Rob in Budapest
I’ve often wondered if all modern-day afflictions can be blamed on the fact that our lifestyles change faster than evolution can keep up with. That if only we could evolve as fast as Galapagos birds do, we wouldn’t have so many issues. Mental illness, obesity, heart disease, immune disorders, and cancer would be tidily eliminated within a single generation’s inferno of DNA. And with them, rates of drug addiction, suicide, homicide, and violence would plummet to the point of non-existence. For where is the need for such self-destruction in a species that adapts itself to the biology of the future in the mere blink of an eye? But as large mammals, our life spans are too long and our reproduction too slow to accommodate the kind of rapid re-writing our species would need to wipe out the diseases that have plagued us since the dawn of modern time. And though the study of epigenetics tells us that our DNA is indeed dynamic and modifiable and influenced by environment and lifestyle choices… evolution itself happens for us too slowly to see with our watery mammalian eyes and emotional psyches. It takes many thousands of years, in fact, for major biological changes to occur in most of earth’s large creatures. And a good thing, lest we breed ourselves to extinction faster than any disease might replicate itself so rapidly.
And yet, in the mere 100,000 years since the first Homo sapiens stood up and started using their thumbs, humans have been on a roller coaster of rapid adaptation. Starting with the advent of agriculture, the need for our species to adapt to changes in lifestyle has intensified dramatically during times of war and advances in industry and technology. And the faster these advances happen, the faster we have to adapt. But how fast is too fast? At what point does society collapse because it cannot adapt to changes so rapidly? We witness this in populations all over the world, and the most obviously devastating is when it’s a result of natural disasters. But sometimes the symptoms of collapse sneak up on us slowly, and in societies that are otherwise success stories. The United States, for example, seems headstrong in its trend of economic disparity. For one-percent of Americans, life is a cakewalk; for ninety-nine percent, a struggle. A wealthy country with statistics weighted in poverty, in which the number of citizens lacking access to basic resources increases faster than bureaucracy acts to mitigate it.
And a growing population of would-be middle-class Americans are adapting to this, too. They’re living in their cars, they’re moving overseas, they’re becoming part of a new generation of digital nomads. The number of people forfeiting their U.S. passports is on the rise as well. For some it’s an alternative career choice, for many, a survival strategy. Computer programmers, coders, gamers, editors and writers, are realizing the ritual of the cubicle doesn’t have to be it. And neither does the rent you can’t afford to pay, in the city where you can’t afford to eat, where you’re not allowed to park the car you live in either. There’s a reason why companies like Google have implemented showers, communal kitchens, nap rooms, and free parking. They’re aware of the fact that a growing percentage of their full-time employees can’t afford the housing in the city where they work. But many question the lifestyle… whether it’s sustainable over the long term, and what the impacts might be on the U.S. economy and the global economy if the population of essentially homeless full-time workers continues to increase.
The modern American nomad is nothing new, of course. Freelance artists, musicians, RV-ers, tradesmen, circus performers, farm workers, poor people, and hippies have been doing this for a long time. Life on the road is part of our culture, for better or worse, and I myself am one of these people. I grew up in a family that moved a lot; we never owned the houses we lived in and could scarcely afford to pay rent. When I was seventeen I left home to hitchhike around the world with my best friend. Our first stop was New Zealand, about as far away as we could get from our hometown on one plane ticket. I didn’t stop traveling for nearly a decade. I lived out of a backpack, then I lived in my car, until I got a job as a traveling nanny for a wealthy couple who owned homes all over the country. In my thirties I tried to be serious and settle down. I invested in property and started a business, only to lose it all in an easement lawsuit filed by neighbors. I don’t look back on my life with regrets, but I have certainly learned the hard way that life rarely turns out like you expect. So I went back to school at thirty-six to pursue journalism and took my studies overseas after winning an international award for photography. When I came to Europe I discovered I was one of many Americans doing a similar thing… slow-traveling from one city to the next, working remotely from wherever it was most affordable to live and offered a visa. Digital Nomads became a recognizable “type” in my Tinder feed and indeed, the app would blow up with them whenever I ventured through cities with nomad hubs and communal work areas. They seemed really bubbly and outgoing and keen to connect in comparison to the types I tend to meet at home. And not in an annoying way… but in an emotionally-available kind of way. Like, they actually wanted to meet me in person, face to face, the exact same day we matched…totally unheard of in my home of depressed introverts, Washington State. However, it also dawned on me that their keenness to connect could just be because they’re lonely - the most common complaint amongst those who attempt the lifestyle long-term.
