Flying commercial isn’t always the best option for Davos attendees, and many are arriving by private jet.
Marc Benioff’s Gulfstream G700 is one of the latest jets to touch down near the alpine resort.
Flying commercial isn’t always the best option for Davos attendees, and many are arriving by private jet.
Marc Benioff’s Gulfstream G700 is one of the latest jets to touch down near the alpine resort.
The Salesforce CEO’s plane flew over 14 hours from Hawaii to Friedrichshafen, Germany, according to data from JetSpy. It touched down shortly after 11 a.m. local time on Monday
It’s perhaps the swankiest jet to arrive so far. The price tag for a G700 starts at $78 million.
Benioff is scheduled to speak tomorrow.
Two BlackRock-owned Gulfstream G650 jets have landed in Zurich, too, per JetSpy’s tracking data.
One of them arrived on Sunday morning, followed by the other about 25 hours later. They both came from New York’s Westchester County Airport.
BlackRock CEO Larry Fink is also the interim co-chair of the WEF. He’s due to speak tomorrow morning.
Corporate jets owned by Google, IBM, The Carlyle Group, and Eli Lilly have also landed in the region since Saturday, per JetSpy.
Airspace restrictions mean very few will land at the airport closest to Davos. Instead, most are arriving in Zurich, and some at Friedrichshafen. The German town is about 60 miles from Davos as the crow flies.
In the world of robotaxis, there’s a stigma around remote driving. Are you really “driverless” if there’s a person — even remotely — at the wheel?
One startup is fully embracing it.
Vay is a Berlin-based startup founded by two engineers and a former Zoox employee.
Vay cofounders Fabrizi Scelsi, Thomas von der Ohe, and Bogdan Djukic
Vay
The company is taking a somewhat contrarian approach to what it calls a “driverless car.”
Instead of automating the ride-hailing service, which can be technically challenging and costly to scale, Vay wants to rethink how we rent cars.
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To do so, Vay wants to leverage remote-driving technology and, eventually, autonomy to deliver cars without humans inside to people who need a private vehicle for less than a day.
Thomas von der Ohe,cofounder and CEO of Vay, told Business Insider that the goal is to be cheaper than an Uber and more convenient than a traditional brick-and-mortar rental program.
“It’s basically by far the most affordable A to B transport,” von der Ohe, a former technical program manager during the early days of Zoox, said. “It’s half the price of Uber and half the price of robotaxis. How it works: We just bring the car, you then drive, and then when you’re done, you don’t have to park.”
Autonomy’s shifting timelines
Von der Ohe spent less than two years at Zoox when the company was just 60 people large and had yet to be acquired by Amazon. The Vay cofounder said he oversaw some of the first public testing of Zoox cars when there were safety drivers inside the vehicle.
At the robotaxi company, von der Ohe said he saw a goal with an ever-shifting timeline.
“It always felt like it was three years out,” he said of autonomous driving. “And then every year it shifted by a year. So we wanted to have self-driving cars everywhere in 2020 at Zoox. And then it was 2021 and so forth.”
Von der Ohe left Zoox in 2018. Instead of fixating on robotaxis, von der Ohe wanted to stay in mobility but work on something that could be faster to bring to market and easier to scale with less capital. Vay was born.
How it works
Customers order a car the same way they hail an Uber or Lyft through Vay’s app. To rent a car, users have to upload a driver’s license and a photo of themselves.
Users can order a Vay rental car through a proprietary app.
Lloyd Lee/BI
Vay proposes that users can get a car delivered to them without a driver within minutes, as long as they’re within the service area or geofence. If you’re out of the service area, then you’re out of luck.
Once the car is delivered, the renter takes over.
The startup services Las Vegas, where it manages a fleet of 100 Kia Niros, a compact, all-electric SUV. Each Kia is retrofitted with four cameras. There are no other sensors, von der Ohe said.
The Vay cofounder told Business Insider that the service area is about twice the size of San Francisco.
Inside Vay’s Vegas office, there are about eight driving stations, in which a trained human operator remotely controls Vay’s vehicle fleet. The setup looks like a video game simulation with three computer screens and a disembodied driver’s seat.
A large red button to the left of the driver’s seat activates an emergency protocol during which the car pulls over to the side of the road.
Vincent Reddy, an operations lead for Vay, remotely drives a car.
Lloyd Lee/BI
Vincent Reddy, an operations lead for Vay, said that there are several criteria a remote driver needs to meet, including completing about 1,000 kilometers of remote driving. Reddy remotely drove Business Insider during a demo ride.
