For a long time, I told myself a story about what freedom would look like.

Exotic locations. Constant adventure. The kind of Instagram moments that make people question their entire cubicle existence. I thought freedom meant reinventing yourself every time you crossed a border.

Turns out I was completely wrong.

After three months bouncing between Germany, Romania, and Croatia, I discovered something way more valuable than wanderlust. The power of a universal lifestyle. One that works whether you're in Cologne or Bucharest. One that doesn't give a damn about your zip code.

The Three Things That Actually Matter

My lifestyle is built on three foundations: good sleep, good eating, and decent fitness.

That's it.

No complex morning routines. No exotic supplements. No need to "find myself" in a new city like some kind of travel cliché.

These three things worked in a renovated penthouse in Cologne just as well as they did in a flat in Romania. They didn't need translation. They didn't need cultural adaptation. They were mine, and they came with me wherever I went.

There's something pretty wild about discovering what truly belongs to you. The habits that don't need external validation to function. Strip away all the noise of new environments, and what's left is just... you.

Routine Became My Superpower

Here's the thing nobody tells you about travel: I actually loved routine more than novelty.

Everyone talks about the excitement of new experiences and constant stimulation. But I found deep satisfaction in the mundane stuff. Waking up at the same time. Following the same workout routine. Cooking similar meals or finding somewhere consistent to get them.

This consistency gave me mental bandwidth to actually excel at things that mattered. My work. My relationships. My long-term projects. The foundation of good sleep, eating, and fitness created a platform for everything else to work.

I wasn't reinventing myself in each country. I was just being myself in different locations. And honestly? That felt revolutionary.

The Social Battery Thing Is Real

Here's something nobody warns you about with remote work and travel: you might already be getting all the human interaction you need.

I spend my days hosting calls, running meetings, communicating virtually non-stop. By evening, the idea of finding a meetup or hanging out at a bar feels like overtime work. Why would I go out just to communicate more?

I discovered I'm fully content staying in my apartment for a month straight without any in-person interaction. Not because I'm antisocial, but because my social needs are already being met. Just differently than the traditional playbook suggests.

But here's the twist. When I did push myself to go out (particularly on dates), it forced me to be the best version of myself. Even when I didn't feel like it. Having to be presentable and impressive turned my sociability up to 11. What started as a small coffee date in Germany turned into grilling burgers on a beach with a group of locals and invitations to multiple gatherings.

The lesson? Know your social battery. A month of socializing in Germany led to a month of intentional seclusion in Romania. I knew I wasn't going to be going out much, so I invested in a flat I'd actually enjoy spending time in. Something that felt inspiring.

For thirty days straight, I woke up, worked out, cooked, ate, and grinded. On repeat. It was exactly what I needed.

The Weirdest AirBnB Experience So Far

But not everything went smoothly. Sometimes your systems get stress-tested in ways you never saw coming.

Let me tell you about the worst accommodation experience of my life.

After flying back from a business event in Florida, I booked what looked like a decent place in Cologne. The photos showed a proper kitchen, an isolated office room, and what appeared to be an actual bed.

The first red flag was the host. This guy reeked of cigarettes. Not just the lingering scent of someone who occasionally smokes, but the heavy, embedded odor of someone who chain-smokes indoors.

The apartment was worse. It smelled like a heavily used ashtray. My clothes absorbed the smoke within five minutes. The "bed" was a half-cut mattress on top of a sofa with a blanket riddled with cigarette burn holes.

With no replacements.

What the hell was this?

I had prepaid for the entire month but couldn't survive another night. I offered the host what seemed fair: he keeps 25% of my payment, I take my 75% and move on. His counteroffer? He keeps 90%, I get 10%.

The greed was insane.

That's when I called Airbnb. At 10:30 AM, I documented everything and filed a complaint. By 10:40 AM, they sided with me and offered a full refund. At 10:45 AM, the host started sending threats. Both legal and physical. At 10:59 AM, I was standing outside with all my stuff, one minute before my new checkout time.

The weirdest part? The apartment couldn't be secured without locking it from the inside, but he demanded I leave the key inside. His final threat: "If that key is missing by the time I get back, I will be suing you. You will not win the next round."

All I wanted was to sleep peacefully at night. Apparently, that was worth fighting for.

Cash ended up being king when I secured my next place.

This whole mess reinforced something crucial: when something threatens your foundational pillars, especially good sleep, you don't negotiate. You act. The three pillars aren't just lifestyle choices. They're non-negotiables that define the quality of everything else you do.

What Freedom Actually Looks Like

Real freedom isn't about having unlimited options. It's about knowing which options actually serve you.

Being able to wake up in Cologne or Bucharest and feel equally at home isn't about adaptability. It's about building a life that doesn't depend on external circumstances for its foundation.

I could live in Germany for years and be content. The walkable cities, the incredible gyms (I trained at Trainingslager, this legendary bodybuilding museum that's still fully functional), the straightforward culture that matched my temperament perfectly.

But I could also disappear into Romania for a month of complete focus and feel equally fulfilled.

That's the real prize. Creating a lifestyle so solid that geography becomes irrelevant.

The Permission You Don't Need

If you're considering a major change—remote work, extended travel, or just restructuring your life around what actually matters—here's what I learned:

You don't need to become someone new. You need to become more of who you already are.

The three foundations that work for me might be completely different from yours. Maybe your pillars are creative work, deep relationships, and continuous learning. Maybe they're family time, physical challenges, and spiritual growth.

The specific pillars don't matter. What matters is identifying them, testing them, and building your life around them.

And when something doesn't align, like a smoke-filled apartment or a lifestyle that drains rather than energizes you have permission to walk away. Even if you've prepaid. Even if it's inconvenient. Even if other people think you're being dramatic.

Your peace of mind is worth fighting for.

The simplicity test revealed something I hadn't expected. The most profound freedom comes not from endless options, but from knowing exactly what you need to thrive. And then building a life that delivers it, regardless of your coordinates.

Sometimes the greatest adventure is discovering that you don't need to change at all. You just need to be yourself, more consistently, in more places.

and for the way I want to live my life, I'm not building a home in a location but home within myself.