Where to go with your family if you don't want to regret it later
"Dad, where will we be happy?" asked his six-year-old son. Dad opened his laptop and looked at his family: his pregnant wife, his eldest son with his ambitious plans, his girlfriend Katya with her nails and cosmetology, his elderly mother with her cautious questions. He realized that the elegant word "relocation" wouldn't cut it.
Let's not guess, family, or listen to chats about where everyone moved yesterday and is already teaching us about life today. Let's take twenty countries and calmly analyze each one, where we'll be happy and where we won't be so happy.
Asia:
Latin America:
Europe / Balkans:
ALBANIA
If my son and I decide to move to Albania as a family, the neighbors will first ask, “Where is that?” But then they’ll see photos of the Ionian Sea and Saranda and fall silent with envy.
What's good about Albania:
Dad's lucky because Albania is one of the few coastal countries in Europe where it's still relatively easy to legalize your stay. Yes, the visa-free regime for Russians has been abolished, and now you need an e-visa (or an open Schengen/US visa), but obtaining a residence permit by setting up a sole proprietorship or company, or renting or buying real estate, is still more feasible and cheaper here than in Western Europe.
Mom is doing well because the Adriatic and Ionian Seas are nearby, the mountains are nearby, the food is fresh and cheap, and housing prices haven't reached European levels yet, although they have almost caught up.
The big brother is lucky: the income tax for individuals is fixed at 15%, which is very modest by European standards. Opening a company there is also relatively easy.
You're lucky because the country is small and cozy, and the beach is just a couple of hours' drive from the mountains. You won't be bored.
Grandma is doing well because the climate is mild Mediterranean, the winters are short, and her joints will finally stop complaining about the weather.
Now, son, what's wrong with that:
Dad's in trouble because the "visa-free entry and a year's stay" trope no longer works. Since 2023, the summer visa-free regime has been abolished, and entry now requires prior arrangements—an electronic national visa, which can take up to a month to process.
It's bad for Mom because there's almost no Russian-speaking community there. She'll have to learn either Albanian (a language unlike anything else) or make do with English and Italian.
It's bad for my brother if he's counting on a developed local IT environment: the market is small, there are no large technology companies, so he'll still end up working abroad.
It's bad for you because there are few international schools there that teach in English, and the choice will be limited.
Grandma will be in trouble if she needs serious medical care: local public hospitals are still far inferior to European standards, and for serious treatment she will most likely have to travel to a neighboring country.
And about the future sister: Albania does not grant citizenship by birthright to foreigners, so this plan does not work here.
ARGENTINA
If, son, the whole family decides to take off to Argentina, first they'll feed you such a steak that you'll forget everything. But then they'll remind you of everything.
What's good about Argentina:
Dad is lucky because Argentines have historically welcomed newcomers, and moving there is relatively easy: there are several viable legalization schemes, including proof of income from abroad, and the country doesn't close the door on you right away.
Mom is happy because Buenos Aires is a truly beautiful European city with theaters, cafes, huge parks, and you can live there with a sense of culture, not just a sense of survival.
The older brother has it doubly good: IT specialists with foreign currency incomes live like kings in a country with an unstable peso. He'll earn money in dollars, spend it at local prices, and feel like a very smart person.
Katya is doing well because Buenos Aires has a huge Russian-speaking and generally foreign community, there is a demand for "local" professionals, and a small home office exists there quite comfortably.
You're lucky because Spanish is one of the most popular languages in the world, and while you're learning it in an Argentine school, you'll open the door to a dozen countries at once.
Grandma is happy because the climate in Buenos Aires is mild, without tropical heat or Siberian frosts, and the meat there is such that your health improves just at the dinner table.
And here, son, is the good news about your little sister: Argentina grants citizenship by birthright. If she's born on Argentine soil, she automatically becomes an Argentine citizen, and that's a passport that allows visa-free travel to dozens of countries. But don't think that her passport will instantly make us all Argentines—no, that's not how it works. Instead, it works like this: having a child who's a citizen gives your mom, dad, you, your older brother, and even your grandma a compelling reason to legally remain in the country. If you live there for two years with normal resident status, you can apply for permanent residency, and then for citizenship, but each person has their own procedure. So, having a little sister isn't a magic pill, but it's a very good reason to stay and do everything properly.
Now, son, what's wrong with that:
Dad's in trouble because the Argentine economy is a sport unto itself. Inflation there hasn't stopped for years, the peso exchange rate is unpredictable, and if Dad suddenly starts earning in the local currency, within six months he'll realize that wealth is a relative concept.
Mom's in trouble because the bureaucracy there works at its own pace. Making an appointment, getting a document, submitting a certificate—all of this can drag on for months, and you'll have to stock up on patience and Argentine coffee.
It's bad for the older brother if he wants to work for a local company: taxes are high, labor laws are complicated, and employers themselves are sometimes not happy with the extra paperwork.
Katya is in a bad way because it is possible to legalize as a sole proprietor in Argentina, but it takes time, a local CUIL tax number, and an understanding of the Argentine bureaucracy, which, as we already know, operates at its own pace.
You're in trouble because the quality of schools varies greatly depending on the area, and finding a good international school that teaches in English is a separate task that requires time and a significant budget.
And I need to explain to my grandmother right away that Argentina is very far away. A flight from Europe takes fourteen hours, and if something happens at home, it won't be possible to get back quickly.
BALI/INДONESIA
If, son, our whole family decides to move to Bali, at first it will seem that life has finally become like a desktop wallpaper, but then it will turn out that behind the beautiful picture there is a separate bureaucratic hell hidden.
What's good about Bali:
Dad's in good shape because Indonesia now has an official visa for remote workers—the Remote Worker Visa (E33G). It allows you to legally live and work in Bali even if your employer or clients are located outside of Indonesia.
Mom is happy because Bali is not just a beach, it is a whole aesthetics of life: rice fields, flowers on every doorstep, a warm ocean and an endless feeling that there is nowhere to rush.
