She walked away from everything. It sounds like a cliché or a movie trailer, but for Rita Golden Gelman, it was just Tuesday. In 1986, facing a looming divorce and the suffocating comfort of a high-society life in Los Angeles, Rita decided she didn’t want a new house or a better car. She wanted the world. Most people think of nomadic living as a young person’s game—something for twenty-somethings with backpacks and questionable hygiene—but Rita was 48. She sold her possessions, gave up her address, and began creating the tales of a female nomad that would eventually redefine what "home" looks like for thousands of readers.
Travel isn't always pretty.
Honestly, it’s mostly just confusing and sweaty.
When you read her memoir, Tales of a Female Nomad: Living at Large in the World, you aren't getting a polished Instagram feed. You're getting the grit of a woman who slept on floors in Mexico and shared huts in Borneo. She didn't have a cell phone. She didn't have Google Maps. She had a sense of curiosity that bordered on the obsessive. That’s the thing about real nomadic life—it’s less about "finding yourself" and more about losing the parts of yourself that were never actually yours to begin with.
Why tales of a female nomad resonates decades later
The world is obsessed with "slow travel" right now. Everyone wants to be a "digital nomad," typing away on a MacBook from a beach in Bali. But Rita was doing it when long-distance calls cost five dollars a minute and required a trip to a government-run telephone office.
Her stories aren't just about the places. They are about the people who let her into their lives because she showed up with an open heart and zero ego. In Bali, she didn't stay at a resort; she moved in with a family and learned to cook their food, staying for years. She became part of the village fabric. This kind of immersion is rare today because we are always "connected" to home. We’re checking our emails while we’re supposed to be watching a sunrise in Ubud. Rita’s approach was different. She was fully, almost dangerously, present.
Why does this still matter in 2026? Because we’re lonelier than ever. Despite all our "social" apps, we’ve lost the art of the random encounter. Rita’s life proves that the world isn’t a scary place filled with strangers—it’s a massive neighborhood where most people are actually quite kind if you bother to learn their names.
The reality of the "No Address" lifestyle
Living without a permanent base is exhausting. Let's be real. You’re constantly negotiating your existence. Where will I sleep? What will I eat? Is this water going to give me a parasite?
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Rita spent decades asking these questions. She transitioned from a Beverly Hills socialite to a woman who could carry her entire world on her back. It wasn't about being "brave." She’s been very vocal about the fact that she was often terrified. But she realized that security is an illusion anyway. You can have a house and a 401(k) and still have your life fall apart in a weekend. If the floor is going to drop out regardless, you might as well be standing somewhere interesting.
She’s mentioned in interviews that she doesn't "vacation." There is a massive distinction there. Vacations are about escaping your life. Nomadic living is about creating a life that you don’t feel the need to escape from. It’s a subtle shift, but it changes everything about how you interact with a foreign culture. You aren't a consumer; you're a guest.
Breaking the "solo female traveler" myths
People love to tell women why they shouldn't travel alone. It’s too dangerous. You’ll be targeted. You’ll be lonely.
Rita’s tales of a female nomad dismantle these fears one by one, not by arguing, but by existing. She found that being a woman, especially an older woman, was often an advantage. In many traditional cultures, women are the keepers of the domestic sphere. Because she was a woman, she was invited into the kitchens and the private areas of homes where men—and certainly male travelers—were never allowed. She got the "real" story of the places she visited because she sat with the grandmothers and the mothers.
- She didn't use a travel agent.
- She followed the "smile and a nod" rule of engagement.
- She stayed until she was bored, then moved on.
- She never let "safety concerns" outweigh her desire for human connection.
Safety is a relative term. You're statistically more likely to be in a car accident in your hometown than to be kidnapped in a remote village. We over-index on the "scary" stuff we see on the news and under-index on the mundane kindness that makes up 99% of human interaction. Rita lived in the 99%.
The Zapotec and the Borneo experience
In the Mexican village of Teotitlán del Valle, Rita learned the rhythm of Zapotec life. It wasn't about the ruins; it was about the weaving. It was about the way the community supported itself.