“It’s similar to kind of like a high-grade racing sim,” Reddy said of the driving experience. “The thing that feels the most different is not having the feedback of what it feels like driving over bumps and things on the road because the seat doesn’t move. There’s no G-force, or you don’t get the feeling of accelerating or braking.”
To deliver the cars, Vay only uses the remote-driving technology on local roads and stays under 25 mph. The car can go on the highway once the customer takes over the vehicle.
There were no notable incidents during a 10-minute driverless ride around the block of Vay’s Vegas office.
50% cheaper than an Uber
Vay’s value proposition to customers is that the service is cheaper and more flexible than hailing an Uber.
Von der Ohe told Business Insider that the service should be about 50% cheaper than the average Uber ride.
Vay hands out business cards that advertise a “driverless car” that’s half the price of hailing an Uber.
Lloyd Lee/BI
Users are charged by the minute, with a decreased price if they are parked, in case they, for example, need to grab groceries or hit the gym.
When Business Insider viewed the app, the pricing was at $0.35 per minute while driving and $0.05 per minute while parked. At those prices, a 30-minute drive to and from a destination, including an hour-and-a-half stop, would cost around $25.
When asked if the pricing will change based on demand, von der Ohe said the company doesn’t yet have a pricing mechanism, such as surge pricing, in place, but expects there will be changes to the structure.
The CEO said he can keep the costs low because Vay’s vehicle fleet doesn’t have a complex sensor suite, and the remote operators manage multiple cars.
Von der Ohe said that as of January 2026,there is one remote operator for every 10 vehicles. However, that doesn’t mean a remote driver is operating 10 vehicles at the same time. Instead, a remote operator can deliver one car and immediately move on to the next vehicle.
“So I have much more cars and remote drivers, and that’s why we make it half the price,” he said.
Vay’s future
Vay employs about 200 people and raised more than $200 million, including a $60 million investment from Grab Holdings, the Singaporean tech company that owns Grab, the super app of Southeast Asia.
Vay’s vehicle fleet is currently made up of 100 Kia Niros.
Lloyd Lee/BI
While von der Ohe told Business Insider that building a fully autonomous ride experience like Waymo is not on Vay’s road map, the CEO said his startup will gradually add autonomous driving features.
“We’re not in competition with them,” von der Ohe said of robotaxi operators.
Since its founding, Vay has provided 35,000 trips, according to the CEO.
He said the service has especially seen high demand during the Consumer Electronics Show.
When Von der Ohe opened the app, the wait time to get a car was 31 minutes.
“It’s extremely busy today already,” he said. “It’s a long way. It should be five.”
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The EV industry has some problems: tax credits were cancelled, US sales dipped, and prices are still too high for many car buyers.
Automakers are readying a new slate of new EVs — including 10 with base prices below $50,000.
Four out of the 10 upcoming more affordable EVs are a result of a joint venture between two Japanese behemoths.
It’s expected to be a difficult year for electric vehicles.
Federal tax credits ended months ago, US sales have cooled, and automakers are shelving models that lost billions.
But there’s a new guard of EVs priced at less than $50,000 right around the corner that could test that prediction.
Major automakers are launching or re-releasing roughly 30 EVs in the US this year, Business Insider found — and yes, there’s plenty of higher-priced luxury offerings in the lineup, from a high-powered Ferrari to Jaguar’s controversial new coupe.
But 10 of those new or refreshed EVs start below $50,000 — the average price of a new vehicle in the US in December.
“The price for EVs has been too high,” Kevin Roberts, CarGurus’ director of market intelligence, told Business Insider. “As you see more practically-priced EVs, that’s where you’ll see growth in demand.”
These more affordable vehicles will test if lower prices are enough to convince Americans to jump on the EV bandwagon, or whether the market will continue to fizzle.
Slate Truck — mid-$20,000s, expected late 2026
Slate’s sales pitch is an ultra-customizable pickup truck with bare-bones features. Pricing is expected to start in the mid-$20,000s. Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times via Getty Images
Slate is selling a stripped-down modular car that owners can design for themselves. It’s like if IKEA got into the car business.
The car company is entering the market with a deliberately bare-bones truck: we’re talking two cloth seats, no infotainment system, no speakers, crank windows, and only enough juice in the battery for 150 miles of range.
From there, buyers can add an extra row of seats, an SUV-style bed cover, or brightly colored exterior decals to cover up the slate gray exterior.
Expected to start in the mid-$20,000s, the Jeff Bezos-backed startup is pitching minimalism as an alternative to the expensive, feature-stuffed EV market.
