• After years of living and working in different countries, I visited Papamoa in New Zealand.
• It has beautiful beaches and a relaxed lifestyle that fits my priorities as a mom with a remote job.
• Papamoa's close-knit community and outdoor activities could be great for my kid as she grows up.

When I started traveling, I was determined to see as much of the world as possible.

So far, I've lived and worked in Colombia, Spain, the Netherlands, the US, and New Zealand, soaking in each destination's unique charm.

But no matter how much I loved the cozy vibes in Europe, the fast pace of the US, or the great food from South America, none of those places made me stop and think, "This is where I want to grow old."

That changed during a 2023 trip to New Zealand when I found myself in the breathtakingly beautiful coastal suburb of Papamoa.

Soon, I began dreaming of living there full-time.

The beachy suburb in New Zealand seemed like it'd be a great fit for me and my family

A year after I first visited Papamoa, I returned to spend four months living there.

Soon, I realized it had become my dream place to live — after all, it has so many things I want out of a home.

For years, living in remote areas left me feeling isolated, but busy cities overwhelmed me.

However, Papamoa has a small-town feel with fewer than 40,000 residents, yet it's close enough to a big city that it doesn't feel isolated. It's just 10 minutes by car from Tauranga, one of New Zealand's most populous cities.

I also want to settle somewhere where nature is greatly respected, so I loved how clean the beaches and parks I visited felt. The locals and visitors seemed to really take care of their surroundings.

In Papamoa, I love that a slower pace of life feels like the norm rather than an exception. The area also feels incredibly family-friendly, which has become a priority since having my daughter.

The fairly close-knit community has schools, playgrounds, and many outdoor activities for kids. Locals I've met have been incredibly welcoming and laid-back.

Financially, Papamoa also aligns with the life I want to build.

Although my cost of living wasn't super low during my time in the suburb, I was able to comfortably live below my means.

I spent less on transportation because the area is walkable, and most places I needed to be were within walking distance of my rental home.

Plus, so much of the local entertainment revolves around free outdoor activities. On a typical day in Papamoa, I finished working my remote job, packed a bag with snacks and sandwiches, and spent a few hours outside with my daughter.

We'd have a picnic while watching surfers, birds, and the sea from the not-too-crowded local beaches. On rainy days, we'd cozy up in a local café instead.

I fell in love with the idea of this someday being my daily routine for good.

I've lived in many places, but this is the first one that helped me picture my dream future

Every country and city I've lived in has its perks, but I couldn't picture growing old while living the life I want in any place until I found Papamoa.

The lifestyle, natural beauty, and sense of balance the suburb offers already make it feel like home to me. My daughter and I don't live there permanently yet, but I'm confident it's where I'd like to be in the long run.

Once I get the right visas, I plan to return to Papamoa and make it our forever home — ideally sooner rather than later.

• I grew up in a financially literate household, where we often talked about saving and budgeting.
• Despite becoming a finance manager, I was in credit card debt thanks to emotional spending.
• I began meaningfully rebuilding my relationship with money.

When I was just 7 years old, I sat beside my dad while he sorted through client statements, receipts, and invoices. He explained things to me as he worked, such as what an expense was, how a balanced budget worked, and what an invoice meant.

Money wasn't a secret subject at our house; we had to address it. My parents were accountants, so our dinner table often doubled as an auxiliary desk.

When I was 8, I wanted to sell candy in the neighborhood. My parents helped me first build a mini business plan. They then taught me where I should store the money I earned, introducing concepts like savings, cost of goods, and what it meant to reinvest earnings.

From that point on, financial conversations became part of our family rhythm. At dinner or over breakfast, we'd talk about savings accounts and how to plan for more significant purchases.

Still, I made mistakes with my money when I grew up.

I followed my love for finances as a professional

Those early lessons stuck with me. I wanted to explore the financial world more, so I majored in finance and started working in the field as quickly as I could.

After I started working full time as a finance manager, I wanted to enjoy the freedom that came with earning more money. I went to happy hours with coworkers, joined group dinners, and said "yes" to weekend getaways. It all felt normal, like the kind of life a young professional should be living.

