• Kenzie Wallace, 27, moved from California to Spain after she graduated from college in 2018.
• She loves the culture, safety, opportunities to travel, and relative affordability.
• She hadn't originally planned to move abroad, but now she doesn't plan to return to the US.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Kenzie Wallace, a 27-year-old from San Diego who moved to Spain in 2018. The conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

I graduated from the University of California, Santa Barbara, a year early. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, but I knew I wasn't ready to settle down and get a job.

I was thinking about what was next — what would I do for myself?

The most obvious option was a master's teaching credential program. I started doing everything one does for that: preparing for the GRE, volunteering, and working with a professor who was a mentor of mine.

One day, the professor asked me, "Why do you want to do this program?" I don't remember what I said to him, but whatever it was, it wasn't convincing.

He told me, "You've studied Spanish before and are good at it. Why not take those skills, go abroad, and teach English in a Spanish-speaking country while you try to figure out your life?"

I had never thought about moving to Spain until that conversation. After doing some research, about a month later, I found a teaching English program in Madrid and decided, "I'm going to do that."

At first, I thought I would stay in Spain for a year and then return to the US and get a job. But about three days after moving to Madrid, I knew I had finally found my place.

I took a leap of faith moving to Spain

I was 20 — just a week shy of my 21st birthday — when I boarded the plane to Spain in 2018.

I was lucky that my parents supported most of my way through university, so I wasn't coming to Spain with a lot of student loans or debt. I also worked at Starbucks during college and had about $12,000 in savings.

Still, I didn't know anyone and wasn't exactly sure what I was getting myself into.

I moved to the country on an English teaching visa through Spain's language assistant program. The program contracts native English speakers to work in public schools, teaching English immersion classes.

I had applied before arriving in the country, secured a part-time teaching job that earned me about $1,000 a month, and was assigned to a school. For my first two weeks in Madrid, I stayed with a host family

When those two weeks were up, I had to figure out housing on my own.

I had to figure out life in Spain on my own

Eventually, I found an apartment on real-estate website Idealista for €530 ($557) in a shared flat with six other Spanish girls. I was the only one who spoke English.

If it weren't for that first apartment, I would never have felt truly connected to Spain.

Though I made friends — American friends through mutual connections, Facebook groups, and colleagues I worked with at my school — it was my roommates who showed me what Spain was truly like.

You can learn about a country and how to speak its language from a book, but it's not the same as putting yourself out there.

I fell in love with Madrid

After my first year in Madrid, I decided to stay another year, which eventually turned into, "I'm just going to stay for as long as I can."

I realized I had my whole life ahead of me to get a master's or a job, but I wouldn't have this opportunity forever.

Spanish people are really friendly and inviting, and the country's proximity to other European countries makes me feel like the world is at my fingertips.

I liked the person I was becoming in Spain. I felt more independent, resourceful, and stronger. l knew that my future was all up to me, and that I could carve my own path.

It felt incredibly freeing and I wanted to keep moving in that direction.

I made a life for myself in Madrid

I've been working at Business and Language College Spain, or BLC Spain, since May of 2023.

I have working rights now through a partnership visa, so I no longer have to worry about the restrictions of an English teaching visa.

At my job, I work with international students coming to Spain, helping them navigate the things I once had to figure out on my own.

Most students don't know how to find housing, open a bank account, or get a phone number. It's rewarding to guide them through those processes.

I have a Spanish partner. We've been together for four years, and almost a year ago, we bought a two-bedroom apartment in Madrid for €240,000 ($252,295). It's located in the eastern part of the city.

The apartment is 77 square meters (about 829 square feet), which is a big improvement since we previously rented a one-bedroom place. We wanted to be able to have guests and set up an office.

Our apartment isn't extravagant, but it's a great starter home, and we're really happy there.

Our neighborhood is great because even though it's a little outside the city center, it's very well-connected. We're also on a major street with many bars, restaurants, and shops. It's definitely less central than we were before, but we like the neighborhood vibe.

