Why is it so hard for some travelers to settle down? What drives some people to be permanent nomads?
When I recently read Mad Travelers, a new book by Dave Seminara about people who just can’t quit the road (and the psychology behind that), I thought a lot about those questions. I saw myself not only in the main characters but also in the analysis of what makes these people tick.
When Seminara described perpetual travelers as having a psychological need to figure the earth out like it’s a puzzle that must be solved, I nodded. “That’s me,” I thought. I view the world as a puzzle, and every adventure helps put it all together. I am driven by this insatiable desire to learn as much as I can about how the world works.
The folks featured in this book — the ones who aim to be atop of every “most traveled” list — are mostly older, single, and unable to quit. And that addiction stifles many of their personal and romantic relationships. Their love of travel trumps everything.
And, as I kept reading, I wondered: Is this my destiny?
Have I just been fighting the urge to keep traveling all these years, because, well, I’m supposed to grow up, settle down, get a house, and make babies? Well-adjusted adults don’t roam the world alone forever, right?
As anyone who has read this blog knows, I am always going back and forth between settling down and traveling.
Back in 2016, I stopped being a permanent nomad, got an apartment, and traveled a lot less.
Before COVID hit, I was truly ready in my bones to settle down: I had planned to spend six continuous months in Austin (which is a record for me), join social clubs to make new friends, take cooking classes, pick up some hobbies, and start volunteering. I was going to build a life, date (I had joined every dating app before I got home), and intended to buy a house toward the end of 2020. It was time.
Now, eighteen months later — and on the road again — I find myself again reveling in the nomadic way of life. I’m in no rush to return to Austin. Travel is a battery that requires constant recharging, and, after so long at home, mine is supercharged. After over four months of constant movement, my travel battery is still at full strength.
Sure, that old demon anxiety has returned as I struggle to remember how to balance work and travel. But, since I’ve started journaling again, I’ve become better at managing that.
Now, with no desire to settle down and many more months of travel ahead of me, that book made me wonder: Am I just another mad traveler bound to this lifestyle forever?
Pre-pandemic, my travel battery ran like clockwork. After four or five weeks on the road, I longed for my own bed and a stable routine. I’ve cut many trips short because I hit that wall — and have never once regretted those decisions.
On this trip, though, that length of time has long come and gone. Sure, there are days where I decide to just chill, write, and relax, but I haven’t felt the desire to stop being a nomad again.
