• I moved to Italy 11 years ago and was initially uncomfortable with the slower pace of life.
• At first, I didn't understand how people could spend hours lounging and socializing.
• However, I've learned to prioritize rest and to stop apologizing for slowing down.

After getting my first job at 14 years old, I became hardwired to feel like my life would be a combination of school, work, and limited play until I retired.

That mindset followed me everywhere, including across the Atlantic, when my husband, children, and I moved from Cleveland to Rome in 2014.

After spending time in Italy's capital, we decided to move our family farther south to Mormanno — a quiet town tucked in the mountains with less than 3,000 people — and have been there since.

When we first moved, I expected to experience culture shocks in relation to the language, the food, and maybe even the fashion. What I didn't expect, however, was to come face-to-face with just how deeply American my relationship to rest really was.

I didn't realize how addicted I was to productivity as an American

For most of my life, being busy felt like my default setting. I genuinely believed that if I wasn't actively working toward something, I was falling behind.

I'd internalized the idea that a relentless work ethic was how you achieved the American dream.

So, when I moved to a place where people unapologetically paused their days — not just for vacation, but for lunch, coffee, or for no reason at all — I didn't know what to do with myself.

I'd watch my neighbors sit on their balconies for hours in the middle of a workday, chatting or doing nothing, and it drove me crazy on their behalf.

When I'd walk past cafés where people lingered over espresso, I'd feel a wave of unease, even though I had nowhere to be.

Trying to slow down made me question my self-worth

For the first six years after my move, I felt like I was having a mini identity crisis. I was 29 years old and still questioning my value if I wasn't actively being productive.

The tension started wearing on me. My body felt anxious, and my mind felt like it was always searching for the next task.

Meanwhile, the world around me wasn't rushing; it was inviting me to slow down. After years of resisting it, I finally started to let go.

The change started gradually and was mainly the result of other moms consistently inviting me to the local café for espresso. I didn't want to keep sounding rude by declining, so I gave in for the first time and found myself antsy making small talk at 10 a.m.

From there, I accepted more invitations to hang out with friends and started to learn to be OK with taking unscheduled breaks.

I realized I needed the rest

When I first started to slow down, I felt like failure. But then, something strange happened — I started to feel better.

Self-care, which I'd always deprioritized, started to become part of my routine. I began to give myself permission to take walks without listening to a podcast and sit in the town square with nothing but my thoughts.

I learned that "dolce far niente," the Italian phrase for the sweetness of doing nothing, isn't laziness. Rather, it's intention, presence, and an understanding that rest isn't something you earn, it's something you need.

Living in Italy hasn't made me less ambitious, but it has allowed me to measure success a little differently.

Yes, I still work hard, but happiness and peace of mind mean more to me now. After all, what good is the money if you're too busy to enjoy it with the people you love most?

At the end of the day, I know that I'm allowed to live my life — even when I'm doing absolutely nothing.

• At 40, I was burned out, obese, and stuck in a cycle of hustle.
• Moving abroad helped me prioritize my health and lose 60 pounds.
• Training for and completing a half-marathon in Mexico became a symbol of how far I'd come.

By the time I turned 40, I was deeply unhappy, unhealthy, and unsure of how to fix it. I was divorced, reeling from another failed long-term relationship, and living with my father and his wife while trying to regroup. My body felt like it was turning against me. I was obese, battling anxiety and depression, and stuck in a fog that dulled my creativity.

Just a few years earlier, I had left a 10+ year career in education and launched my freelance writing business. I was desperate to make it work. I stayed up late hunting for clients, eating deli sandwiches and french fries from delivery apps, and barely moving my body. I felt like I was racing toward an early death — just like my mother, who died from breast cancer at 49.

I had spent most of my adult life giving to others through my work as a teacher and administrator, but I never learned how to give anything back to myself. I knew I needed a radical change to reclaim my health and happiness, so I decided to move abroad.

Finding the courage to leave it all behind

After paying off some debt and saving enough to feel safe, I bought a one-way ticket to Thailand. I had about $2,000 to my name and no clear plan.

In Chiang Mai, I rented a bright, comfortable apartment for $350 a month and began working with a local herbalist who helped me address my weight and emotional health. For six months, I focused solely on healing.

I found it easier to choose myself in Thailand. The cost of living was reasonable for me, fresh fruits and vegetables were abundant, and I discovered the power of simple rituals: daily walks, massages, and weekly sauna treatments. I used to think self-care was for rich people. Thailand taught me otherwise. Well-being, I learned, could be a way of life and not just a reward for overworking.

Living abroad helped me build a healthier relationship with myself

By the time I left Thailand, I had lost 60 pounds. But more importantly, I gained confidence, clarity, and a renewed sense of self-worth.

That shift showed up in my work, too. I stopped chasing low-paying freelance gigs and started seeking out content marketing clients who valued my skills. I permitted myself to build a writing business that fit my life.

Since 2018, I've lived in 10 countries, including Vietnam, Rwanda, Turkey, and now Mexico. With each move, I had to relearn how to prioritize my health.

Running a half-marathon was about reclaiming my body

Eventually, I landed in Mérida, Mexico, where I discovered a thriving local running culture. I signed up for a few 5K races but quickly realized I wanted more.

I spent six months training for my first half-marathon, which I completed in January 2025.

Crossing that finish line was about more than physical endurance. It was about reclaiming my body after years of disconnection and burnout. It was a celebration of the life I've built. It's a life where I can finally prioritize my health, joy, and creativity.

Leaving the US saved my life

Walking away from my life in the US wasn't easy. I was terrified I wouldn't make enough money, that I'd feel isolated or homesick. But what scared me more was staying in a life slowly draining me.

I always felt like I had to earn rest, health, and happiness in the US. Abroad, I gave myself permission to just be. I could move slower, eat better, and create from a place of fullness.

I still freelance, but now I also coach other writers. I run creative writing circles. I'm working on a memoir about my journey from burnout to well-being. I've built a life I truly love — one that doesn't require me to be perfect, only present. And it all started when I said yes to something different.

• Alicia Walter and Nathan Stark have visited 47 countries across the world.
• Their favorite is Albania, a small European country that remains under the radar of most travelers.
• The couple loved Albania's culture, beauty, and cheaper cost of living, so they moved there.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Alicia Walter, 28, and Nathan Stark, 41. The couple has visited 47 countries and moved from San Diego to Tirana, Albania, in 2023. Together, they run The Passport Couple, a travel-advice blog.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Alicia: My husband and I have traveled through much of Central and South America, parts of Africa, a good portion of Europe, and most of Southeast and East Asia.

We've visited 47 countries, but our favorite is Albania, an underrated country in the Balkans.

Albania is absolutely gorgeous and still feels untouched by mass tourism, especially compared to other European destinations like Barcelona, Paris, London, Rome, and even Prague. The food is some of our favorite anywhere, and the locals are incredibly welcoming and have treated us like family.

It's not perfect. The country is still developing after its communist era ended in the 1990s, so you'll still see bunkers scattered across cities. A major earthquake near Tirana, the capital, in 2019 also destroyed many homes, apartment buildings, and businesses, so there's still a lot of ongoing construction.

That's part of what makes it so unique — every time we return, it feels like discovering a new place.

Albania has stunning nature and good weather

Alicia: Albania is across the Adriatic Sea from Italy, bordering Greece and Montenegro.

It's a relatively small country, probably about the size of Portugal. You can easily road trip the entire country in a week or two.

It has a mild climate, typical of the Mediterranean region. Winters are generally mild, and summers can get quite hot inland, but along the coast, the weather is much more comfortable.

The country is probably best known for the Albanian Riviera — a stretch of coastline along the Ionian Sea with crystal-clear blue waters. Theth National Park is also stunning. We drove through it in the fall, and it felt like a magazine.

Albania has mountains, including the Albanian Alps, the Korab Mountains, and the Tomorr Mountains. While there aren't any ski resorts, the mountains get snow and are great for hiking.

It's just so beautiful here. Every time we head out into nature, away from the city centers, we're blown away by how stunning it is, and how little we'd heard about it before.

Albania's architecture is quite diverse. In towns like Berat, known as the city of 1,000 windows, you'll find well-preserved Ottoman architecture — white stone buildings with dark-tiled roofs and wooden-shuttered windows, some dating back nearly 2,000 years.

In contrast, Tirana's architecture is a mix of styles. There are remains of communist-era buildings and new, modern developments with many green spaces.

Living in Albania is incredibly affordable

Alicia: We moved to Tirana in February 2023. We had been traveling full-time for three years, just living out of suitcases, and wanted to settle in Europe.

We live in a brand-new apartment complex in a fully furnished 740-square-foot, one-bedroom, one-bathroom unit. We pay 450 euros, about $520, in monthly rent. Utilities — internet, water, and electricity — cost us around 100 euros, or $115, monthly.

Housing in Albania is way more affordable than in the States. In 2019, before traveling abroad, we lived in San Diego and rented a 630-square-foot, one-bedroom, one-bathroom unit about an hour from the city center for $1,250 a month — the cheapest rent we could find.

The value for money here is incredible.

International food in the city can be a bit more expensive, but traditional Albanian meals are super affordable. You'll usually get five or six shared dishes, served family-style, along with a liter of wine, or some beers, and rarely spend more than $50.

Public transportation is also great and affordable in Tirana.

Nathan: I've been surprised to see how many electric-vehicle taxis are here; they have become the main ride-share form.

Alicia: The city was recently added to Google Maps, which has made navigating even easier. Riding a bus within the city costs just 40 cents per ride. There are shuttles for trips to other towns — we took one to the port city of Durrës for about $10.

We can walk most places and don't really need a car in Tirana

Alicia: Our neighborhood is super walkable, with bike lanes and sidewalks almost everywhere. Our day-to-day needs are within walking distance, which is amazing coming from San Diego.

