When I announced that I was leaving my magazine writing job after four years, nobody was surprised. "Sad for us, but happy for you," my coworkers said. "Where to next?" When I explained that I didn't have another position lined up — that I was packing my Brooklyn apartment into a storage unit and heading to work on a vineyard in Italy — that raised some eyebrows.

Leaving a cushy full-time job? In this economy? I was making enough to pay for a Clinton Hill apartment that I shared with a friend, but like seemingly every other person in New York (and across the country), our rent shot up to "pre-COVID" rates after our 18-month lease ended in April. Rather than cough up an extra $400 per month, I opted for a storage unit in Connecticut and a one-way ticket to Italy.