Living in Spain has some downsides

My biggest complaint about Spain is the lack of organization and efficiency.

It's tough when you're trying to renew your visa or worrying that your paperwork won't be processed in time. However, it's been a good growth experience for me.

I've been in Spain for so long that I no longer see everything through fresh, rose-colored glasses.

Inflation is a big problem worldwide, and Madrid is much less affordable now than it was seven years ago.

I do think some of the blame is placed on digital nomads — people who come here with high salaries, which drives up rent prices and affects locals who are on lower Spanish salaries.

While I don't know what the future holds, I still feel like Madrid is a place where expats are welcome.

I don't plan to move back to the US

There are a few major reasons I don't plan on moving back to the States.

One is the sense of safety. In Madrid, violent crime rates are very low. I can walk around at 3 a.m. without worrying about my safety. It's a comforting feeling that I've come to take for granted.

Another major factor is the cost of living.

The lifestyle I envision for my future just feels more feasible in Spain. Not including my partner's half of everything, my cost of living is probably about €750 euros a month ($788).

Spain would be an excellent place to raise a family, which I hope to do one day. Education is much more affordable, with schooling free from the age of three. Healthcare is also public and free.

Overall, I think my quality of life in Spain is much greater than what I've ever experienced in the States.

I miss my family, but we've grown closer since I moved to Spain. Over the past four years, I've made more of an effort to meet up with them. We get together once a year.

I don't feel like I've missed out on living back home. My 20s have been amazing. I finally feel surrounded by people who understand me, share similar values and interests, and have the same vibe.

When I got to Madrid, something just clicked. I wouldn't change any of it at all.

• Nina Unlay fulfilled her dream of working in London when she landed a reporter job in 2019.
• After only 10 months, she got on a flight back home to Manila and fell in love soon after.
• She's unsure if the Philippines is where she wants to start a family, but she knows it's where she'll retire.

When I landed a job in my dream city, I thought the hard part was over.

In 2019, I got my master's degree in journalism in London and was hired as an entry-level business reporter, making $36,000 a year.

Journalists back home, in Manila, Philippines, where I grew up, earn an average annual salary of $7,000. So, despite this being on the lower end for the UK, where the median gross annual salary for a full-time employee is about $45,400 — I was thrilled. Also, after having studied in London, I knew that this was enough for me to get by.

I soon learned that if I managed to stick around in London for five years, that's all it would take for me — a non-EU citizen — to get permanent residency.

This year, 2024, was the year when I may have gotten my permit — if I had chosen to stay.

Living in London

My life was so cool. I lived in a warehouse conversion with five other Londoners. Our living room could fit a DJ and a hundred dancing people. Our rooftop overlooked Victoria Park. I paid $1,075 a month in rent for my room.

I made great friends in London, many of whom, like me, were also journalists in flux. We spent our free days having picnics and discovering new parks; our nights barhopping around East and North London.

I was in love with the city. I never felt alone; I enjoyed every morning stroll through Broadway Market, every new café I discovered in my neighborhood in Hackney, and every afternoon spent people-watching along the pathways by Regent's Canal.

Despite the cost of living in London being 150% higher than in Manila, the salary bump at my new job was enough to greatly improve my quality of living: reliable transportation, air quality, healthcare standards, and the whole shebang. Many of the places I enjoyed — markets, museums, and parks — were free to visit.

I did miss certain things about living in the Philippines, such as the reliable presence of the sun, quick getaways to white-sand beaches, the cheap and delicious food, and, of course, family.

But in London, it felt like I had a life where anything was possible.

When the COVID-19 pandemic was declared in March 2020, I had to make a decision. Just a few days later, my things were packed, and I was on a flight back to Manila.

A dramatic exit from the diaspora

During the two years I spent living in London, I started having an irrational fear that if one day planes lost the ability to fly, I would never go home again. The pandemic made that fear feel less silly and more real. It forced me to choose: Did I want to build a life around my favorite city, or build a life around my favorite people?