Leah on a rooftop over Split, Croatia
But not all digital nomads are singular creatures. In Hungary I reunited with a childhood friend who has been living the lifestyle with her family for a number of years. Leah and her husband, their daughter (turning eighteen soon), Leah’s younger brother (legally disabled, in his late twenties), and their father (partially-retired seaman from Port Hadlock, WA, in his early 70s), all live and travel together as a family unit. After their mom died they gave up apartment life, starting living in tents and camping. Soon after, they purchased an RV. Leah’s husband is a code writer; his job allows him to work entirely from home and still support his family. And once they stopped paying high rent fees, they could afford to live more freely. It was on their first cruise to Europe that they discovered how attainable a nomadic lifestyle overseas could be and it made them question why they should return to the States at all. Not long after they landed at home, they decided to go back. They put their RV in storage and boarded a boat to the U.K. That was three years ago, and they haven’t been home since. America, with its skyrocketing housing costs and toxic political environment, seemed a dead-end street. Life overseas got better and better the longer they stayed away. Family health ailments like allergies and chronic stomach aches have disappeared without medication. Leah’s daughter, who is autistic, started making eye contact with strangers for the first time since she was a baby….which in itself a huge success story. They’re slow travelers, and typically stay one month in each location… booking their housing far ahead of time and for long enough to get a monthly discount. When I met up with them they were living in a large home just outside of the city of Budapest. Since then I’ve been tagging along… at the time of this article I’ve followed their family from Budapest to three different cities in The Balkans: Split and Dubrovnik in Croatia, and Kotor, Montenegro.
Rob - Budapest.
There are so many things about Leah’s family that fascinate and endear me. They do not fit the description of typical digital nomads and when I asked, they said they do not identify themselves as such. Most digital nomads travel individually, or with a partner… but rarely an entire family of two generations and grown siblings. Yet they are successfully living a nomadic lifestyle overseas and supporting themselves remotely. And unlike so many, they never feel lonely. I think what strikes me is this notion that they’ve totally figured it out. That for Leah’s family, the digital nomad lifestyle is sustainable. Which is good, because they don’t plan on stopping anytime soon. In fact, with the exception of Leah’s father who returns to Port Hadlock for seasonal work, everyone in their family agrees… they never want to go back.
Mishka, Leah’s brother.
Their unique story got me thinking about our nomadic history as a species, and made me wonder if humans aren’t innately nomadic creatures, forced into life in one place with agriculture and industry. To understand the digital nomad culture, I spent many hours listening to a podcast called Become Nomad by Eli David, an Israeli who describes himself as a “serial entrepreneur and a Nomad changing locations.” In an episode titled “Fears of starting to live as nomads and Hippies spending tax money,” Eric, a remarkably eloquent listener, wrote in with the following:
“When I look back on my life and think of all the times I was happiest, they do seem to be after a major environmental change happened. The in-between parts seem to dilute the overall richness of my life.”