We've got a grocery store just down the street, a bakery where we can get fresh bread for about $1, and a produce stand nearby for fruits and veggies. There's even a bookstore that sells English books about a 25-minute walk from us.

There isn't much of a nightlife scene in Albania. Though to be fair, we're not big nightlife people ourselves.

Instead, people here really value what are known as "third spaces." Many Albanians live in multi-generational homes, where extended families live together. These third spaces are often green areas within apartment complexes, like shared courtyards, where everyone gathers, especially around sunset.

There's something called "xhiro," which is like an evening social hour. At that time, everyone heads outside: kids play; parents chat; neighbors catch up. People often go to cafés, which are a big part of the culture here. They'll order an espresso and a glass of water, and just sit and relax for hours.

There are some trade-offs to life in Albania, but the pros outweigh the cons

Nathan: The money we save on food and living expenses in Albania has greatly affected our lives.

It's allowed us to travel and invest more in our travel business. Part of the reason we left the US to pursue this dream is that we simply couldn't afford to do it there.

There are some trade-offs to living here, though. For example, we have to go to different places to get everything we need: one store for dry goods, the produce market for fruits and vegetables, a bakery for bread, and another grocery store just to get coffee. Convenience can be a challenge.

We also don't have shipping here. There's no reliable way to get packages delivered because we don't have proper addresses — just a street name that everyone on the street uses.

Still, there are a lot of advantages to living here.

A big one is Albania's visa policy. US citizens get a 365-day visa on arrival. Plus, our Schengen visa days reset whenever we leave Albania and travel to the EU. For example, we can take a $100 flight to Rome for the weekend, and when we return, we can start fresh with more time in the EU.

Alicia: Beyond that, locals have been incredibly supportive and genuinely helpful to us getting settled here.

Ultimately, our dream is to buy a home in Italy, but there are a lot of steps before we get there. Right now, we're just really happy here in Albania.

• I took a voluntary redundancy package from my stressful corporate job and moved to Barcelona.
• There, I enjoyed a more relaxed lifestyle, learned new skills, and realized what I needed.
• When I came home a year later, I returned to the corporate world — this time, as a freelancer.

By my mid-30s I seemed to have it all: I was happily married with a nice apartment in Edinburgh and a well-regarded and well-paid job.

Although my life sounded good on paper, I was miserable.

My corporate job felt stressful and unrewarding, and I worked many long hours. I was overweight but had no emotional bandwidth to do anything about it. Life felt like an endless list of chores.

Meanwhile, I longed to live abroad in Barcelona.

My husband and I had been there twice on holiday and found ourselves enchanted with the city's sunshine, beaches, architecture and people. However, factors like my in-person job and our bills kept these dreams on hold.

When my company restructured and I was offered a voluntary redundancy package, I saw it as an opportunity and I took it. I wasn't given a fortune by any means, but it was enough to fund a grown-up "gap year" if we added my lump sum to my husband's salary.

His job was already fully remote, so we took the leap and moved to Barcelona, where we planned to stay for a year.

Leaving my job for sunnier shores was a huge risk, but it felt right.

In Barcelona, I built up a life and found new perspective

For the first month, I walked around in awe, soaking up the sights and enjoying the near-constant sunshine. This time, we weren't just tourists.

We found a long-term rental in Barcelona in a convenient location and I started looking for a temporary job in hopes I could bring some money in during this period.

Since I knew only very basic Spanish, my options were limited. I was delighted to get a part-time position teaching English.

Before, I was used to long days in the office, followed by a stressful commute home by car. By the time I got home, I was exhausted and my night felt like it was nearly over — and I still had to worry about dinner.

In Barcelona, with a centrally located apartment and a part-time work schedule, I could wander around the markets to choose fresh produce to cook with instead of darting into the supermarket for a frozen pizza on the way home from work.

I finally had time to take better care of my body, too. I joined a gym, where taking workout classes taught by locals helped improve my Spanish vocabulary (and my waistline).

Since we were living on much less, I learned how to budget well and became skilled at managing our finances.

My whole pace of life slowed down, which gave me time to think.

In running away from my life in Edinburgh, I'd left a lot of good behind — family, friends, an apartment I loved. Really, I just needed to reconsider my relationship with work.

Taking time off from my career and pursuing something completely different for a year boosted my confidence. After all, if I could find a job, an apartment, and new friends in a new city, then I could do anything!

After an amazing year, I was ready to go back to my old life but live it in a new way.

When I got back, I reset my career

My year in Barcelona was transformative.

I moved back into the corporate world with confidence and clarity, able to navigate my career on my own terms. I still work on strategic projects with corporate companies — but, this time, I am a freelance communications specialist.

The difference is subtle. I'm just as driven and committed, but psychologically, I feel like I have more freedom. I definitely have a better work-life balance that has provided me with the space to do freelance writing in my spare time.

My income feels less stable, but my time abroad taught me that nothing good comes without risk. Plus, the financial lessons I learned from living on less have served me well when it comes to budgeting at home.

I don't regret taking time out from my career, and clients are often impressed that I learned so many transferable skills (as well as another language).

I'd encourage anyone to take a "gap year" to follow a dream if they can. It's wild that many of us are expected to work for decades without a significant break.

• As an American, I struggled to adjust when I moved to France with my French partner.
• An expat friend's advice to stop comparing my new life to my old one helped me gain perspective.
• Overall, it took four years and a lot of focus on gratitude for France to feel like home to me.

I moved from the US to France with my French partner, two suitcases, and my American optimism.

He had thrived as an international student in the US, so I assumed I'd adapt just as easily as a young professional in Paris.

However, after we got married, I struggled to adjust — and I coped by comparing my new life to my old one.

It took me a while to absorb the best piece of advice I received as an expat

I was lucky to find an international friend group shortly after my move.

One day, while venting to one of them about how I missed American salaries, holidays, and even my family dentist, she stopped me and simply said, "You can't compare."

At the time, I knew she was right, but didn't want to hear it. However, as the years passed, I realized it was the best advice about moving abroad I'd ever received.

Comparison is natural — after all, how often do we see articles ranking countries against each other? Although this can be useful, constantly measuring my old life, comfort level, and norms against my new ones only made me blind to everything France had given me.

Adjusting to a new place can take years — and that's OK

I've heard people say it takes two years to feel at home in a new country. For me, it took four (plus a gap year in London and a move to the South of France, where my husband is from).

The turning point came when I finally stopped comparing my life to what could've been.

Yes, I make less money here, and seeing my friends back home land impressive salaries can make me question my path. Since I left, I've only been home once for Thanksgiving, and celebrating away from family and missing weddings and funerals never gets easier.

Plus, I still miss little things, like SoulCycle and Trader Joe's, more often than I'd like to admit. However, I've got so much to appreciate about my new life in France.

I work less, stress less, and have had the space to reassess my career. I became self-employed, started lecturing in an English program at a French university at 25, and built a new life centered on my passions for writing, music, and nonprofit work.

I've made new friends from all over the world who have become like family. I also appreciate the support, patience, and grace of my community back home more than ever. Plus, I've had the joy of hosting many of them here, sharing our home and life in ways I never could have if I'd stayed in the US.

Most importantly, I've developed a deep gratitude for how my husband's country has shaped him and welcomed me.

These days, I focus on having gratitude for all my new country has given me

While I plan my future in France, I remain incredibly grateful for where I grew up. The US will always be a part of me, and I wouldn't trade my American upbringing or university experience for anything.

I still have bittersweet moments, like realizing my future kids' childhood won't look anything like mine. However, now, those feelings are balanced by the excitement of getting to see them experience their own culture in one of the most beautiful countries.

For anyone who has recently moved abroad or is considering it, all I can say is this: The best thing I ever did was stop comparing and start appreciating both where I'm at and where I'm from.

• Kimberly Kelley, 71, moved from a small town in Arizona to Panama in 2023.
• Kelley lives in a condo on the beach, paying a little more than she spent on housing in the US.
• Her groceries, car-related payments, and healthcare costs are cheaper, and she's much happier.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Kimberly Kelley, a 71-year-old retired hypnotherapist who moved from Arizona to Panama in 2023. The interview has been edited for length and clarity.

I'm from Arizona — a town called Cottonwood, up near Sedona.

Before I retired, I worked as a licensed hypnotherapist and was also a minister at a spiritual center that my ex and I founded. After living in Cottonwood for years, a number of factors made me want to leave — not just the town but ultimately the US as well.

During COVID-19, many people from California started buying property in Sedona and renting it out short-term, which drove up prices and pushed out local workers. People who could no longer afford Sedona moved to Cottonwood, which then caused prices to rise there, too.

Affordability wasn't the main reason I wanted to leave the US. The increasingly toxic political environment also concerned me. On top of that, my husband and I got divorced after 30 years of marriage, my mom passed away, and the dog I had rescued died — all within three months of each other.

I just tapped out. I needed a fresh start, a sense of adventure — something that would let me reinvent myself.

While I've always been comfortable traveling, my biggest hesitation was missing my family. But after some reflection, I realized that my family is spread out across the US, and I only see them about once a year anyway.

I thought, why not do that from another country like Panama?

My Google searches led me to Panama

Panama came onto my radar through an online search.

I was looking up the best and most affordable places to retire on the beach. Every time I typed something in, Panama kept popping up.

Several things attracted me: the country's natural beauty, climate, and affordability. The fact that they speak Spanish was another big plus. I have a Spanish background and wanted to brush up on my language skills. I'm getting fluent — still not quite there yet, but close.

Panama is also not that far from the US — about four hours from Houston — so it's easy to get back if needed.

