Is the solo digital nomad life natural?

I’m locking up my barred door on my studio apartment in Playa del Carmen, Mexico to head out for a piece of cake at a nearby bakery. It’s 8:15pm and after locking the door, I see my new neighbor in the building next door sitting on the steps outside of her apartment. I’ve seen her a few times and once waved to her from my apartment when I saw her looking, but we’ve never talked. 

I say hi and ask her what her name is. We do the ever-so-typical exchange of where are you from and how long have you been living here. Her name is Felicity and she’s from Montreal. She appears to be in her mid-twenties with a bright, uplifting voice and a sweet French accent. I tell her that I am on my way out to get a pastry and invite her to come with me, she accepts. 

As we are walking down the side of the street as you do in Mexico, we glide through conversation about moving, living abroad, traveling. She asks me what brought me on this journey and I condense the story as well as I can. I explain my necessity of meeting and connecting with other humans, which I personally feel can’t be done when you travel too quickly.

Many digital nomads are in one city and off to the next within 1-2 weeks. That is not enough time to create safety and bonding with other humans. Sure, you can connect on the Gram and following one another’s stories for the next 5 years until you bump into each other waltzing down the street in London randomly, but that’s not what I seek. These hollow connections are everywhere in a city like this where everyone is using it as a jumping off or heading home point.

So I have chosen a slightly different avenue, which is lovingly referred to as “slow-mading” – a nomadic life where you spend ample time in each location. Ample time is defined on your own accord, and for me – it will be whatever time feels right. I will stay as long as it feels good, and I will leave when my heart tells me it’s time. 

As we’re sitting at the pasteleria eating our brownie cheesecake, we discuss how we both no longer have a “home” to go back to in our home countries. I moved out of my house and it was sold. Felicity moved out of her apartment. When we return to visit, we will stay with friends of family. I explain that I think not having a “home” can cause our body and mind to be in a place of feeling insecure and unsafe. Not having a consistent home… is that something that is unnatural to humans or culturally taught to be unnatural?

We’re walking down the street back towards our houses with our takeaway containers with forks sticking out in hand. We’ve decided that our leftovers will be our breakfast. 

Felicity tells me that her dream would be to live in a community where everyone has their own separate spaces but also have a shared common space – which reminds me of a co-living space or a self-sustaining community. She would love to be able to go on short travels away but have this home to return to. I giggle and tell her that’s exactly what I was referring to in regards to having the security of a consistent home. She laughs and agrees. 

We expand on her yearn for the community she spoke of and we circle back to the conversation of how digital nomads travel too quickly to build meaningful bonds most of the time, and that I don’t believe humans are meant to spend so much time alone. Cavemen, for example, lived in communities to protect each other. They moved around to areas where food was abundant, so their home may have been changing – but they had the consistency and safety of their community.

As a solo digital nomad on the go every other week, there is neither- not a consistent home nor a consistent bonded community for protection and support. 

So is may be fun for a while, but I feel that after the thrill of solo travel wears off (it can take months or years) – we just all want to strip back the basics: safety and security, love and belonging.