Packing brain dump

Y’all. My trip is coming up so quickly. I’m going to Peru in less than two weeks! I’ll hike the Inca Trail, see Machu Picchu, sleep in the Galapagos Islands (Darwin slept there; just saying), and (I hope) get some photos of equatorial penguins. PENGUINS!! I can’t even try to explain how excited I am. BUT. I’m going to Montana for my cousin’s wedding the weekend before I fly to Peru, so I’m feeling a little crazy about packing, shuffling pets around, and tracking flights. My stupid mind has decided to muddle up Montana and Peru/Ecuador into one giant suitcase of stress. Therefore, I decided a post on packing "strategy" would be both timely and therapeutic. So here we go….

The trouble with this trip (Can I even say there’s trouble with this trip? It’s so beyond amazing and “what the privileged kids do” that I don’t think I can say anything troubling about it. But I’m going to anyway.) is the different climates I’ll be experiencing in two weeks. And fitting what I need for said climates into one big backpack, one small backpack, and one purse. Hiking boots and a sleeping bag are huge, by the way.

Lima should be lovely: highs in the 70s, lows in the I-don’t-cares because I’ll have a fleece and a hotel room. The Inca Trail is highs in the high 60s, lows in the 30s, but mix in strenuous activity everyday and sleeping in a tent, and I’m all sorts of befuddled. I think hiking boots, good socks, pants, long-sleeved shirts, a sports bra, daily undies, and a fleece should do it, but then there’s also rain (rain jacket), sun (big-ass hat, sunscreen), and cold nights in tents to consider.

Quito will be mostly like Lima but with extra rain, all the time. So an umbrella is needed. And then the Galapagos are supposed to be highs in the mid-70s, lows exactly 70, so that’s awesome. But also unexpected. When I thought about spending five days in the Galapagos, I thought about high 80s during the day and low 60s at night, which meant a range of cute dresses and cardis for nighttime. It is good for packing to know that I can omit the warm-weather clothes like shorts and tank tops, but those are also the things that take up no space in a backpack. So pile on the bulky stuff.

After lots of thought and revision, I have come up with the following packing list for this trip, which I will amend after the fact for anyone who wants to take a similar trip and learn from my packing mistakes. Of which there will be many. Because I can admit that I’m a shitty packer. But here’s what I have:

1 pair of jeans (wear on the plane)

1 pair of hiking leggings

1 skirt

4 long-sleeved shirts

4 short-sleeved shirts (wear 1 on the plane)

1 dress

1 cardigan

1 fleece (carry on the plane)

1 rain jacket

14 undies

2 bras

1 sports bra

1 swimsuit

5 pairs of hiking socks

1 pair of sleeping socks

PJ dress and pants

Hiking boots

Toms (wear on plane)

Big hat

Sleeping bag

Water bottle

Water purifying tablets

Flashlight

Umbrella

Sunscreen

Bug spray

Toilet paper (buy in Cusco)

Camera with batteries

Phone and charger

Sunglasses

Snacks for the trail (buy in Cusco)

Kindle and charger

Hand sanitizer

Dry shampoo

Wet wipes

Deodorant

Toothbrush and paste

Contact solution, case, glasses

Face wash

Face creams

Minimal makeup

I don’t know if you can tell from this list, but I’m probably going to smell bad for two weeks. I’m okay with that. I’ll have clean underwear. I will also look like poop in all photos because I won’t be wearing makeup and it will most likely have been days since I showered. I’m also okay with that. Because I’ll be on the Inca Trail and in the Galapagos Islands!!! Who cares about smelling good and looking decent when you have knock-you-to-your-knees, humbling, magical, historical, amazing ruins to look at and a cornucopia of nature’s wonder to explore and gaze upon in awe and revelry? Not me. Bring on the ugly selfies with the cute sea lions.

Port Aransas = The Awakening?

I love how traveling can reawaken, or be inspired by, or be in response to something I’ve read or seen or heard before, often without me even knowing. There’s a way my past experiences have of creeping up on me without warning to validate or invigorate a current experience. I had one of these surprise moments on my recent trip to Port Aransas.

I was wading out into the gulf while my friends stayed on the beach. The sun was setting. The coast was desolate. I was alone with the waves and the sky, and it was a peaceful, lovely moment. And as I laid back on the waves and felt the pull of the ocean upon my body, my mind recalled The Awakening, a beautiful and heartbreaking story by Kate Chopin of a woman trapped by society’s expectations of what her life as a woman must be. I floated in the water thinking as if I were Edna in the final scenes of the story. I don’t want to spoil the book for those who haven’t read it, so you should stop reading this now, go read the book, and come back. It’s a beautiful book. Go read it. It’s really short, if that helps.

