bon voyage, summer
how much of your life can you squeeze into your luggage? & other thoughts on embarking on a journey
The beginning of June marks the midpoint of my summer travels. I spent a few weeks in Los Angeles and San Diego with my family, friends, and partner, where I didn’t write as much as I danced, ate, and admired the ocean. Now, I find myself back in San Francisco for a few days before hauling myself to the airport, this time headed towards Europe.
Leaving for a trip always fills me with mixed emotions. Part excitement for what’s waiting out there, part trepidation for what I’m leaving behind. The thread between inaction and action is pulled taut, and rather than pack or review my itinerary for any missed logistics, I choose to drag my feet and spill my thoughts onto the page instead.
A stranger in a strange land
While I was in LA, I attended a housewarming hosted by my stepbrother B and his wife M. I chatted with one of the attendees, Z, about anime, which then turned into a conversation about how visiting Japan was at the top of his bucket list.
Having not traveled much, Z seemed unsure how to make his dream become a reality. An international trip to a place where he didn’t speak the language or understand the customs intimidated him, a feeling I understood all too well.
I reflected on my first time abroad. When school ended and summer vacation began, my family would visit Taiwan for months on end. Days of lazing at the park with my friends and playing tennis were replaced with long, indistinguishable bouts of boredom. How many windows did I watch get pummeled by the rain? How many convenience stores have I ducked into for the slightest reprieve from the relentless humidity? How many times have I read my precious English-written books until their spines cracked?
I soon grew as moody as the monsoons reigning the season. Not only was I separated from my friends by distance and timezone, but I also resented being unable to understand others and make myself understood. My grasp of Mandarin, frankly put, is worse than a native-born toddler’s, and it sounds even worse. Whenever someone asked me to repeat my mumblings, a furious heat would rise to my cheeks. Any higher, and my spirit would have evaporated along with my shame at my foreignness.
Because even though I’m Taiwanese, I didn’t look or act Taiwanese at all. My skin was too tan, my build too stocky and muscular. My clothes were all wrong, my laughter filled the air with a loud bray, and my hair matted into a hopeless mess in the muggy heat – all signs of my inexorable Westerness. At the time, I bore the scrutiny of my relatives with a self-conscious chuckle before retreating in silence, counting down the days before I’d finally be on a plane back home.
In hindsight, it was good my parents dragged my sister and me out of our hometown. The initial discomfort of visiting somewhere-not-home melded into a more palatable state of being: an acceptance that I might never belong, but that wouldn’t prevent me from having a good time. By the time I set out on my first trip unsupervised by adults (because I was now an adult), I possessed the wisdom that, in 99% of places I would travel to, I was a veritable pleb and needed to put in the effort, humility, and grace into learning how to be a good visitor.
Years later, I’ve grown to appreciate the trip-planning process. My travel style has significantly evolved over time. Before, I would have made restaurant reservations with a rigor that would have better suited other aspects of my life and structured my itinerary in 30-minute increments lining the rows of a spreadsheet. Now, I’m much more lax in planning and prefer to flâneuse my way through the areas I visit, wondering what I’ll spy through the windows and alleyways.
Trip-planning feels like a constant witch’s brew where I’m adding a pinch of *spontaneity* and tail of *foresight* and dreg of *spending more $$$ for comfort because my ol’ bones can’t take cardboard mattresses anymore.* And the final draught is always different. Every time I drink it, I savor the familiar notes – art, vintage, oceanside afternoons, chocolate – and linger on the unfamiliar ones – parties in abandoned fairgrounds, wheatfields in the middle of nowhere, nondescript buildings with interesting doors – wondering which ones will be in my next concoction. Wondering, at the end of my life, which brew will taste the sweetest.
“Go for it. It’ll change you,” I urged Z. “Get the big pieces – flights, lodgings – out of the way first. Then you can start planning the fun stuff.”
Packing is NOT the most fun a girl can have
Physical organization does not come naturally to me, and packing falls squarely under this umbrella of castigatory activities. I somehow manage to both under AND overpack, and my habit of booking early flights to maximize my trip time clashes with my unfortunate tendency to procrastinate. I often wake up, alarms blaring, with thirty minutes left to stuff my suitcase with what I hope are the essentials before dashing out of my apartment to head for the airport.
Hence why I usually end up with one too many notebooks, not enough socks, and aching shoulders.
But I’m resolved to pack differently this time. This isn’t just a trip. It’s a mission. In addition to attending a wedding, I’m ferrying items between the U.S. and Europe for loved ones, which means half of my precious carry-on space has already been taken up by miscellanea. The other half plus an oversized tote bag, I will have to squeeze enough of my wardrobe, toiletries, and entertainment to last me for two weeks.
After trialing out a capsule wardrobe in SoCal, I’ve landed on my final roster:
Essentials
Much to my chagrin, “awareness of my belongings” is not my strong suit. I tend to lose things easily, and for that reason, I have doubled down on knowing what and where my traveling essentials are at all times. Nosy as I am, I’m always interested to see what others define as essential when they pack. For me, they are:
Passport, equipped with an obnoxiously bright cover so I can identify its presence – or alarming lack of – a mile away if I have to!