At first, the spending didn't seem like a big deal. It was never a huge, one-time purchase — just dinners here, flights there, gifts, experiences.

I was still budgeting, but I was quickly spending more than I earned. I told myself I could manage it.

But I wasn't managing it. I was leaning on my credit card more and more, convincing myself that this was just temporary. Eventually, I'd catch up until I didn't.

Credit card debt knocked on my door

I felt ashamed — not just because I was in debt, but because I should have known better. I was taught early on about the power of saving. I had the privilege of financial literacy that most people miss out on.

Financial literacy wasn't enough to prevent and predict my poor money behaviors; it had to do with something other than just literacy.

No one had ever told me what to do when the desire to belong overpowers your financial logic. No one told me how easy it is to swipe a card when you're trying to build what could be your professional identity. I knew the tools and the concepts, but I hadn't learned how to handle the emotional pressure that can come with social expectations.

So I started looking inward. Slowly, I began to change my relationship with money and became aware of money's emotional and psychological aspects. I stopped saying "yes" to everything and started to become interested in why I would say "yes" and the emotional roots of my behavior.

Today, I think about money differently. Financial literacy gave me the foundation, but learning to navigate the emotional side of money truly changed my life.

• I was 8 when my great-grandfather was in his 80s, and I visited him every Sunday.
• He always said that when I turned 18, we would travel the world together.
• As a kid, I held onto his promise and wanted to see the world by his side.

My great-grandfather and I didn't have much in common growing up. He was in his 80s, and I was just 8. Most of the time, he wanted to discuss things that didn't make sense to me, like politics or how the family of someone I had never heard of was doing.

However, there was one thing that kept me very close to him. Every Sunday when we visited, without fail, we would sit together, and he'd say the same thing: "When you turn 18, you and I will travel the world together. Do you have your passport ready?" He would then continue to talk about some places worldwide, like Venice or The Netherlands.

I didn't fully understand what "traveling the world" meant then, but I believed him. He had a way of making places he had never visited sound familiar. He'd describe the canals of Venice as if he had walked along them, weaving in comparisons and tales from things he probably read elsewhere. Everything sounded so authentic and appealing that sometimes it felt like he would be the perfect guide for each of those places he mentioned.

But he died before we could travel together.

As a kid, I believed in his promise so much that I looked forward to traveling with him

I held onto his promise as if it were a certainty. I would ask my mom to buy magazines so I could see what was happening in those countries or cities. I was obsessed with anything related to travel to the point that whenever I saw a plane, I would exclaim, "That's where I'm going to go with Grandpa."

It never occurred to me that it wouldn't happen.

I had never experienced the death of someone close to me before, so I didn't consider it a possibility, but then, eight months after my 15th birthday, on July 1st, he died. Losing him was painful; I understood he was old, but for the first time, I realized I would never have the chance again to experience the world through my grandpa's eyes. The promise of traveling the world had been something I had looked forward to for years, and suddenly, it was gone.

For a while, I avoided thinking about it. I had to finish school, go to university, and focus on what I wanted my adult life to be. But as I got older, something shifted. I realized I didn't want to let go of the dream. If we couldn't see the world together, I decided to see it for both of us.

I still keep our promise alive

When I turned 19, I began traveling as soon as I could, and my first destination was Madrid. It wasn't precisely the destination we discussed the most, but I knew I was getting closer to our stories of Italy and Holland. I already felt he was traveling with me, but to honor our promise, I established a personal tradition: every July 1st, I would spend the day somewhere new. It became my way of honoring him.

Over the years, I've visited places I know he would have loved. I walked through the canals of Amsterdam, sat in the green grass near the Eiffel Tower, and ate while crossing the cozy streets with pretty gondolas in Venice. Each trip is an opportunity to reconnect with those childhood memories, and whenever I visit a place he once told me about, I try to imagine what he would have said if he were standing next to me. Would he be amazed, or would he find the reality different from what he had imagined?

Even now, more than a decade later, I continue this tradition. For some years, I have visited countries like New Zealand or Australia, which, although he never mentioned, I know he would have loved to see. Other times, I revisit places that hold special meanings, like The Netherlands.

No matter where I go, I always take a moment to sit quietly, take in the view, and think of him.