The older brother gets double the benefits: if he earns from foreign clients and doesn't exceed the 183-day tax residency threshold, local taxes don't apply. Work, spend at local prices, and live by the ocean.
Katya is lucky because Bali is the world capital of wellness, beauty, and self-care. The client base of expats and tourists there is huge, there's competition, but the demand is endless.
You're in luck because Bali has a whole network of international schools for expat children, with IB, Cambridge, and other global standard programs, from kindergarten to high school.
Grandma is doing well because the climate is warm all year round, the locals are very friendly, and private healthcare in the tourist areas is quite decent.
Now, son, what's wrong with that:
It's bad for Dad because a remote worker visa requires verified income from an overseas company and a decent bank balance. So, simply saying "I'm self-employed" without clear documentation won't work.
It's bad for my brother if he suddenly wants to work for local clients or receive money within Indonesia, which is strictly prohibited under the terms of his remote worker visa.
Katya's situation is bad because the remote worker visa that works for her brother doesn't work for her: she's not an IT specialist or a freelancer with a foreign contract. Officially working as a cosmetologist in Bali is practically impossible for a foreigner, and raids on illegal immigrants are a regular occurrence there.
Mom feels bad because during the rainy season (from October to March) a tropical downpour is not a romantic movie experience, but several hours of non-stop water flow, after which you don’t want to go anywhere.
It's bad for you because good international schools in Bali cost from 4 to 20 thousand dollars a year, and dad will have to earn accordingly.
Grandma is in a bad way because serious medical care in Bali is limited, and in difficult cases, local doctors themselves send patients to Singapore or Jakarta.
And about my future sister: Indonesia doesn't grant citizenship to children of foreigners by birthright, only if at least one parent is an Indonesian citizen. So that plan doesn't work here again.
BRAZIL
If we, son, decided to move to Brazil as a family, at first it would seem like we'd stumbled into the biggest and loudest party on the planet. But then it turns out the party goes on year-round, and there's nowhere to sleep.
What's good about Brazil:
Dad is doing well because the country is large, warm, and generally open to foreigners: there are clear paths to legalization through work, business, or simply proof of a stable income from abroad.
Mom is happy because Brazilians are warm people in the most literal sense: sociable, friendly, and living among them is not lonely even at first.
The older brother is doing well: IT specialists with foreign currency income live very comfortably there, because prices are in reals, and a salary in dollars is already pretty good arithmetic.
Katya is lucky because Brazilians are among the most active consumers of beauty services in the world; the culture of personal care is a national trait there, and the demand is huge.
You're lucky because the nature there is such that you can throw away biology textbooks; all living things are already walking and crawling right in the yard.
Grandma is doing well because the climate in the southern states, for example in Florianopolis or Curitiba, is mild, without sweltering heat, and there is almost no winter there either.
And about my future sister: Brazil also grants citizenship by birthright. If you're born there, you'll receive a Brazilian passport, which is one of the more or less powerful Latin American documents. Just like in neighboring Argentina, this gives the entire family the right to stay and formalize their status.
Now, son, what's wrong with that:
Dad's in trouble because Brazilian bureaucracy is a national pride unto itself. Documents take a long time to gather, translations are expensive, and every piece of paper requires three more pieces of paper for confirmation.
Mom's in trouble because safety in big cities is a whole other science. In São Paulo and Rio, you have to quickly learn where you can stroll leisurely and where it's best to keep your phone down.
It's bad for my brother if he wants to work legally for a local company: the tax burden in Brazil is one of the highest in Latin America.
Katya is in trouble because without Portuguese and legal status, it's very difficult to officially enter this market. A gray market exists, but Brazil is a country with strict labor regulations.
It's bad for you because the whole country speaks Portuguese, and it's not Spanish - you can't learn it right away.
And it’s bad for grandma to fly: from anywhere in Europe or Russia it’s at least 12-14 hours in the air, and if something happens at home, you won’t be able to return quickly.
VIETNAM
If my son and I decide to escape winter to Vietnam as a family, at first it will seem like we're on an endless vacation, and then this vacation will require us to show documents.
What's good about Vietnam:
Dad is lucky because entry is easy: fill out an online application, pay a fee, and receive an e-visa valid for 90 days. Moreover, this visa is multiple-entry, allowing you to fly to neighboring countries every weekend and return without any problems.
Mom's doing well: it's summer all year round, seafood is cheap everywhere, ripe mangoes, iced coffee with condensed milk are everywhere, and inexpensive spas and massages are literally on every street.
It's a real treat for the older IT guy: he opens his laptop in a cafe with fast internet, and now he's a trendy remote worker who spends little money and lives by the sea.
Katya is lucky because there are so many Russian-speaking clients in Vietnam, especially in Da Nang and Nha Trang, that a queue for a manicure can fill up within a week just through Instagram.
It's good for you too, son: we won't excuse you from studying completely, because in Da Nang there are plenty of international schools with English-language instruction, but after classes you can run straight to the beach.
And it's good for grandma: there's no winter, her joints don't freeze, and if her blood pressure spikes, there are beautiful, modern private clinics in the big cities.
Now, son, what's wrong with that:
Things are tough for Dad: when the 90 days are up, he'll find out he can't just stay "forever." There are no proper visas for moving without a compelling reason, so Dad will have to either open a real company there, get a job with a local, or endlessly travel back and forth across the border.
My brother is in trouble: there's no legal status for "digital nomad" in Vietnam. He'll live as a tourist, and if he wants to legally work at a local IT company, he'll be immediately required to provide translated diplomas and an official work permit.
Katya is in a bad way because officially working as a foreign cosmetologist there is practically impossible: you need a local license, which is extremely difficult for a foreigner to obtain, meaning it's a gray market, working from home, and constantly being watched.
Mom is in a bad way: there are almost no sidewalks in the cities, millions of chaotic mopeds hum around, and the Vietnamese language with its six tones is so difficult to learn that it is easier to communicate with gestures.
