Why I Stopped Being a Digital Nomad After 3 Years

Three years, around 30 countries and one carry-on. What full-time travel taught me about burnout, loneliness, work, money and building a life.

I've spent three years travelling full-time, visiting around 30 countries along the way. These days, I still work in travel and run Hidden Jam, a group adventure travel company, so travel is still a huge part of my life.

It was, in many ways, the best life I've ever had.

And then I stopped.

The strange part is that I didn't quit because something terrible happened. I quit while I was on the Galápagos, surrounded by giant tortoises and the kind of wildlife people fly across the world to see. I wasn't sick or exhausted. I just didn't want to leave my hotel room.

That was the morning I realized something had changed.

After three years of full-time travel, these are five things about the digital nomad lifestyle that took me far too long to admit.

What full-time travel taught me

The biggest challenges I experienced were travel burnout, loneliness, unpredictable travel costs, slower business growth and the lack of routine that comes with constantly moving.

None of these made the digital nomad lifestyle bad. They just made me realize that something can be an incredible experience for three years without being something you want to do forever.

1. You can get tired of new things

Everyone has their number. Ten countries, thirty, fifty. At some point you land somewhere new, Google the waterfall everyone came to see and think, "It's a waterfall. I've seen a waterfall." Then you stay in the Airbnb.

I know how this sounds. You're probably thinking, "Not me. I'd be excited every time." Maybe. Give it a year of nonstop travel and then we'll talk.

For me, it became a kind of burnout, just not the kind you get from work. I got tired from constantly processing something new: a new airport, apartment, currency, language, group of people, bed, restaurant and plan.

I was never as unhappy as I was after six months in Bali. Same weather, same scenery, same spiritually enlightened people. Apparently, even paradise can become repetitive.

That was my first real lesson about digital nomad burnout. You can be tired of novelty without being tired of travel itself.

2. You can be surrounded by people and still be lonely

One of my clearest memories is from Colombia. I was sitting at a beach restaurant at sunset. The whole place was famous for lobster, so naturally I ordered the lobster.

The waiter told me it was for two people.

I had flown across the world for this lobster and couldn't order it because I was alone. Eventually they found me a tiny lobster for one.

I ate my sad little lobster watching one of the most beautiful sunsets of my life, with nobody to turn to and say, "Look at this."

The lobster is funny. The pattern isn't.

Meeting people while travelling is easy, often easier than at home. In places like Bali or Vietnam, where there are lots of other travellers and digital nomads, everyone is usually open to meeting someone new.

You spend two weeks together, then a month, maybe three months. Real friendship starts to form. Then someone leaves, or you leave, and you're back to zero.

After a while, you can have a hundred people you technically know all over the world and very few people you can call at 2am.

That was one of the biggest disadvantages of long-term travel that I didn't expect when I started.

3. Full-time travel can make money weird

People often say that being a digital nomad can be cheaper than living a normal life. Sometimes it is. But travelling constantly comes with its own financial traps.

My favourite example was Brazil. I bought a cheap ticket without really checking what was happening when I arrived. What was happening? Carnival.

The entire city was booked. I ended up paying $300 a night for a room I normally wouldn't have paid $30 for because it was the last room available.

Then there are flights, bags, last-minute accommodation and constantly changing plans.

You can absolutely travel cheaply if you're intentional about it, but full-time travel makes it easy to prioritize flexibility over planning, and flexibility can get expensive.

When you're constantly moving, you're often making decisions based on what's happening right now. Sometimes that's the whole point. Sometimes it costs you.

4. Everything you build takes longer when you're constantly moving

I ran my businesses from the road. I built a podcast studio, managed a team of around 60 people, worked in consulting and eventually started a travel company. So yes, you can build a business while travelling full-time.

But possible and optimal are very different things.

I remember being in Peru on a call trying to close a deal worth tens of thousands of dollars. The power went out, not just in my apartment but in the entire area. My laptop was dying, the Wi-Fi was gone, they couldn't hear me and I couldn't hear them. The deal was gone.

And it wasn't really about Wi-Fi.

Business is built through people. Someone knows someone, they introduce you, you meet for coffee, you work together, and eventually they introduce you to someone else.

When you're constantly moving, that chain often never gets very far. The same thing happens with friendships and relationships. Everything stays possible, but fewer things get deep.

5. Owning less is liberating until it isn't

For three years, almost everything I owned fitted into one carry-on. That part genuinely changed me. You learn how little you actually need.

But there is another side to owning almost nothing.

For three years, I looked like someone who didn't own a hair dryer, because I didn't. I had no proper brush, no iron and barely a real wardrobe. Everything was either wrinkled, stained or one wash away from death.

You either accept it or keep buying things and throwing them away every time you move.

But the thing that actually hurt surprised me. For three years, nobody gave me a physical gift. Not one. No birthday presents, no souvenirs, nothing someone picked up because it reminded them of me.

My friends knew I couldn't carry anything, so eventually they stopped giving me things.

I didn't expect that to bother me. It did.

So why did I really quit being a digital nomad?

It wasn't the burnout, the lobster or even the money. The season changed.

My twenties were about intensity. I wanted adventures, not vacations. I crossed Mongolia on a horse, rode through Laos on a motorbike and hitchhiked across Colombia. I wanted to see what would happen if I kept moving, and I did. I have zero regrets.

But I'm turning thirty, and somewhere along the way, what I wanted from life changed.

I want long-term relationships. I want to build something in one place. I want to know the people at my gym and have a coffee place where they know my order. I want a desk that doesn't belong to an Airbnb. Maybe, eventually, a family.

Saying that out loud is slightly terrifying. I've always thought I wasn't that kind of person. Maybe I'll move somewhere and go completely insane after six months. We'll see.

The difference between travel and a lifestyle

The funny thing is that I still work in travel. I still fly all the time, discover new places and run Hidden Jam, a group adventure travel company organizing sailing, surf and ski trips around the world.

But after three years of full-time travel, I finally understand something I didn't understand when I started: a vacation and a lifestyle are not the same thing.

You can love travelling and not want to live out of a suitcase. You can love adventure and still want a home. You can be grateful for a life and still decide that you want something different.

You don't have to stop loving travel to stop being a digital nomad.

Was quitting the right decision?

I don't know yet.

I might move somewhere and go completely insane after six months. I might start travelling full-time again in five years. Or I might discover that I really do love having a gym, a coffee place and a desk that don't belong to someone else.

I no longer think I need to find one lifestyle that works forever. Right now, I want to see what happens when I stay somewhere long enough to actually build a life there. Maybe I'll love it. Maybe I'll hate it. Either way, I'll know..