I'm about to get evangelical about the nomad life
I'm completely biased and think everyone who can do it absolutely should
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A FRIEND recently asked me for advice about becoming a digital nomad as she’s about to set sail for “a few months or maybe forever” and to “leave the domesticated life behind.” She’s got her sights set on Japan, China, the U.S., and beyond. She’s clearly excited. I’m excited for her. And when I told her this, she thanked me for the encouragement and for “not being like the others who always question: ‘Oh but isn’t that too much instability?’”
Another friend of mine lost her dad to cancer when she was 19 years old. He left her some money that she could have when she hit 25, and one of the last things her dad said to her was, “Promise me one thing—you will only spend that money on travel and education.” As tragic as it is, I love this anecdote. It’s the backward-looking perspective of a dying man, and dying people tell the truth. They don’t mince words. They don’t deceive themselves. They don’t deceive us. And for her dad to say that to 19-year-old her, at the very end of a life cut short, to me, is a vindication that my own choice to choose a life of travel was a good one. I like to share this story often, and I shared it with my travel-hungry friend, knowing it could be a source of excitement and self-assuredness for her too.
One of the questions she asked me was: “How do you eat healthy when you’re traveling? We do get Airbnbs with kitchens but still don’t have all the stuff to cook.” It’s a great question. It’s funny; I wouldn’t say me and Corina have an explicit goal of eating healthily. But because our deeper values are around healthiness, we end up naturally leaning into healthy food choices more often than not, regardless of where we are. I think if you already value eating well, then you’ll naturally seek out healthy food on the road just like you would at home, and you’ll be just as aware of when you’re eating poorly for any length of time.
Having said that, someone else’s kitchen might not have all the things you want (eg, spices, oils, utensils, equipment) and that is a genuine challenge, especially if you’re a keen and ambitious cook. The truth is you do have to compromise on cooking when you’re a nomad. For example, in Airbnbs we end up cooking more Mediterranean food that relies more on fresh herbs rather than a comprehensive spice rack. If there’s a kitchen gadget you just can’t live without, you could try asking the host. One of the things I always ask for upfront (to avoid having to watch my shirts get shrunk by tumble-dryers) is, “Does the apartment have a clothes-drying rack?” As a result, in three years of staying in other peoples’ homes, I cannot remember being without one.
Last month we stayed in a co-living house in Montreál for four weeks. It had everything you could possibly want in a kitchen. I’m talking every spice under the sun. I’m talking coffee, rice, onions, garlic, baking flours, soaps, detergents—all of it provided for us (it was somebody’s task to make sure these things were always kept topped up). And the kitchen itself was equipped with every pot and pan you can imagine. That’s one of the many benefits1 of good co-living houses; the people who set them up tend to be former travellers themselves who have specific knowledge of what you really want and need in order to live a full life on the road.
A second question my friend asked me was, “How do you stay motivated to exercise?” Another well-intuited question. I have a mixed history with exercise on the road, going through patches I’m proud of and patches where my body screams at me: “GET THE FUCK UP! YOU’VE BEEN SITTING IN YOUR CHAIR ALL DAY!” I’m somebody that happens to enjoy running in the mornings. So, I tend to do that. But, consistency is hard because either the surrounding area isn’t ideal for running (ie, American-style grids or areas lacking green spaces), and/or during our first few weeks, we’re excited to partake in our local morning cafe scene, thus exercise very often plays second-fiddle to exploration.
Corina on the other hand doesn’t enjoy running as much as I do, and she also has a health challenge that means any high-impact exercise on the knees and the ankles isn’t great. She is therefore more partial to swimming, spinning, aerobics, yoga, that type of stuff. And for her, it is a challenge too, as she has to find classes that aren’t too far away, getting there and back via public transport because we don’t have a car. ClassPass, a monthly membership that lets you book fitness classes and wellness sessions at thousands of venues around the world, is one way she simplifies some of the decision making fatigue that can come with managing a regular exercise regime on the road.
We sometimes do our exercise without leaving the house. We are big fans of a British personal trainer on YouTube called Joe Wicks. He is a national treasurer. A living legend. He’s got hundreds of 10-, 15-, and 20-minute high- and low-impact workout videos you can follow along to. He’s even got silent workouts, for if you’re staying in a hotel or co-living house where you have to be careful not to make too much noise.
Before my friend signed off, she shared one more thing that got my attention: that going travelling sometimes seems hard to justify when you don’t feel you’ve yet achieved all you want in life. She wondered whether she ought to be “working on her business instead.” I noticed she’d added a laughing 😂 emoji to this part of her message and I told her I appreciated that because it revealed there was a part of her that does not truly think those particular doubts are valid. In other words, she’s doubting the doubting! That’s the trick! And as I said, if I was her, I would give as much time and permission to that side of myself as possible. After all, choosing an unorthodox life, choosing adventure, choosing to open your mind to different cultures, places, people and lifestyles is a huge achievement in and of itself.
And who’s to say she can’t also work on her business and her hobbies whilst travelling? I mean, that’s what I’m doing. That’s what Corina’s doing. That’s what all of the people I’ve ever met on the road are doing. In fact, I would challenge anybody to go travelling for a significant period of time, and to treat it like vacation time, without becoming antsy and adrift. After x weeks in vacation mode, trust me, you will be itching to get back to creative mode, productive mode, purposeful mode—whatever. And the fact you’ll be on the road will make it all the more interesting.
I’m not saying working-travel is for everyone at any time. But if like my friend you feel drawn to it, then follow your gut. Your head may try to talk you out of it in a hundred ways. But the head is sometimes wrong and the body isn’t.
Instability? Yes! Travelling is destabilising. But the question is—given that we can’t avoid uncertainty on any path in life—are you willing to put up with the uncertainty that comes with travel?
I have not met one person on the road who shared any regrets about going travelling. On the other hand, I have literally lost count of the number of folk2 who’ve told me they regret not trying.
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Thanks for indulging my pro-travel rant. If you have any specific questions or concerns about being a working traveller, feel free to email me. I do like replying to them.
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If you’re considering co-living while travelling, we can’t recommend it enough. It’s fundamentally different from staying alone in an Airbnb; more community-centred, more conducive to making friends, simply more meaningful. For our first two years of travel, we avoided co-living despite knowing about it from the start. Looking back, we realised we were scared: scared of not being accepted, scared of seeming like inexperienced travellers, scared of being pressured to socialise constantly. When we finally tried it, none of those scary things happened. Now we only wish we’d started sooner. Leaving Montreal last month, we felt sadder than we’ve ever done when saying goodbye. That melancholy was meaningful. It came from genuine friendships, deep conversations, and the simple everyday messy interactions that make life feel real. It seems obvious in retrospect that living with people creates richer experiences than living alone, but it’s a point worth emphasising. Cannot recommend co-living highly enough!
I am aware that the ability to work remotely while travelling is a privilege not everyone has access to. This essay is written for those who do have this option but find themselves held back by fear, doubt, or inertia rather than circumstance.