The Universal Packing List, Part 2: Things You Don’t Wear

Posted on by
2

[Charlie Williams is a former classical pianist turned app developer, and former Midwesterner turned expat. He now lives in London with a Canadian novelist-musician (and fellow GGG contributor), and of course they met while traveling.]

Official jetsetter photo of the author in Tokyo. Not pictured: all this gear.                             (c) Emma Hooper

[Our universal packing list continues from yesterday with non-clothes items...]

1. Sunscreen. The number of countries where sunscreen is often unavailable (Greece!) or approaches $40/tube (Germany!) is shocking. Also when you leave from a place like England, it’s easy to forget that the sun exists at all or could possibly have the power to burn you.

2. Passport. This goes in a trouser/jacket pocket along with your wallet and phone: the three things you will repeatedly and compulsively check that you have not yet lost whenever walking around anywhere.

3. Student ID / driving license / credit cards go in the wallet. Take a minute to take out the grocery-store loyalty card, old receipts, cash from your home country, burrito-store punch card and so on. That can all go in a pile on your dresser so your wallet is nice and thin when you spend hours sitting on it on a plane.

4. Phone. A smartphone, obviously. Despite the ridiculous difficulty of finding data coverage overseas (it’s probably even worse for you poor people whose phone plans are based in the oligarchic hell that is the American mobile market) the utility of a handheld computer/camera/GPS device is compounded incredibly by the fact that while traveling you will not know the things that the internet can easily tell you, and need to stop constantly on street corners to do several searches (Google, email, AirBNB, TripAdvisor) for all sorts of basic stuff like “Where am I sleeping tonight?” “What’s good to eat near here?” “What does that sign say?” or “Why is there a statue of a giant-testicled bear outside of every store?”

5. iPad mini. In normal life I spend ridiculous amounts of time making computers do neat things that they didn’t do before. It is very hard for me to make the decision to not bring a laptop. Thankfully, we now have the iPad, which is basically a computer that is easier to carry around in a backpack and doesn’t run a C compiler. Leave this home if you are not a nerd, but know that this—yes, this very article—was written using said iPad mini on a Japanese bullet train. Jetsetting? Guilty. Awesome? Yes.

6. Charger for both: Part of the grand plan of simplicity is that these both charge off the same cable, which is USB at the electricity-goes-in-here end. USB is a traveler’s dream. In fact, it’s my opinion that now that it has been standardized, USB should be the only way a nonlethal amount of electricity is ever put into anything. You can charge your stuff off the wall, off a computer in an internet café, off the computer at your couchsurfing/AirBNB hosts’ place, or on a flight if you are lucky enough to get a newer plane. The best. Everything—cars! coffee pots!—should run on USB.

7. Headphones: noise-reducing fancy ones like these if you can spare the $300 (£300 in the UK, because—choose your own adventure—Amazon.com can’t do math or they hate Europeans). Also beware that these, despite being an amazing demonstration of sound technology, are not actually very robust and so you will need to be that person who always tucks them carefully away in their dedicated carrying case, or else be that cranky person on the plane whose headphones only cancel noise in one ear. This is the most expensive and also the most optional item on the list. Still, I would pack it. The amount that these help preserve sanity on long flights is so great that I would still bring them even if I knew they would break every… hmm, eight flights? Ten flights? They are really quite good.

8. Snacks for the plane.

9. Book (disposable).

10. The pocketknife that always makes it through security. Or not. But, you know, if I really didn’t know where I was going, I would bring this knife.

11. A small notebook (i.e. moleskine) with all travel directions written down. You will have no network connection and a dead battery, your train will have been late and you will be trying to get to your B&B at 1 a.m. You will be running to make a connection. You will have to ask sketchy people for help with directions to whom you would not want to hand an expensive mobile phone. You will be glad you wrote everything down.

12. Screenshots of all maps. The maps you drew in that notebook are crap. You still don’t have an internet connection, though. Screenshot all the maps you could ever want, so they’re in your photos instead of your web browser. Until someone comes out with a good offline Google Maps client that allows you to say “preload maps in this area and don’t clear them until I say so”, this is the best solution.

Um, OK, that’s it. Wow. That is longer than I expected, but with clever packing should still all be backpackable. In real life, of course, you’ll know where you’re going ahead of time, so you can swap out some things in order to be a bit less spartan in other areas. The main thing, of course, though, is that it’s personal. And impermanent— I’m sure in a year or two I’ll be packing some different things for wherever I’m going then.

