I was 18 when I got my first job—I was going to be a professional cowgirl and live in a trailer park with a 75-year-old retiree named Jerry in The-Middle-of-Nowhere, Wisconsin. Considering I was born and raised a city girl in England and hadn’t ridden a horse since I was six, this may seem like a questionable decision at best. But to my baffled parents, I’d argue, “Why take a minimum-wage job when I could do this instead?”

Staying in England never appealed to me. Honestly, there just wasn’t much to stay for. I was supposed to study for a degree I already knew I didn’t want, in a city I didn’t like. I had no partner, no tight-knit friend group, and no grand career ambitions—much to my family’s disappointment. At 18, that might sound pessimistic, but while most people my age were dreaming of families and careers, I saw those things as a trap. I’d spent my teenage years being groomed for the rat race, and the thought of that made me desperately depressed. Surely there was more to life, I thought, than working hard just to enjoy a distant retirement. Surely life was for living now.

Rules and Limitations

Now, you might be wondering where I got the audacity to believe I could move to another continent for a job I had zero experience in. Well, it comes down to two things. One: my parents always told me I could do anything I put my mind to—though, in fairness, they probably didn’t mean this. Two: I’ve always questioned rules and limitations instead of accepting them as the status quo.

When I was younger, this mindset got me into trouble because I questioned authority. “Why can’t I wear leather trousers to school? What difference does it make to my education?” I’d snap, earning another warning for breaking the dress code. As I got older and my world expanded, so did the scale of my questions. “What if I don’t want to follow the path set out before me? What if I could make my own?”

With nothing keeping me in England, I felt essentially untethered. Free to go wherever I wanted without the fear of missing out on a life I wasn’t tied to. Unbound by what life was supposed to look like, the world opened up to me like a whirling fairground—each country a different ride, ready to take me on a tantalizing journey. So off I went to start a new life, a young solo female with no money or skills—just a wildly misplaced confidence that my cowgirl job would work out.

What if I don’t want to follow the path set out before me? What if I could make my own?

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Fearful Gang of 40 Horses

It didn’t. I figured a little white lie about my horse-riding experience wouldn’t matter, but after being handed a rope to round up 40 horses and being told, “If they run at you, run back at them with even more conviction,” I realized I was way out of my depth. There are only so many times you can get bucked off a horse or get dagger eyes from your colleague—a Midwest princess named Destinee—before calling it quits.

Still, it wasn’t a failure. That trip marked the beginning of a lifelong adventure across 80+ countries, eventually leading me to a quiet village on Morocco’s southern coast 12 years later. In fact, fate was already nudging me there.

That trip marked the beginning of a lifelong adventure across 80+ countries, eventually leading me to a quiet village on Morocco’s southern coast 12 years later.

A Book, a Plane, and a Connection

After leaving Jerry, Destinee, and the gang of horses behind, I was ready for a new adventure. I didn’t have to look far. On a connecting flight from Chicago to New York, I sat next to a guy reading Siddhartha—my favorite book at the time. We hit it off instantly, talking about books, life, and dreams. Jeff was on his way to Siena, Italy, to study Italian for a semester. I was returning to England to study marketing.

The flight was too short, but we exchanged numbers and promised to stay in touch. A month later, as I was grappling with the soul-sucking reality of student life, I got a message: “Hey, I have a week off next week. Meet me in Marrakesh?” Without hesitation, I said yes. Thirteen years on, I now understand why my mom was so upset—but as a 19-year-old with no inhibitions and a maddening itch for adventure, I couldn’t resist.

My plane landed in Marrakesh eight hours before Jeff’s. I’d traveled solo to the U.S. before, but navigating a Moroccan medina alone was overwhelming, so I stayed put at the airport. Little did I know, one day I’d call this strange country—this place I was once too scared to enter—home.

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Someone’s Italian Nonna

Jeff and I had a blissfully romantic week exploring Marrakesh and the Atlas Mountains. So blissful, in fact, that he asked me to follow him to Italy. Of course, I said yes. Before I knew it, I was living in Siena with him, his American friend, and someone’s Italian nonna just steps from the Piazza del Duomo.

It felt like a fever dream: giant pizza slices in the square, evening aperitivos at the bar, weekend walks in the Tuscan countryside. Part of me wants to say we lived happily ever after—but this is a story about adventure, not romance.

Eventually, I gave in to my parents’ pleas to return to England and finish my degree. “Just get it done,” they said. “Then you can do whatever you want with your life.” I knew they thought I was irresponsible. Honestly, so did I. I didn’t want to be lost and aimless—I wanted purpose. I just hadn’t found it in the places I was supposed to. For now, I kept my head down, finished my degree, and returned to the U.S. during the summers to work.

Part of me wants to say we lived happily ever after—but this is a story about adventure, not romance.