• I moved to the Netherlands from Colombia years ago.
• For my first birthday there, I received all secondhand items, which made me feel unappreciated.
• Over time, I saw this custom as thoughtful and meaningful, so I'm teaching my kid to embrace it.

I moved from Colombia to the Netherlands years ago and saw a lot more tulips and bicycles than ever before.

Fortunately, I also found community. When my friends came together to celebrate my first birthday in the Netherlands, they brought me beautifully wrapped presents.

However, I was caught off guard as I opened them: Almost every item — books, clothes, shoes, home decor — was used.

As my friends shared where they found the item and why they thought I'd like it, I struggled to wrap my head around the secondhand gifts.

I knew secondhand shopping was popular here, but I didn't realize it extended to gifts

I'd known many of my new neighbors prioritized buying things secondhand — and were especially proud of doing so when they got a good deal. And I get it: shopping secondhand can be less wasteful and a good way to save money.

However, I was surprised the secondhand-shopping culture also extended to gift-giving. I felt like my friends weren't truly appreciating me: Didn't they care enough to get me something new?

In the community I grew up in, it was not common to give secondhand gifts — especially for a birthday or the holidays. I'd feel embarrassed giving someone a secondhand item as a gift and doing so might even be seen as impolite

In the following weeks, though, I learned just how normal and common secondhand gift-giving is in my new community. I also began to see how nice it can really be.

After all, the effort and thoughtfulness behind a gift means more than a shiny new box and a price tag. The gifts I received were focused on my needs and desires.

It was nice that my friends thought so hard about what I might enjoy and that they spent so much time scouring marketplaces, apps, and thrift shops in search of the perfect gift for me.

It's pretty easy to order something new online, but shopping secondhand can take a lot of time and dedication.

I hope to pass this custom and its values to my daughter

I've since embraced giving and receiving secondhand gifts, and I'm teaching my daughter to do the same.

When she was born, most of the clothes and items she received from friends and family were secondhand, which further opened my eyes to how nice it is to have practical and intentional gifts regardless of where they came from.

When we shop for presents, I encourage both of us to think about what the recipient might actually need or enjoy instead of just picking something because it's trendy or new.

We've had so much fun searching for items in secondhand shops and online marketplaces and discovering unique gifts that we might never have found new.

This custom has also been a great way to remind myself of the importance of intention and thoughtfulness when it comes to parenting, too.

• I celebrated my birthday in Bali, booking a two-week trip to turn my Instagram dreams into reality.
• Many places I visited felt crowded and disappointed me, so I decided to scrap my entire itinerary.
• On day three, I headed to quieter parts of Bali and it was beautiful and peaceful.

For my 25th birthday, I booked a two-week trip to Bali with my partner.

I'd been dreaming about visiting Bali since I saw the many photos of its beautiful blue waters and white-sand beaches on Instagram.

However, when I stepped out of Denpasar International Airport, my Instagram-fluffed expectations crashed with reality. Crowds, traffic, and chaos overwhelmed me.

As our trip continued, I started to question my itinerary. Within a few days, I realized the trip I'd planned wasn't going to give me the best Bali has to offer.

Unfortunately, my original itinerary was limited by what I'd seen on social media

My itinerary included visits to some of Bali's most Instagram-famous spots: Ubud's lush rice terraces, the iconic Tanah Lot Temple, and the Gate of Heaven.

From what I saw online, these places seemed to promise serenity, beauty, and the postcard-worthy memories I wanted. However, reality didn't quite live up to my vision, which was very limited to what I could find on social media.

On our first full day, the traffic into Ubud was so bad it took us hours to get anywhere.

Once we arrived at the swings and rice terraces, we felt exhausted trying to enjoy the scenery among the many crowds. The landscapes were impressive, but the narrow paths crowded with tourists and selfie sticks made the peaceful vibe I'd imagined disappear.

The next day, we visited Tanah Lot. We struggled to focus on the temple or the ocean as large groups of people seemed to crowd into every spot around it.

I knew Bali was a popular tourist spot, but I still felt frustrated that the reality wasn't matching my vision of such a bucket-list trip.

