At 26, I set off on a yearlong adventure to South America. It's been 6 years, and I have no plans to leave.

• For Sinead Mulhern, life in Toronto felt too fast-paced, stressful, and expensive.
• She saved up for a yearlong adventure in South America, planning to move back to Canada at the end.
• Now, after living in Cuenca, Ecuador, for 6 years, she feels stable, curious, and engaged.

I often think back to the day I arrived in Cuenca, Ecuador, the Andean city that accidentally became my home.

I was alone on a bus. The sky was dark, and due to plummeting high-altitude temperatures, it was freezing. Rows of Andean peaks stretched out for miles with no sign of civilization. At 13,000 feet, the bus climbed corkscrew roads cut into the mountains.

I tried to distract myself from my growing sense of worry, but all I could think was, "I should have gotten on that plane back to Toronto."

It was 2018, I was 27, and halfway into what was intended to be a yearlong adventure in South America.

The first six months were spent in Colombia, but I had just been kicked out of the country for accidentally overstaying my visa. Fortunately, this was well-timed with a visit from friends.

We backpacked around Ecuador and after a couple of weeks, they boarded their flight back to Canada, and I jumped on a bus headed for Cuenca to continue exploring.

Despite the initial intimidation, it's now been six years, and I'm happily settled.

I was craving a break

I moved to Toronto in 2010 to study journalism. The city has a lot to offer in terms of career opportunities and a vibrant arts scene, so I stuck around after graduating. But as the years passed, the city felt too fast-paced, I was stressed out, and everything was expensive.

It was during a short vacation to visit a friend living in Colombia that I decided I wanted to go on a longer adventure in South America. I noticed the well-rounded lifestyle my friend was leading. She was hiking to waterfalls, learning Spanish, and dancing every weekend.

When I returned home, my life felt limited, and I wanted what she had. So, two years later, in 2018, I said goodbye to Toronto. My plan was to travel for a year and then relocate to another part of Canada.

I'd saved enough to cover a year of budget travel, along with a few freelance clients, and figured that if I hated it, I had the privilege to just go home.

What I didn't know was that my adventure would stretch far past 2018, through a pandemic, into my 30s, and rewrite my life trajectory.

I've enjoyed movies about women who quit everything and create a life elsewhere, but I never thought that would be me.

Ecuador felt right

I gradually made the decision to move to Cuenca, Ecuador, about 200 miles south of Quito, after extending my visas and eventually being granted permanent residency. I've stayed in South America for the same reasons one might stay on any life trajectory, be it a location, career, or relationship: I feel stable, curious, and engaged. I genuinely like my life better.

I have a community, and there's always something new about the culture to experience or parse through. The early days of my adventure were a trial period. But at some point, between climbing mountains and strolling through blooming countryside, I thought, hey, this is a lifestyle I'm excited to wake up for.

I've had some unforgettable experiences here, like summiting volcanoes, turning 30 in the Amazon, camping under the stars in the Andes, and swimming with Galapagos penguins.

The smaller cultural nuances make living here special. There's a formal politeness that I value: strangers say good morning, dates get the car door, and at social gatherings, everyone's greeted regardless of whether you know them or not. Sundays are reserved for family.

Every day at lunch, the city stops to enjoy traditional food, the sunshine, and each other's company. They don't put themselves last to work. They're not burning themselves out just to get the scraps.

Unlike in Toronto, the cost of living is affordable

I rent a one-bedroom apartment with a beautiful terrace for $320 a month. A typical lunch costs $2.75. My monthly Pilates membership is $50, and I pay around $20 for acrylic manicures. I get most of my groceries from a market, where I buy two large bags of produce, coffee, and dry goods for $20. Most locals pay a few hundred less on rent, while higher-earning expats would typically pay more.

But with that comes consequences. In May, El Mercurio, a local newspaper in Ecuador, reported that the arrival of foreigners is pushing up local rent.

As an expat, I try to contribute to the economy in a beneficial way. I mainly support local businesses: the bakeries, butchers, fruit markets, corner stores, and restaurants in my neighborhood; artisan markets for furniture and decor; and Ecuadorian craft beer when I go out with friends.

Ecuador is a hot spot for North Americans who have chosen to relocate. Reports on the 2022 Ecuadorian census found that 14,424 Americans were living, officially, in the country. It's sixth on International Living's 2024 global retirement index.

But it's not just pulling those in their later years: in 2022, the country also launched a digital nomad visa, making it easier for younger workers, people like me, to live and work in the country.

I don't take my cost of living lightly. In Canada, inflation, housing shortages, rising rents, my generation moving back in with their parents, stressed-out food bank systems, and a shrinking middle class often dominate the conversation. These are serious issues. If I lived there, I know I would struggle.

Living in Ecuador has nudged me to better define my personal values. Time in nature, an active lifestyle, fresh food, time with friends, and creative work are now essential to me. I wouldn't live in a place that required me to sacrifice any of those.

Life here isn't perfect. I've witnessed political instability and dealt with daily power outages due to drought.

Right now, my reality is running past goats by the river and finding energy in the Andean mountains. Things that initially terrified me.

This lifestyle hasn't been perfect, but I'm grateful that it's mine.