Kia EV3 — $35,000, expected early 2026
Kia’s diminutive electric SUV is finally coming stateside. It blends design cues from its older siblings, the mid-sized EV6 and the three-row EV9. Sjoerd van der Wal/Getty Images
Kia already sells a broad lineup of electric vehicles globally, but only a small handful have reached the US so far. The EV3, expected to arrive in early 2026, has already been on sale in Europe and Asia for nearly two years.
It could be the company’s most important American addition yet.
Roughly the size of a Toyota RAV4, the EV3 blends the sporty proportions of the EV6 with the boxy, upright design language of the three-row EV9.
Pricing will start around $35,000, and the five-seater is expected to cover roughly 300 miles with a full battery.
Rivian R2 — $45,000, expected early 2026
Rivian shrunk its popular three-row luxury SUV and slapped on R2 badging. The 5-seater with a $45,000 price is the company’s biggest bet. PATRICK T. FALLON/AFP via Getty Images
Rivian faces a critical 2026, and the lower-cost R2 is at the center of its bet.
Since 2022, the startup has introduced itself through the high-end R1S — a powerful, three-row SUV with a starting price north of $70,000.
The R2 is meant to pull Rivian into the mass market.
Like Kia’s EV3, R2 promises roughly 300 miles of range and seating for five, putting it squarely in RAV4 territory. But, unlike the Kia, its outdoorsy, gear-forward aesthetic targets a different buyer: more REI than retro-modern.
Whether that identity can drive real sales — despite Rivian’s $10,000 premium compared to other cars on this list — is the question hanging over the R2.
Toyota C-HR — $35,000, expected early 2026
Toyota is rebooting the C-HR in the US market this year. This time, it’s a $35,000 EV. Toyota Motor USA
Toyota’s next EV comes with a familiar name.
From 2018 to 2022, the automaker sold the C-HR as a small, angular gas-powered SUV in the US — before pulling it after weak sales.
Now the nameplate is back, reimagined as an electric vehicle.
Arriving in 2026, the electric C-HR is a five-seat SUV expected to deliver about 290 miles of range.
It will become Toyota’s second EV in the US, following the bZ4X — recently renamed the bZ — which has quietly emerged as a surprise hit in the EV market.
But, like the other cars on this list, the lower price could make the C-HR the mass-market play.
Subaru Uncharted — $35,000, expected early 2026
The Uncharted is Subaru’s lowest-cost EV. It’s a re-skinned Toyota C-HR. Josh Lefkowitz/Getty Images
Look familiar?
Since 2019, Toyota and Subaru have been locked in a joint development contract for all EVs. When Toyota’s bZ4X launched in mid-2022, so did the nearly-identical Subaru Solterra.
The EV equivalent of twinning continues with the Uncharted. It’s essentially the same as the Toyota CH-R, but with Subaru badging.
Pricing, range, and seating are all the identical, too: $35,000, 290 miles, room for five butts.
Subaru Trailseeker — $40,000, expected early 2026
Subaru debuted the Trailseeker, a wagon-like EV SUV, during the New York Auto Show in 2025 Josh Lefkowitz/Getty Images
Subaru’s Trailseeker looks like a throwback.
The company has been building all-wheel-drive wagons for the US market since the mid-1970s. That tradition continues with the Trailseeker in 2026: but now, it’s powered by electricity, not gas.
Priced in the low-$40,000s, it’s slotted above the Uncharted, and still has seating for five.
But the athletic numbers show off the Trailseeker’s improvements.
The Trailseeker’s battery makes 375 horsepower, jolting the car from standing to 60 mph in just over four seconds — that’s nearly a second quicker than the lower-priced Subaru.
Toyota bZ Woodland — $40,000, expected early 2026
Toyota’s bZ Woodland also comes out of the joint venture with Subaru. It’s a re-badged Trailseeker. Josh Lefkowitz/Getty Images
Does this also look familiar?
Like the Uncharted and the C-HR, Toyota’s bZ Woodland comes out of the company’s joint venture with Subaru.
The new EV is nearly identical in size, price, and capability to Subaru’s wagon-like Trailseeker.
The differences are subtle: a Toyota-specific front design, and a badge that lacks Subaru’s long history selling wagons in the US. Whether that matters to buyers remains the car’s main question.
Nissan Leaf — $30,000, already available
The Nissan Leaf was re-imagined as a crossover SUV with a $30,000 starting price and 300 miles of range. Tayfun Coskun/Anadolu via Getty Images
When the Nissan Leaf launched in the US in December 2010, it was a breakthrough as the first modern, mass-market electric vehicle sold nationwide.
But the Leaf aged quickly. In 2020, Tesla introduced the Model Y, a similarly priced electric crossover with far more range. Leaf sales collapsed as the EV market moved on.