Moving abroad is a popular narrative in the Philippines, one that I was fed growing up. My parents talked about the opportunity to work abroad with me often, pointing out relatives who had done it in the past and almost using them as role models. I developed a belief that there was a "better life" waiting abroad. And it's not wrong.

According to this year's global ranking of liveable cities, according to the Economist Intelligence Unit, Metro Manila, ranked low, at 135 out of the 173 cities surveyed. The EIU bases its Global Liveability Index on a range of factors including availability and quality of public and private healthcare, culture, education, and crime.

The city is one of the most densely populated regions globally.

Migration is part of the Filipino identity. Up to 10% of the population lives abroad, thanks to a system of government-funded training programs that focus on the high-demand career skills required of overseas workers and departments and agencies that streamline the migration process.

It's part of the reason the Filipino diaspora is so huge. I've said goodbye to so many family members and friends throughout my life — my video calls are to family based in cities that include Vancouver, Toronto, Portland, and New York.

But the truth is that the majority of Filipinos who leave aren't doing so because they want to explore the world. They leave because they feel compelled to — that they need to either for themselves or often also for their families. I am just one of the fortunate few who had the privilege and the means to choose for myself.

Manila, my Manila

In Metro Manila, I never feel alone. The people here are the city's best part. They make Manila what it is; an imperfect place, held up by tape, with good food and people who know how to make the best of a crappy hand.

It is not a dream city. It is hot and humid, but full of heart. I try to enjoy how bright the sun is here — especially when compared to the gray and foggy skies in London. I still remind myself that I am privileged to be home, where I can afford a life that keeps my loved ones close.

Four years after returning from London, I've shifted to a career, working at an advertising and communication agency in the Philippines. I moved into a new apartment, and found the person I plan to marry. It is our little inside joke that I traded London for the chance to find him here.

My fiancé is a Filipino-American who was born in Virginia and moved to the Philippines when he was 5. Sometimes we mull over the possibility of moving to the US and attempting to get citizenship for me. We talk about the possibility of having children and how this might give them better options for their future. We feel compelled to at least consider it.

But whenever we think about retiring, it is always, gratefully, in the Philippines; in our warm, crowded Manila, in the presence of the people we love most.

• Millions of Americans live abroad, including in Mexico and Canada.
• It's hard to know exactly how many US citizens live overseas and all their reasons for moving.
• Many say the cost of living, healthcare, and safety concerns draw them to different countries.

Whether it's wanderlust, retirement, cost of living, family ties, or other reasons, some Americans long to live abroad.

They tend to flock to certain parts of the globe more than others. The US's closest neighbors, Mexico and Canada, are top picks.

Others include locations like the UK and Australia where English is the primary language.

Yet, there are a few on the list that may surprise you.

Using census data, the Association of Americans Resident Overseas estimated the countries with the highest number of US citizens.

It's a rough estimate since embassies don't keep an official registry of Americans overseas and the US census doesn't track citizens abroad, Doris L. Speer, president of the nonprofit AARO, told Business Insider via email.

Here are the top 10 countries where Americans are choosing to live after they leave the US, according to the AARO.

10. Spain: an estimated 108,684 US citizens

From the Sierra Nevada Mountains to the Mediterranean coast, Spain has a diverse landscape with bustling cities and charming towns in between.

Compared to other European countries, its cost of living is relatively low. Vibrant nightlife, sunny beaches, high-quality healthcare, and a relaxed lifestyle all make Americans' lists of reasons to move to Spain, while some retirees find their money goes further in Spain.

Non-Spanish and non-Catalan speakers may have trouble navigating some parts of the country, and smaller homes, a slower pace, and unfamiliar bureaucracy all take getting used to for some Americans.

Spain offers a yearlong digital nomad visa. Retirees can apply for a non-lucrative visa (or NLV), which allows them to live, but not work, in the country.

GDP: $1.73 trillion

Economy ranking based on GDP: #15

9. Japan: an estimated 111,021 US citizens

Japan has a population of over 124 million people, and just a tiny fraction of that number are US citizens.

