Hi — I'm Jof. A nurse, a backpacker, and the host of Kabin Tiny Home.

It started years before Kabin existed. I'd close my last shift on a Friday, throw a few things into a backpack, and book a flight without telling anyone where I was going. Sometimes the destination didn't matter. Sometimes it was the only thing that did.

The plan was almost always the same: rent a self-drive car, pick a town, find a tiny home to stay in. I did this in places I'd struggle to point to on a map now — small coastal towns, mountain villages, the kind of places where the language wasn't mine and that was the point. What I noticed across all of them was this: the rooms that mattered weren't the biggest or the fanciest. They were the ones that felt like someone had thought about you. A reading lamp on the right side of the bed. A coffee setup that worked in the morning. A space that didn't ask you to be anyone in particular.

The bad stays taught me as much as the good ones. Key codes that didn't work. Beds that sagged in the middle. Hosts who treated arrival like an inconvenience. A whole industry, somehow, built on cutting corners.