My tipping point came when we visited the famous Gate of Heaven

My disappointment became hard to ignore, especially when we visited the Gate of Heaven — photos I'd seen of it online really drew me to Bali in the first place.

The magical pictures seemed to show the sky reflected onto the ground, creating what really looked like an entryway to a heavenly place.

I knew I had to visit it and take a photo there to commemorate my 25th birthday.

Unfortunately, once we got there, I learned the photos were just illusions. The great sky reflection was created by photographers on-site, who used mirrors under their cameras to create the effect for an extra fee.

I was disappointed to learn the truth and decided the photo wasn't worth taking after all.

I saved the trip by scrapping my original plans, instead exploring other parts of Bali and Indonesia

My trip to Bali had become less about enjoying the island's natural beauty and more about navigating a maze of tourist traps.

I realized maybe I was chasing a staged photoshoot, not a real adventure. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was on someone else's vacation, one planned for social media.

By the third day, I was so disappointed that my partner and I decided to ditch our original itinerary entirely. Instead, we spent the rest of the trip enjoying the quieter side of Bali and other parts of Indonesia — and it was the best choice we could have made.

We left the hustle of the cities and stayed about an hour south of Ubud in Nusa Dua, where we enjoyed local cuisine and explored the nearby beach at our own pace.

To celebrate my birthday, we went on a day trip to the Gili Islands, accessible by ferry from Bali.

The Gili Islands felt like a far cry from the crowded spots we went to during our first few days in Bali — and we didn't have to fight through crowds. Instead, we found the pure tranquility and natural beauty we'd been searching for in all the wrong spots.

In my decade of traveling the world, I rarely ever choose a destination because of what I see on social media. Now, I know better than to plan a trip based on Instagram photos and highlight reels.

Fortunately, by letting go of my original plans, I was able to have the beautiful experience I'd hoped to have in Bali all along.

• I started working remotely in 2017 to combine international travel with my career.
• My parents thought that decision was reckless and unstable.
• But my mom has just decided to quit her job so she has more flexibility like me.

When I started working remotely in 2017 with the hopes of advancing in my career while traveling, my parents thought I was throwing away a successful life for no reason. To them, success meant the stability of a job that required staying in one place, working traditional hours, and showing up in person.

By the time I graduated from college, I was chasing what I thought was the ideal career: a finance job in Washington, DC. I was 22, working hard, and on track to achieve everything I'd been told would make me happy. But after almost a year of back-to-back office days, needless happy hours, and a long bus commute, I burned out completely.

One morning, as I was on my way to work, I fainted, and waking up surrounded by strangers, I realized how unsustainable my life had become. Many things went through my head, but the thought that I was losing my health and I was so far from living my dream of traveling the world made me question everything I was working for.

Burnout made me realize I had to do things differently

I knew something had to change. I wanted to travel, but I also wanted to keep advancing in my career, so I started to look for postgraduate studies that would allow me to do both. A few months later, I was accepted into a program in Auckland, New Zealand. But instead of moving across the world and looking for a new job, I decided to continue doing the job I was doing in DC remotely.

Convincing my employer was not easy. Remote work wasn't popular back then, and I had to negotiate extensively and justify my productivity, but after months of paperwork and back-and-forth discussions, they finally agreed.

When I broke the news to my parents, they were shocked. My dad thought I was being reckless and putting at risk something that I didn't have to, and my mom couldn't understand why I'd leave a stable job for an uncertain opportunity halfway across the world. Still, I knew I had to go.

In late 2017, I moved to New Zealand, where I studied and worked remotely for over two years, visiting places like Zimbabwe, Colombia, and the Netherlands. I learned to balance work and life in a way that felt fulfilling.

Everything changed during the pandemic

My parents relied heavily on in-person interactions to manage their accounting business. Meeting clients face-to-face and maintaining a personal connection built trust and kept their business running.

Like so many others, they were forced to adapt when the pandemic hit in 2020. Suddenly, remote tools like video calls and cloud-based software became necessities. While the shift wasn't easy at first, it proved to them that it was possible to be productive, maintain relationships, and do their work entirely online.