Now, Nissan is giving the Leaf a long-overdue reset. For around $30,000, the redesigned 2026 Leaf returns as a fast-charging, five-seat electric SUV with an estimated 300 miles of range — finally aligning the once-pioneering nameplate with today’s EV expectations.
Chevy Bolt — $30,000, expected mid-2026
The Chevy Bolt is returning with the same silhouette and price — but now it gets more electric range. Josh Lefkowitz/Getty Images
Like the Leaf, Chevy is also returning the once-iconic Bolt in 2026.
For years, the Bolt was America’s entry-level EV. Drivers were able to nab the five-seater for as little as $30,000. But, it was discontinued in 2023.
Now, the diminutive, low-priced SUV is expected to relaunch in Chevy showrooms this summer. It looks nearly identical to its outgoing version, but comes with an upgraded battery that can propel the car for 260 miles.
Lucid crossover — high-$40,000s, expected late 2026
Lucid has remained tight-lipped about its lowest-cost SUV. It’s likely hitting US dealerships in the back half of the year. Lucid Motors
Like Rivian, Lucid has also rushed onto the scene with two luxury-priced cars — the high-end Air sedan and lofty Gravity SUV.
This year, it’s expected to release its first mass-market vehicle: likely a five-seater crossover SUV with a base price in the high $40,000s.
Details remain sparse. But Lucid released the image above with the rumored car’s silhouette darkened out. It’s also trademarked the name “Earth” for a potential upcoming vehicle.
This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Troy Smothers, a US Marine veteran sergeant who now runs American Made Freedom, a nonprofit that assists Ukrainian troops with fiber-optic drones. Business Insider verified his military records and deployment to Ukraine with the Department of Defense.
The following has been edited for clarity and brevity.
I was a standard infantry corporal in the Marines when I was sent to Odesa, Ukraine, in 2005.
There were perhaps 100 of us, and our clear role was to teach infantry tactics, such as leap and bound alternating movements, sectors of fire, and calling for artillery fire.
This was NATO doctrine. Because 20 years ago, the Ukrainians were indoctrinated by Soviet tactics that just throw people at their enemy like human meat waves.
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The roles are somewhat reversed now. Now the West is trying to learn how Ukrainians are fighting, and how they’ve turned what little they had into formidable weapons.
Even two decades ago, I noticed the same mindset among them that’s been the key to Ukraine’s strength today.
I was only in Ukraine for about three weeks in 2005, but my time training with the soldiers there left a similar impression on me.
We knew that Ukraine’s military budget was, let’s just say, underfunded. Everything they had was Soviet-era equipment comparable to the stuff that the US had decommissioned 20 years earlier.
We asked ourselves what we were doing sitting in their old Russian-made helicopters.
Helicopters commonly leak hydraulic fluid. However, when we boarded the helicopters in Ukraine, there were puddles of fluid in the cracks on the floor of the aircraft.
Definitely, nobody smoked near those things.
Most of the Ukrainians’ equipment was old, but it was a testimony to how they worked with what they had.
‘We’ll make it work’
Since the full-scale war started in 2022, I’ve been traveling to Ukraine for months at a time, showing new fiber optic spools to drone manufacturers so they can build and improve unjammable drones. We’re testing out designs that are used on the battlefield today.
You see that same “this is all that we have, so we’ll make it work” determination in Ukraine now. The Ukrainians are getting some great kit from Europe and the US, but it clearly still isn’t enough to win.
Out of necessity, they took toy hobby drones and turned them into cutting-edge military equipment.
We don’t fight that way in the US. If something breaks, we typically order a replacement part or return it.
In Ukraine, they open up the part and repair it. Salaries there are much lower, so their people are more used to repairing electronics or appliances on their own. If a mobile phone breaks, they’ll open it up and start soldering.
Because of this, they had a greater army of people who were electronically knowledgeable, enabling them to bring in an immediate solution in the war.
That isn’t culturally ingrained in the American military or our people. Of course, we would adapt in the same situation, but could we have done it as quickly as the Ukrainians did, transforming toys and parts bought from China’s Alibaba into something that the entire world is now watching today?
Here’s an example of their DIY ingenuity. The Ukrainians have a contraption nicknamed a “mustache” on their first-person-view drones, which is essentially two rigid copper wires protruding in front.
When the drone flies into its target, these wires touch and send a signal to the blasting cap — like turning on a light switch — in the attached explosive to trigger the detonation. The mustache’s safety device is a simple, 3D-printed pin that gets pulled out when you launch the drone.
I’ve bought and used dozens of these while developing fiber-optic drones, and one mustache costs just $12 to $15. In the US, to get a similar piece of equipment, you’d spend $400 to $500, even at scale.