Grandma's in trouble: the summer humidity and heat are so high that it's best not to go outside without an air conditioner. Moreover, to get Grandma a long-term visa, Dad will first have to obtain permanent residency status for himself, which is a complex bureaucratic quest.
And it's even worse for our cunning plan with our future sister: Vietnam doesn't issue passports based on birthright. Since her mom and dad are foreigners, her sister will be a foreigner too, so her birth won't automatically grant her family citizenship.
GREECE
If my son and I decide to move to Greece as a family, at first it might seem like the most beautiful idea in the world. But then it turns out that beauty here is worth more than it looks in the picture.
What's good about Greece:
Dad is lucky because Greece has an official visa for digital nomads: it's granted for a year and can be extended, after which you can transition to full residency. Applications are submitted through the Greek consulate; proof of remote work, insurance, and proof of income are required. For a family with dependents, the minimum income is €4,200 per month.
Mom is happy because Greece is the European Union with a warm climate, sea, olive oil and the feeling that life is organized in a human way and is not in a hurry.
The older brother is lucky because he fits this visa perfectly: he works remotely, receives income from foreign clients, can live on the island or in Athens, and still have a completely legal status.
You're lucky because Athens has strong international schools, such as American Community Schools (ACS Athens) with its American curriculum and IB program from kindergarten to high school, and the International School of Athens with several language programs.
Grandma is doing well because Greek medicine is at a European level, the climate is warm, the food is healthy, and life in a small Greek town or island is not a test, but a pleasure.
Now, son, what's wrong with that:
Dad's in trouble because the nomad visa doesn't allow him to work for Greek employers—only for foreign ones, and this needs to be documented. Plus, Greek bureaucracy operates at its own Mediterranean pace.
Mom is in a bad way because the cost of living in Greece is higher than in Serbia or Montenegro, and in Athens, rent in popular areas has long ceased to be cheap.
It's bad for your brother if his income is just below the threshold: the income requirements there are strict, and if the figures don't reach the threshold, he might be denied a visa.
You're in trouble because good international schools are concentrated in Athens and a few in Thessaloniki, while most islands and small towns don't have much in the way of such schools.
It's bad news for grandma if she doesn't like the heat: Greek summers aren't mild, but rather a serious 38-40 degrees in July and August, when it's not recommended to go outside without preparation.
And about my future sister: In Greece, the mere fact of having a child in the country does not automatically guarantee citizenship. This option is only possible if the family meets the conditions of legal residence and the child's continued education in the Greek system. It's a little more complicated than in Latin America, but it's possible.
GEORGIA
If my son and I decide to move to Georgia as a family, at first it will seem like the most convenient country in the world to move to. But then it turns out that half the stories they tell in chat rooms are just beautiful legends.
What's good about Georgia:
Dad's lucky because Russian citizens can enter the country visa-free and officially reside there for up to a year. This isn't just rumors from Telegram channels, but actual government policy.
Mom is happy because Tbilisi is a beautiful, vibrant city with inexpensive food, wine on every corner, and an atmosphere and the attention of hot men that makes you want to stay longer.
The older brother is doing well, and here's an important detail: if he structures his work correctly and lives in Georgia but earns from foreign clients outside the country, then his foreign income can be taxed at a 0% rate. This is legal and operates through the territorial taxation principle. But this applies only "if he structures it correctly"—otherwise, the standard 20% income tax applies on Georgian-sourced income.
You're lucky because the Russian-speaking community there is huge, meaning you'll find schools, clubs, and friends faster than in any other country on our list.
Grandma is doing well because the climate is mild, the food is homemade, the people are hospitable, and living is inexpensive.
Now, son, what's wrong with that:
It's bad for Dad, because a year without a visa doesn't qualify him for permanent residency or permanent residence. Once the year is up, he'll either have to leave or seriously pursue status through business or other means.
It's bad for your brother if he doesn't figure out his taxes in advance: the myth that "everything is free and you don't pay anything" in Georgia has long been debunked. If you work while physically located in Georgia, you almost always pay Georgian taxes, period.
Mom feels bad because the sidewalks in Tbilisi are a separate adventure, and the traffic there is so bad that crossing the road is a sport.
You feel bad because there are so many Russian speakers there now that sometimes it feels like you never left. That's both good and bad.
It's bad for grandma if she needs complex medical care: there are private clinics, but the level and prices vary greatly.
And about my future sister: Georgia doesn't grant citizenship by birthright to foreign children. Only children with at least one parent who is a Georgian citizen can receive citizenship. So that plan doesn't work here.
SPAIN
If we, son, as a whole family decide to move to Spain, at first it will seem like the best idea in life, but then it will turn out that Spain thinks about you a little slower than you think about Spain.
What's good about Spain:
Dad's lucky because Spain has an official visa for digital nomads—the digital nomad visa. It's valid for three years, renewable for two more, and it's no longer just a tourist hop, but a full-fledged resident status.
Mom is happy because Spain is Europe with a Mediterranean climate, beautiful cities, good food and a feeling that life is organized in a human way.
The older brother is in good shape because he's a perfect candidate for this visa: he needs to prove income from foreign clients of at least €2,800 per month, have at least three years of work experience, and a diploma, and he's already a legal resident of Spain.
You're in luck because there are a huge number of international schools in Spain, with more than 50 in Madrid alone and more than 40 in Barcelona, and these are schools with British, American, and IB programs in English.
Grandma is doing well because Spanish medicine is one of the best in Europe, the climate is warm, and the pace of life is slow and relaxed.
Now, son, what's wrong with that:
Dad's in trouble because Spain loves paperwork. There are tons of documents, translated and certified, and each certificate requires the next, and queues at government agencies are a local form of meditation.
My brother is in trouble because the Spanish tax system kicks in after he moves, and if he becomes a tax resident in a year, the rates are quite European, up to 47% on high incomes. However, there is a special Beckham tax regime that reduces the burden for new residents in the first few years.