I floated on the water, completely alone, and imagined myself as Edna more than a century ago. What pressures she endured everyday as a wife and mother, a life partially of her choosing and partially not. What hopes and dreams she harbored, however nascent and unfulfilled, that she strove toward. And then I thought of the life I am leading and how unlike hers it is, even though we both found ourselves floating in the Gulf of Mexico and contemplating our lives.

I’m a strong swimmer. That was on my mind as I had these thoughts. I imagined what it would take to swim so far out that I was exhausted, far enough to know I could never make it back. I thought about what it would take to make myself keep swimming farther as my limbs became heavier. I thought about what my life would need to be to keep swimming away and away and away from it, knowing I was using all of my strength to push myself beyond that life and beyond any life at all, because I saw no better life.

And then I thought about how I have absolutely no motivation to do that and how the hell did I become so much freer than Edna? I thought about all the women who had to suffer and struggle for me to be able to feel such a disconnect from that choice being my best, my only, option. I thought about all the human beings who had to endure lives worse than Edna’s to progress humanity to the bare minimum of recognizing each other’s rights to live freely (and how we’re not even at that bare minimum yet). Because a struggle for gender equality must always recognize that as bad as white women have historically had it, it’s been a cakewalk comparatively. (As long as you’re not comparing it to white men. No offense, dudes, but you know it’s true.)

To be an independent woman living a life of my own choosing sounds so obvious and not even worth mentioning today. But floating in the gulf, thinking Edna’s thoughts, brought home how many people have had to suffer, not for women, but for all people (race, sex, gender, religion, the full gamut) to maybe, possibly, one day be able to live lives of their choosing­—and it was truly humbling. Because I know mine is not a universal experience, even within the United States, let alone the world. There are still Ednas of all races and genders swimming out as far as their strength can take them away from every shore in the world, to escape persecution and a life not worth coming home to.

Travel isn’t always fun and games. Sometimes it’s learning and remembering the privilege I have in life and the debt I need to repay for those still suffering. But whatever way I look at it, I see the deep value of traveling.

Travel photography

Today at work a coworker shared beautiful photos of his recent trip to Europe with me and then I came across this list, and it's like the universe is sending me a message. I need a good camera. But not a really great, crazy expensive camera that takes up a ton of packing space and makes me look like a pickpocket target wherever I go. Can someone please recommend a high-quality, affordable, easily transportable camera that can help me take shots like the one below on my next trip?

Copyright Rus Margolin of Travel2Unlimited

Mini Vacations

I couldn't agree more, fortune.

I’m a big proponent of the mini break. Sure, I’d love to spend my time jet-setting around the globe on epic trips, but for some stupid reason my bank account and work schedule refuse to let me follow my heart in this regard. To the rescue … weekend getaways! The much more affordable and practical sister of my yearly overseas adventure, a mini vacation is easy enough to do at least once a year, if not more. Personally, I try following a schedule (without schedules, I’d end up sitting on my couch in all of my spare time) to make sure I take a minimum of out-of-town trips every year. For me, that means at least one weekend away in spring, summer, and fall, plus a few days off around the winter holidays.

My friends Christina and Matt (they’re married and I’m their permanent third wheel) and I have a loose agreement to go camping once in the spring and once in the fall, and to hit the beach once a summer. As for the winter time off, for the past decade at least, my sister or I have lived out of town, so the holidays are usually spent being a tourist in our hometown, checking out new bars and restaurants and revisiting old favorite spots. (Staycations are an entirely different beast that I’ll probably address here soon.)

The Great Outdoors

Camping is such an affordable and rewarding break for those who don’t mind sleeping in a tent and wearing flip-flops in the shower. And as a central Texas resident, I have access to so many beautiful state parks just a few hours’ drive away that it seems silly not to go camping when I need to get out of town and recharge a little. And luckily for me, Matt and Christina share this outlook. We always invite other friends to join us, sometimes with success, other times not, but either way the trips are affordable enough. Rates for a campsite are usually $15–$30 a night (and you can cram a bunch of people in one site), and then you just need to factor in gas, food, beer, ice, wood for the campfire, and any other miscellaneous stuff you want to drag out with you. It’s no stretch to plan a weekend away for less than $100 a person.