Most of these Ukrainians were just regular people living their lives until they were forced by the invasion to start killing Russians. But if anything, they’ve had an incredible advantage in finding solutions, sometimes because their uncle or friend might have run a repair or electronics business.
We were down there 20 years ago to bring the Ukrainians up to NATO standards. Today, I can see how much they can teach us about innovation. It’s humbling.
In my early 30s, I was working long hours as the editor in chief of a magazine, juggling deadlines and the looming “should we have kids?” question — all while feeling completely wrung out. I drafted a resignation email.
When my boss called me in, she surprised me: “Take some time off,” she said. “Come back to manage a new launch later this year.”
My plan for a year off collapsed into two months.
It began quietly in India at a yoga retreat near Kerala and ended with an adventure in Indonesia, climbing Mount Bromo and motorbiking through Yogyakarta.
It wasn’t a true gap year, but it was long enough to reset. The next year, I stepped into my boss’s role, leading the creative team I’d almost left behind.
That experience made me realize that time off doesn’t have to derail a career — it can redefine it.
I wasn’t a student with few obligations or a 20-something who hadn’t settled on a career path. I was an established professional stepping away when the stakes were high.
Extended time off can carry long-term costs — lower earnings, disrupted savings, slower compounding — but for some, the benefits outweigh the risks.
David Burkus, an organizational psychologist and author, began researching sabbaticals in 2015.
“People report better mental and physical health, increased confidence, and a greater sense of purpose after an extended break,” Burkus told Business Insider.
He also notes the benefits for employers: Teams cross-train, share knowledge, and become less dependent on a few “indispensable” people.
Paid sabbaticals are still a rarity in the US. Society for Human Resource Management data showed that 5% of companies offered them in 2019, rising to 7% by 2023.
And despite employers not rolling them out broadly, employees are increasingly seeking time off. In SHRM’s 2025 benefits survey, leave was the second-highest priority for workers — trailing only health benefits — for the fourth year in a row.
A peer-reviewed study published in the Academy of Management in 2022 interviewed 50 professionals who had taken extended time off. All intervieweessaid they came back as better leaders.
DJ DiDonna, a senior lecturer at Harvard Business School and coauthor of the study, says everyone he interviewed wished they had taken one earlier.
DiDonna told Business Insider that the best times for a sabbatical often coincide with natural life transitions, like a honeymoon, a newly empty nest, or the “twilight career” stage before retirement.
This collection brings together people who took that pause at different ages, for different reasons, and for vastly different lengths of time.
If you’ve taken an adult gap year yourself, I’d love to hear from you at akarplus@businessinsider.com.
Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent says President Donald Trump is serious about annexing Greenland.
Trump amped up the rhetoric on Saturday, announcing on Truth Social that the United States would impose new tariffs on Denmark, which controls Greenland, and other European countries unless they hand Greenland over.
Speaking to Kristen Welker on NBC News’ “Meet the Press” on Sunday, Bessent said Trump’s push to take over Greenland was not an empty land grab but a strategy to prevent future conflict.
“The national emergency is avoiding a national emergency,” Bessent said. “It is a strategic decision by the president. This is a geopolitical decision, and he’s able to use the economic might of the US to avoid a hot war, so why wouldn’t we do that?”
Greenland is strategically located in the Arctic, acting as a buffer between North America and Russia. It is also home to minerals important to the manufacturing of future technologies.
Trump has recently said that at least part of his reasoning for wanting to annex Greenland is so it can house his Golden Dome missile defense project.
“The president is trying to avoid a conflict,” Bessent said.
That project remains in early planning stages, however, and Denmark has never said it wouldn’t allow Golden Dome infrastructure on its territory. The United States already has a military base in Greenland.
The spectre that the United States — recently emboldened by its surprise raid on Venezuela that netted its leader, Nicolás Maduro, allowing it to move to open the country’s oil industry — could force Europe’s hand by targeting its economy or even take Greenland by force, has rankled US allies across the Atlantic.
European Union leaders held an emergency meeting on Sunday, during which they called Trump’s tariff threat economic blackmail.
“Tariff threats undermine transatlantic relations and risk a dangerous downward spiral,” the eight EU nations targeted by Trump said in a joint statement released on Sunday.
Growing up, the grandparents who raised me were a generation removed from me, and because of it, I never felt like I could go to them with real issues or problems.
I hid the deep and dark stuff because children were to be seen and not heard. We did not talk about the big things like sex or drugs. Instead, the warnings were direct and often frightening. They went something like this, “Do not do drugs or you’ll die.” The pregnancy mantra was similar: “Do not have sex or you’ll get pregnant.”
