I once redesigned an onboarding flow from a hammock in Sri Lanka, gave client feedback while crouched on a hostel bunk in Prague, and tested a mobile prototype inside a tuk-tuk stuck in Bangkok traffic.

This isn’t a travel blog. It’s a confession: I’m a UI/UX designer who hasn’t had a permanent address in over two years. My home is wherever my laptop opens and the coffee isn’t terrible.

People assume this lifestyle is full of freedom, and in some ways, it is. But freedom doesn’t mean easy. It means I’ve learned to sketch ideas on napkins when the Wi-Fi dies. It means managing clients across three time zones while navigating visa rules and border queues. It means knowing which cafés in Barcelona won’t kick you out after two hours and where to find quiet corners in Delhi with decent upload speeds.

And still, I’d choose this again in a heartbeat.

Because being a nomadic designer has made me obsessed with context. You start to notice what works and what doesn’t, not just on screens but in real life. How people press buttons in Seoul vs São Paulo. How “accessibility” looks different in places where phones are shared by families. How trust in UI design has cultural fingerprints.

The more I move, the more I unlearn. I stop designing for “users” and start designing for people — real, messy, unpredictable humans. Not the kind described in sleek personas, but the ones I meet on trains, in hostel kitchens, or while awkwardly miming for SIM cards in foreign languages.

There are no whiteboards, no Friday happy hours, no company swag. But there are moments:
Like seeing your product live while you’re 9,000 miles from the client.
Or watching a street vendor use an app you helped design — and smile when it works.

My career doesn’t look traditional. My resume has timezone gaps. But my skillset? Sharpened by noise, friction, unpredictability, and raw exposure to the way the world actually works.

So no, I’m not in your office. But I’m in motion. I’m observing. I’m learning.

And I’m designing — always.