My nomadic life began by pure randomness. In April 2003 I started working as a Community Manager for Gazzetta dello Sport. For legal reasons related to my contract I was not allowed to work in the editorial office (even if of course there were people in the same situation who were actually working there almost daily: like Giolitti use to say apply the laws and interpret them for your friends), so I was working at home and it was quite boring.
In the beginning of December 2003 I had to relocate house: with my mom we were moving in a smaller house in the same block, but because of inefficiency of italian burocracy, our Telecom provider told me to expect at least couple of weeks before I could have internet in my new place.
So I ask my bosses if I could work in the editorial office for this couple of weeks I was in emergency and I was told coldly I could not. Of course at the time I cursed them, but I will never be thankful enough for their strictness and obtuseness. Since at the time internet point in Milan were costing 4 euro per hour and were monopolized by arabs, I decided to fuck them and take a forced holiday not announced. Without internet and not allowed to enter the editorial office, it was the same thing working in internet point in Via Padova or in any other city.
So as I relocated I bought a last-minute package to Gran Canaria. And while there I realized that in the hour or two in the morning, added the same time in the afternoon I was spending in the internet point, focused and with a strong will to maximize my time, I could easily handle my routine tasks, that back home usually would gone beyond the standards eight hours.
Let’s be real: in a normal office most of employes work usually no more that half of the eight hours they usually spend in the office. At the same time, while at home I was spending my day in front of my laptop, wasting time playing around, while in the internet point my productivity was as its best efficiency.
After four days at the beach with 25°C degree, while in Milan was snowing, I was already so comfortable with this lifestyle that I decide to prolong my non official, not announced holiday, even if my mom informed my new place has internet already working.
I moved from the too touristy Maspalomas to a hostel in Pozo Izquierdo, windsurf capital. I was 32 years also and I don’t remember being in a Youth Hostel since I was 21. I had no idea in the following years hostels from all over the world would become my new houses.