I thought I knew what came next.
Medicine made sense on paper. I was less sure it made sense for the life I actually wanted.
I write as Nana, a name I use to protect my privacy and the people in my stories. Everything else here is exactly true. I lived and taught in Thailand for five years, backpacked alone for nearly two, and have been to 42 countries. NomaReina is a publication about what happens after you arrive: the work, the money, the friendships, the loneliness, and whether a place actually fits the person living there. My stories live here. So do other people's.
How I got here → Read the notebook on Substack →


I was on a pre-med track and assumed the sensible version of my future was already mapped out. I burned out, went to Thailand, and found out there were more ways to build a life than the one I had been picturing. NomaReina grew from that curiosity. Not a belief that everyone should follow the same path, but a conviction that honest stories are more useful than highlight reels, and that nobody should have to make every mistake themselves.
Medicine made sense on paper. I was less sure it made sense for the life I actually wanted.
I saw a friend teaching in Thailand and started looking into it. I planned to go for one year, teach, travel a little, and then come home and get back on track.
That is not what happened.
I taught in Thailand, learned the routines of ordinary life, made friends, dealt with monsoons, errands, workdays, holidays, and all the unphotogenic parts that make somewhere feel like home.
I solo backpacked, worked remotely, spent longer stretches in places, and became much more interested in what happens after arrival: community, belonging, money, work, identity, and whether a place actually fits the person living there.
Not a highlight reel. Not a warning label. A place for the fun, the weird, the useful, the uncomfortable, the ordinary, and the parts of travel that are harder to squeeze into a “10 things to do” list.
The more personal side lives on my Substack: the inner journal, the notes, and the stories that are too close to be a guide.
I love travel. I am still optimistic about what it can open up. I also think it becomes more interesting when we stop pretending every place, move, friendship, job, or new beginning has to be either a dream or a disaster.
NomaReina lives in that middle ground: firsthand observations, useful details, and enough context for you to decide what something might mean for your own life.
“What was it actually like?” is usually the question I'm trying to answer.
What happened, what surprised me, what I would do differently, and what never made it into the postcard version.
Moving, routines, cost, community, language, work, and the point when somewhere stops feeling new.
Teaching abroad, remote work, freelancing, and local jobs. What each one was actually like, what it paid for, and the honest tradeoffs.
How where you are changes how you are seen, how you see yourself, and whether a place feels like somewhere you can actually belong.
The obvious answer, but also the honest one. Five years gave me enough time to love it, complain about it, get bored, get excited again, and understand how different living somewhere is from passing through.
Walkable cities, long evenings, strong everyday-life energy, and the kind of place where the routine can be as appealing as the itinerary.
Enough regional difference, food, culture, and routes that a trip can feel full without needing to turn into a months-long expedition.
I taught science in a Thai public school for five years, which means a lot of my memories abroad involve staff rooms, lesson plans, school holidays, and trying to figure out what was happening.
I speak English and Spanish, studied global health, and once expected medicine to be the center of my adult life.
I am much more interested in how a place feels on an ordinary Wednesday than whether it photographs well at sunset. I still like the sunset, though.
I don't believe travel automatically fixes your life. I do believe changing your surroundings can make it much easier to see your life from a different angle.
I write under the name Nana instead of my legal name. It's a privacy choice, not a marketing one. Everything I share about my own experience is real, and if I ever recommend or sell something, I'll always tell you plainly why.
It's free, it's the same questions I wish someone had handed me before Thailand, and it's the fastest way to find out if what I write about applies to where you are right now.