Wide shot smiling senior couple relaxing and enjoying sunset at luxury desert camp during vacation in Morocco
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Say you’ve lived in a lovely community for decades. You own your home, you have a great circle of friends and family not too far away. Then you retire — and blow it all up.
You sell and give away everything. The house, the cars, the furniture, most of your clothes and the items collected over a lifetime. And hit the road in Peru. South Korea. Romania.
That’s what Judy Hoctor, 61, and her husband, Kevin, 64, did in November 2022. They retired from their jobs in San Francisco. Kevin worked for Apple and Judy for a cybersecurity start-up. At first they thought they might work remotely, but that wasn’t viable. Retiring in San Francisco and also traveling was just too expensive.
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“Pretty quickly we realized that it would be easier to just leave everything behind, not have responsibilities, like a house and a mortgage,” Judy Hoctor says. And rather than decide what to sell and what to keep, “we just said it will be easier to leave everything behind and live out of a suitcase and a backpack. We were looking for a different way of living.”
Retirees choosing to live their retirement traveling in an RV or camper is not a new phenomenon. Full-time retirement on cruise ships has also become a popular option for some. And to be sure, for some older folks, like those portrayed in the 2020 movie Nomadland, living on the road, moving from RV site to RV site, searching for temporary jobs, is a life necessity, not a lifestyle choice.
It is difficult to find statistics on this group, but, anecdotally at least, more retirees like the Hoctors are opting for a DIY global nomadic life. That usually consists of moving every few weeks or months with no established home base.
These nomads learn from each other and from social media groups of like-minded souls about health plans, virtual mailboxes, choosing a hairdresser and joining meet-ups.
It’s not for everybody. But those who have lasted on the road for years often embrace the lifestyle with evangelical zeal.
Choosing to go
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For Debbie Campbell, 70, and her husband, Michael, 80, it was their daughter who initially came up with the idea of spending their retirement moving from Airbnb to Airbnb and country to country.
She lived in France. They had lived in Seattle for decades.
“We thought that was crazy. Had she looked in our checkbook?” Debbie Campbell says. But “the idea kind of just stuck. We were looking for another adventure, and Michael started doing some budgets and spreadsheets, and we thought, ‘We can’t do this. We can’t do this. And then wait a minute, yes, we can.’”
So they sold or gave away everything except for some items stashed in a storage space and took off in July 2013.
“We were boatless, carless, homeless and we just went,” Campbell says. “We returned every year for the holidays, just after Thanksgiving through the New Year, and then we took off again.” They ended their 12-year travel marathon in 2025 after visiting 95 countries and now rent a place in Seattle.
“When we left, we were not aware of others who were doing what we intended to do — no websites or books that laid out what being a ‘senior nomad’ in 2013 looked like,” she says. “During the decade, as the media coverage increased, we were contacted at first by people with lots of ‘how to’ questions. Then we started hearing from people who told us, ‘We did what you did.’”
The Campbells themselves are partially responsible for that media coverage. Debbie ran an advertising agency and Michael was a sports promoter, so both were savvy about the media. Debbie began a blog about their travels when they first started. When The New York Times wrote about the couple and their travels, they received more than 250 inquiries through that blog.
Now they have a website, SeniorNomads.com; their public Facebook page, Senior Nomads, has more than 10,000 followers and they have a private page with about 20,000 followers. At one point, they reached out to Airbnb about their travels and became informal ambassadors, even interning at their San Francisco headquarters for three months in exchange for housing. In 2016 they published a book, Your Keys, Our Home, about their experience staying in Airbnbs worldwide.
Most who choose the nomadic life have always loved traveling, but there’s a point that tips them from part-time to full-time travelers. For Heidi Sickles, 65, it was after she was diagnosed with breast cancer in her last year working as a human resource manager.
The illness “opened my eyes — time is short,” Sickles says. “And then the kids were out, and it just seemed like the right time to sell the house and start traveling.”
She and her husband Kevin, 65, sold their home in Mamaroneck, N.Y. in 2024 and began their travels.
It was the pandemic that spurred the Hoctors to rethink their priorities. “It was a feeling this is not how we want to spend our life,” Judy says. “The more we worked, the more our jobs wanted us to work.”
Is a nomadic retirement for you?
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It takes a certain type of person to be on the move, constantly dealing with new cultures and languages, with the inevitable mishaps — because there will be missed trains, visa mix-ups and the occasional dud Airbnb where nothing works.
There was the time Michael Campbell was pickpocketed in Saigon. And the next day the couple accidentally left their backpacks — including Debbie’s phone — in a cab. They managed to track it using the Find my Phone app and happily recovered the items.
And when traveling on a tight budget, every mistake can feel costly. The Hoctors accidentally double-booked flights from Buenos Aires to Rio de Janeiro. They caught the problem within 24 hours, but the carrier refused to refund the $522.
The ideal nomad retiree is someone who is both able to plan and be flexible, who is eager for new experiences and meeting different people, but can also enjoy their own company for stretches of time.
“You need to take an introspective look to see who you are and what will work for you and what will not work for you,” says Manisha Santosh Parulekar, a doctor of geriatric medicine. “You are exposed to various languages. You’re exposed to new people, cultures. So that is stimulating for your brain and mind. And you are active when you’re traveling, so it is good for your physical health as well. But if you have not planned well, and if you don’t travel in a coordinated format, things can get complicated, and it can actually add more stress.”
One thing it doesn’t take, experienced nomads say, is a lot of money.