For me, camping means setting up my tent, throwing on sunscreen, hiking, swimming, cooking over a fire pit, stargazing, playing cards, talking nonsense, and making s’mores. So many s’mores! And so many stars! As a city dweller, I love getting away from light pollution and simply looking up—I can easily pass an entire night at a campsite marveling at how vast the sky is. On every single camping trip we take, Christina and I are guaranteed to look up at least two or three times and say idiotically, “Just look at all the stars! I mean, just look! It’s A-MAAAA-ZING!” No shame. It’s a great, giddy, childlike feeling. And for less than $100, how could I not indulge in that joy at least two weekends a year?

The Beach

The trouble with camping in Texas is that you’re pretty much screwed from May to September. It’s just too damn hot to be outside for that long. For me, at least. I’m sure there are people who love it, but I’d rather not share a car home with them after two days of sweat-lodging (no lodge needed) in the 100+ degree weather. Which is why I prefer to go to the beach in the summer and splurge on an air-conditioned condo with indoor plumbing to wash away all of my saltwater, sun-drenched stink.

So, yes, this mini break is more expensive than camping, because condos will always be more expensive than campsites. But you can still do an affordable beach trip, and the more people you involve, the cheaper it gets. Win win! We usually end up spending about $50/night for lodging per person (assuming three or four people) and, like camping, you just need to budget money for food, drinks, sunscreen, and gas. It’s easier to go out and spend money at bars and restaurants on a beach trip as well, but I’ve always found that with a lively enough crowd, everyone is content to cook and hangout at the condo or on the beach at night.

I’m heading to the Port Aransas this weekend, and I plan on sticking to a $200 budget, including the condo cost. (This is actually my most expensive beach trip, too, because there aren’t many people going and we’re paying a little more for a dog-friendly cabin.) And I completely recognize that $200 is no small amount in our lives of underpaid, underemployed, overcharged, and overburdened stress, but for me the relaxing respite of sitting on the sand, swimming in the sea, sleeping late, reading a book in the sun (under a giant hat), and enjoying the company of friends is worth the money.

So here’s to mini breaks and the sanity they restore! I’ll cheers to you all and your various ways of stretching budgets to get away while I watch the tide roll in this weekend.

Solo Travels, Part 2: The Joy and Self-Reflection

I love traveling by myself. There is almost nothing I can think of that is so joyously liberating as being in a place where I know no one and I have no expectations put upon me. When I get to act free from judgment (relatively, I suppose, but at least I haven’t heard or understood the judgments), I can focus on judging my own actions in a quasi-vacuum; I find it to be pretty darn insightful.

I think solo traveling gives me the freedom to see what I do without my normal social structure and comfortable boundaries influencing me. Of course, we all carry our influences and expectations around with us, but removing all familiarity and plopping myself in a foreign situation is a good way to strip as many of those external forces out of the mix. It is a rare opportunity that traveling affords and the source of that clichéd “finding yourself” theme. Clichéd, yes, but clichés can be true.

To beat a dead horse (I need a less gruesome saying…anyone?), here is my very first experience traveling alone and the mini lessons it taught me.

London, England

I flew from Austin to London solo when I was 21. I had graduated college a month earlier and I was so excited to be taking this first adult adventure by myself. My sweet mom had taken me to the airport and she cried as I walked through the security checkpoint, which brought home just how big this step was (lesson one: my mom is the biggest softie and I have a uncontrollable, reciprocal cry reaction to her tears). Six months abroad! I had no contacts, no safety net, no job prospects or ideas of what I would do, just a work visa and a hostel lined up for two weeks.

When I made it to Heathrow, I exchanged some cash, found my way to the Tube station, and faced one my fears straight away: how to buy a pass that would get me where I needed to go. When you grow up somewhere with basically no public transportation, trying to figure out Tube routes and fares can be pretty daunting, let me tell you (lesson two: other cities do it better, Austin). Lucky for me, London knows what it’s doing and makes it super easy. Success number one was buying my ticket and making to the platform going in the correct direction. I felt like a genius, well on my way to conquering the great city (lesson three: self-reliance feels amazing).

Coming out of the Tube, up to the busy streets above, I was completely disoriented and didn’t know which direction my hostel was. But hyper self-conscious of appearing to be a bumbling tourist, I just picked a direction and started walking like I knew where I was going (lesson four: I might be a bit narcissistic [no surprise, I did start a blog]). A couple blocks in, I realized I was going the wrong way. So just as purposefully, I swung my giant wheelie suitcase around (I hadn’t bought my trusty backpack at that point) and marched off the other way. I wanted people to think I lived in London and was just returning home from a trip abroad, heading back to my flat (lesson five: I'm an idiot). About five minutes after that, I was still lost and not sure I was heading in the right direction, so I swallowed my pride, gave up all hope of being seen as a local, and flagged down the nearest local-looking lady I came across to ask for directions.