The country offers some incredible financial benefits for retirees. The most important ones for me are the 25% discount on round-trip flights originating in Panama, 50% off entertainment, and 25% off healthcare. That's on top of its already incredibly low prices.

I took a scouting trip to Panama in July 2023, and just four months later, in November, I sold everything I owned and made the move.

I'm paying more for housing, but it's worth it

I live about an hour and a half outside Panama City, in a little town called San Carlos. I love it here.

It's kind of a busy area that is known for its beaches. Many expats have settled there, and one of the main hubs nearby is a town called Coronado. That's where all the key amenities are — larger grocery stores (not quite big-box by US standards, but big for here), hardware stores similar to Home Depot, doctors, dentists, hair salons.

It's also a popular vacation spot for locals from Panama City. Many own condos out here that they rent out on Airbnb when not using them.

When I came on my recon trip in July, I had a handler named Angela. She took me all over the area to check out different neighborhoods where I could live. I wanted a condo on the beach — that was non-negotiable.

By chance, we connected with a condo owner, an American who retired in Panama City. She and I hit it off, and she offered to hold a unit until I could move in November.

My condo came fully furnished. There's just one door in, which opens into the kitchen. A balcony overlooks the ocean directly across from it, and I also have a second balcony off the bedroom.

When I first moved in, the rent was $900 monthly, including all utilities. The owner raised it to $1,000 this past year, but it's still a bargain by anyone's standards. It's a beautiful place, not some cheap little unit.

Back in Cottonwood, I lived in a studio apartment attached to the spiritual center my husband and I owned. I paid just $600 monthly, which was a bit cheaper. However, my place in Panama is more than worth the difference.

Besides the views of the Pacific Ocean and all the amenities I get from being near the city, I live in an area where many local fishermen come in. Around 8:30 every morning, they return from their night catch, and I can buy fresh fish straight from them.

I'm saving big on groceries and other expenses

Each month, I set aside money for living expenses such as housing, groceries, my car, personal maintenance fees, entertainment, and my US cellphone plan.

I budget about $300 a month for groceries. Some months, I've spent between $400 to $500, including extras — like food for potlucks, get-togethers, wine, and beach parties. Overall, it's really affordable, especially if you shop locally. If you prefer US brands, you'll pay a lot more.

I purchased a cute little 2012 Hyundai Accent outright for only about $5,000. My car insurance is just over $200.

I spend around $80 a month on fuel. Panama is a small country, and I don't drive nearly as much as I did when I lived in Arizona. That helps keep costs down. Car repairs here are also super affordable — labor runs about $25 to $35 an hour.

Healthcare is affordable, too. When I first visited Panama in July 2023, I got really sick from something I picked up in Belize. I ended up seeing two different doctors, receiving four days of steroid and antibiotic shots, going to the hospital, having X-rays and lab work, and being prescribed multiple medications.

The total cost? Under $300. That kind of care would've been impossible for that price in the US. That amount would have maybe covered a single office visit there.

I am living a dream in Panama

There's so much I love about Panama. First and foremost, the Panamanian people — they're some of the warmest and kindest you can imagine.

Making friends here has been one of the easiest parts. I joined several expat groups on Facebook, including tons specifically for Panama. From there, I found more targeted groups on WhatsApp based on my interests and activities.

Of course, I did have to adjust to a few things. The infrastructure, for example, took some getting used to. Things like trash pickup, potholes, and general maintenance can be a bit inconsistent.

People also don't lock up their dogs like we do in the States. I work with a group called Spay Panama, and we gather as many stray dogs and cats as possible — with permission from their families, of course. We take them to be spayed or neutered and then return them to their owners.

The biggest adjustment was learning to live in "mañana time." There's just a completely different energy here: laid-back and relaxed. I no longer enjoy that rushed, go-go-go mindset.

It takes courage, but it also requires a lot of curiosity and a desire to move somewhere new and reinvent yourself. I think the happiest expats are the ones who are looking for an adventure.

While I pay more in rent than I did for my old place in Arizona, living in Panama has been absolutely worth it.

My environment, peace of mind, and overall quality of life have all improved. Honestly, the lifestyle I have here would've been completely out of reach for me in the US. I feel like I'm living a dream — but this is truly my life.

• When I was 20, I followed my first love abroad to Mexico after he was deported from the US.
• We got married in Mexico and I learned to love the country, but I was struggling to plan my life.
• I later realized I was avoiding divorce to try to keep everyone else happy, but it's what I wanted.

My fiancé's deportation and the multiyear ban from the US that came with it completely derailed our wedding plans.

Suddenly, the nuptials we'd planned in my hometown, and more importantly, the life we'd imagined, were off the table. I was faced with a choice: Do I follow him to Mexico?

My parents urged me to wait while he figured out the immigration stuff on his own. We'd barely been dating a full year and, at 20, this was my first romantic relationship.

To me, the decision seemed simple: If I'd already promised to spend the rest of my life with this person, shouldn't I support him through the immigration process?

So, we began planning a wedding in Mexico.

I realized I'd made a mistake pretty early on, but I was too stubborn to admit it

Wedding planning became an increasingly contentious topic. Eventually, I decided to focus on finishing my freshman year of college and let my fiancé and his mother take it on.

I arrived in Tabasco, Mexico, a few weeks before the wedding. I struggled to adapt to the thick humidity, the local Spanish dialect, and my in-laws.

The nagging feeling that I was making a mistake kept me up at night. I often fantasized about taking a taxi to the airport in the middle of the night and flying home.

Unfortunately, I was too young and too much of a people-pleaser then to admit my feelings to myself or anyone else. Instead, I was convinced it was too late to change my mind.

I was already here in Mexico. The invitations were sent out. The venue was booked. I did what I was supposed to do: I got married.

I split my time between the US and Mexico while I finished college

Over the next few years, I never lived in one place for more than a few months. I spent almost every holiday and school break in Mexico.

I quickly fell in love with the country and the people.

I learned how to make budín de pan and agua de jamaica. I traveled to Mayan pyramids and swam with whale sharks off the Yucatán Penisula. I memorized the lyrics to one too many Selena songs and danced along to Banda music.

My time in the US was less enjoyable. My husband and I decided living there together was the end goal, but the uncertainty of his green-card application made it impossible to plan more than a few months ahead at a time. My life felt like it was on hold indefinitely.

As I grew into myself in my early 20s, it was becoming clearer and clearer that my husband and I were not a good match.

The idea of getting a divorce popped into my head more than once.

Each time, I reasoned that making such a drastic decision was selfish, especially when we hadn't even had the chance to live together in the same country for more than a few months at a time.

Eventually, a particularly enlightening therapy session forced me to realize I was staying in the marriage not because I wanted to but because I was worried about how a divorce would impact everyone else in my life.

Choosing myself was difficult but freeing

My divorce was finalized a few years ago.

Since then, I got a tattoo of the North Star on my wrist. It's a tangible reminder to be true to my intuition and feelings rather than letting other people act as my guiding light.

I am open to moving abroad again. If I do make that decision, though, I'll choose what feels right to me — not what I think others want me to choose.

• Starting April 1, New Zealand is easing its golden visa rules to lure wealthy people to move there.
• Most visa inquiries so far have come from Americans, the New Zealand government told BI.
• Americans jarred by political tumult may be drawn to New Zealand's lifestyle, safety, and stability.

New Zealand's breathtaking landscapes and temperate climate lured 370,000 American visitors in 2024, according to government arrival data.

Other Americans may want to make more permanent trips.

About 40% of inquiries about New Zealand's "golden visa" program have come from the US, according to Benny Goodman, the investment general manager for New Zealand Trade and Enterprise, or NZTE.

Some Americans are exploring moves out of the country because of dissatisfaction with the political climate. Google searches for "moving to New Zealand" spiked around Election Day and Inauguration Day, as did related searches for "moving to Canada" and "how to move out of the US."

Starting April 1, it'll get a little easier for wealthy foreigners to pay for a pathway to New Zealand residency. The country is changing the requirements for its golden visa program, formally called the "active investor plus" visa.

The lightening of golden visa requirements comes as New Zealand is trying to boost an economy grappling with recession, its worst downturn since 1991 except for the pandemic.

The government is itching for high-net-worth immigrants, according to Dominic Jones, the managing director of Greener Pastures New Zealand, which helps people get residency through investment.

Jones said there are three main reasons wealthy Americans might be drawn to New Zealand: its laid-back lifestyle, its political stability, and its lack of crime.

"If you go back 10 or 20 years, the drivers around safety in particular may not have been that important, but now it's increasingly on people's minds," he said.

Americans are intrigued by the new visa options

The new golden visa requirements are as follows: Prospective residents can invest $5 million New Zealand dollars (or about $2.8 million) in "higher-risk" investments, like managed funds, and hold them for at least three years to receive permanent residency.

Investors can choose a second option and invest $10 million New Zealand dollars (or about $5.7 million) — with somewhat safer investing options, like bonds or a list of equities — and hold them for five years.

Previously, there were three, not two, different investment groups, more time required in the country to qualify for residency, and an English-speaking requirement that has been removed. The previous minimum investment was more expensive: $15 million New Zealand dollars.

Bloomberg reported in February that only 43 golden visa applicants from all countries were approved between 2022 and 2025, when the old rules were in place. They brought in a total of $545 million New Zealand dollars.

According to the New Zealand Herald, since the changes were announced in February, NZTE saw a 400% rise in visits to its visa web pages.

Since Greener Pastures' website launched in December, inquiries about relocating from America to New Zealand have tripled, beating out increases in interest from other countries, said Mischa Mannix-Opie, the director of client experience at Greener Pastures.

"Americans have been our key focus — that's been our priority," she told BI. "That's where we've seen the biggest lift which has been quite pleasing for us to see."