Alongside the lack of communication was a heavy dose of fear and threats. I suppose their own parents passed down less-than-stellar communication skills and used threats in an effort to protect.
I was terrified of my grandparents
I remember coming home after having a few drinks at a high school party. “You can do this one step at a time. Say hello and walk (in a straight line) to your room,” I whispered to myself as I climbed the steep front steps leading to our second-floor apartment. There was no getting caught, or I would die, or at least endure endless punishments preventing me from going to said parties until I was an adult capable of making my own decisions.
Not only did I not know how to talk to my grandparents, but I was also terrified of them.
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Sometimes, this lack of communication led to unwise decisions. I didn’t feel like I had an adult I could call if I’d done something I wasn’t supposed to do. If I did something foolish, I was on my own. It wasn’t safe, and I’d watched more than one friend get seriously injured (either physically or mentally) when they made a typical teen choice and felt they didn’t have an adult they could trust to help them.
I wanted my kids to trust me
With my own kids, I wanted to keep the lines of communication open, which became especially important as my children navigated middle school and high school. These years of adolescence included poor decision-making and a desperate struggle between being a kid and trying to grow up.
I talked openly with them about drugs, sex, and drinking. No subject was off limits. They knew they could tell me anything. Keeping our communication open and honest showed them a level of trust that other parents found difficult to understand. I often had my kids’ friends telling me things they couldn’t say to their parents. I tried to listen without judgment. I knew it was a fine line between discipline and acceptance. I also knew no matter what, keeping my kids safe was my first and most important job as a parent.
As my second set of kids head into the muddy waters of middle school and high school, these discussions are again at the forefront. “If you drink, I’ll be more upset if you get in a car with someone who’s been drinking or if you decide to drive than I will because of the drinking,” I recently told my high school daughter. Realistically, while I don’t openly condone underage drinking, I know it is, more often than not, a part of the teen years. “Call me,” I said, “and I’ll come get you.
I try to stay open-minded
While there were many things I did not accept, I also did my best to remain open-minded. It was sometimes difficult to parent this way. My kids did and continue to do things I often don’t agree with. I looked at these as teaching opportunities, rather than seeing them as moments to punish. Viewing things this way has helped me foster and maintain very close relationships with my kids. It is something others have commented on, including a social worker I visited with my son. “No matter what is going on,” she said, “you two seem to have a really tight and open relationship.” It remains one of the best compliments I’ve received as a parent.
There was another side to those comments, though. Parenthood is often filled with judgment and criticism. When my son dropped out of school, and my teens struggled with typical teen things like drinking, drug use, and sex, I remember hearing a neighbor refer to me as a loosey goosey parent. The neighbor in question didn’t understand my relationship with my kids. They didn’t share my parenting philosophy. Really, they didn’t have to. While the comment initially bothered me, I knew I was parenting in the only way I could. I parented in a way that I wasn’t parented, but wished that I had been.
As my two oldest kids hit adulthood and my youngest two become teenagers, I’m not sorry for being loosey goosey. I would do it the same way all over again. In fact, I am. I have no regrets. I hope the neighbor who judged me feels the same way when their kids go through the tough teen years.
Growing up in a remote California suburb, I spent most of my childhood counting down the days until I could leave for a big city.
When the time came to move to New York for college, I was prepared to say goodbye to country living for good. I spent six years in New York, and then another four in Berlin.
Although I loved my experiences in both cities, I was exhausted. Years of apartment hopping, navigating dirty subways, and dealing with nonstop hustle left me craving a reprieve — and wondering why I’d been so quick to swear off a quainter life in the country.
So, when my husband proposed that we move to a little village near his family in France, I surprised myself by agreeing to give it a try.
This was in 2021, when COVID-19 restrictions were making it challenging to live in Berlin, and we were both desperate for the benefits that such a relocation could offer — like more square footage, a yard, and, most importantly, proximity to our loved ones and their support.
The reservations I had about residing in the country were still nagging me, but I figured things would be different this time. I was older, wiser, and doing it in beautiful France, of all places.
I wish I had listened to my gut, though, because all my old qualms with country living ended up rearing their ugly heads — and we ended up leaving after two years.
Without a driver’s license, I felt isolated by the lack of public transit
I’d hoped my new home would be a bit more walkable.
Audrey Bruno
I never needed a driver’s license when I lived in cities, but that all changed when we moved to the French village. There, we simply couldn’t get around without a car — but we sure tried.
I knew going in that my public transportation options would be more limited than they were in a city, but I didn’t expect to be as isolated as we were.
