Why I'm not a Digital Nomad (and why I think that matters)

Warning: This blog contains a fair amount of what some might call ranting. My heart's in the right place. If my critique of [y]our lifestyle offends you, maybe yours is not.

For the last few years I've endeavored to work more and more online. Part of my motivation might be my aspirations as photographer/writer/artist/fill-in-the-blank. Part is undeniably capitalist instincts faced with the realities of the paltry salary of a non-tenured academic career. Another part is that millennial resistance to working a 9 to 5 [whether a child of the 80s really belongs to the millennial generation is a topic for another day].

Don't worry, Mom and Dad, you still taught me a strong #work ethic, and I still know how to change a light bulb [bandage, fuse, tire, oil, brake pads] just as well as I know how to change a font or flight, but the technological realities of modern life in the Global North increasingly mean that I can wake up when I want and work (or not work) when I see fit. And those who know me well know that I can live, work, and even be extremely productive on a shockingly limited amount of sleep, allowing me a comfortable flexibility to burn the midnight candle at both ends (sorry for the mixed metaphor) and still appear to do nothing but putz around most days.

Of course the prospect of working from a home office or an internet cafe from virtually anywhere in the world also appeals to my better instincts as a lifetime traveler. The modes of modern #travel, the luck of being born with access to a conducive passport, and a bit of smart planning in advance will take you pretty far on a limited budget. But as I, myself, convert increasingly to a semi-fulfilling model for combining work and leisure, I also increasingly negotiate the tenuous boundaries of that trendiest of lifestyle nomenclatures: being a #digitalnomad.

digital (ˈdɪdʒ-ɪt-(ə)l): signals or data expressed as series of the digits 0 and 1, typically represented by values of a physical quantity such as voltage or magnetic polarization. Often contrasted with analogue.

Relating to, using, or storing data or information in the form of digital signals.

Involving or relating to the use of computer technology

nomad (ˈnəʊ-mad): A member of a people that travels from place to place to find fresh pasture for its animals and has no permanent home.

A person who does not stay long in the same place; a wanderer.

Since graduating from college back in the mid-aughts (and even before that), I've been developing a network of friends working all over the world. From Bangkok to Mexico City, Berlin to Hanoi, and a lot of mid-sized- and megacities in between, it's becoming increasingly tenable to believe the world really is (at least for some) a global village. Country boy that I am [or might have been], with a couch or a spare bed to crash on, a #backpack, camera, and laptop, I can truly feel at home in a growing number of the great cities of the world.

But as the now tired truism reminds us: with great power comes great responsibility. No matter how frequently I've traveled, I've never striven to live a particularly nomadic life. It's never been about ticking destinations off a so-called bucket list. The convenience of collapsing my life into a backpack has never meant, for me (or most of my friends), a lack of roots or an unwillingness to adjust or settle in. On the contrary. Some of my most accomplished #expat friends have been exemplary in their ability to adapt to the most adverse of environments. Because after all, unlike the vast majority of migratory humans in this or any other age, those in the online workforce remain (largely) in transit by choice. To call it economic #migration might provide a sexy euphemism for this lifestyle, but at the end of the day, no matter how gentrified our homelands have become (coastal California, anyone?), we live this way by preference and not by need.

And as the privileged masses from the overcrowded West now flood the shores of the developing world, we teeter on the brink of a new form of #colonialism: middle-class, suburban youth with degrees and expendable income slumming through the burgeoning infrastructure of warmer (or cheaper) countries, reveling in the far reach of our euros/dollars/pounds as we celebrate our autonomy and freedom from liability. This is what a college education can do for you.

Wake up in Chiang Mai. Kuta. Ciudad de México. Life lived from social networking op to selfie shoot with a few hours of typing in between. Fodder for lifestyle blogs: broken bottles, wrecked scooters, raised voices, and an onward flight. Outbidding locals, Airbnb apartments and housing crises festering in our wake. Shouted snatches of imperial languages. They don't even speak English here anyway.

"You think you're better than a Pole/Turk/German/you-name-it because you're a German/Turk/Pole/you-name-it? I found your brain in Chemnitz." - Sozi36

Took a long time to see Now it's clear to me We can't change the world But we can change ourselves

Part of building a better #community (global or otherwise) starts with how we ourselves behave. There are symbolic gestures, some more meaningful than others. And then there is affecting real, positive change. It might start with learning a few words of the local language. Terima kasih. Faleminderit. .شكرا Gracias. Teşekkürler. Please and thank you. Hello. Sorry. You know, the stuff your parents told you about. Smiling, making eye contact (or not, depending on the situation): Learning enough about your host country to know the difference. Buying local -- not ordering everything from McDonalds and Amazon (no, your yoga class taught by that very qualified Swedish/German/Californian expat yogi doesn't count). Introducing yourself. Getting to know your [new] neighbors. Treating people who haven't had the privilege of a passport and an overpriced education with respect and basic human decency. Not assuming everyone is there to serve you when you bellow at them in English/French/Russian/Chinese/who-cares.

Ask yourself how often you complain about the XYZ... of your current residence. How often you criticize your neighbors' practices of daily life. How many local friends have you made? Do you have difficulty finding common ground? Maybe that's part of the problem. If you're starting to feel like a colonist, maybe that's because that's what you have become.

Travel is great. Travel is a blessing. But don't forget that travel is, most of all, a privilege, too. Coming into meaningful contact with so many new people and new cultures is part of what may one day help our generation change the downward spiral of global #politics as is. But realize that you are living your carefree and affordable lifestyle at the expense of locals for whom your presence makes life increasingly less affordable and free. If you're just visiting a place for the weekend, consider staying in a hotel (do you really need a whole apartment? I can guarantee someone else does). If you spend more than a few months in a place, consider enrolling in a language class (they're cheap, and you might actually learn something). Be sincere. The next time you take a selfie in front of some insta-location, stop and ask yourself if you even know what it is or where you are (yes, it's atmospheric, but modeling at the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe is a tasteless thing to do). The next time you want to sun yourself in your new speedo, bikini, or birthday suit, first take a look at how the locals dress. Ask yourself how many people your innocent ignorance has offended. If someone talks to you, listen. Quit running away from your problems. Make an effort. Stop being so goddamn loud.

Being mobile by choice is an incredible luxury. Not rubbing that in our more sedentary neighbors' faces is the first step in being a less-shitty human being.