Finding meaning and direction as a digital nomad
The following passage is an entry from my journal written in October, 2021, when I was 3–1/2 weeks into a solo-traveling trip in Europe.
“I love solo traveling more than anything, but unfortunately it’s not a cure-all for all of life’s problems. The honeymoon-phase-type high that I get at the beginning of a new trip has already worn off for me, and now I’m living real life again, just in new beautiful places with new people.
In addition to journaling, of course, I’m so grateful to have my internship at Raise The Barr to keep me grounded. Creative work is my therapy.
Yesterday, when I was strategizing with my coworker, Mark, I got so excited about the work we are beginning.
We are going to help make an impact.
And while I will eventually part ways with the guys I’m currently traveling with and keep starting fresh with new people every several days or weeks, I don’t have to part ways with RTB for at least a couple months.
Raise The Barr, thank you for being my constant, for being an additional space for me to learn and grow and create. For adding an additional layer of meaning and direction to my life. For keeping me grounded and being my home base.”
When it comes to backpacking, it can be easy to lose the feeling of being “grounded.” All of your possessions are contained in a single backpack. You spend most of your nights in hostel dorm rooms, where the majority of people you meet are other solo travelers who are also constantly floating from one city to the next. If you don’t speak the local language, then that’s an immediate barrier separating you from the culture that surrounds you.
And practically speaking, even if you do understand the local language, the majority of conversations you have will likely be limited to the surface-level ¿hola, qué tal? and ¿cuánto vale el aguacate?.
As a digital nomad, I’m not looking for a never-ending vacation—I want my life to somewhat resemble “real” life—just, in new places—and I want to experience those same genuine interactions, connections, and experiences that I’d have if I were the long-term resident of a place.
When I was a couple of months into my most recent solo-traveling adventure in Central America, I noticed that I felt this need to be “building toward something.” I imagine it came from the American culture I grew up in, where society revolves around constantly being productive and working toward something, whether that be getting accepted to a university, getting a promotion, saving up for a house, building a family, etc.
When you’re long-term traveling by yourself, you don’t really have a home-base, so none of these things are relevant.
This is one of the reasons I’m so grateful for my job (still at RTB, almost a year later!). Not only do I have some income to support my travels, but I also have a consistent group of people that I get to speak to on a weekly basis. And while I reject the notion that we need to be “productive” for 40 hours per week, I do feel immensely grateful to have projects to offer some sense of direction and meaning (and dare I say it—progress) to my life.
While I was in Central America, I also picked up on other ways to feel grounded. For one, I chose to slow down. In contrast to Europe, where I only had 90 days total to visit 26 countries—and visa-renewing “border runs” didn’t exist—I had time in Central America. So why not take it?
After settling on a private room to rent for a month in León, Nicaragua, I found that a great way to feel grounded and develop a sense of “normalcy” would be to do more normal-life things—like joining a local Zumba class.
It was here in Nicaragua that I came up with a fun challenge for myself: in each country that I visit in Latin America, I have to find somewhere to settle down for at least two full weeks, during which I will participate in a daily activity that offers some sense of routine. I had already been doing this by accident—I’d just come from Utila, Honduras, where I’d spent exactly two weeks, waking up early every morning to attend my dive school (of course, the “diving” aspect of this activity wasn’t quite on par with “normal-life,” but the routine of sitting in a classroom with the same group of people sure felt like it!).
Also, before Utila, I’d spent two weeks living with a host family in Guatemala, where I took daily one-on-one classes at a local Spanish school. Here, I also had the luxury of my own private room, as well as the opportunity to practice my Spanish all the time.
I’ve never been a fan of routine if it’s indefinite, which is one of the reasons I love traveling so much. But in making a temporary routine for myself in each of these places, I managed to build a stronger connection to the places I was in, and I simply felt more grounded. So, I’m going to stick with it!
