3 digital nomads in Bali share the career journeys that led them to the tropical paradise

I moved back to Australia after completing my undergrad in the US and started my career in management consulting. I then wanted to move into a space called change management.

But I had zero experience, and no one would give me an opportunity. So I stepped down. I took a 40% pay cut to start from nothing, even though I had an MBA and years of experience. I threw myself into it completely: technological change, cultural change, organizational restructures. I learned fast, and within seven years, I became the youngest general manager of change at one of the largest gold mining companies in the Southern Hemisphere.

But after a while, I started yearning for more. I wanted more peace, less politics, and more meaning. There was a lot of money in this career, but I sacrificed a lot, like birthdays and weddings, which hurt my relationships.

I also watched two of my mentors — people who had sacrificed everything for their companies — get pushed out overnight. That was when it really landed: No matter how senior you are, you're always one restructure away from being expendable.

I knew I didn't want to be tethered to any one location, and the only way to get that freedom was to build something of my own. I registered a business name and started sharing what I knew, which was publishing change management thought leadership.

My business grew, and it gave me a lot of freedom to work from places like Switzerland, Japan, and Bali. Around the same time, I felt like living in Australia was a disadvantage — it takes so much time, money, and jet lag to get anywhere else in the world.

So, two years ago, I moved to Bali.

It wasn't impulsive. I already had paying clients. I had lived in Sydney, Melbourne, Los Angeles — wonderful cities, but I just felt like if I don't move out from these places now, then when? I didn't want to wait until I was 60 to enjoy things like $15 massages.

My days include work calls with clients in Singapore, Hong Kong, Jakarta — but also pilates, long lunches, time with my dog, and slower mornings. There's also a lot of house help here, which gives me time to be creative and reduces my mental load.

I gave up a half-million-dollar salary to build this life. The first year, I made nothing and thought I'd failed. But that's the part that people who say they make seven figures don't like to talk about — freedom takes time. You don't compare your first chapter to someone else's tenth.

Today, I earn more than I did in corporate, but more importantly, I own my time. Funnily enough, because Bali's such a popular spot, I've seen more ex-coworkers and friends in the past two years than I have in the past three years that I was living in Sydney.

While I miss small things about Sydney, like green parks and being able to walk on footpaths without the risk of being run over by a scooter, I don't miss corporate life at all. Not even a little.

I picked up my first camera when I was 12.

My dad bought me a GoPro, and I started taking it everywhere. I grew up in Hawaii, and I spent most of my time outside. When I filmed the ocean, something clicked because it was the first time in my life I felt truly present.

When I was a teenager, that childhood love turned into wanting to do surf photography for a living. But I was young, didn't understand marketing, and couldn't see a clear path to making it sustainable.

I tried to do things the "right" way instead. I went to college and studied business on the mainland and then in Canada. But I realized I did not have the support of the people around me, and I was in the wrong place.

So I dropped out of university, packed everything I owned into my car, and drove 21 hours to California. I slept on a friend's floor, sold my car, and used the $7,000 I made from that to buy a one-way ticket to New Zealand. I promised myself I wouldn't come home until I figured out how to make a living creating content.

I got to New Zealand as soon as the pandemic hit, but my part of the country allowed for some travel. Still, for eight months, I was too scared to even film myself talking on camera. But eventually, an opportunity came up to sail from New Zealand to Fiji. I lived on a boat and finally started creating travel content consistently.

In the back of my mind, Bali always felt like an enchanted place — somewhere creators went to find momentum and a bigger network. When I finally arrived, it lived up to everything I imagined. Within three months, my videos started going viral. I quit the marketing job I had been doing to pay some of the bills and went all in.

I've been in Bali for about three years now. I make a living through content, brand partnerships, and teaching courses to other creators. My businesses have consistently brought in six figures every year. My personal income is about $150,000, and I spend $7,000 every month.

The income is quite unstable, and being a travel influencer means that work and leisure travel are very blurred. Sometimes, I take short trips with my phone on airplane mode so I don't shoot content. But owning a business and living in Bali makes all the instability and being far from home worth it.

I always thought I was going to be a reporter.

I went to journalism school, did all the internships, and chased a career where you talk to interesting people and tell their stories for a living. I came close to landing a job at the BBC, but it didn't pan out because of visa restrictions.

That should've been my first clue that I wasn't meant to follow a straight line. After college, instead of applying for local reporting jobs and climbing the traditional ladder, I packed a bag and started traveling. What I thought would be a short adventure turned into years of backpacking — Spain, Turkey, India, Central America, Southeast Asia.

I loved the freedom, but I was anxious all the time. I didn't know what I was doing with my life, how I was going to make money, or whether I was secretly wasting my potential.

The anxiety really peaked in India toward the end of 2020. I had a panic attack and began spiraling about my future. I flew home right before Christmas, hoping it would get me some answers.

One night, sitting on my sister's couch, I half-jokingly said, "What if I just sell something on Amazon?" I immediately followed it up with, "I'm not starting a supplement company." Which, of course, is exactly how I started a supplement company.

The idea came from my own travels. I was constantly getting sick, anxious, exhausted — and I hated carrying a million pills or plastic bottles. I wanted something simple that could support energy, immunity, and anxiety while you're on the road. I kept saying, "If I were to build a supplement, what would I need to do?"

That's how Co-pilot was born — one hypothetical step at a time.

I researched ingredients and hired a pharmacist to make a formula. After calling about 100 manufacturers and getting turned down by every single one for having such a long checklist, I finally found a company happy to produce what I wanted. On my next trip to Central America, I handed them out to other travelers in unmarked bottles and asked them how they felt three days later. People loved it.

It took me two years to launch the product, and the business took ages to take off. For a long time, it barely worked at all. I lost money learning advertising and almost quit more times than I can count. The first time I made money — not profit, just sales — I remember thinking, eight people wanted this. Eight strangers. That felt huge.

Around the same time, I ended up in Bali, which is when things started getting better. I didn't move there with a plan — I was just tired of backpacking and was feeling burned out about the business.

Experimenting with different advertising techniques helped my sales improve, and I finally turned a profit after six months.

Now I live in Bali full time. Co-pilot does around $8,000 to $10,000 a month in sales. I'm launching an electrolyte company inspired by getting way too sick here and realizing how depleted the water can be.

I spend about $2,000 every month. I don't work all the time anymore, and some months, I barely touch my laptop.

I didn't set out to be a digital nomad or an entrepreneur. Bali has its problems, like the water quality, how often we have to renew our visas, and being so far away from home. But my boyfriend and I like to say Bali is our forever — for now.