The Strange Economics of Subjective Experience

July 25th, 2013

Early on in my travels I developed a fascination with the economics of life on the road. Travel comes in many forms, and the one which intrigued me most was budget travel. ‘Budget’ is an icky word in the minds of most. It implies a low quality product, and I think provokes the deeper fear of labeling oneself as a low quality person. When I was a poker player I was fortunate in that I had an easy time side-stepping and/or suppressing such self-deprecating notions. I was able to support myself over the Internet, and simply made a logical choice to live in places where life was cheap.

All good poker players are by their very nature good analysts. Becoming good at poker significantly improved my reasoning skills, and honed my ability to make decisions based on available evidence. Poker also highlighted the imperative of checking emotion at the door, both when approaching a decision and when encountering the result.

I was able to apply the thinking and reasoning abilities of poker to other areas of life, with good result. However, when I began to apply similar methods to quantifying things like subjective experience, happiness, or what I should do with my life, the equations either broke down or produced very strange results. Emotion and feeling are units inextricably tied into the analysis, and couldn’t be ignored in these cases.

I knew beforehand that life was precious; that things like emotion and feeling predominated what most people consider life. What I didn’t know was that, in an extraordinary contradiction to what I believed, life was cheap. Full, productive, and meaningful lives could be had for next to nothing. I was terrified. There seemed to be nothing left to strive for. At the age of 25 I calculated that I could, in some very real sense, retire if I wanted to.           

Now, I don’t think any financial adviser in their right mind would have agreed. I didn’t have that much money saved up. My calculations condemned me to a simple and humbling existence in some of the poorest nations on earth. There was no room in my budget for things like visits home to see friends and family. Such a trip would have cost almost three-quarters of my yearly budget. There was also no room for a family of my own, unless my hypothetical future wife were to provide the means. Also, I’d be forever confined to living in a culture that was not my own. However it was, and still is, an interesting notion to play around with. Do I really need to strive for anything more; can I really retire indefinitely?    

At the time of this realization I was backpacking through Laos, and was supremely happy travelling on $20 a day. I was hardly budgeting, and I assumed that if I lived there I could easily make due with less than half of that. Were I to retire right then and there, I assumed a modest return on some kind of investment vehicle, 3% inflation, and generous interpretations of data coming from studies of happiness and subjective well-being. Aside from never being able to afford to see my family again – a variable which I think I calculated differently at the time – the numbers worked.

I had assigned myself an imaginary budget of between $3,000 - $4,500 a year. This sum does not confine one to living in abject poverty in much of the world; far from it. I would have been able to own a simple home, hire a full time maid/cook, and have access to the Internet, which means essentially endless quantities of books, movies, information, and education. There was even room for a bit of additional travel, and I would've had the ability to move if I decided to. There are many places where such numbers work; places which are quite safe, and where billions of people already live.

To be sure, it was a radical idea. What’s more shocking, however, is that there is so little evidence against it. It would be a simple life, but by no means a life devoid of positive emotions, good relationships, engagement in activity, a deep sense of meaning, or even achievement. It all depends on how wisely one spends their time.

I have put this theory to the test from time to time; the theory that a full and meaningful life can be had for $10-$15 a day in some places. The most recent example would be the previous two weeks. Having just paid my bill I’ve come to see that, quite by accident, I kept to this budget. I have a spacious room with high ceilings, decent furnishings, and an attached bath. My room overlooks a garden, and there are mountain views in the distance. I order room service at my leisure, eat out when I please, and read, write, and think prodigiously. There are occasional yoga classes, excursions to see the local sights, or simply go for a walk. Leh is a charming town, and there is plenty of social activity. All this has cost me about $12 a day for the last two weeks. I have been lacking a bit in some areas, but ultimately that is due to my own efforts, or lack thereof.

