freelancing – Workation Diva

My first time in Helsinki

Helsinki street at night during a business trip, quiet city view for bleisure travel inspiration.

Last month, a business trip brought me briefly to Helsinki — so briefly that I’m still debating whether it even counts as bleisure. (A question I’ll save for another post!)

The trip began early on a Monday morning at Schiphol Airport. I met my client — a Dutch SaaS company — and we used the waiting time to fine-tune our presentation together. Airport tables, coffee, laptops open… that familiar pre-meeting focus that business travel surprisingly supports well.

We landed in Helsinki around 14:00 local time. After a quick check-in and a bit of work at the hotel, we headed out to meet their client. They were the local ones who welcomed us and guided the walk, while it was the turn of my Dutch client to pick up the dinner bill.

Choosing the Restaurant — and the Three Tempting Options

I’d been in charge of making the reservation, so weeks before the trip I asked the locals for recommendations. They suggested three restaurants, and all of them looked amazing:

Nokka
Located by the harbour in a beautifully restored warehouse, Nokka focuses on high-quality Finnish ingredients and traditional Nordic flavours. Game, fish, seasonal produce — elevated, yet rooted in local culinary heritage.

Kuurna
A small, cozy bistro in Kruununhaka, known for its intimate atmosphere and simple but refined Finnish dishes. The menu changes regularly, offering a fresh, local twist on classic flavours.

Shelter
Also near the harbour, Shelter blends modern Nordic cuisine with a relaxed, contemporary feel. Stylish without being pretentious — creative dishes, open-kitchen buzz, and a slightly more urban edge.

After investigating the three, I chose Shelter — and they did not disappoint.

What I ate for dinner on a business trip to Helsinki.

Dinner at Shelter — The 5-Step Surprise Menu

The walk from the train station to the restaurant was longer than I expected — and I was in high heels, which turned a simple stroll into a near-athletic challenge. It wasn’t very cold, but it was, of course, already dark. (Finland in late autumn and winter does not play around with daylight.)

Still, being guided by locals made the walk enjoyable. They pointed out buildings, shared bits about the city, and gave that insider perspective you never get on your own.

At Shelter, we opted for the 5-step surprise menu. Each course was beautifully crafted, thoughtful, and well balanced — the kind of dinner where you can tell the kitchen takes pride in every detail. It felt like the perfect blend of business hospitality and genuine enjoyment. Not stiff, not overly formal — just excellent food and good conversation.

After dinner, we walked back through quiet, dark streets. With only the streetlights, reflections on the pavement, and the harbour nearby, my entire impression of Helsinki is shaped by nighttime — atmospheric, calm, design-forward, and elegant in an understated way.

Too Short — And Now I Want More

Tuesday was fully dedicated to presentations and meetings: efficient, productive, tightly scheduled. And then it was time to head back home.

The whole experience made me reflect on something I want to explore in a separate post:

What exactly transforms a business trip into a “bleisure” trip?
Is it the food? The walk? The company? Free time? Exploration?

This short time in Helsinki gave me a hint of what could have been bleisure: good food, a nighttime walk, and conversations with locals. But it wasn’t enough to truly experience the city.

Now I’m determined to return — in daylight this time — to see Helsinki properly and enjoy a real bleisure stay.

Until then, this short trip remains a reminder that sometimes work takes us to places we want to return to — not for meetings, but for ourselves.

💬And now I want to hear from you…
Do you think a nighttime walk and a good dinner already count as bleisure? Or does it need something more? Tell me in the comments — I’m curious how you define it.

💻 About the Workation Diva
I’m Caro, an early pioneer of remote work, studying IT in the ’90s when “the Internet” still made dial-up noises. I’ve been blending work and travel since before it was fashionable, from spa weekends during business trips to half-vacations at my family’s place in Buenos Aires. These days, I live the part-time laptop lifestyle — balancing motherhood, projects, and plane tickets, proving that freedom can come in Wi-Fi and family-size portions.

Lisbon Workation With My Son: The Honest Story of What Actually Happened

My son gazing over Lisbon capturing the city’s rooftops, sunlight, and scenic views — a moment from our family workation.

My son had a school vacation week, I needed sunshine, and because I’m the kind of person who genuinely loves her job, I don’t feel the need to separate “vacation” and “work” into tidy boxes. My balance comes from blending both — even abroad.