I’m genuinely curious about what other people would bring in this situation—what would you bring? What on the list do you think is just madness to bring? To not bring? Let me know in the comments, and happy packing!

The Universal Packing List, Part 1: Things You Wear

Posted on by
Reply

[Charlie Williams is a former classical pianist turned app developer, and former Midwesterner turned expat. He now lives in London with a Canadian novelist-musician (and fellow GGG contributor), and of course they met while traveling.]

Where this thought experiment began…  (c) Charlie Williams

Riding a cable car down a Japanese mountain on my last trip—one of these mornings that dawns frosty and then is almost-swimming weather by lunchtime— I had a thought-experiment: What would you pack if you didn’t know where you were going? Say you were going somewhere, abroad, for two weeks, tomorrow? What things would be the most difficult, expensive, or time-consuming to pick up on the road? What things do you just need to continue having your own personal version of? What’s the most flexible way to have what you need and not become one of those people— lugging around a suitcase on what should obviously be a backpack holiday?

Our rules for the experiment: One backpack, plus what you can reasonably wear/have in your pockets on a plane.

Here’s my list. Some of it is, of course, groaningly obvious. Other things are “travel hacks” that I’ve come upon recently, or that I’m particularly proud of having incorporated into my travel routine. And, there are a few commandments here which I would have liked to have followed, but only really figured out on this last trip. Here, then, a snapshot of what must necessarily be a never-complete document. And yet—if you want to challenge me, I will happily accept your plane tickets, pack what’s on this list, and report back upon my return.

1. Swimsuit. Obviously. I will swim in Antarctica. Emma (my travel partner) would swim on the fucking moon. If you don’t swim on your holiday, you have probably lost. But at least the swimsuit didn’t take up much space in your bag.

2. 5 pairs underwear, or 1 per day, whichever is fewer. Any trip longer than five days will give you time to do some hotel-room hand-laundry. That, or just wear each pair twice—which I’ll admit is a controversial practice probably deserving of its own post.

3. 3-4 pairs normal socks, 1-2 pairs running socks (It is easy to buy socks. On the other hand, you always need more socks. How risk-averse are you? Adjust if you must; socks are small.)

4. Sunglasses. Duh. Unless, that is, you want to get hilarious ones where you’re going. Everywhere in the world sells sunglasses of dubious quality for about $5. This can be a souvenir of some utility.

5. 1 pair, and one pair only, shoes suitable for running and normal use. I ordered a pair of these before leaving, which could work as One Shoe To Rule Them All—in this thought experiment, if I ended up in a hot place I’d get some sandals, so that the shoes got a chance to dry out a little, and if I was somewhere really cold or muddy I might want something a little more heavyweight. In a real-life travel situation you’ll probably have some kind of clue what climate you’re heading to and can mega-slim down your total weight and bulk by finding the willpower to not overpack shoes. (Because these didn’t arrive in time, what I did instead was bring an old pair of running shoes I ditched partway through, after our main mountain climb and before I hit the Tokyo thrift stores. In real life if I were going somewhere that I definitely didn’t want to buy shoes from, or if I had to look actually proper-nice and do some hikes, I might bring a nice pair of shoes in addition to the runners. Sssshhh.)

6. Two t-shirts. (One t-shirt and one tank top if you wear that sort of thing.) You will definitely, anywhere in the world, have an opportunity to acquire a good local t-shirt for next to nothing. But first, of course, you will have many, many opportunities to acquire a horrible, tacky faux-local t-shirt for approximately $45.

7. Jumper or hoodie. A jumper is a sweater, you Yanks, but it’s often a little bit nicer-looking. This you wear onto the plane. It will help you sleep.

8. 2 pair trousers (One of which you have no emotional attachment to, would throw away, cut up, stain, trade away, etc. when you are packing to come home and have to sacrifice something to bring back whatever cool thing you bought in the bazaar. Or when you realize the place you’re going to is extremely hot and you need more shorts.)

9. Running shorts.

10. Running top. What, you don’t run? Start. It is the best. Two of the many things running will cure include a crippling lack of self-confidence and jet lag.

11. Light/waterproof jacket. There is no such thing as a waterproof jacket. But you know the type.

[Tomorrow: Things you don't wear!]