When we first arrived, it took us over a month to work up the funds to buy a car. In the meantime, we attempted one very hilly bike ride, but had to call it quits before we’d even made it halfway to our destination.
Walking was no better — it took hours to get to the nearest shops, and sometimes they wouldn’t even be open when we finally arrived.
Even after we obtained a vehicle, I couldn’t navigate on my own without my husband, since he was the only one with a license.
He was always willing to drive me around, but I was frustrated by my newfound lack of independence. I considered getting a license of my own, but the cost of driving school was out of our budget at the time, so it really seemed like there was no way out of the situation I’d gotten myself into.
I wasn’t prepared for the demands of caring for a house after years of apartment dwelling
Years of living in apartments didn’t prepare me for the hard work of cleaning and maintaining a house.
Audrey Bruno
Apartment life certainly has its drawbacks, but extra square footage comes with pitfalls, too.
We loved that our rental home gave us the newfound ability to stretch out and make noise without bothering each other. The downside, though, was that it was up to us to care for and maintain all that extra space.
It wasn’t just the house, either — it was also our responsibility to tend to the adjoining garden, barn, and the attached horse stables. It was a full-time job’s worth of work, and I started to miss the days when I could clean my whole apartment in just an afternoon.
Living without any takeout options was harder than I expected
Normally, I’m a proponent of cooking as much of my own food as possible, but I at least like to have the option of ordering in or eating out — especially on days full of chores and work.
Unfortunately, getting to the closest takeout restaurant took an hour round-trip, and delivery applications like Uber Eats didn’t service our small village.
What’s more, our dining options were severely limited compared to what we’d had in Berlin. I realized that I missed trying different cuisines and checking out new restaurants, and even when cooking,
I didn’t have access to the same wide variety of ingredients that I’d had in the city. One example was sesame oil — if I wanted to use this pantry staple in a recipe, I’d have to go to a big city to find it.
Connecting with neighbors wasn’t easy
Our village was extremely small — as of 2020, the population was under 400 — and many of the people I met were much older.
Needless to say, our rhythms and beliefs didn’t always match up. We often had debates over everything from politics to local initiatives — like what to do with all the feral cats — and it wasn’t always easy to argue my point in my then-limited French.
Since most folks in Berlin are fluent in English, I’d never been up against such a language barrier before. All that and more made it challenging to form true connections and further contributed to my feelings of isolation.
That said, there were things I missed about country life once I left
When I lived in the countryside, I got to grow my own fruits and vegetables.
Audrey Bruno
Despite all my frustrations, there were a few great things about living in the French countryside.
For starters, it really is beautiful, and being there allowed me to grow my own fruit and vegetables, forage wild blackberries in the forest, and perfect my French with the folks in town who were willing and patient enough to help me out.
After two years, we ended up moving to Lyon, the nearest city, because it offered the best of both worlds. At only 84 miles away, we’d have proximity to my husband’s family and access to nature, plus all the advantages of living in a major city.
I’ll always remember the beautiful memories from my time in the village — but I’ll also always prefer to reminisce about them from an apartment in a city.
At almost 70, with my son grown and building his own creative life, I realized the home I had poured myself into for two decades no longer supported the future I wanted.
For almost 20 years, that house looked like the picture of stability. Teal doors, a tire swing, and a sunny studio beside the garage. It was where I raised my son as a single mother and built my photography career. Most people assumed I would stay there forever.
The author decided to sell the house were she raised her son.
Courtesy of the author
But when my son graduated and moved to Orlando, something shifted. I had spent years encouraging him to live the life he wanted. Suddenly, I realized I needed to do the same.
The house was a money pit
Behind the postcard charm, a truth emerged. The house no longer supported my future. What once felt like a comfortable sanctuary had become a moneypit, its growing debt reminding me daily that I could not afford the life or the freedom I wanted. I had built a home to raise a confident and independent child, and I had done that, but holding on to the house was keeping me from evolving into the next chapter of my life, a chapter filled with creative possibilities that debt made impossible to pursue.
The author purged her belongings before selling her house.
Courtesy of the author
Sorting through the rooms, I noticed how little the objects mattered. It was never the things, only the memories. And memories do not require storage space. I photographed what mattered, donated most of the rest, and watched the remnants of my old life line the curb. Letting go gave me breathing room for the first time in years. I could imagine what came next.
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I sold the house and found confidence
Selling the house gave me the financial and emotional space to address something I had avoided for years. I needed extensive dental work, and with missing teeth, I no longer felt confident in my own smile. As a photographer, I had spent decades coaxing others to relax while I avoided the lens myself.
The author traveled to Brazil after selling her house.
