Everyone loves the fantasy of remote work.
Sun. Sand. Slack pings from a beach lounger.
But let’s talk about what’s actually inside your suitcase when you’re shipping code across time zones.
Let’s talk about hauling a 27-inch monitor through airports and praying it's still in one piece when you arrive.
Let’s talk about the logistics of real remote work.
This Isn’t Travel. It’s Infrastructure.
If you’re building software for early-stage startups, you’re not casually typing emails poolside. You’re debugging fragile MVPs. Reviewing broken PRs. Running late-night calls that spiral into product crisis therapy.
And you’re doing it on a 13-inch MacBook Air with a sticky keyboard? Not a chance.
You need gear. Real gear.
- External monitor
- HDMI converter
- Mouse + keyboard
- Noise-canceling headphones
- A router or portable hotspot
- Power bricks
- Adapters for every continent
Remote work is sold like minimalism. But the real ones know: it’s excess in disguise. You’re not travelling light. You’re transporting a battlefield.
You’re Not a Tourist. You’re a Nomadic Ops Team.
Every new city means a new desk setup. A new test of the local Wi-Fi. A new ritual of turning hotel chairs into ergonomic seating. You’re building a Forward Operating Base.
You land in Crete. No plan for what’s next. Just a suitcase and some duct tape. And you pray the Wi-Fi isn’t dropping.
(For the non-ex-military: a FOB is a Forward Operating Base. Temporary. Tactical. Built fast. Kinda like my new "homes.")
This isn’t remote work. This is remote logistics.
You start optimising your suitcase like a dev team optimises load times.
Cut clothes. Pack chargers. Prioritise bandwidth. Weight becomes trade-offs.
- Is the monitor worth the bulk?
- Will this hotel support 3 a.m. Zooms?
- Do I have enough power to rebuild this product tonight?
This is what the digital nomad Instagram posts don’t show.
Real Output Has Real Weight
That 27-inch monitor isn’t vanity. It’s velocity.
You’re not on a gap year. You’re shipping code that decides whether a startup lives or dies. That’s not laptop-on-lap work. That’s build-a-bunker-and-focus work.
And yeah, that bunker might be a holiday rental. But it’s still a bunker.
No, this isn’t the dream.
And yeah—I miss my old home. My old life.
But when going back isn’t on the table, you build forward.
You carry the weight. You get it done. You stay in motion.
Remote freedom means making peace with your payload.
This is the hidden cost of high-output mobility. You move slower. You check in bags. You sweat at airport security explaining your “portable office.”
But that’s the price of real productivity.
Want Freedom? Carry the Load.
Remote work isn’t a minimalist fantasy. It’s a tactical operation.
If you want to ship like a killer, you have to pack like one.
That means treating your environment like a variable you control, not one you just adapt to.
If you’re still romanticising remote work, you’re not doing real work.
This isn’t about vibes.
It’s about capability.
It’s about firepower.
So yeah, I haul a 27-inch monitor through airports all over Europe.
And yeah, I book large luggage for my setup, because a 27-inch monitor is a few centimetres too big for hand-luggage.
Because I’m not here to travel light.
I’m here to deliver.
Here’s what to think about next:
- What’s the one piece of gear that 10x’s your output?
- Would you rather move light, or move fast?
- Is your remote setup built for real work, or just remote aesthetics?