A self-examination on being a digital nomad for a year

This time last year I boarded a plane for Tokyo to begin a digital nomad lifestyle. It’s been an eventful year, filled with significant changes and likely the most traveling I'll do in my life. Now seems like a good time for a progress report.

Travel

“Hello” is the best way to begin. I start with English unless I'm confident I can complete an interaction in the location language. I do this to set expectations early and avoid confusion.

I used to think it was good to show some effort and use what I’d learned of the foreign language. Usually the person would reply with unknown vocabulary, then we’d get stuck and switch to English. Too many times the perception wasn’t “Thanks for trying”, but “Oh cute. The American learned some new words.”

If someone doesn’t know English, basic charades typically get the job done. Most interactions are the same in any language: It’s easy to guess the supermarket clerk is asking if I want a plastic bag. As a last resort one of us can always pull out Google Translate to show a critical word, but that’s only been necessary twice in the past year.

Studying the local language is still useful. It can help with tough situations, and learning “excuse me”, “sorry”, and “thank you” is important for pedestrian interactions. But besides learning basic phrases, I don't worry about knowing enough to get by or reaching polyglot aspirations.

Currently, I switch between studying Spanish and French, depending on which I’ll need next. This isn’t because Mexico and Canada are U.S. neighbors, but because the languages are globally prevalent. Not so long ago, some jerkwads decided to conquer vast territories of the world, and as such, many people picked up their languages. The English jerkwads just happened to do it more, which is why it’s the most universal.

I get to the airport earlier. I try to arrive the prescribed two hours in advance, unless I’m familiar with the airport and sure it won’t be busy. I used to think that was way too early. After navigating poorly designed airports, long security lines, construction, bureaucratic excess, and other unforeseen hiccups, I don’t care. I can wait.

I like spending more time somewhere, not so I can do more, but so I can go slower. Moving quickly wears me out. I make sure to balance any hyperactive travel with at least a week of sedentary rest. I have no problem staying in during the day and exploring a city at the pace of a nightly stroll.

Traveling somewhere that interests me is the most fulfilling, but I’ve learned to appreciate visiting places I never thought I’d be. Some of my best experiences have been in little towns I’d never heard of. That's where people live, separate from any kind of tourism.

I'm no longer nice to people who hustle tourists. I used to have more compassion and kindly refused them or politely avoided them. Now the refusals are firm and the politeness is gone. Their behavior preys on kindness and doesn’t deserve it in return.

I react to problems better. I’ve missed planes, trains, busses, had my phone stolen, gotten food poisoning, and experienced mishaps in countless other ways. I've learned to handle the situation and roll with it. Dwelling on the problem only makes it worse.

I have no expectations. I’ve dropped any fantasies about “life-changing experiences” or collecting wondrous travel stories. Such expectations lead to fool’s gold and disappointment. The best moments cannot be manufactured.

Material Objects

I don’t need a lot. I've gotten by on the items in my bags without missing things like a TV or a closet full of clothes. I’ve left many items behind and my inventory is still an ongoing experiment. If all goes well, I’ll soon reduce everything to a carry-on bag stuffed with a packable backpack. That said...

It’s OK to have extra things. For example, I travel with an Echo Dot. Smart speakers rank pretty low on important gear, but it's handy for music and white noise. Cutting down to barebones essentials would only serve to prove a point, one I'm not interested in making.

I like access to certain material goods. I really miss big American supermarkets and Amazon Prime when I’m away for a long time. The fact is, they make life easier. I don't take them for granted anymore and appreciate them much more.

The thought of getting an apartment and furniture is unappealing at this point, even a bit scary. I much prefer moving with what I can carry on my back than dealing with U-Haul. I'm fine having access to basic furnishings without any of them being mine. If I have a nice desk and chair, a bed, heating and air conditioning, a non-stick pan, and good wifi, I’m living like a king.

Money

I’m financially better off than when I lived in L.A., even with the constant travel expenses. That’s mostly a result of regularly maintaining my budget, a habit I didn’t have before.

I spend a lot on food and I’m OK with that. I like exploring cities by mapping out restaurants and visiting ones in different spots, often eating out once a day. I could save plenty of money if I didn’t do this, but I find it valuable and don't mind.

I’m saving more because I never know what to expect. Housing, transportation, and other cost of living factors change each time I move. Along with that, I need to be prepared to purchase plane tickets and accommodations well in advance to get the best prices. This chaos demands a comfortable safety net. Saving has become a non-negotiable practice to avoid stress.

Creativity

I need to do creative work to feel fulfilled. There are absolutely no self-help books or TED Talks keeping me attached to that idea. It’s a wake-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night otherwise necessity.

All creative work isn't equal. While traveling, most of my creative energy goes into photography or writing on this here blog. For whatever reason, that isn't enough. I can spend a whole day working on photos or writing a post and feel as if I did nothing worthwhile. That isn't so if I have a good day of screenwriting or other entertainment-related work. It appears my creative demons are very picky about how they're fed.

Dating

While I'm not a rambling Casanova (quite the opposite), I’ve been on a few dates while traveling. I’ll say this: It’s amazing what not having a future does for a relationship.

There’s no speculation about long-term success. Any concerns about personality quirks, life aspirations, differences in taste, and other bullshit dissolve. The usual overclocked processing power used to determine compatibility gets reapplied on simply trying to enjoy your time together. Imagine that.

There is no breakup, no discussion about what's wrong and why it’s not going to work between us. The relationship lasts until the bell dings, and we amicably part ways. Then I ride off my motorcycle and crank up the Whitesnake.

Being Alone

I rarely get lonely. I’m introvertedly inclined, so if I’m feeling down, it's usually from a list of other problems before that. However, I’m tired of being perceived as lonely. I'm always fending off strange looks and curiosities about why I'm by myself. A part of me can't wait to be 80, when everyone will assume I'm some sad widower and ignore me without speculation. Ah, the sweet life.

I need to be around fluent English speakers from time to time. Humor is a large part of my personality, and mine rarely translates well. I need people to understand my jokes, if not find them funny. Such is the curse of the doofus.

If you haven’t gathered, most people bug me. My favorite times have been when I was alone and doing something recreational outside. I love when I get to enjoy a place without any pesky humans nearby.

Still, it’s a joy to meet good people and trade stories. Statistically, my best encounters have been on barstools and my worst have been at hostels. I much prefer speaking with a friendly native than a zealous traveler.

The Year Ahead

I’ve checked off many of my top places. Now that the list is less daunting, I plan on slowing down even further. I will start periodically returning to L.A. every month or so, leaving for a month or two, and so on.

This will allow me to plan more and better, without overlapping trips. I’ve lost days in new places because I’ve had to arrange future ventures. I'll be able to research more, study a language longer, and create more robust itineraries.

Slowing down will also help me be more productive. It's hard to stay at a desk when a foreign land awaits outside. Creatively speaking, I sense my bucket is full and could use a nice long pour.