Because the country's population is over 97% Japanese, Americans tend to stick out.

"It was a culture shock to see only one type of ethnicity all around me at all times," Genie Doi, who is Korean-American, recently told BI.

However, Japan's safety, scenery, and quality of life can be huge incentives to move there.

"I was very concerned about gun violence, which is almost nonexistent in Japan," Floridian Alex Evans told BI in 2023. He and his family moved to Mukaishima Island, Japan, in June 2022.

Other US citizens have said some challenges living in the country include a lack of size inclusivity in clothing, difficulties with the language — even with years of study — and the time it takes to travel to other countries from an island nation.

Foreigners who want to live in Japan for six months can apply for a "digital nomad" residence. Those looking to stay even longer can look into visas on the Ministry of Foreign Affairs site.

GDP: $4.07 trillion

Economy ranking based on GDP: #4

8. France: an estimated 117,462 US citizens

From 1954's "Sabrina" to "Emily in Paris," Americans' fascination with France has existed for decades.

US citizens who immigrate there rave about everything from the food to the fashion to the art and architecture.

However, at least a few US citizens have found the visa process tricky and had difficulty finding housing.

Particularly in Paris, some Americans said racism is prevalent. Others had trouble making friends or experienced a language barrier if they didn't speak French.

Filling out lots of forms and waiting for answers isn't uncommon. "The bureaucracy is unbelievably frustrating," Rick Jones, who moved to Paris in 2018, told BI in July.

Francophiles hoping to work or attend school can apply for residence cards or student visas.

GDP: $3.17 trillion

Economy ranking based on GDP: #7

7. South Korea: an estimated 129,499 US citizens

Visitors flock to South Korea to revel in the land of K-pop and K-dramas or to experience the food, shopping, museums, and natural wonders.

US citizens who stay longer have touted universal healthcare, a good quality of life, and convenient public transportation as reasons to love Korea. The high-speed trains cover much of the country, making it easy to travel between big cities.

Among the challenges new residents to Korea face are difficulty with the language, high housing prices, finding employment, and the distance from the US.

Moving to South Korea requires a visa, with most requirements involving work, school, or family. Job hunters can stay for six months with the possibility of extending the visa to a year.

GDP: $1.87 trillion

Economy ranking based on GDP: #12

6. Australia: an estimated 218,216 US citizens

Australia is known for its beautiful beaches and gorgeous weather. For those looking to live there permanently, though, it also boasts a solid economy, good healthcare, childcare stipends, and perks like retirement assistance.

Melbourne and Sydney are among the top 10 most livable cities in the 2024 Economist Intelligence Unit's Global Liveability Index. The country is also one of the most welcoming of migrants, based on a 2019 Gallup survey.

However, for Americans, it is very far from home. It can take nearly 24 hours to travel from the East Coast of the US to Australia.

Another potential downside is that the country's drier, hotter weather is expected to worsen due to the climate crisis, according to the Australian government.

There are visa options for people who want to call Australia home. However, its immigration laws tend to favor the wealthy, giving preference to individuals with education qualifications, professional experience, and who are English-speaking. The Global Talent Program offers visas to "exceptionally talented and prominent individuals."

GDP: $1.8 trillion

Economy ranking based on GDP: #14

5. Germany: an estimated 238,652 US citizens

For decades, Germany has been Europe's economic powerhouse. Many American immigrants to the country found job opportunities, reliable public healthcare, affordable childcare, and a generous amount of time off from work.

Weeks of vacation time allowed them the opportunity to travel around Europe. The country shares a border with Austria, Belgium, the Czech Republic, Denmark, France, Luxembourg, the Netherlands, Poland, and Switzerland.

Recently, Germany's economic growth has slowed, the Associated Press reported in 2023. This fall, the government announced tighter border controls and some political analysts are concerned about the re-emergence of far-right politics in recent elections.