Courtesy of the author
I trusted a cosmetic dentist in southern Brazil, the parent of an exchange student I once hosted, and the cost was far more realistic than in the United States. After surgery and the initial healing, I traveled to Rio. For the first time in years, I felt free to focus my lens and smile at the world around me without hesitation.
The physical and financial weight I had carried for years began to lift. Brazil restored my confidence and reminded me that reinvention was still possible.
I took a job on a cruise
Before selling my house, I had researched ways to travel while working. A friend hosted dinners as a sommelier on cruise ships, and my algorithm kept suggesting photography jobs at sea. I applied to a few with curiosity.
The author took a job as a cruise photographer.
Courtesy of the author
While I was still in Rio, the call came. I was offered a contract as the master photographer on a premium luxury cruise line, a role that would take me across multiple continents. To qualify, I needed a Seafarer Certificate, which at my age required extensive medical tests and functional exams. It was humbling, but I passed.
I was notified with less than a week to prepare that my contract would start in Sydney. After a 31-hour flight, knowing I would board within 24 hours, I dropped my bags at the hotel and walked the waterfront from Darling Harbor to the Opera House. A mist hung in the air, turning the city into a soft shimmer through my lens.
Life at sea was a study in contrasts. I photographed in a studio on the 15th floor but slept far below in a windowless cabin. I climbed endless flights of stairs each day. The ancient programs, cameras, and equipment made my days long and tedious. But above deck, the ocean made everything worth it. An unobstructed sunset on open water can shift your entire mood. Each time we reached a new port, the world opened again. My creative mojo began to gel for the first time in a long while, and I realized I was able to absorb so much only because I had let go of so much.
A new home and a new beginning
In six months, I had visited three continents, become healthier than I had been in years, and for the first time in decades, my smile came without hesitation. My financial responsibilities felt lighter, and the spark I had been missing finally came back after years of accumulating belongings and obligations that had kept me anchored when I was ready to sail into another chapter filled with creativity.
While recovering in Miami from an injury, I received another unexpected call. An apartment had become available in the Asbury Park building where I had applied years earlier. It had an ocean view, a community of artists and musicians, and a rent I could actually afford. It felt like the universe was giving me the chance to finally act on my hopes and creativity.
I had let go of everything that once held me back. What I gained was freedom, the freedom to create, to travel, and to smile freely again, with my camera as my ticket forward.
At the start of 2025, alarms were blaring about the risk of investing in China.
A new protectionist administration was taking over in the US at the same time China’s domestic real estate market was teetering. A possible US ban on TikTok, the popular social media app, imperiled ByteDance, one of the country’s biggest tech companies. American companies seemed to have surged ahead of Chinese rivals in artificial intelligence development.
Twelve months later, and many of the biggest fears appear to be overblown. The Chinese government has focused on stimulating the economy, leading public companies to significantly increase their buybacks. ByteDance sold a majority stake in its US TikTok operations and is now more valuable than ever, with HSG, the venture capital firm formerly known as Sequoia China, valuing the company at between $350 billion and $370 billion recently. And China’s AI scene, led by startup DeepSeek, is keeping pace with Western peers, and Nvidia will be permitted to sell its powerful H200 chips to Chinese companies, the US government said Tuesday.
Hedge funds willing to invest in the country last year were rewarded. Bridgewater, which manages $92 billion across all its strategies, generated a 34.2% return in its China Total Returns fund, a person close to the manager told Business Insider. Tekne Capital, managed by Beeneet Kothari, a onetime lieutenant of billionaire Stanley Druckenmiller, was up more than 50% last year, a person close to the manager said.
Kothari’s $1.5 billion firm is an investor in Chinese companies such as DiDi Global, recruiting firm Kanzhun, and data-center builder GDS, the person said. Kothari told Business Insider in an interview last year that the headwinds facing the country made strong companies very cheap.
According to HSBC’s Hedge Weekly report, funds based in China and investing in the country performed well. $3.4 billion Pinpoint’s China-focused strategy returned more than 24%, while its multistrategy offering, which invests across Asia, was up 11.6%. George Jiang’s long-running Golden China fund made close to 33%, and Epimelis Capital, run by Hutchin Hill and Goldman Sachs veteran Fei Sun, made 35% in its China-centric strategy.
The average China-focused fund was up close to 18%, according to Hedge Fund Research, outpacing the industry average of 10.7%.
Going into 2026, investors will be watching how the volatile relationship between the US and China evolves, especially around trade agreements connected to chips, as well as any indication that China might invade Taiwan.
ByteDance will also be a focus for funds — Tiger Global and Coatue are both backers — as the social media giant continues to grow.
