• Last summer, Erin Levi left Connecticut and moved to Montreal on her own.
• She barely knew anyone in the city, and relocating at 42 gave her a panic attack.
• Moving to a new city while working for herself was hard, but it made her feel brave.

Last summer, I left my life in Connecticut behind and moved to Montreal on a whim, without a plan.

People told me I was brave.

Really? I'm a travel journalist. I've followed a snow leopard expert across Nepal; I've lived with a family in Uzbekistan who didn't speak English; and I've had a private encounter with the King of Bhutan.

Montreal is only a 6-hour drive from my hometown in Connecticut. It didn't seem brave to me. It seemed, frankly, safe.

Yet moving here at 42 gave me a panic attack. I hadn't been to Canada in more than 12 years and barely knew anyone.

After my parents dropped me off, we spent a few days exploring my new city together, where it's easy to get by without a car — it felt like the start of another semester abroad. Except this time, I was older and had no plans to leave.

The last time I'd been in Montréal with my parents was in the summer of 2003, before I left for a semester abroad in Hanoi. I had my first pho in Montréal's Chinatown.

So why Montreal?

A Facebook post on a full moon in May changed my life.

My lease in Ridgefield, Connecticut, was up. So was my relationship. My landlord wanted an extra $500 a month for the lofty, 1,100-square-foot, one-bedroom apartment in the woods that I had been sharing with my now-ex. That would bring the rent to $3,250 a month, not including utilities, which often reached $700 during the winter because of the high ceilings.

I saw all of this as signs to leave.

But I was about to write a check for $5,985 upfront for a $1,995-a-month, 900-square-foot, one-bedroom duplex nearby and buy a car.

Then a Canadian friend shared that her 638-square-foot, one-bedroom apartment near Montréal's Little Italy was available for 6 months at a writer-friendly rent: 1,100 Canadian dollars, or about $775 a month, including utilities, WiFi, furniture, and a beautiful patio. My friend is a professor and works abroad for half the year.

Ever since my first job at Tourisme Québec's New York office — the role that ultimately launched my travel-writing career — I'd wanted to live in Montreal. I also speak French. It seemed like a no-brainer, so I said "oui."

I found out that Americans can spend up to 6 months in Canada per visit. However, anyone who spends more than 183 days in the country in a calendar year may have to pay taxes. Foreign media workers like me also don't require a work permit. I consulted an immigration lawyer about staying in Canada.

My new life in Canada

Since moving, I've learned to row. I take weekly lessons at the Olympic Basin, where beginner courses cost CA$200 each. Gliding hundreds of meters solo in a scull has been one of the best antidotes to my anxiety. Socially, though, I should've joined the dragon boat team.

My neighborhood, La Petite-Patrie, is home to some of the city's top restaurants, including Vin Mon Lapin, Pasta Pooks, and Limbo. And Marché Jean-Talon — the largest open-air market north of Mexico — is my local grocer.

Some cultural highlights have included celebrating Jewish holidays at Leonard Cohen's shul, attending my first F1 race, cross-country skiing in Parc du Mont-Royal, and going to a hockey game solo.

Sure, there's been loneliness. There's been longing. It's not easy moving to a new city when you work for yourself. Nor is it easy being more than 10 minutes from my parents — and their delicious cooking. But I've also made new friends, hosted old friends, and opened my heart.

Brave, eh? Perhaps I really am.

• At 55, I thought I would have already figured out where I want to retire in the next few years.
• Instead, I've been living out of suitcases and housesitting in different places to see what I like.
• I still don't know where I will retire, but I do have a much better idea of what I want — and don't.

I always thought I'd be settled somewhere for good by age 55, with a comfortable home, established garden, and chest freezer in the garage.

But after growing up in the San Francisco Bay Area, raising my kids in Seattle, and becoming an empty nester, I realized I had no idea where I wanted to settle down.

For the first time in more than 20 years, I suddenly had the freedom to choose where I wanted to live.

So at 52, I started housesitting in exchange for places to stay so I could travel without depleting my savings. I quickly realized how much I enjoyed the nomadic lifestyle and how this gave me the opportunity to test out places I might eventually want to live in.