There are also less-expensive options to spend a few months in New Zealand, including a digital nomad visa that allows travelers to work from New Zealand for up to 92 days. If you qualify, it costs about $193.

Some Americans are already enjoying the New Zealand lifestyle.

Take Garvey Daniels, who moved his family from California to New Zealand in 2022, after falling in love with the scenery while living there in the '90s.

Daniels told BI in 2023 that he worries less about his kids' safety in New Zealand.

"My kids just get to go and have an education," he said. "They can walk to the dairy with their friends, and if they decide they want to go eat ice cream on the beach and they're not home right away, I don't go into a mad panic."

• Grace Hern, 36, moved to Canada in 2023 to pursue graduate school and escape US politics.
• She hopes to pave the way for her friends and family to give Canada a try, too.
• Canada's rising displays of nationalism make her a conscious of being an American who lives there.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Grace Hern, a 36-year-old office assistant who moved from Milwaukee to the greater Toronto area with her husband in September of 2023. The conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

When people asked me, "Why did you move?" I had to answer, "I'm kind of afraid of what my country might do."

Wisconsin is really progressive now, but it's a purple state. So what I felt was, "What if somebody takes over and just starts breaking laws? What if somebody ousts the person that I want in power and then the laws all change?"

The last straw was when Roe v. Wade got overturned. We thought: Let's move to a country where I can get healthcare for my entire body, not just most of it.

When I started telling my friends I was moving to Canada, they were like, "Maybe we should think about that, too." It surprised me a little bit. I thought it was an extreme decision, that it was kind of crazy, but everybody I talked to was like, "Huh, I wonder if that's feasible for me."

I keep encouraging people to get their passports in order and visit — I'll show you around and tell you what it's like to immigrate. I'd like to be that stepping stone if they need it.

I thought a student visa would be my best bet to get into Canada

My husband and I were very lucky that we saved up enough money that we could make the move. We were very lucky that our jobs didn't tie us to Milwaukee. We were very lucky that we had never bought a home in Milwaukee, so we weren't really tied to it financially or legally in the ways that some of my friends and family are.

Now I'm in the greater Toronto area, between Toronto and Stratford. With traffic, it would be about two and a half to three hours outside Toronto.

Everybody says I moved "up north," but, actually, I moved east, across the lakes. When we talk to our parents, they tell us it's snowing, and then we get snow two days later.

I went for a graduate program that was only a year long. I figured if it made our visas that much faster, that would make it a little easier. I wanted to also make some income as a teaching assistant. Then my husband got a work visa. Immediately after I graduated, I had to apply for a postgrad work visa.

My partner and I got married to make our visas easier. I've been with my partner for close to 13 years and we just had never signed a paper. When we wanted to move countries, we were like, "We better make this legally official so that we can cross a border more easily."

Housing is expensive everywhere and hard to find

Jobs and housing are scarce.

There are a lot of housing scams. We went with one of two apartments that we actually saw with our eyes and met the landlord. We were like, "I guess we got to go with one these two that we actually saw because we know that this one isn't a scam."

The only reason our housing is secure now is because I made friends who were like, "My aunt owns a home. You can live in the basement and I'll live on the first floor." I got lucky. It doesn't have air conditioning, but it's OK because it's in a basement. It's a little smaller and more expensive than my place in Milwaukee.

Our last apartment in Milwaukee was $1,200 a month for an actually spacious two-bedroom with a living room, a dining area, a full kitchen, a small backyard, and a parking space.

Now I'm spending $1,800 Canadian dollars (or about $1,258).

Our first very small apartment in Canada was $2,040 Canadian dollars (or about $1,422) a month. It was listed as a two-bedroom but it wasn't really — and we had to pay for a storage unit when we got here.

I'm not exactly sure where I stand with Canadians right now

The Canadians I know right now will look at their phones, reading the news about tariffs, and be like, "Oh my gosh, have you heard how crazy this is?" I'll ask, "Oh no, what happened now?" And they're like, "I can't buy orange juice."

Because of the tariffs, we're going to put little red maple leaves on everything if it's made in Canada.

Everybody is getting pretty nationalististic, at least in their economic choices. People are putting flags on their front lawns and on their cars, and they're all buying Canadian.

Unfurling flags already makes me anxious because in 2016, when all the American flags came out, it tended to be a very white nationalist thing.

My big question is: When you unfurl your Canadian flag, does it include all of the international students? Does it include the Indian grocery store down the street? Does it include all of your immigrants? There's a sense that the flag owners would say, "Yeah, of course it does."

I know that the Canadian flag is not the American flag, and the American flag on your truck is a different thing than the Canadian flag on your truck. But there are similarities.

I just would love to know for certain that somebody flying their Canadian flag really does actually want to include everybody living in their country because that's not what flag-flying meant at home, so it makes me a little nervous.

There's also a social element, where Canadians are more polite and Americans are more friendly. Especially now, it's really weird to figure out where you stand with Canadians. They're always going to tell you the polite thing.

I haven't really felt a shift in how people treat me personally. Although I still have Wisconsin license plates on my car, so people have been asking me, "Are you worried about being vandalized?" I'm like, "No, should I be?"

• I'm an American girl from Hawaii who fell in love with a British boy while studying in London.
• We started a long-distance relationship, and then I moved to England so we could be together.
• Six months later, I left feeling I'd over-romanticized the idea of moving abroad for love.

I've always been obsessed with love stories.

Growing up, I devoured every Disney princess movie and romantic comedy I could find, longing for my own happy ending. I fell in love quickly and often, hoping each time that it would finally be with my forever person.

When I decided to spend my last semester of college studying abroad in London, I romanticized the experience in a different way. I was excited to explore the city's rich history, travel across Europe, and make new friends.

I had no intention of entering a romantic relationship — but the moment I stopped looking for love, it found me.

The start of our romance felt like magic

My arrival in London was a whirlwind of navigating culture shock, city life, fresh faces, and an unfamiliar campus.

Barely two weeks in, I went out to a bar with a group of women from my study-abroad program and met the man I would fall in love with.

We had an instant connection on the dance floor, which led to spending the rest of the night together. We started talking daily and had our first date a week later.

Weekly outings turned into overnights, then entire weekends. He invited me to meet his family in his hometown, where we expressed our love for the first time.

We took our first of many international trips together and visited Milan, where we ate gelato, drank fine wine, and danced by the canal. During this time, I solo traveled frequently while he stayed in London awaiting my return.

When my study-abroad program ended, I moved my belongings into his flat and spent a month traveling around Europe — a graduation present from my parents — until it was time to fly home to Maui.

I soon realized moving abroad for love wasn't the fairy-tale I'd been dreaming of

I never expected to leave London in a long-distance relationship, but our connection had enchanted me.

We set a date for him to visit me in Hawaii and found a rhythm of exchanging messages and video calls despite the 11-hour time difference.

A few weeks into this routine, he asked me to return to England on a six-month tourist visa so we could be together. I accepted, ecstatic about going back to the country where we fell in love.

But this time, my destination wasn't London. Instead, I moved to Hastings, a seaside town where the last interesting thing to happen there was probably the Battle of Hastings in 1066.

I explored the entire place in two days, and boredom quickly set in.

Since I was on a tourist visa, I couldn't work. I was a recent college graduate with no savings, so I didn't have money for outings or even a pint at the local pub. I felt isolated and relied on my partner for housing and social interaction.

Most days, I stayed in the flat watching Netflix and playing video games until he got home. My main recreation became grocery-store runs, walks in the park, and occasional trips out of town.

I tried starting various creative projects but was left feeling unfulfilled. Making dinner each night became my only sense of purpose.

Each day blurred into the next, and I sunk deeper into a depression that I didn't recognize until it had already swallowed me whole.

In retrospect, it hit me: I was an unemployed, stay-at-home girlfriend — and I didn't like that version of myself.

As I struggled, so did our relationship. We fought more frequently, slipping into a cycle that followed us across continents, one that eventually led to our breakup.

Now, I know love alone isn't enough to build a full life

My return to England marked a major shift: Instead of arriving with an open mind, I carried expectations for both my time living abroad and the relationship I was chasing.

However, the magic from my first visit had faded, and the reality was far from what I had envisioned.

I realized love alone couldn't help me create the life I wanted with another person — I also needed to feel whole on my own.

My experience in Hastings showed me that a healthy relationship requires stability, compatibility, and open communication, but it must be between individuals who both have a strong sense of self and independence.

I hadn't anticipated how much losing the structure of school, work, and social connections would impact my mental health.

If I had the chance to do things differently, I'd prioritize finding remote work, building friendships, and taking better care of myself.

Our love story didn't end how I'd hoped, but it was still real, beautiful, and worth remembering — and I learned invaluable lessons I will never forget.

Despite the challenges, I'd do it all over again.

• I moved from the US to Kosovo with my husband after years of fantasizing about living abroad.
• I love Eastern Europe's sense of community and culture.
• But I eventually realized the country I left behind has its own beauty, too, in its diversity.

Three years ago, I boarded a plane and flew across the Atlantic Ocean, taking all my worldly goods in only three suitcases. I had sold or given away everything else.

I had decided to move to Europe with my new husband. We settled down in Kosovo, where he was born and raised. But that meant I had to leave my birthplace, the US. I was nervous but excited.

I had always dreamed of leaving the US and seeing the rest of the world. Everywhere else seemed so fascinating. But it took me leaving the US and settling in Eastern Europe to see the beauty of my home country.

Moving far away was a lifelong dream

Since I was young, I have wanted to travel outside America. I remember going for a walk in the small Wisconsin village where I grew up and fantasizing about being in France, England, or even India.

I dreamed of other cultures: the bright lights of Paris, the vivid colors of a Turkish bazaar, and the strong smell of spices from a street food vendor in Thailand.