I don’t think I’ll ever wake up one day and say “Okay, that’s enough. I’m retiring.” I’m 29. It’s a bit too absurd, even for me. However, weeks like the ones just past always remind me that this is a possibility.  Could I be happy living 3 months in Nepal, 6 months in India, and 3 months in Sri Lanka? Surely, but it would depend primarily on how I spent my time.

“In short, I am convinced, both by faith and experience, that to maintain one’s self on this earth is not a hardship but a pastime, if we will live simply and wisely.” - Henry David Thoreau

We are all on our own path in life. However, I think we obsess too much on the external – the kit, the gadgetry, the sweet new gear which will supposedly help us walk on our path to happiness and fulfillment. It’s all too easy to forget to actually walk on the path. We ignore the fact that, for the most part, we already have all the equipment we will ever need; the path is waiting.

For me, it has been excruciating to let go of literal and psychological securities to such an extent that the raw essence of lay exposed. The result is wonderful, but often the process is difficult. It is painful to acknowledge that my life is not unfolding in the way I thought it would; not even close. That said I am quite happy, as I think I should be.

I have no idea where the future will lead me, but I try and spend a few minutes each day being deliberately grateful for all that I have already. A large part that gratitude is the realization that I have learned to love simplicity to such an extent that all of my practical concerns are already met. Hallelujah! Travel alone is what woke me up this this realization, and know I’m not the only one.

Some years ago I became friends with a fellow online poker player, Zack Prager, while we were both living in Buenos Aires. While travelling, he too began to drift away from poker. When he moved back to the US, it was to get a masters in Positive Psychology from U-PENN. Afterwards, he started a website which gradually makes users happier because it has them focus on gratitude. Gratitudebucket.com is a cool concept, and I hope it works out for both Zack and its regular users. I haven’t asked him directly, but I would assume that the simplicity which a certain style of travel yields gave Zack space to realize the importance of pursing happiness directly. That’s what the science of Positive Psychology, and gratitudebucket.com are all about.

I’ll conclude this rambling entry with personal musings about education which I so desperately wanted to include, but struggled to find a segue for. As I mentioned earlier, in the past two weeks I’ve read a bunch of books. I’ve had the free time to finally sit down and read Carl Jung, Joseph Campbell, a multitude of Eastern and Western philosophers, and even the latest book on Positive Psychology: Flourish by Martin Seligman. I’ve also had time to enjoy some good literature, both classic an modern. As always in these moments of repose, I found time to reread select passages from “The Good Book”, which, being an atheist, is how I refer to Thoreau’s Walden.

By my calculations, the cost of attending private university in the US for one year could be exchanged for one or two decades of self-education whilst living simply in the developing world. Safety, a commodious abode, and beatific surroundings need not be sacrificed.  Thanks to the Internet, many lectures by world renown professors are available to all. Hundreds of hours of quality lecture and debate can be downloaded for free off of YouTube and other websites. Thousands of books are available online, many for free, and can be read on a device such as my much beloved Kindle.

   

I think many people fantasize about having the time to ponder life, to read the classics, to obtain an education rather than a degree. As in movies, the imagined montage is easier and more enticing than the snail-paced actuality. Universities can and do serve a tremendous benefit to both the pupil and society. They can greatly speed up the process of education, provide an invaluable network and setting for education, and only a university can provide an actual degree. What seems ludicrous to me is the cost – a phenomenon specific to America. 

I have learned more in the previous two weeks than I have in some time. I could have learned far more, but I lack the optimal setting and discipline which a university environment might provoke. However, I am completely free, and am learning for the sake of learning. To the curious, to the work weary, to the seekers and searchers out there, I only want to make this world more well known. For a Westerner who is fully aware of one side of the coin, the world of budget travel is rich with insight. A year of absolute freedom, self-education, and self-exploration can be had for far less than most expect. In fact, I’ve always noticed a direct correlation between how little I spend, and the increased richness of my experience. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: “Budget travel is worth paying extra for.” Strange economics indeed.