It's bad for my mother, because Spanish bureaucracy doesn't accept any rush, and if a document is needed urgently, it means one thing: it won't be ready immediately.
It's bad for you because good international schools cost between 8,000 and 20,000 euros a year, and your dad will have to earn that much so that you don't have to urgently learn Spanish in a state school.
And about my little sister: the situation in Spain is a little more interesting than in other countries, but still not magical. Birthright citizenship is granted only under special conditions—for example, if one of the parents was also born in Spain, or if the child would otherwise be stateless. This doesn't apply to ordinary foreign parents.
CAMBODIA
If my son and I decide to move to Cambodia as a family, we'll first be surprised at how simple everything is. And then we'll be surprised again—but in a slightly different way.
What's good about Cambodia:
Dad is lucky because Cambodia is one of the most open countries in Asia for long-term residence. There's a standard E-class visa, which can be extended within the country for 1, 3, 6, or 12 months, and can be renewed over and over again without any restrictions—meaning you can live there indefinitely, until you get tired of it.
Mom is happy because the prices there are some of the lowest in Asia, and life is quiet and leisurely without the bustle of Thailand and the crowds of tourists in Balinese.
It's all good for the big brother: there's no special digital tax regime, but there's also no aggressive control over remote workers—work in peace, spend in real money, earn in dollars.
Katya is lucky because Cambodia is one of the most lenient countries in Asia when it comes to foreigners who quietly work with their hands. No one really watches, no one checks, and small businesses "for their own" can exist there peacefully for years.
You're in luck because there are international schools in Phnom Penh and Siem Reap, and some of them are quite affordable—starting from $4,000 a year with a decent English-language program.
Grandma is doing well because life there is cheap, people are calm, and the pace is such that it’s simply impossible to get nervous.
Now, son, what's wrong with that:
Dad feels bad because Cambodia is not a rich country, and the infrastructure shows this: roads, utilities, and government services do not operate according to European schedules.
Mom's in trouble because the heat there is intense, and the rainy season isn't just a "drip here and there"—it's months of real tropical downpours. And some places aren't safe.
It's bad for my brother if he wants to work for local companies: he needs a separate work permit for that, and employers there are in no hurry either.
Katya is in a bad situation because the client base there is small, there are few solvent Russian speakers, and it is more difficult to earn decent money than in Thailand or Vietnam.
You're in trouble because good schools are concentrated in the capital, Phnom Penh, and outside the major cities the choice is sharply reduced.
Grandma is in a bad way because the medical care there is weak, and in a serious situation she will have to fly to Bangkok or Singapore.
And about my future sister: Cambodia doesn't grant citizenship by birth to foreign children—only children with at least one Cambodian parent receive citizenship. So that plan doesn't work here either.
COLOMBIA
If my son and I decide to move to Colombia as a family, everyone will ask at first, "Is it safe there?" But then, after hearing everything from us, they'll want to move there themselves.
What's good about Colombia:
Dad is lucky because Colombia has an official visa for digital nomads—the Visa V Digital Nomads. It's valid for up to two years and can be applied for online through the Ministry of Foreign Affairs' official website. All you need to prove is an income of approximately $800 per month from a foreign employer and you have health insurance.
Mom is happy because Medellin, with its eternal spring—the climate there is truly called “ciudad de la eterna primavera”—is a beautiful mountain city with parks, cafes, and a feeling that life can be arranged quite properly.
The older brother benefits doubly: the income threshold for the visa is low, the application process is relatively simple, and he receives full legal resident status for two years, rather than simply “living as a tourist.”
Katya is lucky because Medellin and Bogota are cities with a large and solvent expat community, and a manicurist who specializes in local services will find clients there quickly.
You're lucky because there are plenty of international schools in Colombia—more than a hundred accredited ones alone—and some of them are significantly cheaper than in Europe: for example, in Cartagena, there are schools with an American curriculum starting from $3,000 per year.
Grandma is doing well in Medellin: the mountain climate is not sweltering, the air is fresh, and private healthcare in the big cities is quite decent.
And here, son, is finally some good news about your future sister: Colombia is a country with full jus soli. Any child born on Colombian soil automatically becomes a Colombian citizen, regardless of the passports of the mother and father. This is a genuine Colombian passport, which grants visa-free entry to many countries and, as with Argentina, a compelling reason for the entire family to stay, obtain residency, and, after a few years, consider citizenship.
Now, son, what's wrong with that:
Dad's in trouble because the digital nomad visa doesn't allow him to work for Colombian companies or earn income within the country. Only foreign clients, and nothing else.
Mom's in trouble because safety in Colombia varies greatly depending on the neighborhood and city. Medellin and Bogotá, the tourist areas, have become much quieter, but it's still not a good idea to relax and wander around with an expensive phone.
It's bad for my brother if he wants to extend his status in two years: his nomad visa isn't automatically converted to permanent residence, so he'll have to gather all the documents again.
Katya's in trouble because the digital nomad visa your brother will apply for isn't suitable for her, as she's not a remote worker with a foreign contract. Legal work requires a separate permit.
You're in trouble because good international schools in the capital, Bogota, already cost between $8,000 and $13,000 a year, and the price varies greatly depending on the city.
It's hard for grandma to fly: there are few direct flights from most places in the world, and the journey takes a long time.
MALAYSIA
If my son and I decide to move our whole family to Malaysia, it will first turn out to be one of the most thought-out countries in Asia for long-term living. But then it will turn out that "thought-out" doesn't mean "cheap."
What's good about Malaysia:
Dad is lucky because Malaysia is the only country on our list with the MM2H ("My Second Homeland") program, which grants a long-term visa for 5, 15, or 20 years, depending on the chosen level. This isn't a quick trip across the border, but a full-fledged long-term residence permit with multiple entries.