I had never done anything to fulfill that dream. Life got in the way: I got married, and then I was widowed. I had a life full of responsibilities that seemed so hard to change.

I also never knew where to go. The world is so big, and many exciting places exist. How does one choose?

Thankfully, fate brought me the answer and the opportunity

When I met my second husband, the choice was made for me. He was an immigrant from Kosovo who opened a whole new world.

When we first met, he served me tea in tiny glass cups with little spoons. It was charming. I fell in love with him and his culture. When we visited his birthplace, I fell in love with it, too. I knew in my heart that I wanted to move there.

People were shocked — especially immigrants to the US that we knew from the region. They couldn't imagine going back.

The pandemic pushed our departure date back by over a year, but I eventually left the US to start the life I always dreamed of abroad.

I have since found the beauty in the country I left behind

My experience living outside the US has been eye-opening. In my experience in Kosovo, community is more important than individuality. Families are close-knit, with multi-generational households being the norm. It is unthinkable not to know your neighbor. The pace is also slower. Life is lived and not rushed through.

When I first arrived in Kosovo, I wished the US would adopt some of these values. But over time, I started to see the US in a new light.

I started to miss the US's diversity. I was born in Milwaukee, where every summer, there are dozens of festivals to celebrate the city's different communities. It was always my favorite part of summer.

The longer I've lived in Eastern Europe, the more I've thought about the power of the US ideals: liberty, freedom, and inclusion. They make my home country special, and I hold onto them even though I'm still an ocean away.

While I didn't experience a strong sense of community in the US, there's still a power to living alongside people who are nothing like you.

While I dreamed of leaving the US for most of my life, it took my leaving my birthplace to really understand the beauty of it.

• I moved to the UK in 2022 for a master's program in Glasgow and still live here years later.
• It's been odd adjusting to new phrases and being constantly surrounded by such old buildings.
• I now embrace and even enjoy aspects of UK life, like having a "local" and talking about the rain.

In 2022, I moved from the US to Glasglow for a yearlong master's program when I was 23 years old.

I had just two suitcases with me, and I felt overwhelmed and alone at first. However, years later, I still call the UK home and have built a life here that I enjoy.

Looking back, there are a few surprises I wasn't quite prepared for when I first moved.

I'm still in awe of the city's old age and architecture every day.

Many of the architecture and landmarks in Scotland are older than the United States.

The US wasn't founded until 1776. Meanwhile, The University of Glasgow, where I pursued my degree, was founded in 1451 — and it's still only the fourth oldest university in the UK.

The campus and city are beautiful, and I get to walk through and past centuries-old buildings, cathedrals, and clock towers daily. I'm still in awe of being surrounded by so much history.

Finding a "local" is incredibly important.

Shortly after moving to the UK, I realized just how important it was to find a "local" — basically, a pub that feels like home that you can visit for any occasion.

Fortunately, I was quickly able to find mine by sticking to a routine. Every Monday, my friends and I would pile into a pub near our university for weekly trivia to share pints and (usually) finish in fifth place.

Eventually, it became a go-to shared space for us, where we'd drag extra stools around the big wooden tables to toast birthdays, celebrate graduations, and host going-away parties.

It's been odd adjusting to having the "right to roam."

Many years ago, Scotland established the "right to roam," which allows visitors recreational access to most land, as long as it's done so responsibly.

This is quite different from what I'm used to in the US, where a gate in a field feels like a sure sign to turn around, and I'd be hesitant to wander off any labeled trail.

However, in some parts of Scotland, there aren't even labeled paths to follow — especially when it comes to munros (mountains over 3,000 feet).

After many months of hiking, I got used to making my own trails through farmers' fields and learned to wayfind with maps and compasses.

Now, instead of relying on marked paths, I'm accustomed to making my own decisions about where to go while ascending and descending peaks.

It really does rain a lot — and locals seem to love talking about it.

It took me a while to adjust to Scotland's rainy weather, but I no longer let some water stop me from going outside or running on trails.

I've also gotten used to how talking about the weather never seems to get old here. Oftentimes, it feels deeper than even small talk — locals seem genuinely interested in discussing why or how much it's raining.

However, I still get excited when I check the weather app on my phone and see even one day that doesn't have a raindrop.

Public transportation has been a dream.

Although I don't drive, I've been able to get anywhere I've wanted to go without a car in Scotland.

Despite some delays and cancellations, the public-transportation options I've had access to have really impressed me. For example, I've been able to explore Scotland's highlands and islands by train, bus, and ferry.

Last April, my partner and I were even able to take our bikes to the scenic Isle of Mull for a long weekend just by toting them on a train and ferry.

I've picked up a lot of new phrases, but the way I speak and write is still changing.

When I first moved to the UK, I quickly learned vocabulary I'm not used to at home, like using "wee" to mean "little" or calling "eggplant" an "aubergine."

It no longer rains, it "pisses down," and I don't "go to the store," I simply "head to the shops."

However, even two and a half years later, I'm still picking up new phrases and spellings and jumbling them into ones I grew up with.

I've had an especially rough time adjusting to the subtle spelling differences. My writing is now a blend of American and British English spellings, sometimes interchanging "s" and "z" in words like "organise" and "analyze."

I'm never sure how I'll spell "colour," but I still spell "favorite" like an American.

• In January, I moved from Scotland to Spain to start the new year in a new place.
• Barcelona is a fun-loving, vibrant city, and I've had a fun time dating here.
• I feel like I can actually meet people organically instead of just swiping on apps.

At the beginning of 2025, I uprooted my life and moved to Barcelona.

I didn't specifically move for the Spanish dating scene, but as a single 33-year-old, it was definitely part of the draw of the fun-loving city.

I'm from Scotland, and dating in the UK was getting pretty monotonous. I'd swiped past the same random Glaswegian guys so many times that I'd have to reset Tinder.

After going on several dates over the last month and a half, here are some of the biggest differences I've noticed about dating abroad, so far.

I don't need an app to get a date

In the UK, it seemed like the only way I could get a date was by downloading a dating app like Hinge, Bumble, or Tinder. Even with the endless swiping, though, there was no guarantee.

Men in Scotland rarely approached me unless there was a lot of alcohol involved. It's not exactly fun when a guy is slurring into your ear that he wants to take you out.

In Barcelona, however, my experience being asked out has felt a little more civilized, for lack of a better word.

When I go out for tapas at one of the jam-packed vermuterias (like a wine bar but for vermouth) in the Gràcia area, I almost always end up chatting with the guys standing next to me at the bar.

Next thing I know, one of them is asking the server for his pad and pen, and I'm writing down my number so we can meet up next weekend.

When I am on the apps, Bumble is king

Meeting people organically in Barcelona has been significantly easier for me. However, that doesn't mean people here don't use (and find success) with dating apps.

According to some local friends I've made, the preferred dating app here is Bumble. I promptly downloaded it, and since doing so, it's also the place I've had the most success.

I've found that people I match with on Bumble are very quick to ask what I want. Am I looking for some fun? Do I want to hang out? Am I looking for a relationship?

This upfront, no-nonsense approach was refreshing. Things are just so much easier when everyone communicates and is on the same page.

I'm not trying to imply that I'll somehow be on the same page as everyone in Barcelona, but I don't need to be. Since these conversations have happened early and often, I know when to let people go on their merry way instead of being strung along.

The prospect of a dancing date was intimidating at first

In Glasgow, dancing was not a typical date option in my social circle. Typically, grabbing a pint or dinner was the go-to.

So, when a date in Barcelona asked me to go dancing at a salsa and bachata club, I was speechless.

Luckily, just knowing some basic steps was more than enough where we went. Everyone seemed like they were just there to have a good time.

After going, I can see why it's a more popular (and romantic) date option here.

I haven't paid for a single date in Barcelona

In the UK, most of my friends agree that you should split the bill on a date. They call me old-fashioned, but I prefer it when the man I'm with pays on our first date

Sometimes, it happened naturally without too much nudging on my end, but that wasn't the norm.

In Barcelona, though, when I try to put my money down, my purse is batted away. This may not be everyone's experience, but I'm not mad that it's been the trend for me so far.

After chatting to one of my dates about the phenomenon, he said that he thinks Latin men feel more inclined to spoil a woman while pursuing her.

I seem to be the only one going on 'solo dates'

Dating can be tiring, and sometimes, all I want to do is fly solo.

Taking myself to dinner is one of my favorite things to do — there's nothing better than treating yourself to some expensive wine and a delicious meal. I did it all the time in the UK, no questions asked, and often saw other people dining alone, too.

However, Barcelona seems to have a more sociable culture. Going out for a meal, in particular, is typically a shared event that lasts for hours — not something you do by yourself.

When I first started taking myself out for tapas and wine in Barcelona, the wait staff would often ask when my boyfriend was going to turn up.

• We're seniors who own a home in Mexico and rent in the US. Living in Mexico has come with surprises.
• We appreciate how much easier it feels to get products repaired in Mexico than in the US.
• I've been pleasantly surprised by how much I like going on long bus rides and buying food in Mexico.

My husband and I rent an apartment in our native United States but also own a home in Mexico.

For the past 20 years, we've split our lives between our house in Guanajuato, Mexico, and our rental in Eureka, California.

Although we traveled to Mexico several times before buying our home, living in the country is different than just visiting it.

I'm now in my 70s, and he's in his 80s — and we still make our bicultural lives work while continuing to be surprised and delighted by our city and neighbors.

Here are a few things that have surprised me most about living in Mexico throughout the past two decades.

It feels much easier to get things repaired in Mexico

I've noticed Mexico doesn't have a "throwaway culture" like so much of the United States does. When something breaks here, trying to fix it is a priority, and it's often fairly easy to do.

