In 2019, I resigned from my full-time role at a leading company in New Zealand and moved to London to start a freelance career. During this time, I encountered the pandemic and travelled across the UK and Europe. Along the journey, I met several remote workers who shared my desire for a lifestyle defined by freedom. It was in conversations with them that I first came across the term "digital nomads" and realised how closely it mirrored my way of life.
Digital nomads are individuals who transcend geographical boundaries to work and live globally, utilising the internet and digital technology. Their characteristics include independence in their work, freedom from traditional office constraints, and the ability to travel and work from various locations worldwide.
They depend on the internet to maintain connections with clients, colleagues, and friends, participating in a range of professions including writing, design, programming, marketing, and consulting. For digital nomads, possessing self-management abilities and adaptability to diverse cultural and linguistic settings is essential. These skills enable them to forge relationships and partnerships all around the world through social networks.
Pieter Levels, a pioneer in digital nomadism and the founder of Nomadlist.com, predicted in 2015 that remote work would become a significant trend in the future. It's estimated that by 2035, the number of digital nomads will reach one billion. The global pandemic accelerated this transition, emphasizing the importance of remote work even more.
Since embracing the digital nomad lifestyle in 2019, I've visited over 60 cities in more than 30 countries, immersing myself in diverse cultures while working remotely. From helping the New Zealand government in promoting wine and fruits in England to organising music festivals in the picturesque town of Aveiro, Portugal; from making marketing strategies for global football events to supporting international students settle down in their dream universities, my experiences have been varied and enriching. Sometimes, I travel luxuriously by private jet to assist Ultra-High-Net-Worth Individuals in Latvia and Kazakhstan, while other times I find myself alone, pondering my next accommodation and project with a hefty suitcase in tow.
As I navigate through different cultures and languages in my digital nomad journey, I often encounter the complexities of identity and the anxieties they bring. Many of my friends share similar experiences, each with their own unique blend of heritage and language skills.
For instance, there's a close friend of Egyptian heritage who lived in both Canada and the UK for a decade, fluent in Arabic, English, Spanish, French, and Italian. Another friend, originally from China, relocated to Germany in childhood before settling in Switzerland, mastering Mandarin, German, English, and Italian. As for myself, born in China but a citizen of New Zealand, I've spent significant time in Europe and can speak Chinese, English, Japanese, and basic Portuguese.
For those of us born in one place, raised in another, and subsequently living across different countries, a clear sense of belonging to any specific nation becomes blurred. Experiencing diverse languages and cultures across the globe has enriched our understanding of the world and broadened our perspective. Yet, it has also prompted us to question where we truly belong.
A powerful moment from the film "Green Book" struck a chord with me. A prosperous black pianist dressed elegantly, is attended to by a white chauffeur, while in the background, other black people work tirelessly in worn-out clothing. This silent interaction speaks volumes.
Reflecting on my own experiences, attending official events hosted by the New Zealand Embassy in London often left me as the only Asian among Caucasian or Māori attendees. Similarly, while traveling in mainland China with my Chinese appearance, I'm often mistaken for a local. However, I struggle to understand their complex high-end technology, let alone navigate through local customs and traditions.
Although society is supposedly becoming more tolerant, marginalisation based on distinctive external features persists. Humans are inherently social beings, longing to connect with grand concepts for a sense of belonging and pride. Nationalism and patriotic sentiments continue to be formidable barriers that are not easily overcome.
I once asked my friend, who holds passports from Egypt, Britain, and Canada: "If these countries were to go to war, where would your loyalty lie?" To this day, he remains undecided. Likewise, I contemplate this question, wondering whether decisions should prioritise personal benefit during turbulent times.
Having read Afua Hirsch's book, "Brit(ish)," I empathised with her struggles with racial discrimination, identity, and belonging as a mixed-race individual in Britain. Through her family's representative history, she revisits Britain's dark colonial past and the mainstream's notion of cultural inclusivity and diversity.
Previously, I viewed political correctness with scepticism, considering movements like those advocating for black rights as excessive. It was only after comprehending the harrowing history of black people that I understood the necessity for their empowerment. As a friend astutely pointed out, gradual progress may not be adequate in rectifying past injustices; the losses endured far outweigh what we have gained, whether for women or minorities.