After a few months, I liked it so much that I gave away almost everything I owned, put the rest in storage, and decided to do it full-time.

That was almost three years ago. Since then, I've lived in dozens of cities, towns, and remote islands, from northern Washington to the southeastern coast of Mexico's Baja California peninsula.

Housesitting has changed my mind about what I thought I wanted

I typically stay in each home for two weeks to three months at a time, which allows me to get to know a new place without signing a lease, buying a house, or committing to a community.

Instead, I chat with locals, visit the library and grocery store, explore nearby nature trails, and try to imagine what it would be like to live there.

I ask myself a lot of questions: Can I tolerate this climate? Do I feel able to connect with this community? Could I live without whatever thing this place might be missing … which is sometimes as simple as my beloved Trader Joe's?

Throughout my stays, I've learned new things about myself and what I really want.

For example, I'd long pictured myself settling in a city since I've spent most of my life in major metropolitan areas.

So, I was thrilled to book a housesitting job right across the street from my old high school in San Francisco. I couldn't wait to walk the same streets I did in my youth and revisit my old haunts.

But the nostalgia wore off quickly, and a $105 street-cleaning ticket reminded me of the hassles of city life. I realized that a noisy, crowded, expensive city isn't where I want to settle after all.

These days, less traffic, more green space, and a slower pace feel more like my style.

After that stint in the city, I went to the other extreme and booked a multi-week housesit on a remote Pacific Northwest island where the closest grocery store was a ferry ride away — long enough to require ice packs and a cooler to get my frozen food home before it defrosted.

At first, I couldn't imagine staying there for more than a few weeks, but I quickly fell in love with the solitude and have returned several times.

I realized that being surrounded by water, going days without talking to another person, hearing owls hoot at night, and watching a mother deer and her fawn wander across the yard made the extra effort of island life worthwhile.

I was willing to plan errands around the ferry schedule and give up some of the conveniences I'd always taken for granted for that kind of peace.

Turns out, I'm more open to living in a remote place than I expected.

Now, I'm rethinking what it means to settle down — and if I'd even stay in the US

I'd also never even considered moving abroad until I booked a five-week housesitting gig for an American woman who had retired in La Paz, Mexico.

I felt inspired by my client's willingness to give up familiar comforts and conveniences to risk starting over in a new country in search of the life she wanted.

Although I'm not sure Mexico is where I want to settle, I loved my time in the Sonoran Desert and haven't ruled out retiring outside of the US. This experience helped me learn what living abroad was really like and realize I'm more capable of making that jump than I ever imagined if it's what I ultimately choose.

After trying out more than 50 locations in three years, I still don't know where I eventually want to retire. But I know I want to be somewhere I can walk in nature, enjoy some solitude without feeling isolated, and engage with a community when I'm ready for company.

Above all, I'm searching for a place that makes me feel at home — even when I'm visiting for the first time.

• Andrew Koller owns property in Canada, but decided to buy a home in Japan after visiting.
• Koller spent $15,000 CAD on an akiya and spent months renovating it.
• He plans to visit on occasion and rent it out some of the time.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Andrew Koller, 31, a freelance camera operator who purchased a home in Yamagata, Japan, in March. Koller, who's based in Edmonton, Canada, renovated the home and plans to use it as a vacation home. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

Like a lot of millennials, I was exposed to Japanese culture in some sense early on with "Naruto," "Pokemon," and "Dragon Ball Z." After that, I don't think my interest really left.

Come 2020, I had a bunch of time on my hands like everybody else. It seemed like a good time to finally learn Japanese. I've been learning Japanese with a private tutor since then.

Then, in 2023, I made my first trip to Japan.

Like everybody else who comes back from their first trip to Japan, I just fell in love. I couldn't stop talking about it, but I wanted a deeper connection to the community.

I wanted more than just the superficial, surface-level experience of Japanese life. So I thought maybe a good way to get that experience would be to buy a house that's not in a major tourist city, somewhat live there, and spend a good chunk of time over there getting involved with the community by renovating a forgotten property.