Mom is doing well because Kuala Lumpur is a modern metropolis with huge shopping malls, excellent restaurants, good healthcare, and such infrastructure that sometimes you forget you're in Asia.
The older brother is lucky because there's a separate visa for IT professionals and digital nomads—the DE Rantau Nomad Pass. It's applied for online, valid for 12 months with the option to extend it for another 12, and costs about $225. All you need is verified income and health insurance.
Katya is doing well because Kuala Lumpur is a large, modern city with a solvent audience and a developed culture of self-care.
You're lucky because there are plenty of international schools in Malaysia, and they're cheaper than European ones: English-language education with good programs can be found starting from $5,000 per year.
Grandma is lucky because the MM2H program specifically allows parents and in-laws to be included on the visa—meaning Grandma is traveling with her family legally, not as a "guest who needs to be constantly explained to the border guard."
Now, son, what's wrong with that:
Dad's in trouble because MM2H isn't cheap. The program requires a verified monthly income of RM40,000 from abroad and a fixed deposit of RM500,000 in a Malaysian bank—significant amounts that aren't suitable for everyone.
Mom's in trouble because the heat and humidity in Kuala Lumpur aren't like the mild Mediterranean climate. It's impossible to live there without air conditioning, and going outside in the middle of the day is simply undesirable.
It's bad news for my brother if he wants to work for local companies: the DE Rantau visa is strictly for remote work for foreign clients; any local employment is prohibited.
Katya is in trouble because she can't work there without a permit, and getting a work permit for a foreign cosmetologist is time-consuming, expensive, and requires a sponsoring employer. A gray market exists there, but Malaysia isn't the most lenient country when it comes to illegal employment.
It's a bad thing for you if your family chooses to live in a small town instead of Kuala Lumpur: there are far fewer international schools outside the capital and Penang.
And about my future sister: Malaysia doesn't grant citizenship by birthright to children of foreigners. Only children whose father is a Malaysian citizen receive citizenship. If the mother is Malaysian and the father is a foreigner, there's a separate registration process with no guarantees. So, that plan doesn't work here again.
MEXICO
If, son, our whole family decides to move to Mexico, at first it will seem like the most delicious idea in the world. But then it turns out that delicious doesn't necessarily mean an easy life.
What's good about Mexico:
It's good for Dad because temporary residency is processed relatively simply: you need to show an income of at least $2,600 per month or savings of at least $43,000, and you can receive Residente Temporal status for up to 4 years.
Mom is lucky because Mexico isn't just one country, but a whole range of different lives to choose from: quiet Oaxaca, party-loving Tulum, European San Miguel, and busy Monterrey. You can find a rhythm to suit any personality.
The older brother is lucky because there's no special visa for IT professionals, but one isn't needed: temporary residency based on income is perfect for remote work, and the cost of living with a dollar salary makes him happy.
Katya is lucky because in Mexico City, Tulum, and other cities popular with expats, Russian-speaking stylists are already known and valued, and their client base is growing along with the wave of new arrivals.
You're in luck because there are a wide variety of international and bilingual schools in Mexico, from American schools with a full English curriculum in Mexico City and Guadalajara to small bilingual schools in resort towns.
Grandma is doing well because the climate in the central states is mild and even—not tropical heat or Siberian frost, but something pleasant in between.
Son, more good news about the little sister in your mother's womb: Mexico is a country with full legal status. Any child born on Mexican soil automatically receives Mexican citizenship, regardless of the mother's and father's passports. A Mexican passport grants visa-free entry to dozens of countries, including the entire European Union. And, as in Argentina and Colombia, this is a compelling reason for the entire family to stay and secure their status.
Now, son, what's wrong with that:
Dad is in trouble because, starting in 2025, income requirements for residency have increased significantly, and what previously seemed affordable for the average remote worker now requires much higher income levels.
Mom's in trouble because safety in Mexico isn't the same for the entire country. In tourist and expat areas, everything has long been worked out, but Dad will have to spend time figuring out where the family will be comfortable and where it's best to avoid.
It's bad for my brother if he decides to work for local companies: he needs a separate work permit for that, and that's a whole other bureaucratic story.
Katya is in a bad situation because officially working in Mexico as a self-employed foreign cosmetologist requires a separate work permit, and temporary residency alone does not grant the right to work. She must either open a company or obtain a work permit.
It's bad for you because good international schools are rare in small towns and resort areas, and if a family chooses a quiet place rather than a big city, the choice of schools will narrow sharply.
Grandma is in a bad way because there is serious medicine in Mexico, but only in large cities and only in private clinics, and that’s already about the budget.
PARAGUAY
If my son and I decide to move to Paraguay as a family, everyone will ask, "Where, where?" Then it turns out that smart people have known about this country for a long time, but they just kept quiet.
What's good about Paraguay:
My dad is lucky because Paraguay is one of the most accessible countries in the world for residency. There are no minimum income requirements: you only need a valid passport (without an apostille), a certificate of no criminal record, and a birth certificate—both apostilled and translated into Spanish. Temporary residency is processed in person in Asunción, and applications increased by 50% in 2025—those people clearly know something.
Mom is doing well because life there is really cheap: rent, food, transportation are all significantly cheaper than in neighboring Argentina and Brazil.
The older brother is lucky because Paraguay has a territorial tax system: income earned outside the country is tax-free. Live, work for foreign clients, and pay zero.
My brother's girlfriend, Katya, is doing well because Paraguay is one of the most relaxed countries in Latin America when it comes to running a quiet home business: a small office in your home, clients through word of mouth, and no one really cares whether you have a cosmetology license.
You're lucky because Asuncion has decent international schools with American and IB programs in English, like the American School of Asuncion, which teaches from PreK to 12th grade.
Grandma is doing well because life is quiet, the climate is warm, and no one is in a particular hurry.
