its spectacular collection of art nouveau buildings. This is one for the architecture buffs. Since this city is right on the border with Hungary—and, in fact, was part of Austria-Hungary until WW1—our lunch had a decidedly Hungarian influence with a hearty helping of goulash

Of course, the highlight from our month in Novi Sad had to be the weekend brunch for just $4 USD at the local eatery across from our Airbnb. This was a cosy restaurant festooned with vintage bric-a-brac and featuring an expansive buffet of traditional farmhouse cooking. It was a challenge not to go back for a 4th or 5th helping.

Fortunately, we didn’t need to worry about overindulging because our next stop was going to push us to our limits. We were heading to the Accursed Mountains in Albania.    

Pushing ourselves to the limit in Albania

One of our dreams when we set out on our four-year adventure was to bag as many epic hikes as possible. We’d already hiked Kilimanjaro, the Tour Mont Blanc and Everest Base Camp, and were ready for more. Of course, we weren’t carting two little poodles around for any of those adventures.

We had a lesser-known trek in our sights: a circuit called Peaks of the Balkans that wound its way 120 km through the mountains of Albania, Kosovo and Montenegro. We debated going it alone but read too many blog posts of hikers getting lost even with GPS. 

Instead, our party of four signed up for a group trek. When we met our guides and fellow trekkers in the city of Shkodër; most were bemused that we had brought along our handbag-sized dogs for a nine-day hike.  And then we were off. The group squeezed into a minivan with fewer seats than people and then had what could only be described as a lurching, vomitous three-hour drive through the backroads to get to the trailhead. 

While the hike itself was as challenging as promised; the scenery was even more awe-inspiring than expected. It was exciting to be on trails that had yet to be discovered by international tourists. We stayed in rustic lodgings in the evenings, usually with minimal hygiene facilities (e.g. two overworked toilets for a couple dozen people) but always with hearty meals and good cheer.

That said, we quickly discovered that we’d taken on a lot by bringing the dogs. We always had to hike at the back of the group since the dogs needed to go at their own pace. If it was raining, windy, too hot, or too steep— and it was very often at least one of these—we had to carry the dogs so that they wouldn’t become overly exhausted. They may be small but they still feel heavy after a couple hours.

Was it worth it? Absolutely. Would we do it again? Actually, we already have. Since then, those surprisingly tough little dogs have hiked with us all over the world and hopefully there are many more hikes to come.  

Wining and dining in Tirana

Once we had finished hauling ourselves and two poodles across the mountains of the Balkans for nine days, we were ready to crash. We booked ourselves into an Airbnb in Tirana for the month with an agenda of eating, sleeping and recovering.

We had mixed feelings about Tirana. On one hand, dining out couldn’t get much more affordable. We ate one or two meals out a day -- bouncing from local grillhouse to pizzeria to high-end dining -- and still had room in our budget. Tirana also had some charming corners: an expansive downtown Grand Park; the remnants of a historic centre; and the relatively affluent neighbourhood of Blloku filled with stylish restaurants and shops. 

However, the city was also bursting with traffic, noise, and more bustle than we had seen for weeks. Tirana is very much a city in development; many of the apartment buildings were either half built or half falling apart. Brand name businesses were few and far between; more commonly we saw second hand clothing stores and mom and pop shops. It probably didn’t help that our lovely apartment was situated over what we thought was a quiet, tree-lined canal but turned out to be a major artery for the city. 

We made the best of it, of course. We checked out Bunk’Art 1 and 2, two nuclear bunkers that have since been converted to museums exploring Albania’s authoritarian past. We toured Skanderbeg Square, Tirana’s wildly massive main plaza at 40,000 square metres, and checked out the adjacent 18th-century mosque and 21st-century Orthodox church (both stunning buildings). 

We took a cable car up Mount Dajti, apparently the longest cable car ride in the Balkans at 15 minutes (picture me white knuckling it all the way). When we arrived at the top, we swung right at an abandoned hotel and then hiked for an hour to get a spectacular and blissfully quiet view of the region. 

Quiet days by the Mediterranean

After a month of city vibes in Tirana, we were ready for a change of pace. We rented a car and made our way south across the mountains to the coastal city of Saranda, yet another lesser-known destination just waiting to become popular with international tourists.

We chose Saranda for its sea views and balmy temperatures. Chilly autumn had arrived in the rest of Albania but we could still enjoy long walks on the waterfront promenade in Saranda. That said, I wouldn’t recommend intentionally spending November in a Mediterranean beach town. 

As soon as we arrived, we noticed that, one by one, many of the restaurants closed for the season.  What was left were the restaurants serving locals; we quickly discovered where to go for a simple pizza or calamari with fries -- that was largely the extent of our dining out for our entire stay. And the lovely waterfront promenade became a little too quiet as the weeks rolled by.

Fortunately, Saranda had a lot more to offer. Two of the country’s most epic sites are an easy day trip away. First we explored the Roman ruins of Butrint, Albania’s most significant archeological site. Once again, we had the opportunity to wander through a major historic site and have the whole place to ourselves.

Then there’s Gjirokaster, a beautifully preserved city from the Ottoman era, complete with a mountaintop castle. We particularly enjoyed a homestyle meal in a tucked-away restaurant where we were treated to an informal performance of traditional iso-polyphony singing by a group of locals. 

Generally, we really enjoyed our time in Albania. It was certainly less developed versus the other places we’ve visited in Europe. The rustic experiences that we enjoyed might be considered a little too rustic for some. But Albania won points for offering what we personally value in a destination: an authentic cultural experience well off the international tourist trail. 

A graceless entry into Spain

Our next challenge was to get from Saranda on the coast of Albania all the way to Valencia, Spain. We packed up and exited our Airbnb; realized that we had locked ourselves out with Gillian’s phone still somewhere inside; waited for the host to show up with a key; and, finally, we were on our way. 

The drive back to Tirana took all day and most of the evening; we were still exhausted when we boarded our pre-dawn flight out of Albania. Unfortunately, the plane was delayed and our tight connection in Frankfurt became even tighter. After a breathless run through the airport—dogs bouncing in their carriers—we managed to catch the flight. Sadly, our luggage didn’t make it. 

And that’s how we arrived in the beautiful city of Valencia: two dogs, a few essentials in our backpacks, and not enough clothing to keep warm in the December chill. 

We shivered our way through a glass of wine and an early dinner on a patio—the dogs functioning as lap warmers—and tucked in for the night wearing assorted exercise wear that Gillian had bought from the local mall. Occasionally a life of travel is very glamorous but this was not one of those days.

Fortunately, none of this managed to take the shine off our experience in Valencia. Between the food, history and culture, there was so much on offer. We visited the impressive Cathedral of Valencia; peeked into the ceramics museum housed in an 18th-century baroque palace; walked through Turia Park; went mural-spotting in the side streets of El Carmen. I tried my hand at making paella in a cooking class; Gillian rented a bike and cruised through the stunning City of Arts and Sciences complex. 

Then there was the food. Toast with grated tomato at breakfast; bocadillos for a mid-morning snack; churros and chocolate in the early afternoon; tapas a little later. Our fridge was always bursting with goodies from the famous Valencia central market. 

That brought us to the end of a very challenging 2021, hoping for better days in the coming year. 

Read the next instalment.