So I created a plan. It was lovely, optimistic, almost poetic.

And then reality said: sweetheart… sit down.

When the First Cracks Appeared

The first morning, things were already slipping away from the plan. A client began emailing my team asking for an update — nothing urgent, nothing dramatic, but something I wanted to answer myself. After all, I was going to answer… just not right that second.

Cue that familiar internal spiral: “No one reply. Please no one reply. Please let me handle this…”

It was 10 AM, and we were at Praça do Comércio meeting our guide and the rest of the group while I was frantically messaging both the team and the client. Then I realized my phone battery was dying. I had carried my faithful powerbank… but had left the connecting cable in the hotel room.

The result? I spent the rest of the day running around Lisbon begging various shops, cafés, and bars to let me charge my phone using my laptop charger. Not exactly the breezy “remote-work goddess” aesthetic I had planned.

The Day Sintra Tried to Drown Us

Pouring, sideways, merciless rain — the kind that instantly turns any teenager’s mood into “Why have you done this to me?”

So much for sunshine and idyllic mother–son bonding.

Eventually, when the Sintra rain finally defeated me, I surrendered to my son’s request to go back early. But once we returned, I got a couple of quiet hours of work in the hotel room while he relaxed on his phone. A small victory.

The Broadcasting Communication Incident

Somewhere between all of this, Microsoft Azure experienced a widespread outage — meaning my colleagues and I had to align how to communicate this to clients.

Of course it happened from inside a minivan on a tour. Of course.

Pockets of Working Time

To my own surprise, I was more productive than expected.

Maybe because my expectations were low. Maybe because he’s older now and wonderfully understanding. Probably because after years of working remotely, I know my own rhythm.

Airports were a blessing. I arrive ridiculously early for peace of mind, which meant I worked calmly while my son explored the shops — both on departure and return. A surprising amount of clarity can happen near Gate 23.

Mornings in Lisbon were perfect thanks to the time zone difference. My 9 AM meetings magically became 8 AM, and I took them wherever we happened to be: the hotel room, cafés, even once on a park bench — the kind of moment that makes you look charmingly bohemian and slightly unhinged.

And then there were the long stretches in the minivan during our full-day tour to Fátima, Nazaré, and Óbidos. While my son gazed out the window, I slid into work mode. There’s something satisfying about clearing tasks while someone else drives you through cliffs and ocean views.

Meetings were mostly fine — connectivity was decent, noise manageable, the hotel lobby becoming my temporary office when the room signal failed me.

The only real crisis was the infamous cable incident. A powerbank without a cable is just a heavy rectangle.

That day, my phone battery dictated my movements more than the Lisbon tram map.

But beyond that? Working went smoothly because I’d already warned everyone it was my “week abroad working part-time.” My colleagues were kind, flexible, and protective of my focus.

Being a Remote-Working Mom… Abroad

My son carried my laptop in his backpack everywhere — wrapped in not one, but two plastic bags. (My intuition said “protect it from your teenager,” and intuition was right. When the Sintra monsoon arrived, I silently thanked past-me for this moment of maternal paranoia.)

He handled the whole trip beautifully. Curious, patient, engaged. And only mildly annoyed during:

the client-email frenzy
the Azure downtime inside the minivan

The rest of the time, he was wonderfully independent — sometimes goofy, always hungry.

And then came my favorite moments:

his joyful smile when the amphibious vehicle plunged from land into the river
watching him chat in English with a man from Philadelphia about the Philly sandwich
trying to keep him from getting too close to the cliffs of Nazaré

Stressful Moments… and the Joy That Outweighed Them

Yes, the client email stressed me. Yes, the Azure outage stressed me. Yes, the cable fiasco nearly broke me.

But the joy? The joy was richer.

The food — oh, the food. The sunshine (when we had it). His excitement. The guides who made Lisbon sparkle.

He wasn’t bored. He wasn’t complaining. He was genuinely enjoying Lisbon, the experience, and our funny little routine.

What I’d Do Differently Next Time

Bring every possible charging cable. Obviously.

And treat the weather forecast as a serious warning instead of a polite suggestion. Coming from Belgium, I thought I knew rain. I did not know that rain.

What This Trip Taught Me

Workations with a child are a dance of compromise, patience, humor, snacks, and occasionally… bribery.