I still remember how kind and friendly she was (lesson six: most people really are nice if you give them the chance). She was, in fact, from London, but nevertheless didn’t know where my street was. She said, “Hang on; let me check the A to Zed.” Huh? I had no idea what she was talking about, but she pulled out a city map from her purse (one I would see again and again during my time in London), looked up my street, and seemed genuinely excited for me to learn that it was just a couple blocks away, in the direction I was already heading. Success number two! I made a mental note to buy one of those handy maps and continued on my way.

I few minutes later I had lugged my beast of a suitcase up a bunch of narrow stairs and dumped it on my hostel bed (lesson seven: get a freaking backpack already), next to my new roommate Naomi. We exchanged a bit of introductory chitchat and then she insisted on taking me to the nearest Tesco for my first grocery-shopping trip in London (lesson eight: you bag your own groceries in the UK). I felt like a local just a few hours into my adventure!

I know, it all sounds so simple and mundane in the recounting, but the excitement of every single moment is indescribable. It’s a feeling of empowerment and giddy anticipation and communal trusting in the kindness of strangers that can only fully be understood in the experience of dropping away from all comfort and familiarity and going it alone. In case I haven’t made it clear yet, I highly recommend it!

Solo Travels, Part 1: The Stigma

Hello, again! I just want to say really quickly how much I appreciate you kind folks for indulging me and reading my posts. 

Now for the topic of the day—traveling alone. Daunting to many, luxurious to some, but somehow still stigmatic to others. I thought I’d write just one post on what I’ve learned from my solo travels, but then I realized I’d need to address the stigma first, because unless that’s out of the way, some people won’t actually read anything else. When I write about the joy of waking up whenever I want, wandering to whatever café I want for coffee and pastries and planning my adventures for the day, they’ll just think, “But it’s so sad, so pathetic, to travel by yourself. I could never do that.” It’s not! It’s totally not! And you totally could!

So this will be a two-part post, starting with the negative impressions. From what I can gather, the stigma of traveling alone mostly comes from a sense of shame, based on imagined reactions from other people. Shame at telling your friends or family or coworkers that you couldn’t find someone to go on a trip with you. Or that it means (or that people will think it means) you don’t have someone special in your life to share the experience with. That traveling alone somehow equates to being a lonely person, someone adrift without loved ones.

I think it’s an extension of the shame that keeps some people from going to the movies or dinner alone.  But going to the movies alone is one of life’s great joys! And in general I completely disagree with the premise that a person alone is necessarily a lonely person. There are a bajillion reasons for someone to be out in the world, doing exciting or fun or mundane things alone, none of which have to stem from a lack of people to do those things with.

Some people want to take trips that their friends and family have no interest in. Sure, maybe they could guilt a best friend or a boyfriend or girlfriend into coming along, but then they’re stuck with a downer of a travel buddy. Much better to not compromise on an adventure that is keeping you awake at night with excitement than to bring someone along who will grump about it the whole time, just to avoid a perceived societal stigma.

Some people make more money than their friends, but not so much more that they can pay for two people to take a trip. So they choose to go somewhere they’ve always wanted to go, on their own. I think it is much, much sadder to not do something you’ve always wanted to do because you’re afraid of what people will think, than to be a big girl or boy and live your life on the terms that suit you.

And then other people simply want to take a trip by themselves, for countless reasons. Maybe they want to relax and clear their minds. Maybe they want to go somewhere that feels special and private. Or maybe they want to push their boundaries and see if they can make it alone in a city where no one speaks their language. For some people, traveling alone is challenge enough and they want to prove to themselves that they can do it. And why not?

In general, I think it can be very dangerous to make your decisions based on how you fear other people will interpret them. If flying solo sounds worthwhile to you, why hold yourself back because of what you think someone might say? You’re probably just being paranoid anyway! Folks have their own lives to deal with; they don’t have time to judge you. So go live by your own (kind, thoughtful) rules.

I’ll write a follow-up post about all the fun I’ve had and lessons I’ve learned traveling by myself, so stay tuned. :-)

Words to live by

Maybe if I'm lucky I can do both? (Source)