However, when things started returning to "normal" in 2022, my parents returned to seeing clients in person. My mom, in particular, started feeling the burden of her old routine. Her client list included people scattered across different areas, and she often had to spend long hours in traffic, juggling an inflexible schedule that rarely worked in her favor. The constant back-and-forth of driving to meet clients left her exhausted.

My mom has decided to go remote for good

This year, everything came to a head. I had my daughter — my mom's first granddaughter — and she traveled to the Netherlands to visit us. That trip changed her perspective completely. Spending time with her granddaughter made her realize just how much she valued family time and how the rigidity of her in-person work schedule was holding her back.

When she returned home, she boldly decided to quit her in-person job and transitioned entirely to remote work.

It wasn't an easy process; at first, she had to work through negotiating with some of her clients and find others who would already accept this way of working. But she pushed through, building a remote practice that allowed her to spend more time with her family and even travel with my daughter and me.

• Growing up in the US, I wasn't interested in being a mother.
• Then, I moved to the Netherlands for work and discovered I was pregnant.
• I now know why the Netherlands is ranked among the top countries to raise kids.

Before becoming a parent, I thought I had a clear idea of what motherhood should be — and I didn't want it.

I saw mothers lose time, ambition, and a sense of self, transforming into someone who primarily existed as a "mom."

That vision left me hesitant to embrace parenthood. Instead, I spent years building my financial education business and podcast, finding fulfillment in my entrepreneurial pursuits.

Everything shifted in 2023 when I moved to the Netherlands for career opportunities and discovered I was pregnant.

The Netherlands ranks among the best countries for raising kids, and — being a new mom — I can attest to that first-hand.

From the moment I gave birth, I began to experience a completely different approach to parenthood than the one I'd known in the US. It didn't reduce me to a single role.

At first, giving my daughter so much independence felt strange

In the Netherlands, independence begins practically at birth.

One of my first encounters with this philosophy came through the kraamzorg — a government-provided maternity nurse who supported us the first week after my daughter was born.

She introduced me to the Dutch parenting mantra: "Let them be, observe, offer support, then let them be again."

This way of living challenged everything I thought I knew about motherhood. Growing up in the US, I was always within arm's reach of my mom.

Rides to school and constant supervision were the norm, and my family insisted I should always keep a close watch on my child.

Conversely, Dutch parenting encouraged me to let my daughter explore and learn on her own.

Initially, it felt strange and counterintuitive to leave the room or focus on work while she played nearby.

I constantly questioned whether I was doing the right thing, but seeing how other families practiced and modeled independence gave me the confidence to stick with it.

At just five months old, my daughter was already engaging in solo play, exploring food at her own pace and self-soothing. As a result, she can easily adapt to new environments and has developed a calm, curious nature.

Seeing those results made it easier for me to let go of the overprotective mindset I grew up with.

I'm able to nurture my daughter and my career without sacrificing either

The Netherlands' parenting approach gave me a freedom I didn't expect. I was able to return to my business just two months after giving birth, a relief that brought a sense of normalcy and balance back into my life sooner than I had anticipated.

Being able to nurture my career while showing up for my daughter felt outrageous compared to what I saw growing up, but it was completely normal here. All the other mothers in my neighborhood were doing it.

It's not just the mothers. The community here actively supports these norms. Many coffee shops, for example, have dedicated kids' corners so when I go out for coffee with friends I can be fully present in the conversation while my daughter plays nearby.

Moreover, libraries host programs that encourage children's autonomy and provide spaces for moms to connect and learn from each other.

Watching 4 and 5-year-olds confidently walk on top of their wheeless bikes to school with little supervision — and seeing them navigate completely independently by age 7 — showed me how independence is deeply ingrained here.

It's refreshing and a relief to feel supported by a community that celebrates independence, allowing both parents and children to thrive.

• Alejandra Rojas started building her business as a finance mentor on social media as a side hustle.
• Rojas found a online business coach via their free workshop, then hired them for personal sessions.
• She said the coaching wasn't the right fit and made her doubt herself as an entrepreneur.

Seven years ago, I overcame a five-figure credit card debt. I got into debt through mindless spending during my early career as a finance professional in Washington, DC. It took me seven months of cutting expenses and tracking every dollar to pay off my debt.

