Letter from a nomad to non-nomads

I don't want to convince you to become a nomad. I want to persuade you that there are dormant desires you need to put into practice

When he was 10 or 11, a friend "found out" that God didn't exist. "I need to tell the world about this!", he thought. He was frustrated when he realized, on Google, that other people had already had this revelation.

I feel a bit like that about the nomadic life. Nomadism seems so revolutionary, "Oh my God, a nomad!" but hunter-gatherers were doing it millions of years ago.

The agricultural revolution made us stop being nomads. But we never lost the need for movement and change. Throughout history, there have always been explorers, merchants, traveling salesmen, pirates, soldiers, and a legion of people who never stayed home.

The industrial revolution drove us out of the countryside into the city. Urban life acquired a routine: wake up early, take public transport, fulfill the workday, come back home, have dinner with the family, sleep, and then wake up to do it all over again the next day.

Not having a home was practically unthinkable for our parents' or grandparents' generation. Housing is a stable life structure: employment, family, rest. And here is a rupture that has been possible in recent years. I've been without a fixed home for almost a year, and not much has really changed in my life.

That's why I write a letter to all non-nomads reading this newsletter in this edition. What I do is not new in terms of human history, but it is a novelty after the invention of the internal combustion engine. I'm calling for us to contest the dogma of a fixed home.

Every day I wake up in a bed, in a room, inside a house, which, at that moment, is mine. Few people are born, grow up, and die in the same place. The only difference between me and non-nomads is that my possession of this space is more ephemeral. And I didn't choose the sofa, the mattress, or the pillow. But it's okay; many are pretty comfortable. And I don't have to worry about washing or buying new ones when they get old.

Every day I wake up just in time for work, as I did before. I have joys and frustrations daily with work, family, friends, and relationships. Most of these interactions happen on WhatsApp, whether we're nomads or not.

At least three times a week, I stop working and go to the gym, just like I used to. The difference is that I must enroll weekly or monthly in gyms worldwide.

Every night I think about my projects, read my books, watch a soccer game, and end the night researching something random on Google at 2 a.m. On weekends, I like to explore the cultural life of a city, enjoy parks, and go to bars and restaurants at night. Life wasn't that different when I had a fixed home.

Remote work is a more significant revolution than nomadism itself. In-person work forces me into an orthodox routine. Remote work allows me to have a more heterodox routine. The "routine nomadism" style is somewhat orthodox—I maintain something close to a routine whenever possible. There are backpacker nomads who want to travel the world. Those are the heterodox nomads.

The only difference, in fact, between me, a nomad, and you, a non-nomad, is that each time my home and my routine are in different cities. And it's at this point that I have the "revelation." It's possible to have multiple lives in one, and that's something incredible that I wish more people had the opportunity to do.

This year, I've lived in Budapest, Rio de Janeiro, the Amazon, Porto Alegre, and Buenos Aires, places as distant as they are different. I did as many local things as possible to be like someone living there, not a tourist. I'm writing this text, in fact, from one of the millions of parks in Buenos Aires, on a sunny Sunday, while listening to my trip playlist, with the best of Argentine music —from rock to cumbia, there's so much to discover.

Nomadism doesn't bring absolute happiness, which doesn't even exist. It doesn't solve life's problems, but it allows us to know ourselves better. And I clearly see that if I hadn't become a nomad, as the philosopher Neymar would say, I would "miss what I haven't lived yet".

Nomadism brings the possibility of not getting bored with our routine, occupying the mind with travels, changes, and adaptations, teaches us to be more tolerant, and offers a worldly-wise perspective.

Nomadism allows slow travel, without the need to see everything in a city in seven days (which is impossible) or to visit seven countries in Europe in 14 days (exhausting).

Nomadism sucks in many moments. You always have to pack, it's tiring to think about flights and Airbnbs constantly, it's not an extremely cheap or predictable lifestyle, and relationships and friendships are left behind.

I don't want to convince you to become a nomad. I want to persuade you that there are dormant desires you need to put into practice. Take a sabbatical, study abroad, go on a road trip, start a remote job, or don't stay at home on weekends, whatever.

Many non-nomads would like a greater degree of flexibility in their lives. And I guarantee that this is possible. You're already taking the first step: reading about the subject and gaining inspiration. The important thing now is to think about what you want and start planning.

Regardless of the choice, always count on No Direction Home.

Would you like to talk more about this? Leave your message in the comments or reply to this email.

Warmly,

Mateus.

Random scenes of a nomadic life. Buenos Aires, 2023