Good news. Over two months into Megatrip and David doesn’t need physical therapy. At least not as a result of dead lifting any Samsonite branded grand pianos. I can’t say the same for countless hotel employees, airline baggage handlers, cab drivers, and a few unsuspecting Good Samaritans, however.
Bad news, while my suitcase mysteriously lost 2 kilograms, it simultaneously managed to become a bigger burden over the course of our travels in ways I didn’t anticipate.
To give myself a little credit, since leaving Southeast Asia, I’ve actually put a fair amount of the items in my walk in closet suitcase to good use due to large temperature fluctuations in Africa. Early safari game drives necessitated pants and a jacket, only to be shed hours later for lunch by the Chobe River in shorts and bug spray. Late morning dune hikes required a baseball hat to shield the sun, while stargazing in the middle of the Namib desert warranted a scarf to function as a blanket. Stellies wine tours were ideal for sundresses, but Camps Bay sundowners were warmer in jeans. The list could continue, but you follow.
Nonetheless, did I need to pack a heavy fleece, 3 pairs of pants (not including leggings), 2 jackets and 4 sweaters to be prepared for influxes of colder weather? Probably? Maybe? Actually no. Absolutely not. And thats just when the burden starts sinking in since there is a price to pay for being over prepared.
The physical and monetary effects of overpacking were obvious from the get-go. I budgeted for sore shoulders and $50 at the airport check in counter. But, there has been a reoccurring hidden cost I was not prepared for: Time. Not an exorbitant amount by any means, but just enough to make 21 kilos feel like 45 as the process of repacking overstuffed luggage seems to get longer with every passing country.
Losing precious free time to take clothes in and out of my wine cellar suitcase was certainly not on my mind as I gleefully took snapchats of David carrying it through the ocean our first week of the trip. Now I’m paying the price. As David enjoys an extra cup of panoramic coffee while [insert sitting outside overlooking something scenic here], I am inside sweating for 20 minutes, struggling to understand how 7 articles of clothing originally fit in my “nice tanks and shorts” medium sized packing cube. (I overpacked, but at least I’m organized).
Have I found a solution to this very first world problem? Not really. And there is a far greater obstacle in my way: Europe. A country where hotel rooms are tight, elevators are not guaranteed, hills are steep, streets are cobblestoned, and bag checks disappear as trains become our primary mode of transit. Sounds fun, doesn’t it?
So as we dive headfirst into the Mediterranean, armored car for clothes firmly shackled to our ankles, stay tuned for the next chapter. I assume it will include one of the following scenarios: 1) We miss our train to Augsburg because my bag doesn’t have the proper passport documentation 2) I allow gravity to hurl my bag down a step incline in Manarola at 30 mph, crashing into an unsuspecting street vendor who makes me pay for the cart full of tomatoes he lost or 3) Being so fed up with my bag that by the time we make it to Amsterdam, I simply throw it into a canal resulting in a small tsunami. JK, my bag is WAY too heavy to lift over a bridge railing.
It sounds like you are in a love/hate relationship with your megabag! 🙂