Skilled workers can apply for visas and stay for 12 months while looking for a job. The country also recently eased some of its rules around obtaining citizenship, the AP reported in January.

GDP: $4.71 trillion

Economy ranking based on GDP: #3

4. Israel: an estimated 281,137 US citizens

Over the years, Israel has attracted high-tech startups and wealthy individuals, fueling a luxury real estate boom in some cities.

However, Israel's conflict with Hamas and the continued invasion of Gaza have slowed the inflow of millionaires who no longer consider the country a safe haven, according to one investment migration advisory firm.

While many US citizens move to cities far from the conflicts, others are living in the Israeli-occupied West Bank. Some have blamed these settlers for increased violence against Palestinians over the past year.

Those wishing to move to Israel need a visa. The country's Law of Return allows those with Jewish parents or grandparents to apply for citizenship.

GDP: $528 billion

Economy ranking based on GDP: #30

3. United Kingdom: an estimated 325,321 US citizens

Like Canada, the UK is full of native English speakers, which can ease the transition to living in a new country.

The financial website Investopedia found that prescriptions, groceries, and rent are often cheaper in the UK compared to the US, but gas and energy prices can be higher depending on where you live.

Americans living in the UK who spoke with BI have cited its National Health Service, proximity to the rest of Europe, and work-life balance as benefits of their new home.

These perks can offset lower wages and homesickness.

"Despite lower take-home pay, I'm way less stressed," Wales resident Regina Beach told BI in 2023. "The five-weeks paid holiday — that everyone actually takes — certainly helps."

Some potential downsides, which Americans may struggle to adjust to include smaller homes and the rainy weather. The UK's pub culture isn't for everyone, either.

You can apply for work and study visas to start living in the UK. The government's website provides information on settlement, which allows you to live, work, and study there for good.

GDP: $3.59 trillion

Economy ranking based on GDP: #6

2. Canada: an estimated 1,050,898 US citizens

The US's neighbor to the north has scenic beauty, vibrant cities, a large English-speaking population, and universal healthcare. These are all attractive reasons for Americans to relocate, though temporary or permanent residency is a little more difficult to attain than in Mexico.

Americans won't necessarily find affordable housing in some of the country's larger cities, like Toronto and Vancouver. But for some, Canada offers a feeling of safety, especially with the US's high rates of gun violence.

Despite the benefits of universal healthcare, some transplants from the US found that there can be long waiting lists for specialists and certain treatments.

While the country does offer paths to becoming a permanent resident or citizen, they're often tied to work or family connections. Skilled workers and entrepreneurs can apply for visas, and relatives can sponsor certain family members so they can live, study, and work in the country.

GDP: $2.21 trillion

Economy ranking based on GDP: #9

1. Mexico: an estimated 1,182,346 US citizens

Mexico draws many Americans who want to stay close to friends and family while settling in a new country.

The ability to hop across the border to use their Medicare is also important for many retirees, she said.

Housing, groceries, and healthcare are typically less expensive than in the US, though the influx of newcomers is causing rising rents and housing shortages in some areas like Mexico City.

Many US citizens obtain a temporary resident visa that allows them to live in Mexico for up to four years. Retirees looking to stay can apply for a permanent resident visa, which allows them to stay indefinitely.

GDP: $1.85 trillion, according to the International Monetary Fund.

Economy ranking based on GDP: #13

Three years ago, when Mark Goff and Phillip Engel had their first viewing of Château Avensac in the south of France, only one thing prevented the California couple from putting in an offer: Was it old enough?

The gate tower, supporting walls, and stone bridge at the estate's entrance date back to the original medieval castle built in 1320. But the main building — a 48-room château with sweeping views of the Gers, the rural, foie-gras-producing region of southwest France — was rebuilt in the 1820s. "The idea of the royals and the nobles, to us, is a very romantic idea," Goff says. "That's why we love 'Bridgerton.'"

In the end, they decided there was "just enough 14th-century château stuff going on" to fulfill their fantasies and make it their new home. The place was certainly big enough to host weddings and artist retreats, a business the couple was counting on to help pay for the extensive renovations that would be required. By the fall of 2021, Château Avensac was theirs for $1.2 million.

