In 2018, I left Quebec for Italy, the land of my ancestors, where I have lived ever since. For many years, even though Rome was my home base, I wandered from one country to another, one continent to another for… work. I sought out charming cafés where I could settle in to write, translate, and plan my work as a journalist and author. As long as I had a good Wi-Fi connection, I was, as they say, “in business.”
I identified with the so-called “digital nomads”, those people who migrate from one place to another, laptop in hand, to earn a living while travelling, and who belong to a movement that began to emerge at the turn of the millennium.
For me, embracing the “free” in “freelance” was essential. I marvelled, learned, grew... Those few years of pure freedom nourished me immensely, and I will always be filled with gratitude for having had the chance to experience that chapter of my career.
However, over time, I admit that pace of life wore me down. Even though I still occasionally hop on a train to write in a new setting for the weekend, I’ve slowed down and I’m now a little less adventurous. In fact, I’m writing these words from my new home in Torino, gazing at the mountains while my dog naps at my feet.
WHAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF
Today, as I scroll through millions of lives that aren’t my own, my algorithm often suggests that I peek into the daily lives of digital nomads. These idyllic images promise a daily routine of diving into turquoise waters between Zoom meetings against a lush backdrop or sipping green smoothies in a luxurious villa rented at a bargain.
While this narrative appeals to many (and I can understand why), it left me feeling a bit out of sync with my own reality. Not because it’s fake, but because it only tells one side of an experience that’s far more nuanced. For me, making a living without a fixed home base also meant dealing with instability, isolation, constant organization, and a very real mental load.
Wanting to better understand this disconnect between the collective imagination and the reality of daily life, I spoke with Claudine Bonneau, a full professor in the Department of Analytics, Operations, and Information Technology at UQAM, who has been exploring this issue in the context of her research.
“Many nomadic workers monetize their status; they create content based on their experiences, seek sponsors, or sell merchandise. That’s why, in some cases, they need to romanticize their profile to project a highly polished and desirable image of what life as a nomadic worker is like. Personally, I call them ‘lifestyle promoters,’” she says.
She explained that today, many professionals prefer to call themselves geographically independent workers, not to reject the nomadic work lifestyle, but to symbolically distance themselves from it.
“For them, the whole point is to emphasize that the work can remain central, even when the setting changes. It’s not so much the term itself that’s the issue as the narrow portrayal we associate with it.”
AWARENESS
Fortunately, Claudine Bonneau has seen that more and more of these geographically flexible workers are becoming aware of their immense privileges and the impact of their lifestyle on both local communities and the planet.
“I’m seeing a growing weariness with the traditional model where people travel the world just to stay among Westerners in co-working spaces disconnected from reality. The current challenge is to break out of this expat bubble by seeking genuine integration with the local population. There’s a desire to find concrete ways to contribute positively to the host communities.”
Nomadic work also comes with its share of challenges, given that immigrating, no matter where or how you do it, brings with it its own set of obstacles and questions that need to be answered. Even though many countries such as Italy, Portugal, Mexico, and Colombia are now looking to attract nomadic workers, the fact remains that transitioning from being a sedentary worker to a nomadic one is a fairly complex process on many levels.
“Along with my colleagues, I developed the concept of ‘metawork,’ which is all that invisible, extra work a nomadic worker has to do just to be able to work. Since this lifestyle usually relies on an individual approach, you’re the only one in charge. This work falls entirely on you, and it can be a burden,” says Claudine Bonneau.
You also have to deal with being away from home, being (often) alone, and adapting to different cultures and different places. While there are many positives, all that can take a toll on both your body and your mind!
A WORLD OF POSSIBILITIES
Despite this complexity, many people find that remote work offers them tremendous opportunities for growth. Valérie, a 50-year-old accounting technician, has been moving from place to place since 2021.
“Living and working without a fixed base has taught me that the world is my office and that I can adapt to absolutely any environment. I’m actually quite impressed by my own ability to organize everything, fend for myself, and successfully overcome my fears, as it’s true that nomadic work can be exhausting at times and comes with a heavy mental load,” she affirmed, speaking to me from Prince Edward Island.
“But the adrenaline and adventure make the experience addictive, and I’m immensely proud of the journey I’ve taken. I’ve discovered a tenfold increase in energy, boundless curiosity, and a total openness to meeting new people.”
Camille, 32 years old, is a creative director, media expert, and content creator who is currently based in Brazil but has been travelling for nearly a decade. She echoes this sentiment:
“For me, this lifestyle is far from an escape; travelling is also part of how I build myself. My career has been taking shape, with intention, while on the move for 10 years. I have goals, dreams, and a vision that becomes clearer as I move forward. Seeing other places opens up possibilities. For me, that’s the real life hack: to be able to align work with life, not the other way around.”
While the great adventure of nomadic work continues to inspire, Claudine Bonneau reminds us that it’s important to approach it with a sense of awareness: that of one’s privileges, one’s impact, and the realities of nomadic work. She believes that cultivating a critical and authentic perspective on this lifestyle actually enriches the experience.
Looking back, I realize that, above all, nomadic work has taught me that freedom is not measured by the number of borders you cross, but by the ability to create a viable, humane, and sustainable framework for yourself.
Travelling while working can open up vast horizons and become a powerful catalyst for personal and professional growth, provided that you know when to stop, question your impulses, and redefine your priorities.
Today, I understand that it is no longer movement itself that gives meaning to the experience, but the balance we manage to create between work and life.