Another Ranking, Another PR Stunt. And Yet Digital Nomads Still Refuse to Fit Into Spreadsheets.
Forbes says Chiang Mai is one of the world's best destinations for digital nomads. Last week another report crowned Lisbon. Next month somebody else will probably discover Valencia, Dubai or Medellín. The rankings keep changing. The marketing keeps flowing. The reality remains stubbornly more complicated.
The global mobility industry loves a ranking almost as much as LinkedIn loves a thought leader.
Every few weeks a new report emerges claiming to have identified the world’s best city for digital nomads, expats, entrepreneurs, remote workers, creators, founders, retirees or some newly invented category of internationally mobile human beings. The methodology is usually presented with impressive seriousness. Data is collected. Indicators are weighted. Charts are designed. Scores are calculated with scientific precision. Then, as if by magic, a familiar collection of cities rises to the top once again.
This time it is Chiang Mai enjoying the spotlight after Forbes named it one of the leading destinations for digital nomads and creators in 2026. A few days earlier, another ranking declared Lisbon the most livable city in the world for expats. Last month somebody else was celebrating Dubai. Before that it was Valencia. Before that Medellín. Before that Bali.
At this point, one begins to suspect that the global mobility sector has created a perpetual motion machine powered entirely by rankings, conferences and press releases.
To be clear, there is nothing inherently wrong with any of this.
Cities have every right to promote themselves. Publications need stories. Consultants need visibility. Economic development agencies need international attention. If a city wants to position itself as a hub for remote workers, entrepreneurs or globally mobile professionals, that is perfectly understandable.
The problem begins when marketing narratives start masquerading as universal truths.
Because the underlying assumption behind most rankings is surprisingly similar. Somewhere, hidden within a spreadsheet, there exists an objectively superior destination. A place that can legitimately be described as the world’s best option for people living internationally.
It is a comforting idea.
It is also largely nonsense.
The digital nomad community that emerged during the early 2010s was already more diverse than many observers realised. Today it has become almost impossible to describe as a single group.
The twenty-four-year-old freelance designer working from coffee shops in Southeast Asia does not share the same priorities as a forty-five-year-old founder running a distributed company across three continents. A remote employee working for a large American corporation faces different challenges than a YouTuber, an investor, a consultant or a retired couple relocating for lifestyle reasons.
Yet rankings continue trying to identify a single winner as if all these people were searching for exactly the same thing.
They are not.
A city that feels perfect for a startup founder may be deeply frustrating for a family with young children. A destination that appeals to retirees may feel professionally isolating for entrepreneurs. A place with extraordinary business opportunities may be financially inaccessible for freelancers. A city offering affordable housing might lack the networks, infrastructure or professional communities that other people consider essential.
The idea that one destination can somehow emerge as universally superior has always been one of the relocation industry’s strangest fantasies.
What makes Chiang Mai particularly interesting is that its inclusion reveals how much the conversation itself has changed.
For years, destinations competed primarily on affordability. Cheap rent. Cheap food. Cheap coffee. Cheap everything. The dream was simple: escape expensive cities and enjoy a better quality of life for less money.
That narrative still exists, but it increasingly feels outdated.
Many internationally mobile professionals are no longer looking for somewhere cheap.
They are looking for somewhere useful.
They want communities, partnerships, talent, clients, investors, conferences, opportunities and ecosystems. They want places where they can build things rather than simply consume experiences.
This is one reason why Chiang Mai has remained relevant long after countless supposedly fashionable destinations have faded from the conversation. The city developed an ecosystem. It built networks. It accumulated knowledge, relationships and communities. Whether one likes Chiang Mai or not, that matters far more than any ranking.
Yet even that does not make it the best destination.
Only the best destination for certain people.
At certain stages of life.
Under certain circumstances.
And that is where rankings inevitably fall apart.
The internationally mobile population now numbers hundreds of millions of people worldwide. Their motivations, resources, ambitions and lifestyles vary enormously. Attempting to reduce that complexity into a single list of winners and losers is rather like trying to identify the world’s best restaurant without asking whether your audience wants pizza, sushi, vegetarian food or a steak.
The answer tells us more about the methodology than about reality.
Perhaps the most revealing aspect of these rankings is not which cities win.
It is how predictable the winners have become.
The same names circulate endlessly through articles, conferences, relocation guides and social media discussions until they acquire an almost mythical status. At some point, the city itself becomes secondary. What matters is the narrative attached to it.
Chiang Mai is no longer simply Chiang Mai.
It is a brand.
Lisbon is a brand.
Bali is a brand.
Medellín is a brand.
Entire local economies now participate in the production and export of these narratives.
Again, there is nothing wrong with that.
But it helps explain why rankings often tell us more about successful destination marketing than about the lived reality of relocation.
At Nomag, we’ve spent years speaking with people who have moved internationally. Some relocated for work. Others for lifestyle. Some followed relationships. Others pursued business opportunities. A few simply wanted a change.
Remarkably few ever tell us they moved because a city ranked first in a report.
Most moved because they found a place that aligned with their goals, values, opportunities and stage of life.
That answer is considerably less exciting than a global ranking.
It is also considerably more useful.
Which is why another ranking, another methodology and another PR campaign will undoubtedly arrive next month.
And millions of globally mobile people will continue making decisions exactly as they always have: by looking for a place that fits them, rather than a place that happens to fit a spreadsheet.