Becoming an accidental Digital Nomad.
And why I would never look back.
When I was a child, my Granny always said I’d “been here before.” It was her delicate way of saying I wasn’t like other children. I wasn't as naive, as scared or as accepting of the BS adults often spout to young people when they can’t be bothered explaining. I demanded answers and reasons and questioned everything. Others would have probably said I was a pest and a know-it-all. Either way, for the most part, it served me well as a young person, despite getting me in trouble with authority figures I had little to no intention of listening to.
More recently, friends, less inclined to spare my feelings than my late granny, have told me, “I’m a grumpy old lady in a young person's body” My frankness, impatience and the long list of things I generally dislike play a part in this widespread opinion of my personality. The Hugh Grant clip that has been doing the rounds on social media, where the decorated actor systematically recounts all his pet peeves, including but not limited to backpacks, water bottles, leaf blowers and slow walkers, was sent with an accompanying “you!” more times than I’m comfortable with admitting.
No matter how you wrap it up, it’s all one and the same—I’m perceived as old before my time. It’s not something I disagree with. I did grow up quicker than most, becoming cynical and fed up years before most of my peers. It was a result of the hand I was dealt, and I’m perfectly ok with that. In part because everyone who truly knows me is well aware that despite my grumblings, I’m actually a very nice person, and regardless of what society expects, this millennial has no intentions of hanging up her party shoes and will continue to haunt nightclubs and afterparties until the wee hours of the morning like it’s my calling.
That being said, I’ve never been one to keep up with trends, follow fashions or be part of an “in crowd.” Like almost all of the women in my family, I march to the beat of my own drum and do so with gusto. So, it has come as quite a surprise to me, as much as anyone, to discover that in one aspect of my life, I am very much en vogue.
I Sam Frew, am a Digital Nomad.
Digital nomadism is a topic that is very of the moment. Headlines here, there, and everywhere are discussing remote positions, freelance visas and the number of people who, for better or worse, are rejecting the “traditional path” and choosing a life without roots.
I didn't intend to become a digital nomad; it wasn't a planned decision. Like most people, before the COVID pandemic, I worked in an office 9-5. It was a design studio, and I don't think I ever arrived at work before 9.15 in the six years I worked there, but let's not focus too much on the minutia.
Before that, I had never considered any other type of life because, like in most industries, working from home was not an option in design. How could you be creative, part of a team, and design a whole hotel without being able to bounce ideas and questions back and forth at a moment's notice? It was believed impossible.
Yet, when the pandemic hit, and we had no other choice, it just worked, we got on with it, the work still got done and the results were just as good. Did we all miss the lunchtime drinks, various parties and other social aspects of office culture? Yes, we did, yet when the worst of the lockdowns subsided, and other offices began to open, we didn't. We carried on. And so the world reopened, but our office didn't, and what that meant for me was I didn't need to be working from my flat in Glasgow. I could work from anywhere. So I did.
Over the next few years, I jumped around the world, spent more time with my parents, who previously, I could only see for a couple of days on the weekend a few times a year, and worked from wherever I wanted. It was freedom like I had never experienced before, and before long, it became my normal.
Digital nomadism—the lifestyle of working remotely while travelling or living wherever your heart (and Wi-Fi signal) desires—has taken on a kind of mythical quality in recent years. It’s easy to see why: pictures of laptops perched on beach bars or lounging on overstuffed beds in mountain lodges create a tantalising vision of what work could look like. I’m the first to admit that my Instagram is full of them. But look beyond the filters, and you’ll find a concept that has been around for centuries—particularly in architecture and design.
During the Renaissance, for example (the 1490s and the 1520s), architects were often nomads, travelling between Florence, Rome, Paris and beyond to work under established practitioners. Drawing, learning, and overseeing construction. They weren’t tied to one studio; their work and education demanded movement. Fast-forward to the modern era, and figures like Le Corbusier were taking trains and planes to chase commissions and gather inspiration from far-flung places. Even Frank Lloyd Wright, firmly rooted in Wisconsin, spent time on the road to see projects through. Nomadism, in its essence, has always been a part of how designers and architects work—it’s how fashions and trends emerged, influences from other cultures, adapted and reimagined into new and exciting concepts.
