Broke But Boarding: How I Make Travel Happen on My Budget

"The trouble is, you think you have time."

– Jack Kornfield, Buddha's Little Instruction Book

Desire and hope are fickle. They push me forward, but they also challenge me—just like my stubbornness, which insists I can make this work if I set my mind to it.

How I Learned to Travel on a Budget

I got my first taste of budgeting for travel in high school when I took on the responsibility of planning a class road trip across the U.S. to visit historical landmarks. My school was an alternative one, so this kind of hands-on experience counted toward graduation. At just 17, already juggling two jobs to afford gas and insurance for my $300 car, I suddenly found myself in charge of budgeting for a two-week trip with 15 people. Food, fuel, lodging, entry fees—I had to figure out costs, divide contributions, and allocate funds throughout the journey. And this was before easy-access internet! That experience planted the seed, but it took me years to realize I could apply the same principles to make long-term travel possible.

Tailoring Travel to Your Own Life

Now, I always say what works for me might not work for you. Your adventure has to be tailored to your own life. What is your goal? What are you willing to sacrifice to achieve it? Do you have the means and the time? If you’re traveling on a low-income budget, a few things can help: prioritize destinations with a lower cost of living, be flexible with travel dates to find cheaper flights, consider alternative accommodations like hostels, homestays, or work exchanges, and look for free or low-cost activities. My situation is unique—if I were living the life of some of my friends, with a mortgage, car payments, kids, and a partner, I’d have a much bigger challenge. But that’s not on my plate, so I work with what I have.

Facing Debt and Making Travel Happen

At this moment, I have no debt and only basic bills, but that wasn’t always the case. My first big international trip happened while I was still digging my way out of five years of massive credit card debt. Rent was climbing in an increasingly unaffordable housing market, and I had just started what I thought was my first “real” job—an office gig that, ironically, paid less than bartending. So how could I possibly come up with $3,000 for the trip—plus flights and spending money for Scotland, where the exchange rate was not as kind as other countries? I didn’t even have a passport yet!

Breaking Down the Budget

I sat down with my paper bank statements, armed with highlighters, and tore through my finances. I categorized every expense: necessities, recreational spending, and things I could cut. A good way to start is by asking yourself: Is this a want or a need? Rent, utilities, and groceries? Needs. Subscription services, impulse buys, and frequent takeout? Likely wants. Then, I took the amount I needed for the trip and divided it by the months left until the final payment was due. That became my budget.

Eating out? Gone—a huge sacrifice for someone who loathes cooking, but I swapped restaurant meals for home-cooked versions of my favorites. No more nights out at the bar. No extra trips. Even groceries were meticulously planned to last two weeks, focusing on essentials over convenience foods. It wasn’t hard for me—I grew up in a paycheck-to-paycheck household, so I knew how to stretch every dollar.

And I made it happen.

Finding Alternatives and Staying Motivated

Cutting back didn’t mean giving up everything I loved. I had to find ways to replace what I gave up with affordable or free alternatives. Couldn’t go out for drinks? I hosted BYOB game nights—tiny hat crafting nights, to be specific. Had to quit roller derby because I couldn’t afford the dues? I still had my skates and took to the parks and adult skate night at the roller rink because it was cheap. Hate cooking but now had to? I learned to make meals that didn’t suck as leftovers—because I hate leftovers, but a good curry? That gets better overnight.

I also stayed motivated by sharing my progress on social media. Some people warn against oversharing online, but for me, the support from friends and family kept me going. It also triggered that part of my brain that refuses to fail once I’ve made something public.

It wasn’t always easy, but I found ways to make it work.

Making Travel Sustainable

This strategy carried me through the next six years, funding my travels and helping me transition from a miserable office worker to a nomadic work-camper exploring the U.S. And it’s how I’m currently making long-term travel in Southeast Asia work—staying as long as my savings allow before heading home to work and make it happen again. I’ve started each trip from zero—no backup, no safety net, just sheer determination. It can happen—if you don’t mind making sacrifices. Or, you can totally go the credit card debt route—but speaking from experience, digging out of that feels like a lifetime, and I really don’t recommend it. What matters is getting out there and exploring. Your adventure doesn’t have to be epic or extravagant. It can be as simple as saving for a big tent for a back yard camping night. Or a local one night stay at a hotel with a pool. Anything to keep that spark alive.

I always joke that I’ll be clocking in the day after my funeral. And honestly? It’s worth it.