The real cost of choosing a quieter life.
We spent more than ten years looking for a piece of land.
Not because we wanted something enormous or extraordinary. We weren’t just looking for a new home. We were curious about living in the countryside and experiencing a different way of life.
We wanted something much simpler.
A little space. Some privacy. Nature around us. Somewhere away from the crowds, but not entirely disconnected from the world.
And, of course, we wanted to find the perfect place.
It took us more than a decade to understand that the perfect place probably doesn’t exist.
Before moving here, we spent many years living in the city.
And city life was comfortable. Very comfortable, actually.
We lived in an apartment where there was relatively little to worry about. If something needed repairing, it was usually someone else’s responsibility.
Shops were within walking distance. We could pick up fresh bread for breakfast, stop for a coffee, go to the cinema, visit the gym, or meet someone without planning the entire day around it.
There were trams, buses, and the metro. If we missed one, another would arrive shortly.
And if public transport wasn’t convenient, there was always a taxi or Uber.
Doctors, shops, restaurants, and services were all nearby. Usually, we even had several options to choose from.
We didn’t think much about these conveniences.
They were simply part of everyday life.
Choosing Something Different
The funny thing is that we weren’t necessarily unhappy in the city.
We just wanted to experience something different.
Could we take care of our own home?
Could we manage a garden, deal with maintenance, and learn things we had never needed to know before?
Could we live somewhere quiet, almost outside a village, without missing everything the city offered?
We genuinely didn’t know.
And perhaps that was part of the attraction.
We weren’t just looking for a new home. We were curious about a different way of living.
What we didn’t realise was just how much we would have to learn along the way.
The Work That Never Ends
One of the first things we discovered was that owning a home and land means there is almost always something that needs doing.
And I really do mean always.
Sometimes I enjoy it.
Other times, the work simply has to be done.
The weather doesn’t wait until you’re in the mood.
If something needs to be finished before the rain arrives, before the first frost, or before winter settles in, you do it.
You can’t always leave it until next weekend.
We wanted a simpler life.
Apparently, nobody told the garden.
Living here has also made me much more aware of the changing seasons.
In the city, seasons often seemed to pass in the background.
Here, they shape our days.
Spring brings one kind of work, summer another. Autumn is about preparing for winter, and winter comes with its own responsibilities.
There is a rhythm to it.
Not always a slow one.
And certainly not always a convenient one.
The Things I Still Miss
Sometimes, I miss something incredibly ordinary. Being able to walk out in the morning, buy fresh bread for breakfast, and pick up a coffee on the way home. Nothing special, just a simple little pleasure that required almost no thought.
Now, if I want fresh bread, I have to get into the car. And somehow, that changes the entire experience. Sometimes we simply don’t feel like driving anywhere, so we don’t. We make do with what we have.
It sounds insignificant, but these are the small conveniences you only really notice once they’re gone.
And yet, I wouldn’t exchange our quiet mornings here for the convenience of city life. We like waking up slowly, without traffic outside the window, unnecessary interruptions, or the rush to join the world before we’re ready. Just a little time to enjoy the morning.
Of course, not every morning is like that. Life here depends heavily on the season, the weather, and whatever needs to be done.
But when we do have those peaceful mornings, they remind me why we wanted this life in the first place.
The Part Nobody Sees
When people imagine moving somewhere surrounded by nature, they often picture the finished result.
A small home. A garden. Beautiful views.
Perhaps a cup of coffee outside.
What they don’t see is everything that has to happen before any of that becomes possible.
For us, one of the most difficult parts was getting the basic infrastructure in place.
Electricity, water, access, and all the things a home needs to function.
It was complicated, expensive, and sometimes exhausting.
But the biggest challenge wasn’t always the work itself.
It was knowing what actually needed to be done.
We had very little experience.
And yet, almost everyone we dealt with seemed to expect us to know exactly what we wanted, what was possible, and how everything should work.
Sometimes people explained things.
Sometimes they didn’t.
And when they didn’t, we had to look for answers somewhere else.
Ask someone. Research. Compare opinions. Try to understand a subject we’d never had to think about before.
Then make a decision and hope it was the right one.
There were moments when it felt as though everything needed our attention at once.
And honestly?
In the beginning, we considered selling the land several times.
Not because we no longer loved the place.
But because we weren’t sure we were ready for everything that came with it.
It would have been so much easier to stay in the apartment.
Would We Choose This Place Again?
Yes.
And no.
There are things we would approach differently today. Things we understand now that we couldn’t possibly have known when we first arrived.
And if someone had told us at the beginning how much work, uncertainty, and responsibility lay ahead, I’m not entirely sure we would have believed them.
But if I had to choose one answer, it would be yes.
The quiet, the views, the cats, and the freedom to live a little differently make up for many of the difficulties.
Not every day is easy.
Some days, we question our decisions.
But most days, we know exactly why we made them.
And perhaps that’s the important part.
We didn’t find a perfect place.
We found a place whose imperfections we were willing to live with.
The Things We Wish We’d Known Before Moving Here
Would we still have chosen this life if we’d known exactly what was waiting for us?
Probably. But we might have made a few different decisions along the way.
Because there’s a difference between dreaming of a quieter life and actually living one.
In the second part, I’m sharing the less romantic side of our decision: the hidden costs, the everyday trade-offs, the lessons we learned the hard way, and a few questions worth asking yourself before making a similar move.
Including one that I think matters more than all the others:
Would you still want this life in November?
Continue Reading on Substack
The story doesn’t end here.
In the second part, I share what living in the countryside has really taught us about money, independence, responsibility, and the importance of having good neighbours.
The full story continues on Substack, where paid subscribers can read the rest and support Six Blocks.