It's strange. It’s a new feeling. It’s one of the most notable hazards I’ve encountered while traveling abroad. It’s life without a smartphone.
I’m skeptical of all the claims that smartphones are making us dumb. It’s true that thanks to data plans and Google, we rarely dig deeper than our pockets for “research” (I sometimes sit and think about how our parents had to actually walk to a library to obtain information). But how I see it, the Internet enables me to know a little bit about a lot of things — and of course I still have to legitimately read published articles if I’m going to write a research paper.
I’ve been happy to find that, contrary to my fears, I’m not crippled from two years of relying on my smartphone. I’m still able to read a paper map, and nothing explodes if I take a few days to respond to an email. But after three months without a data plan, I’ve slowly become aware of an unfortunate side effect to how well my smartphone connects me with the world: not only does it pull me away from the people immediately around me, but it also disconnects me from myself.
The most uncomfortable thing about living without a smartphone is that you’re forced to think in those moments when you’re used to simply distracting yourself. What do you do when you’re waiting in line or riding the bus? We so easily fill those small spaces in our day by sending Snapchats, losing at Flappy Bird or scrolling through Facebook — probably with earphones plugged in. Completely self-enveloped, but not self-aware.
While providing a link to people and information not otherwise accessible, our smartphones isolate us from the people physically around us and insulate us from ourselves. Don’t writers always say their best ideas come to them in the shower? That’s a space where you’re forced to be alone with yourself, with nothing to occupy your brain besides your own thoughts.
During this semester abroad, I’ve been forced to come up with new ways fill those small empty minutes (or is it reverting to old ways?). I might strike up a conversation with the person sitting next to me. I might notice for the first time that day how pretty the sky is. Often I just try to content myself with my own thoughts, attempting to direct my thinking deliberately and constructively. Brainstorming a new column idea, reflecting on my relationship with someone, checking that I’m purposeful about how I’m spending my time... It’s strangely unfamiliar territory, being forced to fully occupy the space inside my own head.
This is a lesson I want to bring back home from Spain, even when I’m reunited with that miraculous 4G network that puts the world at my fingertips. I don’t really worry about FaceTime replacing face-to-face time. But I hope that when I get home I’ll be brave enough to make a habit of leaving my phone in my pocket and continue this new experience of spending time simply facing myself.
