After many wanderings between my twenties and thirties, I eventually settled in Amsterdam. I was in a relationship, learned to appreciate the Netherlands, enjoyed my work, and often travelled for it. On holidays, we dove into tropical destinations — quite literally, as we often went scuba diving.
Still, the call of life abroad never left me.
And after a period of personal change, I moved to Alkmaar.
Always on the move
Alkmaar is a beautiful city, and the beach is nearby, but I never truly felt at home. I worked from home, didn’t know anyone, and my friends were scattered across the country. My apartment was small, with a shower inside a cupboard in the kitchen. I decorated it nicely, but it never felt like my place.
I was constantly on the move. I often worked together with my colleague in Nieuw-Vennep and stayed over. Or I would housesit and dogsit. That’s how I discovered lovely places in the Netherlands — and some sweet four-legged friends. In between, I travelled abroad as much as possible. As a freelancer, you’re allowed to work abroad for a maximum of six months per year (if you’re registered in the Netherlands), and I made full use of that space.
From France to Istanbul
I looked after homes in southern France, stayed multiple times with friends in Istanbul (where I even lived for two months straight), and spent one winter inland near Benidorm. In that area — Relleu — you can walk endlessly, even if the beach is a little further away.
Why don’t you just try?
On my way back, I stayed with family in a small village on the Catalan coast. The place I now live. I had been there more often — a few weeks here, two months there — and every time I had to return to the Netherlands, it felt… wrong.
I didn’t really want to leave.
During one of those visits, a family member said:
“Why don’t you just try? Or no… why don’t you just do it?”
They were right.
I work fully online, and after COVID everything happened via Zoom. We barely visited clients anymore. I could live wherever I wanted.
Some people didn’t get it. “Why not wait until retirement?”
But I felt: I don’t want to wait.
I’m healthy. I can afford it. And what if I do wait — and later I can’t anymore? Besides, everything is getting more expensive in Spain too. So why not now?
Taking the leap
I started collecting information:
What’s it like to work as a freelancer in Spain (autónomo)? What about taxes, bookkeeping, paperwork? The NIE number, registration, insurance… And yes, it’s a bureaucratic maze. Lots of Catalan forms, vague websites, and back-and-forth admin. But I pushed through.
In June, I gave up my apartment, packed my things, arranged a storage unit in my Dutch village — and in July, on my birthday, I drove to Spain in a rented moving van.
Making a home
Finding an apartment wasn’t easy. Maybe I should’ve taken this step years earlier, but oh well — it is what it is. The place I found needed a lot of love (and work). Big jobs like the kitchen and electricity I outsourced. But I did a lot myself.
I already knew how to paint, but I also learned to plaster, smooth walls, sand — you name it. It’s still not finished, but every day it feels more like home.
And every morning, when I walk along the beach or float in the sea, I think:
This is the good life.
My dream. Now real. And truly mine. Always.