During my four-month trip to Asia, I worked remotely as a freelance writer and blogger, earning the bulk of my income from freelance writing.
While I worked several freelance writing jobs, my main gig was as a Category Expert for Answers.com. Commissioned to write between 10 and 20 articles each month, I hustled hard to reach my monthly quota. Some months I would churn out one or two articles a day, other months I would ignore my workload for weeks and then lock myself in a hotel room for 72 hours, stopping only to eat, sleep and shower.
Over time I came to resent the weight of my laptop– the physical weight, as well as the emotional weight. The emotional weight manifested itself in a myriad of emotions: the guilt of not working harder, the regret of working so much on the trip of the lifetime and the resentment of knowing I had to work to continue traveling.
And while I loved having a consistent stream of income on the road, working as a digital nomad sucked the fun and excitement out of travel for me. No longer could I disappear for days. No longer could I flit about with few possessions. The pressure to work, work, work began to smother my enjoyment of travel.
Something about being a digital nomad didn't jive with me but it took me a long time to pinpoint what it was. I finally realized that it's not the physical discomfort of long-term travel; I can happily live out of a bag, sleep in a $7 hostel and wear the same clothes for months at a time.
What bothers me most about long-term travel is the lack of community. The disconnectedness you feel when you realize you'll never see anyone in the hostel again, that the main social interactions in your life are drunken make-outs and two-day friendships.
Working on the road taught me I don't want be a digital nomad. In five years I don't want to be sitting in paradise with a Chang and a laptop, surrounded by strangers. And while that lifestyle works for some people, the idea of such a transitory existence fills me with dread.
In Asia I learned all of the beautiful surroundings in the world will never make up for what really matters in life- relationships with other people. While I'd love to be an expat again, I don't think a long-term solo trip while working remotely will be in the cards.
Other travel bloggers have touched on the same feeling:
When you are travelling, you are what you are in that moment, your most immediate self. The people you meet see only that version of you, and it’s hard to maintain your wholeness in this fragmented and transitory existence. – Hannah Loaring, Furtherbound
You see, when you’re sick with two kids, in a foreign country, you become aware of how fragile the relationships you have really are. There isn’t anyone to bring me chicken soup or to help Drew watch the kids, or to just stop by and see how we are. – Christine Gilbert, Almost Fearless
So on my big trip to Europe, India and possibly Asia, I'm not bringing my laptop. I'll be traveling off of the money I saved while living in Michigan. I'll be seeing lots of friends and spending as little time as possible as a solo traveler (I hate to say it but I'm really over solo travel for the moment.)
And I'll be doing long-term travel my way.
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