Cristen - Budapest
I listened to Eric’s words, and immediately thought I had come to a profound truth: that humans are supposed to live the nomadic life. That it’s in our DNA to move, slowly, from place to place and that settled life is in itself the bane of our very existence. After all, mental illnesses that plague humans are rare in the animal world, except in those animals who have been captured, domesticated, or otherwise forced into an unnatural environment. Rather than the maddening circles of settled life, the nomadic lifestyle keeps things fresh and interesting; you’re always packing up and moving to a new place. You never get bored with where you’re at. Depression and anxiety diminishes, because when you’re traveling in countries with low cost of living, you can work a lot less and enjoy a higher quality of life. But when I started asking people if they thought humans were innately nomadic, 100% of eleven digital nomads (including every member of Leah’s family) said no. Cristen, a woman in her thirties whom I met in Budapest where she was teaching English and working remotely, told me that not only does she not think humans are innately nomadic, but that the lifestyle of constantly moving actually throws you out of balance and worsens mental health issues. Her greatest challenges as a nomad has been a constant feeling of loneliness, difficulty maintaining routines, making friends, and dating men. Her opinion is that the lifestyle is not sustainable long term unless you have a partner, friends, or family that do it with you. This made me think about my own experience, and the fact that I travel with my dog, which means I am never truly alone. But looking back on past relationships, and how quickly they went sour as soon as we were on the road… I seriously question whether I could be happily nomadic alongside a romantic partner. I am intensely independent. Former boyfriends commonly complained that it was always my way or the highway, using the exact phrase. And often the solution really was the highway, but not for them… for me.
Luna and I sleeping on the deck of the ferry from Italy to Croatia.
Julianna - Leah’s daughter (above, right, below)
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Leah having her makeup done at a salon - Kotor
Jan in Split, Croatia
When I was in Split, Croatia, I met a Spaniard who lives the nomadic lifestyle very courageously. Jan, a thirty-five year old, left his home in Barcelona about nine months ago, crossed Europe by foot and ventured into The Balkans two months before we crossed paths in Split. Jan supports his lifestyle and adventure endeavors by seeking sponsors and promoting himself on social media. A nomad of the truest form, he walks the earth individually, sleeping wherever he’s sleepy and eating whenever he’s hungry, on a budget of 10 Euros a day. He told me that when he feels lonely he watches nature documentaries in his tent on his tablet and when he has reception he calls home and talks to his family. More than fifteen people have traveled to meet him during this tour, some spending as long as a week walking with him. (I told him he’s apparently very popular… because despite being gone for six months, I can’t get a single one of my friends or family members to come visit me, and I even offered to buy one of my sisters a plane ticket). After Jan left Split, he caught up with me in Dubrovnik, and then again in Kotor. His low-impact mode of travel inspires me. In a world of fast-paced technology and gridlocked motorways, I admire the temperament of one not keen to move through life in a hurry. Camera and binoculars always at hand, Jan’s goal as a digital nomad is to experience the beauty of the world, and the kindness of strangers, and to share his heart’s eye with whomever’s hearts will follow. I did not ask Jan if he thought all humans are innately nomadic. I did not ask him what he thought about global economics. I let him choose the talking, and was content to hear his happy stories of a beautiful blue planet and the humans who have shown him what a wonderful thing is humanity.
Playing cards with the locals, Kotor, Montenegro
Leah and I in the bathroom of a bar - Kotor, Montenegro.
There is certainly an air of escapism prominent in the modern nomadic, and for good reason. I do not believe the culture would exist without it. People are leaving their homes to escape the norm, the status quo, the rent and mortgage payments, the toxic politics, the glass ceilings. The endless envelope-pushings of bureaucracy. I’ve always despised the cliche “wherever you go, there you are,” because in my own life I’ve seen problems disappear completely just by changing the scenery. I was once stuck fighting a political legal battle for five years in a small town, so believe me when I tell you that the bullshit didn’t dissipate until I got the hell out of dodge. I agree in theory that one cannot run away from oneself, no matter how far or wide one tries. The nutcase is always in the suitcase, so to speak. But I have always believed that a fresh start is possible for anyone willing to firstly freshen their perspective of things... and sometimes that literally means moving to another country. More than once have I up and left comfortable lives with comfortable people in comfortable relationships in favor of the discomforts and uncertainty and singularity of life far from home. I would like to believe that my tendency to escape the norm is… normal? An evolutionary throwback from a time when humans were always on the go. But now I think this is an all-too-easy generalization for a lifestyle that is as individually lived as any other, and perhaps even more so. I got a lot of vague answers to direct questions about the sustainability of the digital nomad life over time. Most people just don’t really know. Regardless, there’s much to be learned from a population of people who come from all over the world, yet have one thing in common… the ability to stand individually, take a strong look at society and say, nope.
Leah’s husband & daughter - Budapest.