My First Week as a Digital Nomad
What's Athens like? What makes a writer a writer? How hard are you supposed to be on yourself?
Geia sas!
Welcome to the first issue of my newsletter!
Each week I’ll provide updates on my nomadic journey and share a few things that I’ve learned about ethical travel, minimalist entrepreneurship, and writing.
I’ve been living in Athens for a week now, and it hasn’t been the week that I’d hoped it would be. I left the UK with unexpected luggage: A classic seasonal British cold.
For the first couple of days, I ignored it. I had a lot to do to get settled into my new life.
Then it got worse and for the following three days I barely left my apartment.
I’m on the way out of it now, and I’m hoping that my first week ends up being a ‘first pancake’ in a series of great weeks in the storied city of Athens.
That’s the thing about the digital nomad lifestyle. It’s not so different to a normal lifestyle.
Just because I’m in one of the most historically significant cities of the human age doesn’t mean that I can’t spend a week wrapped in a blanket, blinds closed to the sun, playing videogames.
I think there’s a profound lesson in getting sick right at the beginning of such a highly anticipated adventure. Like a reminder for me to not get swept up.
My First Week in Athens
My first impression of Athens wasn’t great. The city seems tired.
There’s graffiti everywhere, the pavements are cracked and there are frequent protests. This week the refuse collection services were on strike, so piles of bins are overflowing on the streets.
At the same time, pavements are lined with olive and orange trees, the marble architecture is beautiful and the hilly layout makes for stunning views. It can be breath-taking.
But you know what else can be breath-taking? Sometimes when you’re walking around Athens, you’ll be hit square in the face with the smell of semen.
Yeah, I said it.
The city smells like semen. I’m not joking.
Apparently, it’s chestnut trees, and it’s normal. It does make me think of this That Mitchell and Webb Look sketch though.
The Greek way of life feels slow. Everything opens late and closes later.
Perhaps because of the warmth (even in November) it’s common for the Greek to take a siesta in the afternoon hours and be up and active very late.
This creates some striking scenes, because at this time of year it still gets dark very early. By 6pm it’s pitch black but the city is barely waking up. At 9pm the streets are still bustling with kids, jogging groups, families. Things that brits do straight after work, happen several hours later in Athens.
Should I cut myself some slack?
I had grand plans for my nomadic lifestyle.
In a foreign city, with little to distract me, I planned to be super productive. I planned to dive into my writing and create more content than ever before.
Instead, I had a slow week. I only got a couple of hours of ‘deep work’ done, and I spent a lot more time on YouTube than I did on my blog.
It turns out, a person who’s looking to procrastinate will go to great lengths to seek out distractions.
I frequently find myself caught between my desire to be more productive and my mental wellbeing.
On the one hand, I thought to myself “I’m losing productive hours because my schedule has been disrupted. I need to slip back into the same structure I had in the UK”.
But on the other hand I think “I’ve been ill, and I’ve made some major changes to my lifestyle recently. It’s understandable for me to feel overloaded; I should cut myself some slack”.
I’ve flip-flopped between these two attitudes and I’m still not sure which one is best, or which one is really me.
What do you think? Do you tend to prioritise your productivity or your wellbeing?
Does this make me a real writer?
Earlier this week I went to a café and ordered a coffee and a small breakfast. I sat down, whipped out my laptop and wrote.
With the sounds of life around me, I quickly cranked out over 1000 good words and finished the article that I’d sat down to write.
One of the unexpected advantages of living in a foreign country is that café conversations don’t distract me from my writing, because I can’t understand them.
I polished off my coffee, leaned back from my table and in that moment… I really felt like a writer.
Am I a dork?
Is it silly to attach so much meaning to the act of writing in a café instead of at my desk?
Undoubtedly I was a writer before this happened, because I wrote things. But something about being “that guy” in the café furiously attacking his keyboard, completely zoned out from the world around him- it felt like checking an item off my bucket list.
Antio sas!
That’s a wrap on this week! Hopefully next week is easier breathing for me (literally, because I have a cough).