For instance, when my husband's mini desktop computer refused to open, our US tech specialist said it was irreparable. Instead of buying a new one, we brought it with us to Mexico, where a local computer shop in Guanajuato had it fixed in two hours for $30.

In Mexico, it's generally been easy for us to find small businesses and local repairmen who will fix everything from electronics to clothing for a reasonable price.

I've had the motor of my blender fixed at a local small-appliance repair shop and a replacement lid for my broken slow cooker made by a local craftsman.

I recently took my outdoor vest to a tailor in Mexico, who did a beautiful job replacing the zipper for about $5. The same service would've likely cost at least triple in California.

Our healthcare costs much less than it did in the US — but not everything is cheaper here

As seniors over 65, we have Medicare in the US that helps us with basic healthcare. Still, its changing policies and out-of-pocket costs can be difficult to navigate.

While in Mexico, though, it's easier and often more affordable for us to see specialists, like dermatologists and dentists.

A couple of years ago, for example, my husband needed a complicated crown and root-canal procedure that would've cost us about $3,500 out of pocket in the US — and he would've had to wait months for an appointment.

He had the procedure done in Mexico for $600, and getting an appointment took less than two weeks.

Although our healthcare is generally less expensive here, not all health-related products are. For example, we bring our vitamins, ibuprofen, and sunscreen back from the US because they're typically more expensive to purchase in Mexico.

Dining out often feels like attending a party

Most restaurants we visit here are bustling with loud music and large groups of multigenerational families having lively conversations.

The dining-out atmosphere in Mexico also tends to feel laid-back. We've never felt pressured to eat quickly so we can give up our table, and it's nice to be able to take our time.

Eating out can be so leisurely, in fact, that we sometimes have to hunt down the server to ask for our bill.

Food shopping has been surprisingly enjoyable and easy

I love doing errands on foot in Guanajuato — it's easy because the streets in the city center where our house is located are pedestrianized, colorful, and lively.

I especially shopping because I get an opportunity to speak with locals in Spanish and connect with my community.

When I'm not stopping at a local bakery (for fresh rolls), liquor store (for wine), or café (for coffee beans in bulk), I do most of my shopping at the grocery store just three minutes from our home.

Although it's small, with just three narrow aisles, it has much of what we need: fruits, vegetables, canned food, condiments, meat, and dairy.

Since eggs are sold in bulk, I can even buy just a few if I don't need a whole dozen. I'm also able to buy just one stick of butter instead of a bigger pack if I'd like.

Long-distance buses have been an especially wonderful way to get around Mexico

Buses are one of the most popular forms of transportation here — and we've been pleasantly surprised by them, especially for longer trips.

We love the long-distance bus trips we've had in Mexico so far that have allowed us to explore more of the country.

One of our go-to companies to travel with is Primera Plus, where our bus rides have been complete with reclining seats, spotless onboard restrooms, and even WiFi.

• Justin Wong, 36, gave up on the idea of buying a home in Canada, citing the unaffordable prices.
• He grew up visiting Japan and decided to buy a home there instead of in Canada.
• He plans to go back and forth between Canada and Japan for as long as possible.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Justin Wong, who bought a house in Japan's Nara Prefecture through Akiya Mart, a site that helps foreigners buy abandoned Japanese homes known as akiyas. Wong, 36, works in marketing in Delta, British Columbia, about 15 miles south of Vancouver. The conversation was edited for length and clarity.

I've been in Japan a lot since I was a kid. I've always loved Japanese culture. I've gone on vacation there maybe six or seven times — sometimes on my own, sometimes with my parents. When I met my wife, we went there together a couple of times. She loves it.

It was always like, "I really wish we could spend more time in Japan." That's always been a thought.

So, we bought our home for $30,000 — that was the base price before we accounted for fees and everything else. I believe it was built in the late '70s or early '80s. It's 2,200 square feet with eight bedrooms, two bathrooms, and two kitchens.

People closest to me are mostly just surprised and curious. The only flack I've gotten is my family thinking it's some sort of scam — and I don't really blame them.

I'm buying a house thousands of miles away. I had never actually seen it. I hadn't actually been there. What if I go there and it's like an empty lot? I wasn't sure myself until I actually got there.

Technically, we bought the house sight unseen. We did a video tour, but it was a little bit of a leap of faith. I did go to see the home afterward because we already had a trip planned in October, but we thought, "Let's just buy it, and then I'll go and make sure the house is alright."

Personally, I love that the home sits in a walkable neighborhood. I don't mind driving, but whenever I'm there, it's like you can walk literally anywhere. Everything is so convenient — that's a huge part of it. Another thing is the food. It's so good in terms of how much it costs and the quality. It's just the type of food I enjoy. So, I have always loved that part of Japanese culture.

Also, I am a private person — more introverted. I don't really care much about going out and socializing all that much, especially now that I'm in my 30s. Japan is very friendly to people who just want to be left alone and do their own thing.

It's a little bit of happenstance because I found a random Reddit thread of people looking to buy houses in Japan. One person suggested Akiya Mart, so I was just looking through it and looking at the prices and thought, "We could actually do this."

Our purchase lines up with the current geopolitical situation, which is just a coincidence. Still, I'm happy we're making some progress.

I can't afford a home in Canada right now

I was born in Vancouver, so I've been here my whole life. I live in Delta, which is just south of Vancouver.

I have a decent wage. I make a good amount of money relative to the Canadian median, I'd say, but there's no way I can afford a house in my area. I can't even afford a mortgage for a closet in Richmond, British Columbia.

The average house price in Vancouver is over a million, I would say.

[The median list price in Vancouver, British Columbia, is $1.5 million, according to Canadian MLS Houseful.]

I'm not super familiar with owning a house, but I remember I specifically looked up a house with the same size and the same dimensions as the one I got in Japan. There's a place in Vancouver that's selling for $5.6 million Canadian [or about $3.9 million].

I kind of made peace with the fact that I would just rent for the rest of my life in Canada. Then we saw this opportunity to buy in Japan, and it was like, "Wait, for $40,000 Canadian, I can own this house, and it's in a country I've always wanted to spend more time in."

Once we knew that this opportunity was available, it was kind of a no-brainer, really.

The process was easier than I expected, too. I've never bought a house before — it seems no one in Vancouver can really — so I had no idea what to expect.

All in all, it was maybe a month and a half to two months, and most of it was just waiting. We did a lot of research going in and looked at as much as we could. So when we met with Akiya Mart and when we met with the real-estate agent, we already knew the home we wanted. We didn't want to waste any time.

I wish I could live in Japan full-time

We're doing some minor renovations. I'm fixing a couple of big cracks in the foundation and putting in some termite-prevention stuff. After that, not much, really. The house is gorgeous, and I don't want to mess with it.

When we were buying, one of my biggest concerns was getting this thing up to earthquake standards because, living in Vancouver, we're also on an earthquake line.

So I wanted to renovate the place, make it earthquake-proof, etcetera. After the contractor got me the quote, I was like, "This is four times the cost of the house. Forget it."

It's not like an investment. We're not looking at it to rent. We're far out in the countryside, so I'm pretty sure no one's going to want to Airbnb somewhere like that.

Right now, however, it's basically a vacation home. I want to get a 90-day visa as a tourist. We're planning on going back three months at a time to Japan, then coming back home, then returning three months at a time.

I have a remote job, so I can work from home without having to worry about finding employment. My workplace is cool enough to allow me to do that.

If I could get permanent residency in Japan, I would probably spend most of my time there. I'd probably be happy. I would love to be able to retire in Japan; they just make it very difficult for you to do so.

Maybe after I spend three months there, I'll hate it—who knows? For now, I love that idea.

• Insurer William Russell ranked the safest countries for expats in 2025.
• The ranking considers political stability, crime, natural disasters, and healthcare, among other things.
• The list features countries in Europe, including Slovenia and Switzerland, as well as some in Asia.

For those considering living and working abroad, safety will likely be a key factor in choosing a destination.

William Russell, an expat insurance provider, has ranked the safest places to live as an expat in 2025.

The ranking uses data from the 2024 Global Peace Index and the World Risk Report, which consider factors such as political instability, the level of violent crime, the impact of terrorism, and vulnerability to natural disasters.

William Russell said it also considers healthcare access and digital security.

It found that the safest countries shared a few characteristics, including high levels of wealth, social welfare, and education.

There's another common thread — the majority are in Europe.

10. Malaysia

Tenth on William Russell's ranking is Malaysia.

As Malaysia exits an era of political turmoil, its government hopes that rising investments and startups flowing into the country signal that it is on its way to becoming Asia's Silicon Valley.

The HSBC Expat guide says Malaysia's growing IT sector already offers plenty of opportunities for expats, who may choose the country for its relatively low living costs, accessible healthcare, and tropical climate.

9. Slovenia

William Russell also ranks Slovenia highly as an expat destination.

The OECD Better Life Index notes that Slovenia outperforms the global average in safety. It found that 91% of people in the country feel safe walking alone at night, and that the homicide rate is far below the OECD average.

For expats moving with families, Brittany McAnally, who lived in Slovenia for a year with her family, told Business Insider that Ljubljana, the picturesque capital, feels especially safe for raising kids.

8. Denmark

Denmark came in eighth.

Ilana Buhl, an American teacher who moved to Denmark in 2018, told BI she feels much safer there, both as a woman and in terms of gun violence.

Beyond safety, Buhl said she enjoys a significantly better work-life balance— a core aspect of Danish working culture, where long summer vacations are standard and employees receive at least five weeks of paid leave a year.

7. Portugal

Portugal, already a hub for digital nomads, came seventh.

The European nation is drawing in North Americans, who praise its affordable healthcare, quality of life, and work-life balance.

The Global Peace Index 2024 ranked it seventh in the world for safety, noting high levels of political stability and very low levels of violent crime.