He earned a Benfica T-shirt and a Sporting one for excellent behavior — proof that dual-team diplomacy can work.

Workations aren’t about balance. They’re about adaptation.

So, Was It Worth It?

Absolutely.

Not because it was perfect — it wasn’t.

But because it was ours. Messy, funny, demanding, warm, challenging, delicious, rainy, joyful, surprising.

Exactly the kind of trip that becomes a memory.

Honest Recommendations

Before I dive into the list, just a note: these are simply the places and brands I genuinely enjoyed on this trip. None of them know I’m mentioning them, and nothing here is sponsored.

Lisbon Riders — Our guide Carolina was fantastic. The mix of Fátima, Nazaré, and Óbidos was perfect, and sitting in the back of the van was comfortable enough for me to get some work done between stops.

Street Buddha – True Portuguese Soul Tour — Igor was enthusiastic and passionate, sharing his neighborhood, stories, and street-art love with us. My son absolutely looked up to him as this cool, art-loving local.

HIPPOtrip — A totally unique way to see the city. More entertainer than guide, our host had us singing, laughing, and enjoying the ride as the amphibious vehicle moved from land to water.

Doca de Santo — The polvo assado did not disappoint. It didn’t feel touristy — I’d definitely go back.

Colonial cuisines — Just like London shines with Indian food and Paris with Vietnamese, Lisbon has incredible spots from its former colonies. After our fair share of Portuguese food, we dove into Mozambican (Cantinho do Aziz) and Brazilian flavors (Acarajé da Carol) — both excellent.

Traveling mum tip — I’m a huge fan of my beloved cross-body bag, where my phone, headphones, powerbank, etc. all fit securely. A small thing that makes a big difference.

Final Thoughts

In the end, this workation reminded me that trips don’t need to be flawless to be meaningful. They just need to be lived fully, with all the mishaps, laughter, lessons, and little bursts of joy along the way. And this one? It gave us plenty of each.

💬And now I want to hear from you…
Have you ever tried a workation (or traveled with your kids while working)? I’d love to hear your funniest, most chaotic, or most surprising moment!

Workation Planning 101: Stay vs. Explore Days and How to Avoid Burnout Abroad

Woman working remotely with a laptop while traveling, balancing work and relaxation during a stay-workation day.

Before I tell you about my workation in Portugal with my son, I want to reflect on my job rhythm—how my days flow, what can happen, and how I could (or should) handle it.

Because not every workation is the same. Experience is everything, and it took me a while in this consulting gig to really figure out my timing.

I currently have an assignment that requires a daily 9:00 AM stand-up with the entire IT team, Monday to Friday—and yes, I join every single day, even the days I’m not supposed to be working (meaning: not invoicing). That’s me. Hi. Nice to meet you. Control Freak Queen. I need to know what everyone is doing and I need to have a say in the priorities of the day.

The rest of my day is a mix of presentations, client meetings, or preparing for presentations and client meetings. It’s predictable enough for me to know the kind of energy and focus required—sprinkled with the occasional shit-hitting-the-fan moment where we all jump in to decide what to do next.

Now that I’ve got the hang of this rhythm, I can plan the occasional light week with fewer client calls, while most weeks are fully packed. And due to my ambivert nature, it can be so draining that I sometimes need a nap before writing the meeting minutes.

These full meeting-heavy days work best when I’m at home. But I discovered they still work “well-ish” for family stay-workations—like when I was in Buenos Aires at my parents’ place. The time difference saved me: I worked intensely from 5 AM to 1 PM and had the rest of the day free to enjoy life.

But they can also feel hell-ish. Exhibit A: Benidorm this year. I was alone, working from a hotel room with an amazing sea view—but zero mobile internet on the balcony. So I had to work inside, side-eyeing the Mediterranean sky out the window, suffering from extreme weather FOMO.

I still managed beach walks before and after office hours, and a friend visited during the weekend (yes, that friend from the naked-on-my-conference-call story). But still… lesson learned.

The Two Types of Workations

I realized there are two main kinds of workations:

1. Stay Workations
2. Explore Workations

Stay workations are your regular daily work life—just in a fabulous new location.

Explore workations require daily activities outside the norm: long walks, tours, museums, attractions… anything that lets you explore like a traveler.