As a finance officer, it wasn't easy to open up about my money mistakes, but I started sharing my story with people in my circle. Encouraged by their positive responses, I posted about it on social media and built a following.

I realized there was a need for better financial education, especially for women. I wanted to use my expertise to help others and build a flexible business but didn't know where to start.

I first encountered online business coaches through blogs and podcasts for digital entrepreneurs. I found a coach who positioned themself as an expert in building profitable businesses.

This coach offered a free three-day online workshop on how to create a compelling brand story. The workshop featured many of their affiliates — people I was familiar with from my research — and past students. After the event, the coach pitched a paid course on building your business around a strong brand message.

I found the free workshop very helpful and thought their course would help me clarify my story and sign clients. The initial course cost around $1,000.

By the end of the course, I still didn't feel confident about starting a business. The coach pitched one-on-one coaching program, a five-figure investment. I hesitated but thought this was the push I needed to succeed.

What the coaching promised vs. what it delivered

I had just finished paying off my credit card debt and was working full-time as a finance officer while building my business on the side. I didn't have savings to pay for coaching, so I used a combination of my credit card and monthly cash flow.

I researched other coaches, but I didn't want another general course. I'd already invested in this coach's course, so it like a logical next step.

The coaching program was an hourlong 1:1 session once a week over seven weeks. The program would help me refine my story, create a business strategy, and start generating revenue.

However, the sessions felt unstructured. Each week, I would discuss my progress and ask for guidance, but there was no overarching plan. The focus was on reviewing if I'd completed what we discussed in the previous session. Often, my coach would repeat similar concepts rather than introduce new strategies.

The investment was not worth it to me

During the third session, I expressed my frustration with not progressing and feeling overwhelmed. In between meetings, I mentioned that some of the advice, like sharing personal stories that didn't feel connected to my business, felt irrelevant.

That day, I told the coach outright that I preferred to spend time talking to people about their struggles instead of sharing my own stories.

To my surprise, the coach responded, "Maybe it's not working because you're too messy."

Part of this comment stemmed from my choice to skip some of the resources they had provided, like a sales tracking spreadsheet and a guide on how to win sales calls (because I wasn't making those calls yet).

It was also partly about me wanting to move ahead with multiple areas of my business instead of focusing on one thing.

The comment hit hard. I'd always been OK with juggling multiple projects, but for months after that session, I doubted myself. I believed that my "messiness" was holding me back.

Per the agreement, I couldn't cancel or request a refund, so I had to keep paying for the coaching program even though I was no longer invested.

I stopped working on my business for a while and focused instead on my 9-to-5. By the time the final payment went through, I felt frustrated I had spent so much money and relieved that I didn't have to revisit the tools and resources again.

After finishing my coaching sessions, I ditched the spreadsheets and went back to experimenting.

I followed my instincts and launched my business, The Brown Way to Money. Now, I run a platform that offers money management, financial literacy support and financial education dedicated to women entrepreneurs.

About a year ago, when I became pregnant I had to delegate tasks to what is now my team. I realized that my "messy" approach was actually my strength. People commented on how surprising it was that I could juggle so much.

What I wish I had considered before investing

I don't see my first coaching experience as a complete failure. It taught me that I am ultimately responsible for every business decision.

I've worked with coaches who have significantly contributed to my growth as an entrepreneur, but it took years before I felt ready to invest again.

By that point, I had a better understanding of my goals and what stage I was at with my business. This made it easier to hire a coach to help me build specific skills I couldn't develop alone.

Here's what I wish I had considered earlier:

1. Clearly defining my goals and desired outcomes: I now take the time to outline what I want to achieve with a coach. I discuss my goals with the potential coach beforehand to ensure we're aligned and have a clear path to reaching those outcomes.
2. Researching the coach's expertise and relevance: Now, I look into their social media, reviews and, when possible, speak with past clients to understand their approach. Their expertise needs to align specifically with the stage of my business and my goals.
3. Adopting a return-on-investment mindset: Instead of assuming the coaching experience will "work" on its own, I focus on how I can capitalize on the skills and knowledge I'll gain. I evaluate whether the potential ROI is clear and sufficient before committing.