In recent years, the term co-working has crept into my vocabulary, alongside co-housing, co-living, co-designing, co-creating, … I am a big fan of these co-words. They seem to me the way to go: together, but with a bit of space around it.
Co-working spaces are just that: spaces where people work alongside each other on whatever ‘work’ means for them. The co-working spaces I’ve seen differ widely, but all contained large tables as well as seating corners and meeting room. Reliable WiFi is crucial.
Co-working infuses work buzz with a kind of relaxed camaraderie. Co-working spaces are not particularly quiet: there’s always a rustle of people changing places, pausing for coffee, chatting for a few minutes: you are surrounded by the murmur of life. This should be distracting, but it isn’t — at least not for me. Sitting in front of a laptop in a room by myself saps my energy; co-working wakes me up.
Co-working hasn’t been around for that long: the first co-working space, Schraubenfabrik, opened in Vienna in 2002. But the concept has spread fast: by 2013, there were 2,500 co-working spaces across the world; in 2020, that number had grown to 19,000. I start most of my Medellin days in one of them: Selina, a bright, buoyant, colourful expanse of connected areas with lots of nooks and crannies.One of these has a giant hammock stretching out from the ceiling. (In Colombia, hooks for hammocks are an integral part of architectural design.) In another part of the building, one wall has been removed to create a yoga space that opens up to the river, the trees and bird life. This is where I find myself most days at 6 pm.
Co-working is a popular option for digital nomads. I don’t know if I’m in Medellin long enough to qualify as a digital nomad, but I like to think that I am, temporarily at least, part of a global nomadic tribe: a wanderer with a sense of community. Plus (another new piece of vocab) a snowbird: one who travels to warmer climes in winter.
Medellin is popular with digital nomads because, amongst other things, it combines reliable internet with reliable weather (between 17 and 28 degrees throughout the year).
What is the impact of nomads on the larger communities they land in? And isn’t it a bit of a hedonistic lifestyle? Some digital nomads are beginning to ask these pertinent questions. Last week, I attended an eventorganised by a Social Enterprise called Nomads Giving Back, where a bunch of people explored ways in which digital nomads can have a positive social impact, through volunteering, activism, skillsharing and generally building relationships with local communities. If this reflects the direction digital nomads are wandering into, I like them even more.