Later, in the rainforests of Borneo, she stayed with the Iban people in a longhouse. Imagine a single structure housing dozens of families, everyone living in each other's pockets. For a Westerner used to fences and "personal space," this is a psychological shock. But Rita leaned into it. She watched how they handled conflict. She saw how they shared resources. She realized that our Western obsession with privacy is actually a recipe for isolation.
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She often says that she learned more about being human from people who had nothing than she ever did from the millionaires she knew in California. That’s not "poverty tourism." It’s an acknowledgment that our metrics for "success" are incredibly narrow.
The financial logistics of a thirty-year trip
How did she afford it? This is the question everyone asks.
She wasn't a billionaire. She sold her house and lived off the proceeds, but she also lived incredibly cheaply. When you aren't paying a mortgage, property taxes, car insurance, and a cable bill, you'd be surprised how little money you actually need.
- She ate what the locals ate (often street food or home-cooked meals).
- She used local transport—buses that were overcrowded and slow.
- She wrote. Her books and articles provided a trickle of income that kept the dream alive.
It’s about trade-offs. Rita traded luxury for time. She traded status for stories. In our current economy, where "hustle culture" is the default, her lifestyle seems almost radical. She chose to be "time rich" rather than "cash rich."
Dealing with the "What about your kids?" guilt
Rita had two grown children when she started her journey. The criticism was immediate: how could a mother just leave?
This is a double standard that men never face. A man "goes on an expedition" and is a hero; a woman "leaves her family" and is selfish. Rita pushed back against this narrative. She stayed in contact. She invited her kids to join her in various corners of the globe. She showed them that a mother is a whole person with her own dreams, not just a supporting character in their lives.
Her daughter even ended up traveling extensively herself. By living her truth, Rita gave her children permission to live theirs. That is a far greater gift than a mother who stays home and grows resentful because she never chased her own spark.
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What we get wrong about nomadic life
It’s not all sunsets and profound realizations. Sometimes it’s just diarrhea and lost luggage.
There’s a section in her writing where she talks about the sheer frustration of not being able to communicate simple needs. The language barrier isn't always "charming." It can be isolating. There were moments when she felt like an absolute alien.
But there’s a beauty in being the "outsider." When you don't fit in, you stop trying. You stop performing. You just are. That’s the core of the tales of a female nomad—the stripping away of the masks we wear to fit into our specific social strata. In a village where nobody knows what a "socialite" is, you’re just the lady who likes the spicy soup.
Actionable insights for your own "Nomad" chapter
You don't have to sell your house and move to Borneo to channel this energy. The "nomad" mindset is about curiosity over comfort.
- The 24-Hour Rule: Next time you travel, spend the first 24 hours without a map or a plan. Walk out of your accommodation and turn left. See where the day takes you.
- Eat in the "Ugly" Places: The best food and the best stories aren't in the restaurants with English menus. They’re in the places with plastic chairs and a line of locals.
- Ask Better Questions: Instead of asking "Where is the museum?", ask a local "What’s the best thing that happened in this neighborhood this week?"
- Audit Your Security: Look at the things you think you "need" for safety and comfort. How many of them are actually necessary, and how many are just barriers between you and the world?
- Start Small: Spend a weekend in a nearby town where you know no one. Stay in an Airbnb with a host family instead of a sterile hotel. Practice being a guest.
Rita Golden Gelman’s journey isn't a blueprint; it’s a permission slip. It’s proof that it’s never too late to stop being who everyone expects you to be. If a 48-year-old woman in 1986 could navigate the globe with nothing but a backpack and a smile, you can certainly handle a little discomfort in the name of adventure.
The world is still out there. It’s still full of people who want to share a meal with you. All you have to do is show up and be willing to be a little bit lost. That’s where the real stories begin.
Next Steps for the Aspiring Nomad:
If you're serious about this, your first move isn't buying a plane ticket. It's a "stuff audit." Go through your home and identify the top five things that are keeping you tethered to your current location. Is it a lease? A car payment? A storage unit full of things you haven't looked at in three years? Start the process of decoupling your identity from your possessions. Read Tales of a Female Nomad to understand the psychological shift required, then look into "slow travel" communities like Nomadic Matt or the Overseas Adventure Travel groups to see how others are navigating the logistics in the 2020s. The goal isn't to leave forever—it's to realize that you could. That's where the freedom lives.