Dear International Living reader,

“I’ve had enough,” I said. “Stick a @#$!ing fork in me, I’m done.”

It had been a beautiful day. We’d joined the “Snorkel with the Stingrays” tour, then had a quick lunch at the Atlantis Hotel in Nassau. Sunshine and blue skies… those famously turquoise waters… stellar food and service…

It was all top notch.

Then back to the ship for an evening shift. That’s where it happened. I got yelled at… again.

You meet a lot of great people in hospitality, especially on a cruise ship with an international crew. Most of the guests are nice, too—they’re up on the Lido Deck drinking their weight in Bahama mamas, having a grand old time. But the unhappy few always end up at the Purser’s Desk. And they like to yell.

- “I didn’t know there was a formal night—you idiots never told me!” (This gem courtesy of People Who Don’t Read.)

- “The microwave in my cabin doesn’t work!” (That’s a safe, Sir.)

- “What do you mean my suitcase is on another ship?” (Yikes. We’re sailing to Key West and your bag is speeding at 20 knots to Bermuda. It happens. Usually to folks who didn’t think to tip the stevedore.)

Just Call Me Julie McCoy

Love Boat jokes aside, my life looked glamorous to my friends. I spent spring in the Caribbean and crossed the Atlantic for long summer days in Helsinki. I braved the Bermuda Triangle, ran through the Hermitage in St. Petersburg… and so much more. But after years working 70-hour minimum weeks for my corporate overlords, I was burnt out.

Still, I didn’t want to go back to living like a pleb. I’d spent a lot of time “sampling” luxury lifestyles. As crew members we got used to world-class cuisine, living on the water with views for days... God help me, I liked the good life. What’s a girl without a trust fund to do?

Of all the destinations I visited, one stood out a mile above the rest. A tropical country with a mild climate outside the hurricane belt. It had an enviable power grid, potable water, and connectivity. Best of all, its capital was the only true cosmopolitan city in Central America. It reminded me of my home port of Miami—but it was a far less expensive place to live.

It was Panama City, Panama.

I wasn't the only one who'd noticed. I later learned International Living had named Panama the world's #1 place to retire year after year. As IL put it back in 2004: "Seems we're unable to publish any list of favorites without including this country on it."

The glittering skyline called to me. It promised upscale apartments, world-class restaurants, high culture, and all manner of entertainment. Museums and galleries, film and theater, music and sporting events… the list was long.

Change is scary. But it’s also what makes us grow. So I leapt.

I moved and eventually found a job as an assistant editor with a small company called International Living. And that modest paycheck was enough for the Sex and the City lifestyle I craved. But instead of wearing Manolos and tossing back $18 cosmos in NYC, I was sitting pretty in sandals, sipping the best Argentinian wines at $6 a glass in Panama City.

It was an international melting pot—an easy place to make friends. I found myself being invited to the Caribbean province of Bocas del Toro (“Let’s go camping on the furthest island!”), the Pearl Archipelago (my friend Edna, a celebrity chef, has a holiday home), the cloud forest in Cerro Azul (“it’s a party weekend,” said my pal Jonathan, dragging me along).

Instead of living to work, I worked to live. Or rather, to live it up.

Unbrainwashing Myself

Like most Gen Xers, I’d been bamboozled into believing that a good life meant a “big” power career. If you never made it to CEO, you were a failure, right?

Wrong.

Panamanians teach by example. Ambition is great, there’s plenty of that here, but family and friends matter more. Dancing and laughing is important. Even in business and healthcare, personal relationships are prized.

The lessons I learned made me a better person—more tolerant, less stressed. I was never going to get rich—but I had a job I loved and valued. And it showed. Soon I was promoted. Next thing I knew, I was being paid to travel and write about it.

Once again, my life seemed glamorous to my friends. And with mostly 40-hour weeks, I could finally agree.

After 17 years of enjoying that Sex And The City life, I still wasn’t done with Panama. But I was ready for a change. I’d written admiringly about Coronado—in 2011, I told IL readers it “still offers the best value” on Panama's Pacific Coast. So in 2022, I took my own advice and bought here.

It’s an active little expat hub where I’ve found community and a serene beach environment.

My thousand-square-foot apartment has killer ocean views straight out of a picture postcard from Hawaii. (And the price I paid was ridiculously low, but that’s another story… so stay tuned.)

I’m happy as a clam. Instead of searching desperately for fulfillment, I’ve realized that in Panama, the here and now is the reward. So stick a fork in me—I’m @#$!ing done.

Jess Ramesch
Senior Editor & Panama Expert

P.S. Ready to see where your own leap could land? Our new Escape to Italy collection shows you the towns offering €1 homes, help with rent and money to renovate. It's 60% off right now... But hurry, one of the best programs closes December 31. Get the details here.