6. Switzerland

Switzerland is famously politically neutral, meaning there's little risk of it being involved in an international conflict. This likely factored into its ranking.

The Global Peace Index notes that there's a low risk of violent crime, political instability, or political terror within the country.

Expats generally earn well in Switzerland, but a 2024 study by consulting firm Mercer found that Swiss cities, including Zurich, Geneva, Basel, and Bern, are among the most expensive cities in the world to live in as an expat.

Mercer ranked Zurich as 2024's most liveable city, thanks in part to its public services and low crime rates.

5. Singapore

Fifth on William Russell's ranking of the safest places for expats is Singapore.

Although it's one of the world's most expensive cities, HSBC Expat says international workers are still drawn to the city-state by its high salaries, opulent lifestyles, and convenient location for travel across Southeast Asia.

Healthcare there also ranks among the best in the world, although it can be expensive.

William Russell noted that Singapore also has efficient infrastructure and is one of the most digitally secure countries in the world.

4. New Zealand

New Zealand, fourth on William Russell's ranking, is making moving there easier for expats, investors, and digital nomads.

In the past few weeks, it has relaxed both its "golden visa" and visitor visa rules.

Although the country has recently faced economic headwinds, it is a peaceful place with a low crime rate and plenty of opportunities for expats in engineering, medicine, and other industries.

That said, William Russell noted that there are environmental safety issues, such as rising sea levels leading to more flooding in coastal areas.

3. Austria

Austria came third in the ranking.

William Russell said that factors that make it safe for expats include a strong public health system, an extensive rail system, and a low rate of serious crimes.

In 2024, Vienna, Austria's capital, was number two in Mercer's ranking for most liveable cities for expats. Meanwhile, The Economist Intelligence Unit named it the most liveable city in the world in 2024, for the third year running.

2. Ireland

Coming in second in the ranking, William Russell attributed Ireland's safety for expats to factors such as a downward-trending crime rate, a tolerance of migrants, and a strong and stable economy.

Alexis McSparren, an American who moved to Ireland, told BI that she has never felt safer than she does living in Dublin, highlighting, in particular, the strict gun laws.

1. Iceland

Top of the ranking was Iceland.

The European nation has a significant expat population. According to Statistics Iceland, over 20% of its population was born overseas. Safety, no doubt, plays a big part.

Iceland has topped the Global Peace Index list since 2008, thanks to its low crime rate and its avoidance of international conflicts.

While five expats told BI in 2024 that expensive groceries and the limited daylight in winter can be challenging, the country's stunning scenery, high-quality public services, and safety continue to attract international workers.

William Russell also said that the country topped its ranking owing to factors such as environmental safety — there are few dangerous wildlife and excellent air quality.

• Erik Buhrow bought a home in Japan for $26,000 while he was still living in the US.
• Buhrow, who grew up in Japan, plans to return at some point when his career is over.
• In the meantime, he plans to rent out his home to the Americans looking to move to Japan.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Erik Buhrow, who bought a house in Japan's Niigata Prefecture through AkiyaMart, a site that helps foreigners buy abandoned Japanese homes known as akiyas. Buhrow, 39, runs a construction business outside Minneapolis.

A lot of people born and raised in Minnesota stay here forever. I've only been here about 10 years.

It can feel like anybody who has any sort of money bought a cabin in northern Minnesota back in the day — when you could. Now, if you want to buy a cabin up north, you're spending $300,000 for a starter shack in the tundra.

Would I rather spend $300,000 on a cabin in northern Minnesota or $30,000 for a cabin in Japan — a country I'm from, I'm accustomed to, and I actually enjoy going to?

I purchased an akiya in Japan this year. I closed on it in July and I did everything remotely over the course of three months.

I did not visit Japan to see the house or do anything. I worked with a real-estate agent who went there and FaceTimed me. Because I'm in construction and I am used to Japan, I was like, "Yeah, I'm willing to pull the trigger without going there."

It's roughly 3,000 square feet and about 150 years old. The Japanese would classify it as eight bedrooms, but I would classify it as six. There are two extra rooms that they would consider bedrooms, but because of their lack of closets, I'm going to call them bonus rooms. There's a two-car garage, one bathroom, and multiple really open living room spaces in an old-school style.

All in with the taxes and the real-estate fees and everything, it was $26,000.

A lot of people say, "The prices are really good, but the insurance and the taxes are going to get you." They don't. My insurance for $200,000 of replacement costs me a little under $500 a year. I actually bought five years' worth of home insurance at once.

My taxes are $183 a year. In Japan, homes over 22 years old are depreciated, so that $183 is just on the land. There's no tax on the house because it's ancient.

I own my home in Burnsville, Minnesota. It's very similar — 3,000 square feet, a garage. I bought it in 2017 for $300,000, and my taxes have gone — from 2017 to now — from $3,000 a year to about $5,000 a year.

I may be a little bit cavalier about the situation. I knew that no matter how bad the house is, it's nothing that I haven't seen. I just felt like, if I don't go visit it, but it's in the location that I want, that's what real estate is about. That's what these houses are really about. You can fix things, you can make the house better or worse, but you can't move it.

I grew up in Japan and long to move back for retirement

I grew up in Japan, so it helped make the decision easier. I grew up on a US military base in Misawa, Japan, in the Aomori Prefecture. My mom was a government teacher, so I lived there for an extended amount of time.

I officially moved to the United States when I went to college. But when I grew up in Japan, I had a huge desire to own property there, but it was always seen as impossible. My mom, my sister, and my brother-in-law, who's half Japanese, just always accepted it as something you can't do — that it's too complicated, or you have to get residency.

I reached out to AkiyaMart for a consultation. They pitched me on being the pilot person for their buyer program. I think it worked out perfectly.

My biggest aim was to be surrounded by the culture of Japan. I grew up on a military base, so I know what it's like to be around foreigners in Japan. Tokyo and Osaka are very tourist-driven, and it can be really difficult to learn the language and truly learn the customs.

The Sea of Japan, or western, side of the country is known for not being very heavily touristed or westernized. The house I bought is on the southern portion of the Tohoku region of Japan. You still get snow, but the architecture as you get further south in Japan gets to be, in my opinion, more beautiful. You have tile roofs and things of that nature. If you go north, you get more flat metal roofs.

Because I'm in construction, I care about home design. So this was a beautiful in-between spot where I could enjoy a southern-style home, but in a snowy northern climate, and also still be close to Tokyo.

The closest city-slash-train stop for the bullet train is 20 minutes away. I can hop on the bullet train and be in Tokyo 90 minutes later.

The prices in that area are lower because it is more remote. It allows you to explore in this adventure of buying a foreign property without having to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars.

I plan to rent out my akiya to other Americans weighing moves to Japan

I'm also in the process of buying another akiya property two minutes down the street. The original premise to buy the second home is based on my sister and brother-in-law, who both grew up in Japan.

In the meantime, I'm hoping that I can turn the second home into a long-term-stay place. I can allow people thinking about doing the same thing that I'm doing to stay there one to three months while they try and figure out is this something that might be a fit for them.

Because people are curious and they're interested in living in Japan, but they don't know if it would work. Somebody could go, "Hey, Erik, I want to stay in your house for a month, use your car, use your Wi-Fi, and figure out if this area fits my goals."

Or maybe my renters will want to work remotely in Japan for an extended amount of time.

My life goal would be to retire in Japan. However, because of visas and complications, it's not that easy.

I look at buying the akiyas as a new adventure in life, a new chapter. If you're not continuing to write new chapters in your book, then it gets kind of boring to read.

• After booking a trip to Ireland on a whim, I fell in love with the country and also met my husband.
• Years later, we're still together, and we've made a new life for ourselves in Cork.
• I still live in Atlanta part-time, but I love going home to my husband in Ireland.

Several years ago, I dreamed I was walking down the main street of a small town, where I met a nice bookseller and a local witch. In the dream, I kept getting the message to "go to Skibbereen."

When I woke up, my first thought was, "Where the heck is Skibbereen?" I looked it up, and to my delight, it's a real town in West Cork, Ireland.

This isn't the first time I've gleaned information from my dreams, but they rarely provide such literal instructions. Figuring I should listen to the message, I booked a trip for a few months down the line.

Little did I know that my Irish adventure would lead me to my future husband and a new home.

I trusted my gut and eventually got to Skibbereen

My travels first brought me to the city of Cork, where I made friends who helped secure me a ride out to the smaller town of Skibbereen.

As I rode through West Cork, I promised myself that I'd follow my intuition wherever it led without asking questions. I came here because of a dream, so why not follow the path as far as it would go?

Luckily, it led me right to Skibbereen's main street — like my dream, it does, in fact, have a wonderful bookseller and a pagan shop.

I felt welcome, and I kept noticing phoenix symbols throughout the town. It felt like a sign since I'm from Atlanta, and the fictional bird is on our city seal.

As I continued my trip, wandering and exploring more of County Cork, a gut feeling began to grow that this was exactly where I needed to be.

Then, I met the man who would be my future husband

At the time, I had the dating app Bumble on my phone. I happened to open it during my travels and match with a local Irish chef.

We met up for a date, and he was instantly warm, welcoming, and honest. Since we both work with food in some capacity (him as an executive chef, me as a writer, educator, and consultant), we had lots to talk about.

We continued talking online, and after I returned to the US, we officially started dating. With things going well, we arranged to meet back in Ireland three months later.

After a whirlwind romance, we got married last year.

I'm still in awe of my new life

In the years since my trip, I bought a house in Cork, and my husband and I are slowly settling in and making it feel like home.

I still live in Atlanta part time, but I feel like all the different parts of my life have fallen into place.

Whether I'm in Ireland or the US, I pinch myself every day that I get to live this magical life and share it with all the incredible people I've met along the way.