That's when reality set in.

The château had exposed electrical wiring, "nonexistent" plumbing, and stone walls that retained moisture. Everywhere they looked, there was something in need of work. So far, they've spent $500,000 updating the château's electricity, heat, and plumbing, fortifying the foundations, and replacing the roof. They've budgeted for $500,000 more. "Everyone said, 'You have to assume everything is going to be double what you expect.' And they were kind of right," Engel says. "We didn't really listen to that part."

All across France, there's a glut of châteaus for sale. While the average asking price is $2 million, smaller châteaus can go for a couple hundred thousand. A few, like the palatial mansion nicknamed the "Little Versailles of the Pyrenees," are even being given away. But there's a reason they're on the market: The properties are huge money pits.

Real estate agents say buyers should expect to set aside as much as 1.5% of the purchase price for annual maintenance, and significantly more if the château requires extensive renovations. And if the place is classified as a historic monument, as some 15,000 are, add to the process a small mountain of French bureaucracy. Plans require approval by the French minister of culture, and work must be done by designated specialists. In all of France, there are just 31 architects accredited to run these projects. What's more, the places tend to be woefully outdated and incredibly isolated.

"It's true, you can buy a château in France for nothing," says Adrian Leeds, an American real estate agent who's been in France for 30 years. "There's a reason for that: because nobody wants them!"

That is, the French don't want them. Americans very much do. "There was a razzia" — a plundering raid — "right after the pandemic," says Gonzague Le Nail, a French real-estate agent who specializes in châteaus. Most of the interest used to come from foreign buyers in the market for a second home, but now, Le Nail says, it's from families looking to relocate to the French countryside and use the château as their primary residence. Half the châteaus around Paris are foreign-owned, and inquiries from Americans are up across France.

The day they signed the deed of sale, Goff and Engel invited over all 74 residents of the town of Avensac and served them Champagne, impressing their new neighbors with the decidedly un-aristocratic sensibility they brought to their aristocratic new digs. A few months later, they hosted a "spooky Halloween" party. "They're very open, very nice, and very low-key," says Mayor Michel Tarrible, who's been a recipient of the couple's homemade cookies.

This was not Goff and Engel's first time taking on an extreme fixer-upper. In 2009, they bought a place in Sonoma County, north of San Francisco, that took a decade to renovate. They did much of the work themselves, much of it at night and on weekends. Goff documented the process on his blog. (Goff is a graphic designer, while Engel works in tech.) They ultimately sold the house for twice what they had put in.

Around 2020, Goff happened upon a #chateaulife vlog on YouTube, where a family was documenting the highs and lows of buying and renovating a château. He couldn't believe how cheap the properties were going for, and he pitched Engel on the idea of moving abroad.

"In California you can flip houses and make a lot of money," Goff says. "I knew going into this that it's not going to be like that. You do it because you want to live this kind of rustic, ruined lifestyle in the south of France."

Another chatelain, Abigail Carter, describes a similar trajectory: She had some experience transforming old, dilapidated homes when, as she puts it, she became "obsessed" with buying a château in France.

Originally from Canada, Carter and her husband lived in a succession of fixer-uppers in London, Massachusetts, and New Jersey as they moved around for work and grew their family. After her husband died in the September 11, 2001, attacks — he was visiting a trade show at the World Trade Center that day — Carter relocated to Seattle with their two kids. By 2021 she was living in a converted firehouse she'd renovated and wondering what was next for her.

She found her answer bingeing #chateaulife vlogs on YouTube. "For less than half of what you would pay here for a house, you can get an entire château," she recalls thinking. "I decided not buying a château in France was going to be more detrimental to my health than buying one."

Carter made two visits to France before finding a property she felt she could handle on her own. Château de Borie, a 12-bedroom château near Agen, had been vacant for four years. "It was almost like 'The Grinch Who Stole Christmas' with all the wires hanging," Carter recalls. But the place had good bones. Carter closed on the place in 2022, paying $610,000 and budgeting another $200,000 for furnishings and renovations.

