Nomad vs. Tourist: Does One Get to Snub the Other?
Our last few days in Colombia were bittersweet… There’s just something about the country that really captured our hearts. But before I can tell you about the magic of Cartagena (which I will do in a separate post very soon), I need to take a quick aside to talk about something that’s been weighing on me recently: the contrast between traveling as a tourist and wandering as a nomad, and the semantics of using one term over the other.
When we carefully crafted the mission of our adventure, Nat and I decided what was most important to us was to embrace and absorb the local culture of the places we visited. That meant seeing fewer places but building a deeper connection and understanding of each one we picked. Of course, we’d take some opportunities to travel around the cities we selected as our home bases each month, particularly in South America, which we had never been to before. While Medellín was that home base for us in Colombia, we managed to fit 4 days in Bogotá, 3 days in coffee country and 3 days in Cartagena where instead of being digital nomads, we were simply tourists.
The main difference here is that as digital nomads, we’re working and living in a city, approaching the venerated status of “local.” As tourists, we’re temporary visitors, often on a schedule, prioritizing the big sites, important monuments or vacation-like experiences.
Wearing our digital nomad hats, I have found that we get to meet and interact more deeply with locals, more personally. We get to see the country’s heritage but also experience the underground culture. It has been so wonderful that as time has passed, I’ve started to feel this (false) sense of superiority. Of self-importance. Of scorn towards the lowly tourists that crowd popular spaces and get taken advantage of by scammers.
And then, we go to Cartagena for a weekend and I can’t hide behind this “digital nomad” identity. I am a tourist. I’m one of those people I just looked down upon. I’m taking up space on the already crowded beach and snapping sunset photographs from the trendiest bar in town. I’m the target of local hustlers and the impatient patron at a busy restaurant. And all of a sudden, I reject myself.
But I’m better than this!
Nope.
Digital nomad or not, I am a tourist. I entered on a tourist visa, and I am only here temporarily. Great, I get the privilege of staying longer and making local friends. I can experience things I wouldn’t get to if I only had a week or two.
But that’s what it is: a privilege.
I can say I worked for it. And made it happen thanks to carefully crafted planning as well as wild leaps of faith. We’re actually spending less than if we’d just stayed put in London, trucking along. Our cost of living is lower and we’re spending responsibly and mindfully. But I can justify my privilege all I want, it’s still a privilege.
Just as much as traveling as a tourist is a privilege.
A cab driver in Buenos Aires told us he worked at the post office during the week and as an Uber driver on weekends. He had never traveled outside of South America (maybe even Argentina, I forget) and doesn’t see when he will have the chance to. I bet he’d be thrilled to be a tourist. Or a nomad. Or anything in between if it meant he could take a plane somewhere.
So when did “tourist,” and “privilege,” become such dirty words? Why do I feel so worried to be associated with them? Why do I feel the need to justify how we were able to take this trip?
I’m not really sure… I do know that I’ve always tried to make my travel blog as honest and transparent as possible, and that means not writing post after post of how magical and perfect everything is, but also showing the harder parts, the tough thought processes, the questions and doubts.
Ultimately, being a nomad or a tourist is a wonderful thing and being one over the other depends on what you can logistically do at the time of travel. If we only have a couple of weeks, it’ll be challenging to make a new place feel like home. But that doesn’t mean we can’t slow things down; choose our moments carefully and relish them more deeply. There will always be something else we want to see and time will always feel too short. But whatever the circumstance, I am grateful; I will be grateful; and I am more motivated than ever to find a way to utilize and pay forward these amazing opportunities and the valuable lessons I’ve learned along the way.***