Phone, because your girl cannot survive without Google Maps. For eSim cards, I like using Airalo!
Charger adapter. Buying a solid-quality one with multiple ports is a lifesaver, especially if you’re too lazy to find all the outlets wherever you’re staying.
Portable battery packs. The worst feeling is if your phone battery is dangerously low and you have no idea how to return to your lodgings.
Old transit cards if you’ve visited the country before. I’ll be taking my Oyster Card this instance.
My lil’ coin pouch is so cute :’) Wallet, banknotes, and coin pouch. I usually stick with a cardholder since the places I’m going aren’t cash-heavy, but it’s nice to have a coin pouch to hold all of your coins in one place.
Toiletries including: toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, hairbrush, sunblock, enough moisturizer to fend off psoriasis, and whatever pills and vitamins you need to take.
Going over this list, I get the strongest sense of foreboding that I’m forgetting something…
Oh, keys! Keys to get back into your home when you’ve suffered through an exhausting flight and long customs line and all you want to do is settle in your sweet, fluffy bed :^)
Clothing
Aside from a dress and heels (which I’d usually never bring seeing they’re one-time use only, but the wedding’s black-tie and my present self is currently kicking past self for being too lazy to get aforementioned dress hemmed so I could bring a sensible pair of kitten heels instead), I’m mulishly sticking to a wardrobe of:
A midi-length black dress. Casual and comfortable enough fabric to tromp around during the daytime, dressy enough in design to wear for a fancier evening out.
A pair of wide-legged black trousers & a pair of wide-legged blue jeans.
A maxi-length black chiffon skirt, if I don’t want to deal with the fuss of the dress.
Three oversized button-down shirts of different colors and patterns, all which have to go with my bottoms and dress.
Three tank tops/t-shirt types. Basic layers to wear under the shirts.
Two belts – one vintage gold snake with adorable turquoise eyes, one black leather belt with silver hardware.
A leather jacket (although my decision to bring this jacket has led to the realization that I don’t really have a good oversized-still-too-cool-to-be-summer option – time to start searching!)
A pair of leather black boots (my calf-length Ann D’s never fail me)
A funky scarf that goes with everything because it’s RAINBOW-COLORED!
One cross-body bag in case I don’t want to tote around my tote.
A week’s worth of socks and underwear.
Even reading through this list, I have no clue whether or not I’ll wear all of these or get so sick of cycling through them that I’ll buy a completely new wardrobe by the end of my trip. My bet’s on 70/30.
Electronics
If I’m being truthful, electronics are the epitome of high-risk, high-annoyance when it comes to packing. Not only are they heavy to carry, but they’re a hassle to take out of your bags when you’re passing through security and you risk them getting jacked. All of this, and my own desire to stay off the screen, has led me to pack:
NO laptop! Honestly kind of a shock, since I usually lug my baby around wherever I go but the reality is, if I’m out and about downing croissants and currywurst down my gullet, I’m only going to spend a maximum of 1 hour per day on my laptop, which doesn’t seem worth the extra weight.
My Nintendo Switch because the flights are long, and I have a never-ending backlog of games to get through.
An iPad for reading (because my back can’t handle hardcovers stuffed in a bag anymore) and working -cough- on my next newsletter & book outline.
One handheld camera. Not opting to bring my DSLR this time because 1) I’m bad at using it often, and 2) the digicam is so much more compact and portable!
Earphones which hopefully I won’t lose this time (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)
Non-electronics
Now here’s where I must kill my darlings. Because maybe, just maybe, I could use my watercolors and oil pastels in a bid to be that artsy b*tch gallivanting the scenic idylls of Europe. But let’s be real, if I haven’t touched my art supplies at home, I won’t summon the discipline to use these beautiful pigments to their fullest extent when surrounded by the many temptations of pastries, riverside drinking, and secondhand shops.
So I’m allocating the last 11.5372% of my space to:
Three notebooks. One for journaling, one for language practice, and one for novel writing.
A sketchbook – because even if I don’t paint, I doodle incessantly when given the chance.
A pencil case. No more ink splotches in my bags!
AND if I can squeeze it in there and I feel up for it… my knitting. Only problem is it’s quite a large project, so it might be annoying to carry around both the work and extra balls of yarn.
And that’s it! I’m sure a few more things will sneak their way in there, but that’s an oversized tote bag and a carry-on worth of stuff to keep me company for the next eleven days (๑•̀ㅂ•́)ง✧
That’s it for now, folks! Trying to figure out how I can write and publish on Substack more AKA not be so precious and revel in the fact that I will make mistakes and embarrassing leaps of logic, so I’m going to think about shorter pieces that I want to work on because there are. SO. MANY. COOL. THINGS. I. WANT. TO. SHARE. WITH. YOUUUUUUUU!
Poll-of-the-essay: Are you an over or under-packer?
Have such a wonderful time (and let’s catch up when you’re back)!
Also, I am a “pack the essentials in the 30 minutes before leaving for the airport,” which usually amounts to underpacking.
Just found your page and glad I have. Love the way you write, even your packing was an enjoyable read :) I'm also trying to get over the perfectionism and just write and write and write!