It is nearly 2am, i begin another 12-hour work shift in 5 hours, and all i’m up to is modeling my new 50-litre rucksack, dancing in my underwear in the mirror, awed by how suddenly lovely i look to myself in my road gear. Travel suits me.
The pack is a Kelty Pawnee built for a woman’s body. It cost $101 including shipping. It’s a teal blue that complements my skin and my vibe, too. The 50-litre capacity should actually prove excessive, but i’ll take room for error over none!
Every time i looked at my old 30-litre daypack and considered taking only that, a wee piece of me panicked inside. At the other extreme, my massive 65+15 pack didn’t make it past 20 seconds of consideration for my pan-Indian adventure. I learned my lessons about overpacking on earlier trips abroad.
During my first solo venture to a foreign world, i shed luggage all the way from Barcelona to Morocco–leaving a piece at my Spanish residencia, a piece in a locker in an airport, and maybe still another piece yet elsewhere–until i toted just a small backpack. I probably wore the same polo and khakis every day (per my 1999, pre-feminine style), even in hot-as-blazes Fez in June, where i was surely sweating. Seven years later, in Guatemala, with a large borrowed pack, i found once again that i had far too much crap. My load on that road was ridiculously heavy–clearly an unstudied packing.
My new medium-size rucksack should yet prove small enough to be carried onto planes. I like that i won’t have to think too hard if i do opt to buy something on a whim without shipping it home posthaste, or if i do somehow wind up with too much footwear. Fifty litres even leaves room for little luxuries, if i like–a travel speaker to share music? More gifts for hosts? Gifts for family that i don’t just yet want to spend half a day shipping home?