The algorithm was watching for sure. After my first Japan trip, my YouTube and Instagram algorithms were suggesting to me all these similar people doing similar things.

From that, I was like, this seems like something I can do. In my free time, I like to DIY. I have a little workshop — I wouldn't say I'm good at it, but I feel like I know enough to do the basics.

I'm at the point in my life now where I've had all these ideas and I've said, "Oh, it'd be cool to do this," but I never do it. I never follow through. I just wanted to prove to myself that I actually followed through on one of these somewhat whimsical ideas.

The house I bought in Japan cost a fraction of what houses cost in Canada

I've always been interested in real estate since a young age.

Purchasing your first house is doable, but if you want to purchase a second house after that, like a rental, it's extremely challenging to do that in Canada. Canada's housing market has exploded, especially in Alberta.

I'm in a very fortunate position where my partner and I own a house and we own a rental property as well close to the university area.

I bought the rental house when I was 20 with my parents — they had to sign on because no bank was going to loan a 20-year-old kid a mortgage. I rented out the rooms and then I lived for free for my time in college.

Both houses have a similar value. My primary residence is worth just under $600,000 CAD (about $422,880). When we bought the rental 10 years ago, it was around $500,000 CAD, but it's gone up since.

For my home in Japan, I spent $15,000 CAD (about $10,600) on the purchase price plus closing costs, which was another $3,000 CAD.

I can definitely see myself spending extended time in Japan.

I want to go out there at least a few times a year. It's close to a pretty big ski resort, and I snowboard.

Doing the math for that, if I was to go stay in Banff or Jasper — one of the more popular mountain towns in Alberta — for a week and ski, it's actually cheaper to fly to Japan, because the skiing is also very affordable, so that was a big factor for me.

I would like to rent it out, but I don't plan on making a lot of money from it

I went to Japan in October 2025 to look at properties. I made an offer in November, it got accepted, and then I got possession of the property in March 2026. Then I went up for the entire month of April to start renovations on it.

I wanted to respect what was already there when I went in. Even though the house itself wasn't ancient or historical — it was built in the '60s or '70s — it was very traditionally built with the Tatami rooms. I wanted to keep a lot of that, coming in as a Westerner.

I wanted to try and adapt to their way of life rather than trying to impose my own. I just wanted to complement what was already there.

Now, the house is 98% done.

The actual renovation costs right now are just over the purchase cost. So I'm at around $18,000 CAD and change, doing most of it myself.

Right now, the goal would be to do a short-term rental in the future, but I don't plan on it making a lot of money.

I think that's the one thing people will get confused about. They think, "If I do this and renovate it, I can make a ton of money off a short-term rental in Japan." That's not the case, because there's so much competition with the hotels there that are already amazing and very affordable.

I just want to cover the maintenance costs more than anything. Doing a little bit of short-term rental, I think, will help with that.

It's not an asset. I think maybe people go to Japan with the Western mindset, like, "Oh, it's a buy-and-hold asset." Outside of Tokyo and the big cities, real estate doesn't do that.

Real estate always goes down in value over time. If you're buying a house in Japan, go in with the expectation that it's not as much of a financial asset as it is a recreation: you'll get more of a cultural experience.

• Bruno Bianchini quit his job at Google to focus on sustainability in Cambodia and green finance.
• While still at Google, he pursued a degree at Harvard in sustainable studies.
• He says leaving Google was a hard decision, but his career shift aligns with his values.

This as-told-to essay is based on an interview with Bruno Bianchini, the 40-year-old former Head of Global Partnerships for the Middle East, Africa, and Turkey for Google, who is based in the Netherlands. It has been edited for length and clarity.

Growing up in the Italian countryside, sustainability was simply part of everyday life. At 18, I left my small village near Milan to study at Bocconi University in Milan.

In 2005, I started my degree in accounting, corporate finance, and law. Then I did a master's in business administration. When I was about to graduate, a friend at the university said a group of professors had opened a boutique consulting firm. I interviewed for the role and landed it.

