Life as a Digital Nomad

 Interesting article on being a digital nomad:

When I first packed up my life and bought that one-way ticket, I thought I was making the dream decision.

Work from anywhere? Travel the world while paying my bills? It sounded like freedom in its purest form.

And in some ways, it was. I worked from beach cafés in Thailand, bustling coworking hubs in Portugal, and quiet mountain towns in Eastern Europe. Each place had its own charm.

But here’s what nobody really tells you about living that way for an extended period of time: It’s not always the shiny, carefree lifestyle you see online. In fact, there were days when I felt more isolated, more scattered, and more tired than I’d ever been sitting at a desk in a corporate office.

Eventually, I chose to settle down again—and I want to share why.

Loneliness hits harder when you’re always moving

At first, being constantly surrounded by new people felt exciting. Every day seemed like an opportunity to meet someone interesting. But over time, I realized how shallow those interactions often were.

It’s easy to share travel tips over cocktails or bond during a tour. It’s harder to find the kind of friends you can call when you’re having a rough day, or the ones who notice when you go quiet for a while.

As noted by Professor John Cacioppo, “Loneliness is like an iceberg—it goes deeper than we can see.” That was exactly my experience. On the surface, I looked like I was thriving. Underneath, there was a quiet ache that never really went away. I thought constant movement would keep me from feeling stuck. Instead, it kept me from feeling truly seen. It’s one thing to meet people. It’s another thing to build lasting friendships.

Researchers at the University of Kansas found it takes about 50 hours of hanging out to go from strangers to casual friends, 90 hours to become actual friends, and more than 200 hours to become close friends. Think about that. If you’re only staying in a city for one or two months, how realistic is it to invest that kind of time with someone? Even if you hit it off, one of you will be on a plane before you’ve logged those hours.

For me, that meant a lot of surface-level connections but very few that carried any depth. And while short bursts of companionship are fun, they don’t provide the steady comfort of people who know your history, your quirks, or even your favorite takeout order. Friendships take roots. Constant travel pulls those roots up just as they’re starting to grow.

Of course, I stayed in touch with old friends through video calls. I even joined online communities of other remote workers. But something was always missing.

Psychologist Susan Pinker offers an explanation: “Face-to-face contact releases a whole cascade of neurotransmitters and, like a vaccine, they protect you now and well into the future.” We all know that feeling when someone looks you in the eye, laughs with you across a table, or gives you a hug at the end of a long day. Those things can’t be replicated on Zoom.

Digital communication kept me connected, but it didn’t keep me grounded. I craved the small, everyday interactions—running into the same neighbor at the market, chatting with the barista who already knows your order—that make you feel like you belong somewhere.

The truth? Constantly changing environments can kill your focus. Every time I moved, I had to figure out everything from scratch. Where’s the grocery store? Which cafés have reliable Wi-Fi? What time zone are my clients in? Even something as simple as setting up my desk became an endless task.

That kind of mental load chips away at your ability to concentrate. I noticed I was busy all the time but rarely dropping into the deep, creative flow I used to find back when I had a consistent workspace. Without that focus, work becomes fragmented. And when work feels fragmented, life starts to feel fragmented too.

The biggest realization for me came when I stopped traveling and rooted myself in one city again. Suddenly, things started to shift. I wasn’t just passing through anymore. I could commit to seeing friends every week. I could get to know my neighbors. I could join a local group without worrying that I’d leave in a month. For all the beauty of nomad life, I never felt that sense of rootedness until I settled down again.

Looking back, I don’t regret my year as a digital nomad. It taught me so much about resilience, adaptability, and independence. But I wish someone had told me these truths upfront: The freedom is real, but so is the loneliness. Relationships often stay shallow because there isn’t enough time to build depth. Digital connection is helpful, but it’s no substitute for being physically present. Productivity suffers more than you might expect under constant change.