As I write this, we are floating off a beautiful island in the Cyclades. Rain is falling outside, autumn has caught up with us, and there is plenty of time to think.

Perhaps a little too much time.

Today, I want to share something about the less picturesque side of building a life in another country. The part that comes with financial worries, sleepless nights and decisions that feel exciting one moment and overwhelming the next.

Because that is where we are right now.

When an open future needs a plan

When we left on Simon Hendrick, we deliberately left our future open. Deep down, we knew we might eventually settle somewhere else, but we did not need to know where. For a long time, leaving that question unanswered felt right.

Now we know that we want Crete to become our home base. We are still negotiating over a house we can really picture ourselves living in, and suddenly that open future needs to become something concrete.

After two and a half years of travelling, we feel ready for the next chapter. A place where Philou can go to school, where we can find a little more structure and where we can build our businesses.

We have spent months thinking about it. Now we need to start putting things into place.

We are fortunate to have somewhere to stay throughout this transition. The boat is our home, and we also have somewhere to stay in the Netherlands. But having a house on Crete would allow us to move forward with so many things that currently feel suspended.

And I am discovering how difficult I find that space in between.

The financial reality

I have barely worked for almost four months, and I can feel the effect of that. I miss contributing professionally, creating something and earning an income. Financially, we also need that to change.

Our intention is to buy a house using the equity from our home in the Netherlands. With the property we are currently negotiating over, we would need to use some of our savings too.

That makes it a much bigger decision.

The longer term picture is appealing: keeping our housing costs as low as possible, generating some rental income and building our own businesses alongside that. But getting there puts pressure on our finances, particularly over the coming year.

We know that from January we both need to be earning again.

For me, that means giving my consultancy work more focus and building it into a more substantial business. Edwin plans to offer technical property management on Crete, using his practical knowledge and experience, particularly within the international community.

We have already done a great deal of research and started building a network. We believe there is an opportunity, but establishing a business takes time.

If we buy this house, there would also be a guesthouse that we could rent out throughout the year. In summer, we would like to rent out the main house while we spend time aboard. Perhaps we would do that for longer during the first year, depending on what makes sense.

These are plans we have carefully considered. We have worked through the figures, built business cases and mapped out our costs.

On paper, it looks possible.

But none of those future earnings are guaranteed. Knowing that keeps me awake sometimes.

Feeling fortunate and feeling worried

Alongside those worries, I am very aware of how fortunate we are.

We have a financial foundation. We have money we can invest in a new beginning. We have our boat. We never imagined we might be in a position to have both a house and a boat, and the possibility of that makes us feel incredibly wealthy.

If circumstances changed, we could make different choices. We could even sell the house again if we had to.

I know all of that.

Still, I find it hard when I cannot quite see how everything will fit together. I want to understand the whole picture before we step into it, and at the moment there are pieces we simply cannot put in place yet.

Edwin finds this easier. He has a deep trust that we will work things out.

He thinks carefully, keeps his head and wants us to make sensible decisions. But he can do all of that without needing certainty about every next step.

I am learning from him. Some days I manage it better than others.

Finding something I can do

What helps me is focusing on the things I can influence.

I can research the rental market on Crete in more detail. I can find out what we would need to arrange before welcoming guests. I can start working on a website for Edwin and thinking about one for the future house.

We are learning Greek, too, slowly building the language we hope will help us become part of everyday life there.

And then there are all the practical questions. How do we move our belongings? Where would a container be delivered? What would we still need to buy? We will need cars, and there are legal and administrative matters to organise.

There is plenty to do. Sometimes that feels overwhelming, but it also gives me somewhere useful to put my energy.

We are both looking forward to working, building and creating again. We have loved having more time together, and that was one of the main reasons we left. This journey has given us so much of what we hoped for.

Now we can feel our needs changing.

Another lesson in letting go

I thought we had already learnt a great deal about letting go when we left on Simon Hendrick.

We gave up familiar routines, a clear path and much of the security we had known. Yet this next step feels different. We are committing money, choosing a place and trying to build an everyday life around it.

That makes it feel more exposed somehow.

From the outside, our life may look like an endless holiday. We have certainly had extraordinary experiences, and we still do. But the decisions, responsibilities and worries come with us wherever we anchor.

At the moment, I feel them quite strongly.

And still, underneath it all, there is that little flutter of excitement. When I imagine our life on Crete, I feel drawn towards it.

I want to give it a chance. To invest in it, do the work and allow it time to grow. We will almost certainly adjust things along the way as we discover what works.

I am trying to remember that we can make thoughtful decisions now and still leave room to change direction later.

Philou and the room she is already imagining

Through all of this, there is one cheerful little person getting on with her days.

Philou is doing well with homeschooling, learning Greek and looking forward to going to a Greek school. She talks about her future room and wonders what life will look like when we live there.

She trusts us completely.

That is both moving and a reminder of the responsibility we carry. We want her to feel safe and free to be excited, while we work through the grown up questions.

And there is plenty of excitement to share. We have fun imagining our home, our days and the people we might get to know.

The worries are real, but so is the joy.

So here we are, aboard our boat on a rainy Cycladic island, with a beautiful possibility ahead of us and quite a few unanswered questions.

Some nights I lie awake. Some days I can almost picture us there.

For now, we keep doing what we can, talking things through and taking the next step.