The digital age didn’t invent this lifestyle; it simply gave it a rebrand. According to a 2023 survey by Instant Offices, there are now 4.8 million remote workers in the UK alone, many of whom have embraced hybrid or fully remote roles post-pandemic. The rise of remote working tools like Zoom, Slack, and Miro—and the cultural shift towards valuing work-life balance—flipped the script. Suddenly, ‘working from anywhere’ isn’t just an option for tech bros and broettes; it’s become an option for anyone with a laptop and a willingness to adapt. For designers, this change has been profound. It gives the option to do something unimaginable before —swapping office politics and commuter trains for cultural immersion and creative freedom.
A Practical Guide for Aspiring Nomads
If you’re considering becoming a digital nomad, there are things you’ll need to know beyond which cafés have the best croissants. The lifestyle is freeing, yes, but it’s also fraught with logistical hurdles and realities that rarely make it into glossy blog posts. Here’s what I’ve learned:
Your income needs stability: Freelance work is anything but predictable. A 2022 UK government report on self-employment noted that 45% of freelancers in the UK struggle with income volatility. Before you start, ensure you have a financial cushion—or a remote job contract with consistent pay.
Visas are a maze: Some European countries have embraced digital nomadism. Portugal offers a D7 visa for remote workers earning above £8,460 annually, while Estonia’s Digital Nomad Visa allows non-EU residents to live and work there for up to a year. Croatia is another hotspot, boasting a digital nomad visa that exempts remote workers from local income tax for up to 12 months. As more countries adopt this approach, it's important to understand the rules and requirements for each place and figure out what will work for you.
The Wi-Fi reality: In a 2022 survey by Broadband Choices, 20% of remote workers in rural areas of the UK reported subpar internet connections—proof that even close to home, connectivity can be unreliable. Abroad, always test Wi-Fi speeds before committing to long stays. Investing in a mobile hotspot might seem like a big outgoing, but having a commission to complete and no internet can be the route to losing clients, and that’s way worse.
Community is your lifeline: Loneliness is a common challenge for nomads travelling solo. Research from the Mental Health Foundation revealed that one in four UK adults feel lonely some or all of the time, a figure that can increase for nomads without a local support network. Co-working spaces, clubs and events can offer both social and professional connections, helping you build temporary networks wherever you are.
Transitioning from interior designer to full-time writer amplified my freedom in ways I never anticipated. As a designer, I was tethered to long-term projects and site visits, juggling client whims and supplier demands. Now, without the physical constraints of a location-based job, I can pack up and leave on a whim. I’ve worked overlooking the Alhambra in Granada, beside olive groves in Andalusia, from beaches in Thailand, parks in Singapore and resorts in Malta.
This freedom has enriched my life. I draw inspiration from the places I visit in ways that would have been impossible before. It’s not just the architecture—the various paving styles I will always find fascinating or the antique doors that I have hundreds of photos of—it’s the feeling of living among different cultures. As my design did previously, my writing has become sharper, my observations deeper, and my awareness more attuned because I’m immersed in environments that challenge and excite me.
But let’s not romanticise this. Freelance life is unpredictable. One month, you’re overwhelmed with commissions; the next, your inbox is quieter than a library at midnight. Socially, it’s tough too. Friendships take a hit when you’re flitting between cities, missing birthdays and impromptu pub nights. There’s a certain ache in knowing that when something goes wrong, you can’t just call someone to pop around for a wine and a natter.
I also recognise how fortunate I am. If I had children, a partner who wasn’t flexible, or a mega mortgage on a 4-bed, 2-bath house, this might not be possible. I don’t take that privilege lightly. That said, I’ve also met families who’ve made it work. They’ve traded stability for adventure, schooling their kids on the road and turning nomadism into a way of life rather than a fleeting escape.
Digital nomadism isn’t perfect. It’s messy, sometimes isolating, and often uncertain. But for me, the trade-offs are worth it. The chance to live a life untethered, to absorb the world in all its chaos in real-time, is something I wouldn’t trade for all the office pizza in the world. And while it might not be for everyone, it’s a lifestyle that’s fundamentally about choice—the choice to carve your own path, however winding it might be.
Love this! How did you transition from a design job into a writing job?
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