Panic kicked in almost immediately. "My God," she remembers thinking. "What am I doing? Why am I doing this?"

Last year, an enormous cliff above Carter's property split open and rained rubble down on her property. It will likely take tens of thousands of euros to remove the debris and secure what remains of the cliff. "The cliff has been there for 300 years and it's been fine," she says. "Of course, I've owned it for a year and a half and this thing comes down on me."

But the experience has also been thrilling. "I'm bringing this house up in terms of its elegance again," she says. "French style doesn't change. It's very understated and very elegant."

Recently, a young family from Paris inherited a nearby château and began coming down for weekends. Carter says it's slowly dawning on them what it will cost to maintain it.

"They love it, but it's crumbling — literally crumbling," Carter says.

For many French sellers, what strikes Americans as romantic has come to feel like a curse. Château de l'Espinay, a 15-room manor in Brittany, has been in the family of Williams Henrys d'Aubigny for 250 years. His father, on his deathbed, made him promise never to sell. But at 79, he's overwhelmed by the time and money the property requires. He has no children of his own, and none of his younger relatives have any interest in moving to northwestern France to take over the place.

Henrys d'Aubigny, like many French owners who feel weighed down by history, is desperate to sell. But he's also prone to overvaluing what that history is worth. It's been five years since he listed the château for $2.7 million, and he still doesn't have a buyer. He estimates it needs $100,000 worth of renovations, though his real-estate agent says it's more like $1 million. There's mold, and only one functioning bathroom. The place is so expensive to heat that Henrys d'Aubigny sleeps in a guest cottage during the winter.

"He's very, very attached to his château," his agent says. "It's all he talks about. He thinks you can't put a price on culture."

For years, Henrys d'Aubigny has been holding out for a buyer who will love the place as much as he does. But then a couple from Ohio bought a château up the road; he came to admire their commitment and tasteful renovation. He now says his preferred buyer is "an American who's got a lot of money."

Most of the Americans who take on a château aren't looking for a European life of leisure. Their goal is to start a business. Carter, who just hosted her first retreat at Château de Borie, eventually hopes to generate $60,000 a year by marketing the romance of rural France to Americans and Canadians. She plans to host creative retreats for painters and writers, and "healing" retreats for widows. On her website, she sells château-themed T-shirts and art prints, and she has amassed 48,000 subscribers on her Chateau Chronicles channel on YouTube. In a recent video, she toured the grounds of her château and wondered aloud how this was all "somehow mine."

At Château Avensac, things have turned out to be even more difficult than Goff and Engel bargained for. Two years ago, Goff woke up from spinal surgery paralyzed from the chest down. The condition is temporary, but regaining the use of his legs has been a slow and difficult process, requiring five or six days a week of physical therapy. A wheelchair isn't the best way to move around a 48-room château, but Goff is making do.

Goff and Engel say they're on track to soft-launch their events business in 2025. They've also started selling château swag on their website, and they've set up a Patreon account so their fans can support the work they're doing to reclaim a part of France's history and culture.

"I live in a château," Engel reminds himself when he's feeling overwhelmed. "Yes, it's a crumbling château. But it's still a château. And there's something very romantic about that."

• Sinead Mulhern has been living in Ecuador for six years.
  
• Earlier this year, she spent a week in the hospital due to a collapsed lung, a severe complication of pneumonia.
• The support she received from the hospital staff and her friends confirmed that moving there was the right decision.

I was lying wide awake on a hospital bed in Ecuador, hoping for sleep yet fearful that if I dozed off, I'd miss something crucial.

Everything had come as a big surprise. The day before, I was standing by lime-green valleys, planning mountain adventures. As bachata beats blared from market stalls and birds of prey soared above, I thought about camping nearby and watching the sun sink below a sea of clouds. Or, I could return to the Monopoly board-like Andean town nearby and explore its river valleys.

