Text: Marjolein de Jong | Photo: David Meulenbeld | 3 June 2026
During our video call, Tamar (40) turns her phone towards her surroundings. Wallabies roam among the green mountains surrounding her small off-grid home in Tasmania. She says she is home for now, but spends most of the year travelling around the world.
It is a life far removed from the serious murder and sexual offence cases she was once involved in as a forensic psychologist. What began as a gap year gradually evolved into a life on the road. She cycled to Istanbul, spent months living with eagle hunters in Mongolia, travelled through the Netherlands and Germany with a camel, and trekked through the wilderness of New Zealand and Australia.
You had a successful career as a forensic psychologist with the police, supporting clients in complex criminal cases. When did things start to feel uncomfortable?
'Even though I genuinely enjoyed my work, I would book all my annual leave on 1 January. Five weeks of freedom a year simply didn’t feel like enough. I kept thinking: the world has so much more to offer. When I spent five weeks at home with a broken leg, I had a lot of time to think. I started wondering: did I actually choose to study? Or was that something society expected of me? I didn’t know there was any alternative to working and building a career. So I went to my manager and asked for a year off.'
'At the police, I saw the worst of humanity every day and read newspapers telling me everything was falling apart. When I started travelling, I saw none of that'
You set off on a cycling trip to Istanbul that eventually lasted two years. What did that experience do to you?
'I left without any experience of this kind of travel. Not long after crossing into Belgium, I ran out of water. I didn’t even dare knock on someone’s door. I felt ridiculous. Here was Dr Tamar Valkenier, who had given up a good job in the Netherlands and was now standing at someone’s doorstep like a vagabond. But the man who opened the door said: "Of course, come in. Here’s some coffee. Would you like to stay the night?" Throughout that journey, life revolved around very simple things: finding somewhere to sleep, food and water. Everywhere I went, kind people were ready to help me.
I left with a very dark view of humanity. At the police, I saw the worst people could do every day, and the news constantly told me everything was going wrong. Yet when I travelled, I saw none of that. I encountered only wonderful people who selflessly opened their doors to me. I completely fell in love with the world again.'
You chose to study criminology and psychology. What attracted you to those subjects?
'I actually started with business economics, but the main thing I learned there was that I never wanted to spend my life dealing with money. I have always been fascinated by the edges of society. Who are we as human beings? And what happens when things don’t quite work out? People who are seriously criminal or severely psychotic. When things go badly wrong, that’s when I become interested. I want to understand what happened to make someone become that way, and more importantly, how we can help them.'
'I didn’t want to live like that. I started tackling those fears one by one. It felt incredible, and it almost became addictive'
What kind of student were you?
'I was quite serious. Alongside my two degree programmes, I worked as a chef in a Michelin-starred restaurant, so I had little time for student life. I was already fairly independent. I bought my first house at nineteen. But there was another side to me as well: I suffered from frequent panic attacks. At university, I disliked crowds, avoided lifts and buses, and would leave immediately after lectures.
I didn’t want to live like that. So I began confronting those fears one by one. It felt fantastic, and eventually became almost addictive. I went skydiving and started riding my motorbike on racing circuits. I wanted to prove to myself: see, I am strong after all.'
Was it about adventure, or about proving something?
'Definitely about proving something as well. I constantly wanted to prove that I was good enough and not afraid. These days I see life differently. I am afraid sometimes, but I’ve learned that life can still move forward alongside that fear.'
Did travelling help with your fears?
'Absolutely. It also made me stronger, both physically and mentally. When I left, I wasn’t athletic at all. I only cycled to the supermarket. But over time that changed quickly. I became stronger, tougher and more confident in my ability to rely on myself. And something as simple as cycling alone, sleeping in forests and escaping constant stimulation helped calm my nervous system.
That makes you stronger too. You become better equipped to handle difficult situations. When something challenging happens, you can cope with it instead of immediately becoming overwhelmed. A lot of my anxiety disappeared that way. That strength now comes from within me. I no longer need it from external sources.
I think there are two ways to approach life. You can make everything as comfortable as possible, which creates a very soft and easy existence. Or you can make yourself stronger so that you are capable of dealing with whatever life throws at you. The downside of building a life entirely around comfort is that you become completely dependent on it. And the moment one link in that chain breaks, panic sets in.'
'Travelling without a fixed income or a detailed plan allowed me to hear my own voice again'
After that initial gap year, you never returned to your old life. You travelled through the Netherlands and Germany with a camel, cycled across Australia for months and spent three months trekking through the New Zealand wilderness with a friend. All of this without a regular income, living only from the proceeds of a book you wrote. What were you searching for?
'They were wonderful adventures, but for me it was never about doing something extreme or spectacular. It was about exploration. What do I actually need? How do other people choose to live? Who am I when all the usual certainties disappear? Travelling without a fixed income or a detailed plan allowed me to hear my own voice again.'
Has your view of justice changed?
'Yes and no. I still believe the world is not fair. Opportunities and privileges are unequally distributed, both globally and within the Netherlands. But my work with the police and my travels have changed the way I see people. I have never viewed the world in black and white, in terms of good and bad. We are all struggling with life in our own way.
Yet everywhere I travelled, people were ready to help. So no, the world has not suddenly become fair, but I have changed the way I look at people. If I stop reading the news, I sometimes forget that there are bad people in the world. I almost never encounter them.'
'I wanted to see how people live when they have spent generations living in harmony with their environment'
You also spent long periods living with eagle hunters in Mongolia, and you still return there every year. What did they teach you?
'They taught me that a rich life is not necessarily connected to possessions or comfort. The eagle hunters live in a place where I would struggle to survive myself, in an extremely cold and dry climate. I wanted to see how people live when they have spent generations living in harmony with their surroundings. They live with very few possessions, in yurts, close to their families and in tune with the seasons. Of course, the modern world is present there too, with mobile phones and solar panels. But the essence of life remains the same.
When I tried to explain concepts such as burnout or boreout, they found them difficult to understand. In some ways, they almost feel sorry for our Western way of life. They said: "You work yourselves to exhaustion, then take a one-week holiday to recover." The stress we create through our pursuit of comfort is something they simply do not understand.'
What do you hope people take away from your story?
'Nobody needs to live the way I do. But I do hope people ask themselves: is this really my path? Does this genuinely suit me? Sometimes I almost feel guilty when people tell me that my story inspired them to make major life decisions, such as leaving a job or ending a relationship. I think: I’m happily travelling around the world, and meanwhile everything behind me seems to be on fire.
But ultimately, it isn’t about me or my choices. In fact, I’m just Tamar, a girl from Haarlem. I was never exceptionally strong or particularly brave. So if I can do these things, anyone can. It is never too late. Life is long. You can live many different lives.'
