Perils of the Writing Nomad

This only happened because we had 20 minutes before our tour started

One of the great fantasy lifestyles of the last decade is that of the digital nomad. Right up there with the social media influencer, I think it’s going to prove to be more of a trend than an enduring occupation. Why? It’s challenging to do, that’s why.

For the past few years, I’ve taken to carrying a small Moleskine or similar bound notebook on trips. My goal has always been to keep a running journal, so I don’t have to lug a laptop around with me all day. It’s much easier to slip into a pocket and pull out, even when there’s only time for a paragraph at a time.

The trouble with this system is that I have never successfully recorded an entire trip.

I’ve tried, oh, I’ve tried. The same part of my identity that bought a locking diary at age nine feels this really strong urge to record everything for posterity, or at least my own personal dotage. As I get further and further behind in my chronicles, I start feeling more of a sense of urgency. I promise myself that I will “catch up” at the airport, on the plane on the way home, or, worst case scenario, in my own living room. It never happens.

Sorry, Future Old Me!

The other problem is trying to keep a blog up to date. In the past, I’ve written material weeks ahead of time and scheduled it to auto-post. Then I’ve posted about the trip from the comforts of home, with time to compile recollections and notes from my travel companions. Doing this from the road tends to interfere with the trip itself.

You find yourself writing about writing, and then journaling about writing about writing. It’s a textual exercise in navel gazing.

The point of travel is to see the world. How can someone do this while simultaneously writing about it, making a meta-trip of the trip? More and more time needs to be allotted to the record-keeping. If you’re into the Quantified Self movement, then you would also be recording your food log, hydration, exercise, hours slept, etc. If you’re a birdwatcher like me, then you’re also tallying sightings for your life list.

That’s where the other voice pipes up, the voice that cries CARPE DIEM! and YOLO! (My inner voice is too old for that latter; I keep reading it as You Obviously Like Owls). Stop photographing everything, especially your lunch! Stop trying to fit your online persona’s parallel life onto social media while you yourself are walking in the steps of Today You!

It’s a tightrope walk, a precarious balancing act between the living of the adventure and the artistic representation thereof.

My fantasy has been to do this full time. How great it would be to be completely location independent and write while on the road! Let’s just drop everything and travel from place to place as the whim takes us.

In the background, the big wet pleading eyes of our dog Spike and the benignant golden gaze of my little gray parrot Noelle stare us down. What then will become of us, they cry poignantly. Never love an animal, it will mess you up like nothing else.

There should be hostels in the major cities of the world centered around animal rescues, where lonely animal-loving nomads can drop by for snuggle exchange. That’s what we’ll call it! Snuggle Exchange! There can even be cats that bat people in the face in the middle of the night, yowling for their 5 AM feeding while sleepy tourists respond “All right, all right already!” Sounds perfect.

The real problem, and I’ve read this in the blogs of other nomads, is that seeing the world interferes with getting any kind of work done. A huge amount of time can be spent on the simple transactional aspects of travel, while normal chores like banking and grocery shopping and laundry still need to be done. You’re forever checking in and out of hotels, waiting at bus stops, packing and repacking luggage. It’s a huge part of the fun and the feeling that a real adventure is being had, but it’s also a recurring pain in the neck, sometimes literally.

A flat pillow has been the cause of so many disappointing days and so many stupid quarrels, probably for several millennia. Didn’t Marcus Aurelius write about flat pillows? (Not looking that one up because I specifically remember him telling himself off about the desire for a warm soft bed).

The other thing that goes well with pillows is the act of reading. On this trip as with all others, I have counseled Future Me that there won’t be as much time to read as usual, and to plan around at least a 50% reduction. Really it’s more like 90%. The time that Imaginary Me is supposedly reading a novel is also the time that Aspirational Me is supposedly writing in the little black journal, and in reality Today Me is trying to identify a flock of what will turn out to be jackdaws.

There’s always a tradeoff, isn’t there?

Why can’t I be Default Me and Aspirational Me at the same time?

Why can’t there simply be three of me, one to do the great things, one to do the secret cute habits, and the third to write about it all and make it sound like the stuff of legend?

We’re sort of pulling it off today. We walked in the woods, ate in a cafe, ventured into the countryside, saw some new birds, visited two castles, learned about history, tried new foods, bought a bag of custard donuts, read a few news articles, and now my mate is cooking dinner while I’m “working.” {tee hee, she went}

It could be done, it could be done. It could be done with a smooth enough road and enough bus travel, enough convenience foods and a patient enough helpmeet. If nothing else, writing about it might convince others that living on the road isn’t always very adventurous, and the comforts of home are well worth appreciating.