World War II lasted for five years, yet there are over 400 films on the subject. In contrast, the transatlantic slave trade endured for over 400 years, yet fewer than 20 films address it. Most people, myself included, remain ignorant of this history. Similarly, this lack of awareness extends to my Chinese heritage. I wonder: have mainstream British productions ever addressed the Opium Wars? How many of them are even familiar with this part of history?
When I was living in New Zealand, I had little interest in Muslim culture and Middle Eastern countries, feeling they were distant places with few friends from those regions around me. However, after the Christchurch mosque shootings on March 15, 2019, work necessitated my first opportunity to engage in conversations with many colleagues from the Middle East and conduct extensive research on Muslim culture. It was then that I realised how many human treasures I had missed out on before.
Similar to how many Western and Eastern media outlets extensively vilify each other, negative terms like chaos, extremism, backwardness, and conservatism associated with Middle Eastern countries and the Muslim religion had become deeply ingrained in my mind. Moving to London unexpectedly provided me with many opportunities to understand the Middle East situation and Muslim culture through vibrant, real-life experiences. My first Airbnb host was Egyptian, my first flatmate Sudanese, and I even dated individuals from Lebanon and Iran. Through in-depth conversations and observing their lifestyles, I realised how preconceived labels and stereotypes had hindered my curiosity and thirst for knowledge, which was incredibly foolish.
My first Airbnb host in London was knowledgeable, with strong insights into politics and economics. Our conversations always provide me with intellectual and life enlightenment, whether it's about political situations, cultural history, literature, art, or life and love. During the pandemic, knowing I didn't enjoy cooking, he would cook Middle Eastern dishes with aromatic spices and deliver them to my door.
Similarly, my flatmate in London is considerate. Although our lifestyles are vastly different, we coexist harmoniously under the same roof. During Christmas, his traditional Muslim parents visited London and stayed with us for two weeks. Initially, I was a bit apprehensive about the unknown, but during those two weeks, what struck me the most was their respect and affection towards me. Both of them immigrated to the UK in the 1960s; one was an architect and the other worked in a bank. According to my flatmate, his father was one of the few architects of colour with a budget of over a hundred million pounds back then. Although they didn't celebrate as Muslims during Christmas, they invited me to join their family dinner to celebrate. Their understanding gesture made me feel warm in a foreign land.
A passage from Sudanese writer Tayeb Salih's work "Season of Migration to the North" depicts a scene where the protagonist is questioned by locals upon returning from Europe, which is quite intriguing:
“As best I could I had answered their many questions. They were surprised when I told them that Europeans were, with minor differences, exactly like them, marrying and bringing up their children in accordance with principles and traditions, that they had good morals and were in general good people.
"Are there any farmers among them?" Mahjoub asked me.
"Yes, there are some farmers among them. They’ve got everything—workers and doctors and farmers and teachers, just like us." I preferred not to say the rest that had come to my mind: that just like us they are born and die, and in the journey from the cradle to the grave they dream dreams some of which come true and some of which are frustrated; that they fear the unknown, search for love and seek contentment in wife and child; that some are strong and some are weak; that some have been given more than they deserve by life, while others have been deprived by it, but that the differences are narrowing and most of the weak are no longer weak. I did not say this to Mahjoub, though I wish I had done so, for he was intelligent; in my conceit I was afraid he would not understand.”
Our shared humanity far outweighs our differences. When we rely solely on preconceived notions and rigid frameworks to perceive the world, we confine ourselves to narrow perspectives. Our world is complex, with diverse inhabitants. The integration and fragmentation of multiculturalism remain significant themes.
People like us, shaped by diverse cultural influences but not entirely rooted in any single one, should explore this topic further. Doing so can help ease our own identity anxieties while also promoting understanding and acceptance of cultures and people who may seem different from us.
From a macro perspective, we are all global citizens, with a duty to contribute to the overall development and progress of humanity. Throughout this long journey, our humanity sets us apart from other species and empowers us to be stewards of the Earth. Ultimately, I am a product of global civilisation; all humanity is akin. If, in my humble existence, I can contribute even slightly to the progress of humankind, it is a source of pride.
Thank you for sharing your journey. There is so much to learn from everyone.
Hi Camilla
No time for nomadic-journey contemplation, it is study time for me. In the comfort of home-sweet-home. Living out of a suitcase would drive me nuts and I do not like the jet lag. Haha
But, I do like your experiences, however what will you do when there are no more cities to visit ? Will you live permanently in one city you love ? And what is you best city by far?
你的旅程很精彩,谢谢