And here, son, is another piece of great news about your future sister: Paraguay is a country with jus soli. Any child born on Paraguayan soil automatically receives Paraguayan citizenship, regardless of the parents' passports. And for the family, this is once again a compelling reason to stay and smoothly formalize their status.
Now, son, what's wrong with that:
Dad's in trouble because the application has to be submitted in person in Asunción, not online from home. He'll have to travel first, visit several offices, and be patient, as the average time to receive a residency card is about 40-100 days. It's unpleasant, but not critical for a quick fat-loss run.
Mom's in trouble because Asunción isn't Buenos Aires or Medellín. The city is quiet, the infrastructure is modest, and if Mom is used to a busy city life, it might be a bit boring at first.
It's bad for my brother if he wants to work for local companies: the territorial tax only applies to foreign income, while local employment is a different matter.
Katya is in a bad way because there are almost no Russian-speaking clients there, the solvent expat audience is small, and earning decent money doing manicures in Asuncion will be more difficult than in any other country on our list.
It's bad for you because good international schools are only in the capital, and in other cities there are very few of them.
Grandma is in a bad way because the healthcare system there is poor: there are good private clinics in Asuncion, but overall the level of healthcare is noticeably lower than in neighboring large countries.
Contact our relocation specialists in Paraguay:
PORTUGAL
If my son and I decide to move to Portugal as a family, it might initially seem like the best country in Europe to live in. Unfortunately, it turns out that several hundred thousand other people think the same way, and they all arrived before us.
What's good about Portugal:
Dad is lucky because the D8 visa for digital nomads is one of the most comprehensive in Europe: it's valid for two years and can be extended for another three. It allows you to live and work legally, and after five years of residency, you can apply for citizenship. You need an income of at least €3,680 per month, insurance, housing, and a clean background.
Mom is happy because Portugal is Europe without German severity and French arrogance: a warm climate, ocean, beautiful cities, and the people there are gentle and welcoming.
The older brother is lucky because he fits perfectly under the D8: he works remotely, receives income from foreign clients, and immediately receives the right to live in a Schengen area country, which means freedom of movement throughout Europe.
You're in luck, because there are over 50 international schools in Portugal, and they're diverse: British, American, IB, French, and German in Lisbon, Porto, the Algarve, and other cities, with instruction in English from preschool to high school.
Grandma is doing well because Portuguese medicine is of European standard, the climate is mild and warm, and the pace of life is so leisurely that it is simply indecent to be nervous.
And here's a major advantage: a sister born in Portugal may have good grounds for obtaining Portuguese citizenship if her parents already have the necessary legal status and meet the legal requirements. And a Portuguese passport is a European Union passport, one of the strongest in the world. For the entire family, this is both a reason to stay and a very strong argument in favor of Portugal.
Now, son, what's wrong with that:
Dad is in trouble because there are long queues for D8 visas right now: scheduling an appointment to submit documents at the consulate is a separate quest that takes months, and the system is overloaded.
Mom is in a bad way because Lisbon and Porto have become expensive, and rent in popular areas has long been at Western European levels, and “cheap Portugal” has remained in the memories of those who arrived five years ago.
My brother is in trouble because, once he obtains tax residency, the Portuguese tax system kicks in, and without proper planning, he could be unpleasantly surprised. True, there is a special preferential tax regime called the NHR for new residents, but its terms changed in 2024, and it now operates differently than before.
You're in trouble because good international schools cost between €6,000 and €26,000 per year—that's a hefty budget that needs to be budgeted for in advance.
It's bad for a grandmother if she needs a planned operation or complex treatment: public healthcare in Portugal is free, but the waiting lists are months long, and most expats prefer private clinics.
SERBIA
If, son, our whole family decides to move to Serbia, at first it will seem like it's almost home, only warmer, tastier, and without some of the usual problems. But then it turns out that "almost" means a lot.
What's good about Serbia:
Dad is lucky because Serbia is one of the most accessible countries in Europe for legalization. Temporary residency is processed directly within the country, eliminating the need to travel to a consulate abroad, and it already includes a work permit—all in one document.
Mom is happy because Belgrade is lively, cheap by European standards, and quite a convenient city: restaurants, parks, culture, and the prices are such that at first it seems as if money is not spent here, but just lying around.
The older brother is lucky because Serbia offers relatively clear and moderate tax regimes for freelancers and entrepreneurs: either a fixed lump sum payment for entrepreneurs or official self-taxation models for freelancers. It's not zero, but compared to many EU countries, the burden is often quite manageable.
Katya's brother's girlfriend is doing well because Belgrade is now one of the main hubs for Russian-speaking emigration in Europe. Competition among good stylists is currently lower than demand, and a queue can be built on Instagram in a week without much effort.
You're lucky because Belgrade has decent international schools with English-language instruction, such as the International School of Belgrade with its IB program for ages 3 to 18, and the British International School with its British program and A-Levels.
Grandma is doing well because the climate is moderate, the food is familiar and filling, the people are hospitable, and living there is significantly cheaper than in most European countries.
Now, son, what's wrong with that:
Dad's in trouble because visa-free entry to Serbia for Russian citizens is limited to 30 days, not six months like in some other countries. This means you have to enter Serbia first and then immediately begin the residency process, without delay. Regulations have also become more stringent , and the endless border runs to and from Bosnia no longer work as they used to, and some Russians are already being deported for violating this limit.
Mom is in a bad way because there are so many Russian speakers in Belgrade now that competition for apartments and rental prices have increased significantly; what used to be cheap is no longer so cheap.
It's bad for your brother if he thinks that "almost Europe" automatically means everything is at a European level: the Internet, banks, and some services work differently there, and sometimes this requires patience.
Katya feels bad because working there without registration still means entering the gray market, and registering as an entrepreneur in Serbia for a foreigner is a separate quest involving documents, translations, and a local accountant.
You're in trouble because good international schools in Serbia are only in Belgrade, and if your family decides to live in another city, you'll have little choice.