A workation doesn’t need to be 100% stay or 100% explore—but each day should be.
Planning my days with this lens helps me prepare logistically, mentally, and emotionally—and prevents frustration.

The Ideal Stay-Workation Day

A perfect stay-workation day for me means working from a “home abroad” and living like a local.

If the stay includes a beach destination, even better. Then I live like a lucky local:

early morning seaside walk
delicious breakfast with a sea view
seafood lunch (paella or bouillabaisse, I’m not picky)
working outdoors as much as possible
short swimming breaks
long evening walks, cocktails, and amazing food

The lesson Benidorm taught me:

Organize my activities better so that video calls happen indoors with good light, sound, and a decent background (to avoid incidents like that one).
Find outdoor places like a beach or pool bar where I can do solo prep/analysis work while still enjoying the surroundings.
Travel with someone who can keep an eye on my belongings (especially my work laptop!) while I sneak in quick swims.

This whole experience made me realize:
I would love to organize fabulous destination retreats for fellow Workation Divas so we can support each other while working abroad.

Stay tuned…

The Ideal Explore-Workation Day

I had this epiphany while planning my trip to Lisbon with my son: how to balance work and travel activities?

Since I needed to work half days, I cleared my calendar of client meetings and set up this structure:

A couple of hours early morning for prep work and priority-setting.
The mandatory 9 AM team meeting (which became 8 AM Lisbon time—thank you, time zones).
Another couple of hours in the evening, before or after dinner, for replying to emails, analysis, and solo tasks.

I still kept my phone with me at all times—Outlook, Slack, Teams, Jira, WhatsApp—with notifications on. Just in case. I’d respond with:
“Let me get back to you on this,”
and then either handle it later or ask one of the tech team members to check it if something was urgent.

Luckily, my role isn’t technical, so I’m not the one fixing emergencies.

In the next post I’ll share how our Lisbon workation actually went—what we did, how we handled the rhythm, and how it all turned out (spoiler: we did well!).

Planning ahead helped me understand my work rhythm better, and I can already see future workations becoming even more fabulous.

💬 And now I’d love to hear from you…
How’s your job or gig?
What’s your work rhythm like—and how would YOU manage during a workation?

Packing for Two Worlds

Digital nomad in chic travel outfit with minimalist carry-on suitcase, representing the art of packing for a workation and modern remote work life.

I used to pack shoes by outfit.
Now I pack around priorities — and the quiet hope that my mobile internet will hold.

Packing for a workation is not about clothes. It’s about identity management.
You’re not just deciding how many T-shirts to bring — you’re deciding who you plan to be.

Because the moment you combine “work” and “vacation,” you also combine selves.
One self is structured, spreadsheet fluent, and fond of ergonomic chairs.
The other one believes mornings are for coconut milk matcha, sea air, and staring at tiled rooftops.

They don’t always get along.

The working self wants strong signal, predictable hours, and maybe a power outlet that isn’t doing its best impression of a fire hazard.
The vacation self wants to wander, eat questionable street food, and pretend deadlines are a myth invented by management.

So when I pack, it’s not “laptop or no laptop.” It’s which self will win today?

The Mental Packing List

No one warns you that the heaviest item you’ll carry isn’t your gear — it’s your expectations.
Remote work promises freedom, but freedom comes with choices, and choices come with guilt.
If you’re working, you feel bad for not exploring.
If you’re exploring, you feel bad for not working.
It’s a suitcase of contradictions.

Then there’s the performative side: that inner voice that whispers, “If you’re not posting a photo of your workspace with a view, did you even work remotely?”
Meanwhile, you’re crouched next to an outlet in the hallway because your charger cable is 10 cm too short.

I sometimes think workations should come with disclaimers:
“Results may vary. Side effects include existential confusion, inconsistent tan lines, and long internal debates about whether ‘living the dream’ should feel this stressful.”

The Two Worlds Problem

Work-life balance sounds noble until you realize both sides have customs officers.
Work demands deliverables. Life demands experiences. Both stamp your passport and charge you emotional baggage fees.

The working world tells you to optimize.
The living world tells you to romanticize.
And somehow, you’re supposed to do both — ideally before checkout time.

I’ve learned to pack less — not because I’ve become minimalist, but because I’ve made peace with the fact that you can’t bring everything.
Some days, productivity makes it into the bag. Other days, presence does.