But as I was daydreaming about adventures, I noticed something was wrong. I'd been having trouble breathing for a few days. As an avid runner and hiker, it felt strange that I could barely climb the steps to my apartment.

At the hospital in Cuenca — the city where I have been living for the past six years and about 200 miles south of Quito, Ecuador — I had a tube running between my ribs into the space between my lungs, an oxygen mask, and some answers. While I'd been in the countryside, my right lung had been collapsing. A severe — and rare — complication of pneumonia.

It got serious quickly

I returned to the doctor's clinic for a second visit after it was clear that an asthma inhaler and the medication hadn't helped. I had assumed I was in for a course of antibiotics and an early night.

Instead, I was sent for X-rays, and based on the technician's questions, I sensed this was more serious than I thought: "Were you in an accident?" "Are you a heavy smoker?" "Did you fall?" "Could something have caused blunt-force trauma?" I raised a brow. No to all of the above.

"We have to go to the hospital right now," my doctor told me after confirming that my right lung had collapsed. "I'm surprised you're even standing up talking to me right now."

It was a whirlwind evening. I messaged my friend Sanja, asking her to meet me at the hospital and bring a few essentials. I had been told that a surgeon was on her way and that they would perform a bronchoscopy, a procedure that involves inserting a tube between the lungs to examine the airways. Following this, a catheter would be inserted in between my lungs to drain the air buildup that had caused the collapse.

I was asked if I had family who could help me buy my medical supplies. I told them that would be Sanja.

I met Sanja in 2018, and she has become like a sister. We've supported each other through the ups and downs of expat life. She arrived shortly after the surgeon had explained in detail what she was about to do.

I felt scared and focused on my friend as the surgeon told me to hold my right arm above my head and stay still. Sanja asked the questions I was too in shock to ask for myself. I'd have been lost without her.

Medical care in South America

I grew up with access to Canadian healthcare. How would my hospital stay here compare? Would I be able to continue to live in Ecuador at altitude? Were my running and mountain adventures over?

I called my friend Jonathan in the morning, and he came right away. An Ecuadorian-American, he briefed me on what to expect and told our friends where I was.

My hospital stay lasted a week. As my anxiety subsided, I noticed differences in how things are done here. Many of them I preferred.

Visiting hours were relaxed, so I had friends popping by every day. I could see the mountains from my room. The pharmacy next door played Latin music. When I closed my eyes and listened, I felt the sun on my face and briefly forgot where I was. It was less formal too, which I preferred.

My insurance plan didn't cover this — a personal oversight I made because I figured I was healthy and possibly even invincible. Lucky for me, the care was high-quality and ended up costing a little over $3,000. I never had to wait for a room, procedure, specialist appointment, or check-up.

According to KFF, a nonprofit health policy group in the US, the average cost per day for an inpatient in a US hospital in 2022 was over $3,000.

I had no family but had built a community

I also saw the value of my personal connections and the caring Ecuadorian culture. People I didn't know well would call to check in, and friends of friends would send well wishes.

My doctor called my mom in Canada. A new friend drove me to an X-ray appointment. My friends brought tea, meals, and books. My Pilates instructor helped me regain strength.

As a foreigner in Ecuador, I sometimes feel out of place and lonely. In the hospital, though, I realized what a strong community I had built over the years.

My "chosen family" comes from the US, Ecuador, Australia, South Africa, England, and Venezuela. They are all the results of personal relationships I have built during the good times: parties, road trips, and adventures. Now, I understand that community is an investment in health, too.

From the outside, living abroad can look pretty convincing. My highlight reel is packed with nature, street art, slow mornings, and vibrant celebrations. But this was one of my lowest moments in Ecuador. And guess what? That gave me a different kind of reassurance.

Three months later, my body has healed, and I'm cleared to go up into the mountains again. Recently, I spent a bright sunny day hiking past sparkling lagoons, yellow flowers, and tangled forests. I'm grateful to know I'll have many more like this.

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