Guided by Locals in the Damas Mangroves

Posted on by
Reply

Tours are a tricky thing. You can easily find yourself in a large pack of people shuffling from one point of interest to another, straining to hear the guide while avoiding awkward conversations with the obnoxious couple from Indiana with no filter.

But tours can afford a better understanding of the historical, cultural, or environmental significance of a destination, enriching your trip by adding a story to the sights.

One way to better your chances of a good tour is by seeking out a local guide that can give a private tour. This one-on-one experience provides a personal experience and room for conversation instead of the one-way communication of a large group.

How do you find a private guide? I’ve found references on TripAdvisor or the sister site, Cruise Critic. I’ve also asked at our hotel once we arrive. That’s how we ended up with a private tour of the Damas Mangroves near Manuel Antonio National Park in Costa Rica.

William arrived at our hotel in a cab to take the two of us to his house on the shore of the mangrove, where the tour would depart. We were his only clients that morning. As we bumped down the dirt road through the neighborhood he grew up in, he explained his father’s life as a palm plantation worker, where William also got his start. But after college, William married and returned to his childhood neighborhood to start a business as a tour guide.

As we arrived at his home, we met his seventy-five-year-old father, who soon departed by bicycle, and William’s four-year-old son. As we paddled through the mangroves, William pointed out the spot where he takes his sons swimming. He shouted ashore to ancient local men might have been fishing, or possibly just pretending to fish. We learned about his twelve-year-old’s fascination with National Geographic instead of soccer and the father-son debates about which U.S. presidential candidate would be better for Costa Rica.

When we returned to shore, William’s wife had a typical Costa Rican breakfast of eggs, gallo pinto, and freshly brewed coffee waiting for us. We chatted about family (mothers-in-law are the bosses in Costa Rica, too) and work (it’s not easy running a business, a farm, and still finding time for the kids) before the cab driver pulled up to whisk us back to our hotel.

The purpose of the tour was to do some wildlife spotting—not a guarantee in the wilderness. And that morning, the monkeys and sloths were spending their time elsewhere. But rather than be a disappointment, the tour was a success because of the personal glimpse we got into real life in Costa Rica.

When to Go, When to Return

Posted on by
Reply

As I was trying to figure out if I could go out of town during my week off before starting the new gig (answer: no. It’ll just be too stressful, time-wise and money-wise, to try.) one of the important factors was, What day should I leave, and what day should I come back?

When left to my own devices, if I’m going to take a week-long trip, I go Wednesday to Tuesday or Wednesday. I’ve found Wednesday to be pretty consistently the cheapest day of the week to travel. That makes sense, right? If people are taking a long weekend, they leave Thursday or Friday and come back Monday or Tuesday, leaving Wednesday as odd man out of the days of the week club.

But you’re not always taking a whole-week trip. If you’re only going for a long weekend, which pair of days make the most sense? My preference is to leave Friday and come back Monday, because this leaves the full weekend to be somewhere, including a lazy Sunday–nothing ruins a perfectly good Sunday more than having to wake up to an alarm and deal with transit.

What about times to leave? Do you leave in the evening after work or on the morning of the next day? That’s a trade-off between how much money you want to spend (on an extra night in a hotel) versus how much time you want to take at your destination (one extra evening and morning). Plus, there’s that additional thrill of bringing your suitcase with you to work, so everybody knows you’re going out of town, and having to leave the office at a specific time because you’ve got a flight/train/car to catch, and not having to wait several more hours for your vacation to truly begin.

And the one on which I disagree with most people: when do you go back to work? Do you come home and go back to work the very next day? Or do you take one more day off to get back into the swing of things, to do laundry, to go grocery shopping, to get your life back in order? (Most people only consider this for longer trips, but I know at least one person, namely the art director of this site, who thinks it’s required for even a two-day camping trip.) I think, if you really want to make the most of your limited vacation time, you’ve got to dive right back into work, so that you don’t waste a day off on running errands and catching up on a little sleep. I can understand, though, the people who want to take that one extra day. It sort of lets the relaxation of vacation sink in a little deeper. It lets you ease back into life. And hey, if it helps you enjoy the trip more, go for it. It’s your time, after all. You get to pick when you go, and you get to pick when you return, even if that’s a day after you actually come back.