And when I inevitably forget something — a cable, a shirt, a sense of balance — I remind myself that travel isn’t about perfection. It’s about improvisation.

What Always Makes the Cut

Three things always earn their space:

My laptop, because pretending to be “off-grid” doesn’t pay the bills.
My phone with mobile data, because I trust my own signal more than any “free Wi-Fi” that comes with malware and regret.
My sense of humor, because without it, remote work would feel suspiciously like regular work, just with better scenery.

I’ll never truly travel light.
The mental load weighs more than any gadget.
But I’ve learned to carry it differently — like a seasoned traveler who knows the weight will always be there, but chooses what’s worth the lift.

At least my laptop and my hopes both still fit under 7 kg.

💬 Curious — what’s the one thing you can’t travel (or think) without? Drop it in the comments. Bonus points if it’s not an adapter.

Lisbon Workation with My Son: A Week of Work, Wander, and Seafood

View of Quinta da Regaleira in Sintra during a Lisbon workation trip, blending remote work and family travel in Portugal.

It’s the Belgian herfstvakantie, and this year my son and I are swapping autumn drizzle for Lisbon sunshine. I’ll keep up with work while exploring one of my favorite cities — a true workation, where the art lies in staying productive without missing the moments that matter. We’ll be based near Praça Marquês de Pombal, perfectly central and ideal for mixing remote work and adventure.

Sunday Arrival: Petiscos and First Impressions

We land on Sunday, ready to dive straight into Lisbon life. I’ve already booked dinner nearby — a petiscos feast of ameijoas à bulhão pato, pica-pau de mar, and croquetas de boi. Simple, flavorful, and exactly how I like to start a trip: with local dishes and no rush.

Monday: Kicking Off the Workation

Monday morning starts early — 9 AM in Amsterdam means 8 AM in Lisbon. While I join the team meeting, my son plans our day. It’s the first balancing act: keeping my professional rhythm steady while being fully present for him once I close the laptop.
We’ll take a city tour, visit the Benfica official store (his personal highlight), grab a bifana sandwich, and catch the train from Cais do Sodré for the amphibian bus tour — part road trip, part boat ride.
Dinner will be feijoada, rich and comforting — the perfect close to a work-plus-play day.

Tuesday: Sintra Magic and Mobile Work

We’re heading to Sintra and Quinta da Regaleira — pure magic with its palaces, gardens, and foggy fairytale charm. I’m already dreaming of polvo à lagareiro for lunch.
In the afternoon, I’ll work a couple of hours using my mobile connection, somewhere quiet, probably while my son rests or sketches. That’s my version of a flexible office — portable, reliable, and entirely mine.
I cancelled the Fado show I’d booked for the evening. My son wouldn’t enjoy it, and honestly, I’d rather keep the pace easy. Maybe we’ll try a marisqueira, or explore some Mozambican flavors — Lisbon always surprises with its mix of traditions.

Wednesday: Faith, Waves, and Work on the Move

A full-day trip to Fátima, Nazaré, and Óbidos awaits. I’ll catch up on work from the bus — tethered to my phone, laptop open between scenic stops. It’s not the classic office, but it keeps things flowing while still letting me soak in the view.
By the time we return, we’ll eat something light near the hotel and rest — balance also means knowing when to slow down.

Thursday: Wrap-Up and Takeoff

Thursday morning will be for a few last tasks, then a bit of shopping along Avenida da Liberdade before heading to the airport. Back to Belgium, with inboxes cleared, memories made, and probably a few pasteis de nata tucked away for later.

Reflections

This Lisbon week is my gentle reminder that work-life balance isn’t a perfect split — it’s a daily calibration. Some hours are for strategy calls, others for sea breezes or unexpected laughter.
A successful workation isn’t about doing it all; it’s about being present wherever you are — whether that’s a spreadsheet or a sunset.

💬 Would you call this “working on holiday” or “holidaying while working”? Tell me in the comments — and if you’ve been to Lisbon, what’s one dish or experience I shouldn’t miss next time?

The Naked Truth About Workations

This year I took a one-week workation in the south of Spain — Wednesday to Wednesday. I booked a hotel on the coast, on the 30th floor, with an incredible sea view. Full board, great food, a swimming pool, and the beach a few steps away. The kind of setup where everything just works: no errands, no dishes, no logistics. Only my laptop, a solid Wi-Fi connection, and that illusion that life can actually be balanced.