I don't live in Skibbereen (yet), but I still visit. In the future, I hope to move out that way and have a few acres of space to host culinary and writing residencies.

In the meantime, I'm settling into my two-continent lifestyle nicely.

There are still questions to navigate (like the best way to move my cats abroad), and it isn't always smooth sailing. However, so far, it's worth all the challenges, long travel days, and time-zone juggling.

• After living in seven different countries, I've learned a few things that surprised me. 
• Prague was the hardest place to adjust to because of its cold temperatures and language.
• Texas' Dry Sundays, Europe's showers, and Wales' KFC menu surprised me the most.

Moving abroad can be exhausting, but I've done it multiple times, leaving my native island of St. Lucia for college in the US about 15 years ago. Since then, I've lived in places like Wales, the Czech Republic, Spain, Italy, and Greece. 

Traveling was daunting at first, especially coming from a country with a population of less than 200,000. But I loved immersing myself in new cultures, forming close friendships, and discovering new delicacies in every possible city.   

I felt knowledgeable about my destinations from my education, books, and television, but you never truly know a country until you've lived like a local.

Here are 11 things that surprised me during my travels.

Living in Spain can require a lot of paperwork 

There's always a lot of paperwork involved in traveling, but Spain is a different level of bureaucracy if you plan on living there for more than six months.

First, you must secure the Empadronamiento or "padrón," which is a document necessary to register with the town hall in the region of Spain you live in. This document adds your name and address to your city's census and is also necessary for administrative tasks like applying for a Social Security number, residency, public healthcare, opening a bank account, and getting married.

The process needs to be repeated if you move to another city and your residency must be canceled before leaving the country. Though the process seems simple, spots are often unavailable, so booking an appointment to do so can be very difficult.

The food scene is vast and varied in Prague

As a tourist in the Czech Republic, there are certain meals that you must try: beef steak tartare, Kulajda, Svíčková, and kolache.

Prague's international food scene is impressive, with restaurants representative of multiple cultures and palates. I was even able to find the ingredients to cook a local St. Lucian meal that included chicken backs and ripe plantains.

If you're not sure where to start or want to sample a variety, Manifesto Market features an eclectic mix of cuisines including authentic Hawaiian poké, rump steak tartare with shiitake mushrooms, traditional Mexican tacos, and Mediterranean dishes.

The bars are also stocked with Italian prosecco and a selection of craft beers. 

Italian food is actually as good as advertised

I had often been told that you haven't had real pizza or pasta until you go to Italy, and I can confirm that this is true. 

The best pizza I had was at a small, family-run joint in Crocetta del Montello, a tiny commune about an hour outside of Venice. It was simple, with some well-seasoned sauce and cheese on a crispy crust, but tasted amazing.

The same can be said for the gelato, which is velvety with intense fruit flavor.

I have also always loved spaghetti Bolognese, but enjoying the savory sauce in its native Bologna was unmatched. 

Some states participate in Dry Sundays

During the two years that I lived in Texas, I discovered Dry Sundays, during which liquor-store sales are prohibited on Sundays, Thanksgiving Day, Christmas Day, and New Year's Day.

If Christmas or New Year's Day falls on a Sunday, the liquor store is closed the following Monday.

The law itself can be a bit complex, as beer sales on Sundays are permitted from 10 a.m. to midnight, and wine sales are regulated within special hours.

There are also different stipulations in place if you're attending a fair, festival, concert, or sporting event.

Other states like Kansas, Mississippi, and Tennessee participate in some variation of Dry Sunday as well.

Showering can be an extreme sport in some places

Showers in Europe can be small, making it difficult to move around. The half-door, which doesn't extend all the way across the tub, can also result in a very wet and messy floor.

The shower nozzle can be handheld, and once you figure it out, showering will be a breeze. However, washing your hair can be difficult, so be prepared to lay some towels out on the floor. 

Greece has a Caribbean vibe

As a native of one of the premier vacation and honeymoon spots in the world, if the water is cold or there are rocks in lieu of sand on the beach, I am not interested.

But as I drove along the coastline to Olympia, the blue sea and sunny sky were reminiscent of St. Lucia. Skafidia Beach made me feel at home and showed me that Greece is a fantastic option if you can't make it to the Caribbean. 

Some parts of Spain take siestas very seriously

In Prague, my Valencian roommate retreated to her bedroom every day around two o'clock for siesta, the Spanish tradition of taking a nap shortly after lunch. Our professors at a Barcelona university also scheduled classes during the morning to observe the ritual.

In my L'Hospitalet de Llobregat neighborhood, well outside of Barcelona's city center, the practice was going strong. Stores closed every day from 2 p.m. to 5 p.m. and I even witnessed a shop owner ask a woman to leave so that he could close at two.

KFC and many other fast-food chains don't have the same menu around the world

Kentucky Fried Chicken struck gold when it opened in the Caribbean Islands, becoming the most popular fast-food restaurant across the region, beloved even by Barbados native Rihanna.

Besides the fried chicken, one of the most popular sides is the golden buttermilk biscuit. Or at least that's what I thought until I wandered into a KFC in Wales only to discover that they didn't have it. After some confusion from workers who thought I was trying to order a cookie, they offered me rice, which I never knew was an option.

Major food chains like McDonald's, Wendy's, and KFC offer location-specific menus to appeal to target audiences worldwide. This can range from a Samurai Burger in Asia to a Chee-Zee Marmite Stuffed Pizza Crust in New Zealand. 

People are friendlier than you might expect across the globe

Friendly faces are always a welcome sight and in Spain, Greece, and Italy, I found the locals to be patient and helpful even if I wasn't fluent in the language.

In the US, I met some of the warmest people when I lived in Detroit, Louisiana, and Texas.

In the UK, I initially thought people were a bit more reserved. However, when I had a problem with my visa, an amazing family in Wales helped me through it.

Though I thought Czechs, had a tough exterior, they also have a wonderful, dry sense of humor.

I learned to travel with an open mind and ignore the stereotypes — otherwise, you might miss out on connecting with some incredible people. 

Prague was the most difficult place to adjust to

With its Romanesque architecture, steep hills, and small rivers, Prague is one of the most gorgeous cities in Central Europe.

However, Prague is also a cold city, so I bundled up in layers — coming from the tropical Caribbean, this was a tough adjustment.

The Czech language was also difficult to learn, and unlike in Spain, where English was very prevalent in the city center, Czech was spoken virtually everywhere. Because Czech falls in the West Slavic language group, it didn't have the familiar structures shared by French, Spanish, and Italian, which made it hard for me to retain.

The Czech Republic is very dog-friendly

I was pleasantly surprised when I saw Prague's pet owners proudly walking with their dogs and on the trams instead of strays roaming the streets.

The pets were also incredibly obedient and well-behaved at restaurants and on public transportation. This is the antithesis of St. Lucia's cultural norms, in which pets are not typically allowed in restaurants or public buses.  

This story was originally published on February 1, 2022, and most recently updated on January 8, 2025.

• In 2020, my family of three moved from Florida to a small village in Central Portugal.
• The people we met in Portugal were very kind — and loved to stay up late.
• Overall, life in Portugal was more affordable for us.

In early 2020, my family of three was living in West Palm Beach, Florida, when we decided to take a six-month trip around Europe.

During our stay, we rented an Airbnb in Portugal on farmland near the city of Coimbra. We fell in love with the area and ended up extending our stay so many times that the owner asked if we'd like to buy the house.

We decided to make the purchase and lived in central Portugal for the next three years. Here are a few of the biggest differences we noticed after moving abroad.

For my family of 3, settling in Portugal was much cheaper than living in Florida

One of the main reasons we relocated to Portugal was the lower cost of living. Though there are always exceptions, the homes we saw in Portugal were considerably cheaper than those in Florida.

For example, a market summary from the Miami Association of Realtors said the median sale price of a home in Palm Beach County was $363,000 in January 2020. Meanwhile, in our Portuguese neighborhood, we saw houses listed for less than $250,000.

Essentials like medicine, groceries, and even road tolls were also incredibly affordable compared what we paid in the US. In Florida, our family of three spent about $150 on essentials each week, but in Portugal, we spent about $80 weekly.

In Portugal, my family of three could go out to eat for the equivalent of about $31. However, in the US, I don't believe we ever got away with a bill under $50 for a middle-of-the-road meal.

The strangers we met in Portugal were incredibly kind

When we first moved into our home in Portugal, our neighbors offered us freshly picked produce each week.

At the store, when other customers or staff members saw my husband and me with our small child, we were ushered to the front of whatever line we were in. By comparison, in Florida, people sometimes cut me in line if I became distracted by my child.

Though there are definitely kind strangers in the US, the people we met in Portugal were nicer than I expected, and it felt genuine.

Driving through Portugal feels like exploring a national park — an experience I didn't have in the US

If you've ever been to a national park in the US, you'll probably understand what I mean when I say this is how I think of most of Portugal.

From the majestic mountains to the abundance of unspoiled landscapes, you can travel for miles and see only wildlife before being jerked back into reality by another traveler on the road.

Nature trails, walking and bike paths, natural pools, and boardwalks seem to be endlessly woven through the country.

There are tons of beautiful places in the US, but where I lived in Florida, I didn't feel that natural beauty was as accessible or widespread as it was in Portugal.

Our Portuguese friends' schedules were much different from ours

We were surprised to learn that many of the Portuguese people we met liked to stay up late, even with their kids.

While spending time with friends in Lisbon, I learned many of them thought of 8 p.m. as the normal time to begin dinner. After eating, parents often sat, chatted, and had wine while children played alongside them, so small kids didn't get to bed until 9 p.m. or later.

Back in the US, my family usually ate dinner at about 6 p.m., and we always made sure to have our child in bed by 7:30 p.m.