Grandma is in a bad way because the quality of medical care in state clinics there is inferior to Western European standards, and it is better to go to private clinics for quality treatment.
And about my future sister: Serbia does not grant citizenship by birthright to foreign children. Serbian citizenship law is based on the principle of consanguinity, meaning citizenship is only granted to a child with at least one parent who is a Serbian citizen. So that plan doesn't work here.
THAILAND
If we, son, suddenly decide to move to Thailand, at first it will seem like we've won a lucky ticket, but then it turns out that we have to pay extra for this ticket every time.
What's good about Thailand:
Dad's doing well because he now has an official DTV (Destination Thailand Visa), which everyone calls the "nomad visa." It's valid for a whopping five years, and it allows you to stay in the country for up to 180 days per entry. So, we won't have to tremble at the border every two weeks like before.
Mom is happy because Thailand's infrastructure isn't like a seaside village. There are excellent roads, modern shopping centers, luxurious condominiums with swimming pools, and delicious food available on every corner.
It's perfect for the older brother, an IT specialist: he fits the new DTV visa. He just needs to show a contract with a foreign company and savings (around $14,500), and he's officially a fashionable remote worker with legal status.
Katya is doing well because the tourist flow is huge, spa culture is a national religion there, and the demand for Russian-speaking specialists in tourist areas is stable.
You're lucky because there are plenty of schools for foreigners in Thailand, both British and American. You'll study in English and go swimming after class.
And even grandma is doing well here, because Thailand has an official retirement visa. If she's over 50 and her father can deposit around 800,000 baht into her account (or prove a good monthly income), she'll receive legal status for a year, renewable. And the local private healthcare system is among the best in Asia.
Now, son, what's wrong with that:
Dad's in trouble: a five-year DTV visa is great, but it doesn't lead to citizenship or permanent residency. So, we could live there for five years, spend money, and then still be just "tourists" whose status might not be extended. Furthermore, Dad is strictly prohibited from working for Thai companies under this visa.
Mom is feeling bad: the heat and humidity make it almost impossible to walk, and from March to May in the north of the country and in some other regions, the smog season begins (when fields are burned), and the air becomes literally dangerous to breathe.
Katya is in trouble because working without a work permit in Thailand is illegal, and local authorities periodically conduct raids on foreigners who provide services illegally. A fine, deportation, and entry ban are the price of one unsuccessful client.
You're in trouble: decent international schools are expensive, often costing between 10 and 15 dollars a year, so Dad will have to earn a lot more than just enough for "rice and chicken."
Grandma's in trouble: a retirement visa requires mandatory and expensive health insurance. And with age, this insurance only becomes more expensive, and without it, a visa simply won't be issued.
And the plan for the future sister will fail again. Thailand doesn't grant citizenship just because the child was born in a Thai hospital. If the mother and father are foreigners, the child will be a foreigner too.
TURKEY
If my son and I decide to move to Turkey as a family, at first it will seem like the most obvious choice in the world. But then it turns out that obvious doesn't necessarily mean simple.
What's good about Turkey:
Dad is lucky because residence permits are processed through the official online system, e-ikamet. Documents are submitted to the local immigration office, and if you have housing, insurance, and a verified income of at least $580 per month per person, the process begins without any surprises.
Mom is happy because Istanbul is a huge, vibrant, busy city where you can find absolutely everything: shops, restaurants, culture, a Russian-speaking community, and the feeling that there’s simply no time to get bored here.
The older brother is doing well because the cost of living in Istanbul is still favorable when you earn in foreign currency, the internet is fast, there are plenty of coworking spaces, and no one really asks who exactly you work for.
You're in luck, because Istanbul has plenty of international schools: Istanbul International Community School has been operating since 1911, offers all three IB levels from ages 3 to 18, and accepts only international students—meaning it's a truly international environment.
Grandma is doing well because the climate is warm, the food is delicious, private healthcare in Istanbul is quite decent, and life there is organized in such a way that an elderly person does not have to feel lost.
Now, son, what's wrong with that:
Dad is in trouble because, starting in 2025, Turkey has significantly tightened its residency requirements: now you need to clearly document the purpose of your stay, have a notarized lease agreement or property documents, and immigration services have become much more careful in reviewing applications.
Mom is in a bad way because the Turkish lira continues to depreciate, and everything related to imports: electronics, clothing, some products, costs European prices, although the country is formally considered inexpensive.
It's bad for my brother because Türkiye is not part of the Schengen zone, and if he wants to travel freely around Europe, he needs a separate visa each time.
You're in trouble because good international schools in Istanbul aren't cheap, costing between $10,000 and $25,000 a year, and outside of Istanbul, there's not much choice.
Grandma is in a bad way because Istanbul is a very big and very noisy city, and if she dreamed of a quiet life by the sea, she will either have to look for another Turkish city or put up with the metropolis.
And about my future sister: Turkey doesn't grant citizenship by birthright to foreign children. According to Turkish law, citizenship is only granted to children with at least one Turkish parent. So that plan doesn't work here.
URUGUAY
If our whole family decides to move to Uruguay, son, it will initially seem like the most peaceful and boring country in Latin America. But then it turns out that this very boredom was the goal.
What's good about Uruguay:
Dad is lucky because Uruguay is one of the most stable and safe countries in Latin America. To obtain residency, you need to show an income of at least $1,500 per month for a family of four, apostilled documents, and a certificate of no criminal record, and the process begins.
Mom is happy because Montevideo is a real European city in South America: clean, calm, with beaches right in the city and the feeling that no one is in a hurry and no one bothers you.
The older brother is lucky because Uruguay offers preferential tax treatment for new residents, and with the right income structure, it can be a very comfortable country for a peaceful life. Live, work for foreign clients, and save money.
You're in luck because Montevideo and Punta del Este have international schools with English-language programs, such as GEMS World Academy, which offers an IB program from preschool to high school, and the Uruguayan American School, which offers an American K-12 program.