My rhythm was simple — mornings of work, afternoons off, weekend free. A little dream between deadlines.

The Weekend Companion

A friend of mine from Madrid joined me for the weekend. We’ve known each other for years; we’re both from Buenos Aires, living in Europe, and we’ve shared many trips together. That weekend was easy and warm: beach, good food, cocktails, and those long conversations about life that only happen when you finally slow down.

The hotel even had evening shows — flamenco dancers, singers — festive but not wild. We’re both in our fifties, so “party time” now means a good dinner and being in bed before midnight.

The Monday Surprise

Then came Monday.

At 9AM sharp, I had the weekly team call — twelve people, management included. The usual routine: updates from last week’s meetings, plans for the new one. I was prepared, focused, Teams open, camera on, background blurred. My friend was packing to catch her train back to Madrid. Everything under control.

Or so I thought.

Since I was presenting, I had my notes open and the Teams window minimized. I wasn’t looking at the video feed. When I switched back to the meeting screen, I froze.
Behind me, my friend — completely naked — calmly packing her suitcase.

I took a deep breath and said, very matter-of-factly:
“Oh my gosh — I need to tell you, I had a friend visiting for the weekend and she’s leaving today.”

Silence. Twelve faces staring back at me. Then, thankfully, a few smiles. Eventually someone joked that we should have recorded the moment and launched an OnlyFans. I laughed — what else can you do?

The Aftermath

After the call, my friend still didn’t realize what had happened. She genuinely thought that “blurred background” meant total invisibility. When I told her, we were both embarrassed for about thirty seconds, then burst out laughing.

At our age, you know there are far worse things in life. This one was just another anecdote — the kind that will make us laugh for years.

The Reflection

Later that day, I thought about how easily it could happen to anyone. Working remotely, traveling, living your life — the lines between personal and professional blur all the time. During the pandemic, we all saw far worse things on Zoom. Honestly, my friend’s naked backside barely qualifies as shocking anymore.

Still, it was a reminder: next time I’m not alone, I sit against a wall. Always.

Because that’s what the workation lifestyle really teaches you — not just how to manage your time zones or find Wi-Fi in remote places, but how to live with the unpredictability that comes from mixing work and life so closely. Sometimes, no matter how carefully you plan, something unblurs — literally.

Workation reality check: background blur is great — until it suddenly stops blurring.

💬 Has your “blurred background” ever betrayed you too? I’d love to hear your own remote-work or workation mishaps in the comments.

The Bleisure That Wasn’t

Canal view with traditional windmill and boats in the Netherlands on a sunny day — scene symbolizing the bleisure trip that almost happened.

Tomorrow I’m heading to the Netherlands for a team event — two days, relaxed vibe, post-it boards, shared laughs, the kind of trip that feels more like a school excursion than “work travel.” It’s exactly the kind of trip that begs to be stretched into a mini workation. You know — stay one extra night, take a slow Saturday morning walk through cobblestone streets, maybe a museum, maybe a bakery with a name you can’t pronounce.

But this time, no. I’m coming straight back Friday afternoon.

When Two Trips Collide

Because while I’ll be returning from the Netherlands, my husband will be departing to the Netherlands. (Yes, the same country. Yes, the same weekend.) He’s off for a weekend with friends — long-planned, well-deserved, and absolutely fair. Which means that someone needs to stay home with our son, and that someone is me.

I don’t mind, really. I chose this version of freedom — the kind that includes school weeks, shared calendars, and those small domestic negotiations that keep life from collapsing into chaos. Still, there’s a little sigh that escapes every time I open Google Maps and see how close I’ll be to everything I won’t see.

The Calm Cousin of Frustration

It’s not frustration anymore. More like resignation’s calm cousin — acceptance with a to-do list. I tell myself, next time. Next time, I’ll stay until Saturday morning. Next time, I’ll do the walking tour, or visit that museum that keeps popping up in my feed. Next time, I’ll have the conversation in advance: “Hey love, next trip, I stay half a day longer, deal?”

I’m realizing that bleisure — that beautiful hybrid of business and leisure — isn’t just about flexible jobs or generous company policies. It’s about micro-negotiations. It’s about knowing who else’s freedom your freedom depends on.