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Once Again, I Was Tasked to Find a Job

After graduation, I had one goal: travel. I’d gotten a taste of freedom, and I wanted more. But I was broke, so I moved back in with my parents. Money is the eternal travel paradox—you need it to travel, but earning it ties you down.

That’s when I found a loophole: working on a cruise ship. Digital nomads weren’t really a thing yet in 2015, but this was my workaround. I got a job as a jeweler on a luxury expedition ship and spent three years circling the globe. I visited over 80 countries—each one its own thrill ride. I sailed the Norwegian fjords, cruised under the Sydney Harbour Bridge, passed through the Suez Canal, and braved Drake’s Passage to Antarctica. I saw Komodo dragons, snorkeled the Great Barrier Reef, jumped off Arctic icebergs, partied in Rio, and sunbathed on more beaches than I can count.

The best part? I fell in love. We met onboard and spent most of those three years working and living together. Between contracts, we lived in Cape Town, South Africa. On paper, it was perfect—but I wasn’t happy. Ship life was a stepping stone, not a destination. I finally knew what I wanted: to be a travel writer.

My Dad Said He Cried

We were sailing down the Amazon, headed toward Manaus, when I told my partner I was leaving. I wanted to disembark before the ship crossed back to Europe. They supported me completely—something I now know is rare. At the Port of Manaus—one of Brazil’s most dangerous cities—I stood with no idea what came next.

That night, I called my parents and told them I was starting over as a travel writer in South America. Years later, my dad admitted he cried after that call. He was so worried for his lost little girl. They begged me to come home—but I was 25, more detached from England than ever, and finally had money in the bank.

Finally, I Had Made It

I spent the next year traveling solo through South America, writing articles and pitching them to editors—with no success. I ran out of money, but not luck. Using those articles, I built a portfolio and landed a writing internship at a UK travel magazine, traveling the world for free and getting paid to write about it. I’d finally made it. I’d proven I wasn’t reckless—I was just someone who believed in life’s possibilities. So why wasn’t I happy?

The job was fulfilling, but the structure wasn’t. I was too wild for corporate life—something I’d always known but forgotten in the push to become a “proper adult.” Freelancing was the answer. I had experience now. I was ready.

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The Greatest Plot Twist of All Time

In January 2020, I quit my job and moved to Malaysia to live on a beach while pursuing my dreams—as one does. Two months later, the pandemic hit.

“How am I supposed to sell travel stories if no one can travel?” I asked my mentor from a poolside in a mansion we’d retreated to. “You can’t,” they said. “Find a new dream.”

For a month, I spiraled at that pool, pondering the future. Then I remembered: no one’s ever proven I can’t do what I put my mind to. A few weeks later, I had my first freelance clients.

Eventually, I left Malaysia. With the world locked down, I returned—ironically—to England. I finally had total freedom… and was stuck in the one place I’d avoided my whole adult life.

With the world locked down, I returned—ironically—to England. I finally had total freedom… and was stuck in the one place I’d avoided my whole adult life.

Another Great Idea

“Dad, I’ve got another great idea,” I joked, expecting the usual groan. “I’m going to live in a van and travel Europe while working online. Want to help me build it?”

He laughed. It was a no. But I sent him a few YouTube videos, and a few days later, he was in. Six months and £12,000 later, we’d turned a Mercedes Sprinter into a beautiful home on wheels—double bed, kitchen, sofa, and shower. We’d never been prouder.

It was spring 2021. Flights were grounded, but Europe’s borders were open, so I didn’t waste a second before hopping on a ferry to France. For the next three years, I lived and worked in that van, traveling across Europe—until I found myself heading for Morocco.

I Regretted My Decision

The moment I arrived in Tangier, I regretted it. Overwhelmed by the chaos, I’d never felt so alone. But I couldn’t renew my Schengen visa for three months—my fate was sealed.

At first, I counted the days until I could leave. But by the time those three months passed, I realized I never wanted to. Surrendering to the universe and the choices that led me here, I embraced the very country I once feared. And in doing so, I embraced myself.

One and a half years later, I’m still here—living in a coastal riad with two cats and writing freelance.

My dad visited recently. “I’m so proud of you,” he said. “You trusted yourself. You’ve built a life most people can’t even imagine. You’re the most fearless person I know.”

It wasn’t long ago he’d have called me reckless. The truth? I’m not reckless. I’m not fearless either. I’m just someone who believes in pushing boundaries—and following her convictions.

It wasn’t long ago he’d have called me reckless. The truth? I’m not reckless. I’m not fearless either. I’m just someone who believes in pushing boundaries—and following her convictions.

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Emily Draper is an experienced travel and lifestyle writer and editor from the UK who has written for brands including Culture Trip, Hidden Compass, and tourism boards in Greenland, Luxembourg, and Copenhagen. She has travelled to over 70 countries across all seven continents, now calling Morocco her home.