Grandma is doing well because the climate is mild and moderate, not tropical or hot, almost like southern Europe, and public healthcare in Uruguay is considered one of the best in the region.
And here, son, is some great news about your future sister: Uruguay is a country with jus soli. Any child born on Uruguayan soil automatically receives Uruguayan citizenship, regardless of their parents' passports; the birth only needs to be registered in the National Registry. The Uruguayan passport is one of the strongest in Latin America, with visa-free entry to the EU. And for the whole family, the birth of a sister gives them the right to stay and, after three years (for married couples), apply for citizenship.
Now, son, what's wrong with that:
It's bad for dad because obtaining residency takes from 6 to 18 months, and during this time you need to be physically present in the country for at least 183 days a year.
Mom is in a bad way because Uruguay is a small and quiet country, and if the family is used to the big city rhythm, Montevideo may seem too calm even by the standards of calm.
It's bad for your brother if he thinks the 11-year tax break is forever: after the break expires, the standard Uruguayan tax system kicks in, and you need to be prepared for that in advance.
You're in trouble because good international schools in Uruguay are only in Montevideo and Punta del Este, and they cost between $8,000 and $18,000 a year, which is a serious budget.
It's hard for grandma to fly: there are no direct flights from most European cities, and the journey takes many hours with transfers.
PHILIPPINES
If my son and I decide to move our whole family to the Philippines, at first the seven thousand islands will seem like a fairy tale. But then it turns out that the seven thousand islands aren't a metaphor, but a real-life logistical exercise.
What's good about the Philippines:
Dad is lucky because, as of 2025, the SRRV program—a special long-term resident visa—has become available to those aged 40, rather than 50. Those without a pension require a deposit of $25,000 to $50,000, depending on age, and in return, they receive permanent resident status without the need for annual renewal.
Mom's happy because everyone in the Philippines speaks English—not just "knows a few words," but actually speaks it. After most Asian countries, it feels like a real liberation.
The older brother is lucky because the English language, low cost of living, and fast internet in the cities make the islands a perfectly suitable work base for a remote worker.
Katya is doing well because English is everywhere, people are friendly, and it's entirely possible to launch a small home-based beauty studio in an expat neighborhood through Instagram.
You're lucky because there are many international schools there, and they're high-quality: for example, International School Manila, with an American program from PreK to 12th grade, and the Australian AIS, with an IB program for high school.
Grandma is doing well because the SRRV program was originally created specifically for her: permanent status, a warm climate, friendly people, and decent private hospitals in major cities.
Now, son, what's wrong with that:
Dad's in trouble because SRRV isn't citizenship and isn't a path to it. It's permanent resident status, tied to a mandatory bank deposit: if you want to leave, your deposit will be returned, but your status will be lost.
Mom feels bad because typhoons in the Philippines aren't uncommon, but an annual reality. Around 20 typhoons pass through the archipelago every year, and this should be taken seriously, not as an exotic occurrence.
My brother is in trouble because the internet on the islands outside of Manila and Cebu can be unpredictable, and planning your workday around connection quality is a skill in itself.
Katya is in a bad way because official legalization for foreign cosmetologists there is practically impossible: local legislation protects the labor market for Filipino citizens, and it is extremely difficult for a foreigner to officially work in the beauty industry.
You're in trouble because good international schools are concentrated in Manila and Cebu, while in quieter areas the choice is sharply reduced.
Grandma will be in trouble if she needs serious treatment: in Manila, private clinics are fine, but outside the major cities, healthcare quickly becomes more modest.
And about my future sister: the Philippines does not grant birthright citizenship to foreign children. According to the Philippine constitution, citizenship is only granted to a child with at least one parent who is a Filipino citizen. So this plan doesn't work here.
MONTENEGRO
If my son and I decided to move to Montenegro as a family, it would initially seem like the perfect place—small, beautiful, warm, and almost European. But then it turns out the rules here change faster than you can get used to them.
What's good about Montenegro:
It's good for Dad because temporary residency is processed through the local police in about 30 days, the spouse and children are automatically included in the permit, and after 5 years of temporary residence, he can apply for permanent residency.
Mom is happy because the country is small and yet diverse: mountains in the morning, the Adriatic Sea in the evening, and between them is one of the most beautiful bays in Europe, the Bay of Kotor.
It's good for the older brother because opening a company there is easy and inexpensive, and it's one of the popular ways to obtain residency while paying relatively low taxes.
You're lucky because Montenegro has international schools with excellent programs: Tivat is home to KSI Montenegro, the only authorized IB school in the country with three International Baccalaureate programs; Podgorica is home to QSI International School, which offers an American program from Pre-K to high school; and Kotor is home to Arcadia Academy, which offers a Cambridge program.
Grandma is doing well because the climate is mild, life is unhurried, and there are so many Russian speakers around that there is practically no language barrier.
Now, son, what's wrong with that:
My dad is in trouble, and here's some important news: in November 2025, Montenegro drastically changed its rules. Now, to obtain residency through real estate purchase, you need a property worth at least €200,000. Previously, a studio apartment for €30,000 was enough, but that's no longer the case. Those who were already living under the old rules have one year to either buy more property to the required amount or find another way.
It's hard for Mom because the country is small, which is both a plus and a minus. After a year or two, you get the feeling that you've explored all the options, tried all the restaurants, and traveled all the roads.
It's bad for my brother if he chose the path through a company: he needs to actually run a business and prove its activity, and not just keep the company on paper.
You're in trouble because good international schools are concentrated in Tivat, Kotor, and Podgorica, and if a family decides to live in a quiet place by the sea away from these cities, choosing a school will be more difficult.
Grandma is in a bad way because Montenegro's serious healthcare system isn't yet up to European standards: in complex cases, people travel to Serbia or further afield.
And about my sister: Montenegro doesn't grant citizenship by birthright to foreign children. By law, citizenship is only granted to a child whose parent is at least one Montenegrin citizen. So that plan doesn't work here.