The Hoctors, for example, set a budget of $5,000 a month; on one video on their YouTube channel, they break down their 2024 costs and estimate they spent about $63,000. Like the Campbells, they have monetized their travels to some degree; besides the YouTube channel, they have a website, FindingGinaMarie.com.
The income from their video views, affiliate links and membership fees came to around $36,000 last year, Hoctor says.
The Campbells don’t make their spending public but say their goal was to average about $90 a night for lodging. Travel days are expensive, Campbell says. Like many others, they settle down in one place for several months each year — for them, it’s winter in Mexico.
One way to cut out the cost of accommodation: house-sit or pet-sit. Trusted Housesitters is one popular global site where people exchange pet-sitting for housing. Annual membership for pet-sitters starts at $129.
For many, the joy of traveling is not to replicate the lifestyle they had at home but rather to shed it.
That was the case for Sandra Roseanau, 53, and her husband Paul Ryken, 60, of Sydney, Australia. Tired of their corporate lives and looking for a change, they winnowed down all their possessions to a safety deposit box and left Sydney in 2016 with one backpack each. They spend about $40,000 annually and write about living a simple lifestyle on the road on their website MinimalistJourneys.com.
Healthcare when you global nomad
Healthcare is one overarching concern for those traveling in their later years. Regular Medicare can’t be used overseas; some Medicare Advantage plans will cover treatment — typically only emergencies — in foreign countries.
One option is to purchase global health insurance, which is different from travel insurance. The best known companies for such insurance include Allianz, AXA, Cigna and IMG; some plans also cover pre-existing and chronic illness.
The Hoctors chose a Cigna Global Health mid-level plan. It cost $5,781 annually for both of them for $1 million coverage outside the U.S. and includes a $3,000 deductible.
They most likely will also sign up for Medicare when they reach 65, to avoid late penalties if they don’t — even though they don’t plan to settle back in the U.S.
Planning ahead is key to a healthy experience, Parulekar, the doctor, says: “Are you on top of your prevention and screening? Are you up to date with all your vaccinations?” she says. Plan in a systematic and timely manner, so that when you do get [to your destination], you are able to enjoy the true potential of that place, rather than then getting sick.”
That said, many nomads rave about the healthcare they receive locally.
“Good healthcare exists everywhere, not just in the U.S., and it’s cheaper,” Hoctor says. “Kevin had a hernia repair surgery when we were in Serbia, and we’ve also had medical health checkups in Thailand, glasses in Japan, dental appointments everywhere. We’ve felt very comfortable and gotten excellent care at meaningfully cheaper prices than the U.S.”
Sickles says she schedules her doctors’ appointments in New York in one-or-two-day blocks when returning to the area but has found medical care over seas for relatively minor problems to be exemplary. And since Medicare doesn’t cover dental care, the Sickles now have all their dental work done in Mexico, where they go annually for some longer-term stays.
“We’ve found the dentists in Mexico to be first rate, using modern techniques and equipment and the cost is about one-fourth to one-fifth of what we typically paid in the States,” she says.
Taxes and other logistics
Nomads are still required to pay federal taxes on Social Security, investments and other income and state taxes depending on the state they live in.
Some, like the Sickles, who don’t own property and aren’t working, chose to “move” to a state that doesn’t charge income tax and declare that as their tax domicile — in their case South Dakota. They were required to show proof that they spent one night in the state before they could apply for their drivers’ licenses and register their cars.
And how about the rare but important pieces of real mail? One way is through a virtual mailbox, which is a digital mail service with a real street address. Numerous companies offer services such as forwarding or storing hard copies of mail, shredding, digitally scanning the outside of all mail for the traveler to see it online and then the contents if requested. The cost is typically $120-$200 annually, sometimes with additional fees.
The downsides of a nomad retirement
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While the Instagram photos and travelogues make the nomad life look like non-stop fun — and even the hiccups become humorous anecdotes — the lifestyle requires trade-offs. For Sickles it’s missing everything from a monthly book group to weekend getaways with the tight group of friends she developed over 31 years in Mamaroneck.
“That’s probably the hardest,” she says. One way they’ve addressed that is to stay for six weeks every year in the same area of Mexico and invite friends to cycle in and out. Her mother-in-law also joins them there.
One potential nomad asked in a Reddit forum about the difficulties of everyday life, especially if traveling solo.
“I think the main challenge aside from logistics is going to be boredom,” says one respondent, who also runs a website, bonusnachos.com, on the topic. “Hanging out in foreign cities where you don’t speak the language makes it hard to make friends. You really need to figure out how you’re going to entertain yourself.”
For some, the people they meet on the road — other nomads or locals — become a community of its own. And technology makes it fairly easy to stay in touch with family and friends. But the pull remains.
For the Campbells, one of the tradeoffs of living a 12-year-long adventure was being away from their six grandchildren for long periods of time — although the three that live in France they saw more frequently than they would have had they stayed in Seattle.
“That was really hard, because we were gone during a chunk of their growing up,” Campbell says. One of the reasons they decided to end their wandering life— besides the feeling that they had essentially done all they wanted to do—was to be close to their four-year-old grandson, the youngest.
“He’s kind of the pin in the map for me right now,” she says. But the couple has no regrets. “We knew that by traveling, we were giving up some time with grandchildren while they were growing up, but we felt like we were role models for our adult children and for our grandchildren,” Michael Campbell says. “That in retirement, one doesn’t just have to sit in a rocking chair on their porch.”
Note: This item first appeared in Kiplinger Retirement Report, our popular monthly periodical that covers key concerns of affluent older Americans who are retired or preparing for retirement. Subscribe for retirement advice that’s right on the money.