That path led me first to consulting and then to Google, where I spent more than 13 years before leaving to pursue work in sustainability.

I started work as a business analyst at the consulting firm in January 2011

At 25, I was working on three projects — a hotel, a food company, and a company that made pressure gauges. My experience was very much about seeing problems through an analytical lens.

In 2012, I was invited to a friend's birthday dinner, where I was seated opposite a guy working at Google. Although Google was already a huge company, I had little sense of its scale. I thought of it mainly as a search engine.

We stayed in touch, and they eventually asked if I'd be interested in an interview

I remember wearing a jacket and tie, and I thought, I can't show up at Google like this; they're never going to hire me. I roughed up my hair, removed my jacket and my tie, and went to the interview.

I had three interviews at Google on the same day. One interviewer asked me about role-related knowledge, the next about more general knowledge, and the third was Googleyness — whether I was a culture fit. I remember thinking in the interview that I wanted to work with these people.

About a week later, I had a fourth interview. The process moved quickly because it was for a temp job. In July 2012, I joined Google.

The Google office in Milan was colorful and playful

I remember there was a game area. In consulting, I'd start work at 8:30 a.m. and leave at 10:30 p.m. every day. At Google, people were coming and going whenever they wanted. The culture was a huge change for me. It was fantastic.

A year later, I applied for a full-time role working with DoubleClick for Publishers, now part of Google Ad Manager. I did lots of prep for the interview, and I got the job.

In 2016, my boss asked me to give a presentation at the Google office in Dubai

After the presentation, a guy who became my new boss asked if I'd consider moving to Dubai because they were expanding the team. Two months later, they opened the role; I applied, got the job, and moved to Dubai.

That same year, I got to see the San Francisco campus for the first time. When I saw the scale of the buildings, the number of meeting rooms, micro kitchens, and the bicycles employees rode around campus, I was mesmerized. Working for one of the most innovative companies on the planet, I felt like I was always at the forefront of tech innovation. I definitely got a kick out of that.

By 2024, I had become the Head of Global Partnerships for the Middle East, Africa, and Turkey at Google

As I was managing a large region, there was a lot of travel.

On office days, I generally worked 9-to-5, depending on projects and deadlines. I might have calls with people in the US, but travel was more hectic. From the moment I arrived, I was having breakfast with colleagues, attending an event, or meeting with clients.

Throughout my time at Google, my value system changed

I'd been thinking about sustainability for some time. When I was in Milan, I met someone from LA who told me they were vegan. They told me about the damage the dairy and meat industries are causing to the planet. I started reading more, and I went down the rabbit hole. I remember feeling that I wanted to be part of the movement for the solution.

While still at Google, I looked into which universities offered degrees in sustainability and came across a program at Harvard.

In December 2025, I resigned from Google

I pursued my master's degree in sustainable studies at Harvard online while working at Google. The last part of my studies involved a thesis. I took a sabbatical from Google and traveled to Cambodia to work on an ambitious project that plans to reforest 100,000 hectares of flooded forest. I worked on the feasibility study.

Google was kind enough to say, "Go pursue your dreams, and if something doesn't work, you're welcome to come back." Eventually, I decided it was time. After four months in Cambodia, I felt the umbilical cord was stretched enough. When I returned from my sabbatical, I handed in my notice.

I feel now that I have a big purpose in my heart, confidence in the abilities Harvard gave me, and, at the same time, I feel financially secure. I could leave a high-paying role where I was making more than $300,000 in annual total compensation for the unknown.

I'm now working as an independent consultant for this project in Cambodia.

Leaving Google was not an easy choice

Google nurtured me in so many ways, but as I was learning more about sustainability, my value system was changing. I was encouraging people to sell more stuff, and on my dark days, I remember thinking that staying at home on the couch was better for the environment.

I want to capitalize on my background in business and finance. I'm currently working on publishing a research paper about the project in Cambodia. I'm doing this long-distance while we're securing funds for the pilot. This month, I moved to the Netherlands, as it is one of the best places for green finance.