Redefining Freedom

I used to think freedom meant being able to pick up my laptop and go. But maybe it’s also being able to choose to stay — to hold the fort while someone else gets their adventure. Maybe the true workation mindset is not always traveling, but always noticing: where we are, who we’re with, and what we’re giving up for it.

So this time, I’ll travel light — no museum tickets, no extra hotel nights, no delusions of extending the trip. Just a quiet mental note: “Next time, you’ll make it happen.”

And maybe that’s the trick — to turn longing into planning, not resentment.

Same Country, Different Journeys

Tomorrow I’ll get on the train with a small bag and half-formed daydreams. I’ll probably scroll through photos of canals and art exhibits I won’t see this time, and I’ll smile at the irony that both of us — my husband and I — will be in the same country, passing each other in opposite directions, both chasing our own kind of balance.

Freedom doesn’t always look like staying longer. Sometimes it looks like coming back on time, knowing you’ll try again soon.

💬 I need to connect with more bleisures and workationers! How do you carve out that extra day for yourself — or what’s stopping you?

Why I Choose Freelancing Over Employment (The Real Reason)

Freelancer working remotely on a laptop at a sunny café table with coffee, sunglasses, and pastry — symbol of flexible work and digital nomad lifestyle.

People assume I freelance because I hate structure. That I’m allergic to meetings, allergic to bosses, allergic to pants.

(One of those might be true.)

But the real reason I freelance is simpler: I like to be treated like an adult.

The Illusion of Flexibility

I’ve had jobs before — good ones. Stable contracts, decent benefits, all the usual badges of respectability. But somewhere along the way, “flexibility” became a corporate buzzword that meant its opposite.

Companies now love to say you can “work from home.” What they mean is: work from your officially registered home address. They love to say you can “work remotely.” What they mean is: remotely, but not remotely inconvenient to HR.

You can “work from anywhere,” as long as “anywhere” means within their risk management zone. You can “embrace work-life balance,” as long as the balance doesn’t cross time zones.

I even have friends from Spain who live and work in Belgium — and when they visit family back home, they’re allowed to work from Spain a maximum of two weeks per year. Two weeks! As if crossing a border instantly corrupts their Wi-Fi or their professionalism.

The Real Issue: Liability, Not Loyalty

The irony is that companies don’t restrict mobility because they’re evil — they restrict it because they’re scared.

When you’re an employee, your employer is responsible for your health, insurance, and taxes. If you twist your ankle in Madrid while on a video call, someone in HR has to file a form about it. If you send an email from a sunny terrace in Valencia, someone’s insurer wants to know if that terrace was approved.

So employers create limits. Not because they don’t trust you — but because they don’t trust the paperwork.

Still, from a worker’s point of view, it feels infantilizing. Adults who manage complex projects are suddenly told they can’t handle geography.

Freelancing: Adulthood, Contracted

That’s when I realized freelancing isn’t just about freedom. It’s about being treated like a grown-up.

When I invoice a client, the deal is simple:

You pay me for results, not physical presence..

You care about what I deliver, not where I deliver it from.

It’s work without parental supervision. No HR memos, no “two-week abroad limit,” no location anxiety. Just mutual trust — and a due date.

Of course, freelancing comes with its own chaos. I buy my own insurance. I handle my own taxes. If I slip on a wet floor in Lisbon, no payroll department will rescue me. But that’s the tradeoff: less safety, more sovereignty.

Freedom With Responsibility

For some, that’s terrifying. For me, it’s oxygen.

I’d rather deal with the uncertainty of self-employment than the certainty of being micromanaged into “safety.” Freedom isn’t free, but at least it’s honest.

Freelancing doesn’t mean I work less — it means I work on my own terms. I can decide that today’s office is a café in Porto, tomorrow’s is a kitchen table in Kraków. As long as the work gets done, does it really matter where my feet are?

The Last Frontier of Trust

That, to me, is the heart of it. Freelancing is the last corner of the modern work world where trust still matters more than control.

Because in the end, all I really want is to be treated like an adult — someone capable of managing both deadlines and daylight. I don’t need permission to live where I feel alive.

So yes, that’s the real reason I freelance.

Not to escape work.

Just to escape the idea that adults need permission.

💬 If you freelance or work remotely — what kind of flexibility actually matters to you most: hours, location, or trust?