A recently-starred item in my RSS feed is a post by young entrepreneur Ben Casnocha called "Urban Nomadicism: The Sources of Unhappiness for Serial Travelers". As an IT consultant who has spent eight of the past ten months cross-country commuting full time, I took an interest in it. I'd like to give some input that supports a lot of Ben's statements, but hopefully offers some additional food for thought.
In his analysis of the (un)happiness of "professional vagabonds," Ben calls out three main culprits (indented text is from his post):
Rootlessness"Home" changes over the course of one's life. It starts at your place of birth. Half of Americans live within 50 miles of their birthplace. For the other half, what you consider home evolves over the course of time. The most comfortable transition is when "home" goes from A to B with no interlude. You might grow up in San Francisco (home), then move to Los Angeles (SF still home for awhile), until one day you realize that "home" is LA. Boom. It switches. But if you grow up in San Francisco (home), then move to LA, then move to Chicago, then Beijing, then Sydney, at some point SF no longer feels like home, but nor do any of the other cities. Where is your hearth? Where do you go for nurturance and renewal?
I’m still not sure what to call home. A very regular conversation I have with friends I make in Portland goes like this:
A: So where are you from?
D: Originally I’m from Minnesota, but I live in Chicago now.
A: [pause, confusion] So … are you just visiting here then?
D: No, I’m here full time. But I LIVE live in Chicago. Where are you from?
A: I’m from ___________.
D: Oh, that’s great! I love it there!
A: You’ve been?
D: Well, I lived there for 4 months.
A: Wow, where else have you lived?
D: [pulls out world map] …
So yes, it’s confusing not knowing what to call home. But I’d like to argue that home can be more than one place. I find true renewal and nurturance at the three places I’ve lived the longest: Minnesota, Colorado and Chicago.
Shallowness of relationshipsThe best way to build intimacy in a relationship is to spend quality in-the-flesh time with each other. If you're always on the go, or never in the same place for more than a few years, intimacy can be hard to come by. It's hard to involve yourself in a long-term relationship if you're nomadic. It's true even for friendships. Thanks to technology it's rare that a friendship would ever move backwards in the absence of physical interaction -- maintenance is easy these days -- but technology can not accelerate intimacy in the way physicality does. It can even be hard to motivate yourself to invest in relationships as you think to yourself, "I'm leaving in six months anyway, what's the point in trying to find a best friend?" (People who have issues with intimacy of course will embrace this aspect of the traveler's life.)
I think this depends on the approach you take. Yes, there is a lot of truth to the statement that physical interaction beats virtual. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to kindle a friendship through digital means. I've met lots of people through Twitter and Meetup, but more on that in a bit.
Identity confusionWhere do I belong? Does the country name on my passport still accurately reflect my deepest national ties? How do I answer the question, "Where are you from?" If I'm living in a country where I am not a native speaker, will I ever be treated as a local?
In my mind this is fairly intertwined with rootlessness, so I’ll defer to my above response.
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I am often asked "how do you do it?" with regards to the state-to-state bunny hop, and the true concerns embedded in that question come straight from the list above. It could often be rephrased as simply “Are you actually happy?”. While I don’t believe that unhappiness is in the cards for everyone who chooses a life on the move, I do agree that if you don’t regularly assess your personal requirements for stable contentment, the travel bug will bite you sharply in the ass.
In no order other than how they came to mind, here are other factors that significantly contribute to the constant traveler’s lifestyle.
1. Personality. If you’ve got a penchant for nightly neighborhood BBQs and group movie nights, the traveling lifestyle might be more difficult for you. Conversely, frequent travel lends itself well to those less likely to be the life of the party because you’re surrounded by new ways to self-entertain all the time. When I spent a few months in Houston, the phrase “I’m in Texas” alone was enough to boggle and humor my mind for hours. That and the hair, God bless it.
Most, though, aren’t strictly people-persons or non-people-persons. I can socialize 'till the cows come home, but in reality I'm sort of an introvert. That surprises people, but I often prefer exploring on my own, be it an art museum or the tangled streets of a new city. I suppose the argument that brings is whether the more minor instances of joy from entertainment and exploration can actually constitute a deeper sense of happiness. At the risk of venturing in to gray-er and fuzzier territory, let’s keep looking at some other contributing factors.
2. Age. I’m 25 and female. Most of the people in line with me at airport security on Mondays at 4:30a.m. are 40- to 50-year-old men. There isn’t a whole lot of interaction between us, which I’ve come to accept. But whether it’s my “youth” or something else contributing to this feeling, I do wish we would take note of all the reasons to smile. Yes, it’s early. Yes, you’ve got a long day ahead (Mondays are the WORST when you’re flying West over time zones). I’ve always been excited to board a plane. But now that I board one every week, I feel sad to be one of the few who seems happy at the airport. How's that for irony? The people you’re sitting near may be fresh off their first time abroad, or maybe they just climbed Kilimanjaro. The amazing stories and energies to be found at airports are undoubtedly quashed to some degree by the worn-out, “don’t speak to me” expressions of us commuter drones.
Aside from the few hours spent actually in-transit, I believe age plays a role in how happy you can be as a full-time traveler. It’s practically second nature for me to go online to see what my options are for finding a social circle in a new place. Meetup.com allows me to find people I know I’d have fun with, and do things people my age do. If I’m backpacking alone, I’m likely at a hostel where finding a day trip buddy is a cinch. I can also update my status on Twitter and Facebook, and search my networks to see if anyone is in the area. Those tools have made a huge difference to my business travel experience. For example, a friend from college, with whom I’d been relatively out-of-touch, lives in Portland. I didn’t remember that until she responded to my post on Twitter. Now I stalk her we hang out regularly and have become close, great friends.
An older business traveler not likely to have such in-depth involvement in online social experiences won’t have the same ease in building a community wherever they may be. That’s changing, but for the majority of adults, online social interactions are still on the to-do list.
3. Relationship status. This one is obviously a biggie. Long-distance is hard, no doubt about it. It sucks to not be physically present with the one you love. But it also ups the quality of the time you do get to spend together. I wouldn’t say it balances out to an even trade; I would rather take my Andy with me wherever I go. But if there’s one thing you can do, it’s focus on the bright side of a long-distance relationship, which for me means exciting dates, a deeper appreciation for all Andy does to keep things in order while I’m away (the cats have survived!) and more doting on each other. ☺
I could go on and on, but oh, look! I’ve already done that! Without explanation, here’s a list of some other considerations:
- Are you a first-timer? Or have you been running this track for years?
- Where are you going? Are you jumping from country to country each week or do you have just one or two prime locations you split your time between? I commute between Chicago and Portland, and when I'm missing "home", I take a few minutes to step outside into the green, fresh air of the Northwest. My mood immediately changes when I can be grateful for getting to experience a different part of the country.
- How involved are you in your hometown? Did you have to give up on an intramural beach volleyball league, church choir? Are you unable to take on leadership positions in groups you’re a part of?
