The backpack pack

When L. asked me what I was packing, an unassuming, innocent, reasonably curious question, I found myself unable to answer.

“I…I can’t talk about it right now…” I had said. We were down by the shore in Avalon, NJ. staying at C.’s family’s beach house; it was my last weekend before beginning the trip, and while mostly calm and relaxed in the days leading up to my departure, I wasn’t without periods of stress, anxiety, and doubt. Lounging around with my friends, sipping wine and indulging in a butterfat cheese spread from Murray’s, I was glad to be away from the city and spending quality time with close friends. And I was happy to talk details about the trip. Most of the time.

The previous week I’d been in Buffalo and had soaked up as much of my sister as possible in the few days we had together–her back from China, me nearly off to South America. Because Stephanie had done something similar last year, being in her presence was an endless source of comfort. My last few days were relatively stress-free, until it came to the unavoidable packing issue.

How *does* one pack for a year? Better question: how does one pack for a year of seasons?

Reasearching (read: googling) travel advice, I stumbled upon a couple of decent packing lists, and from those and my own prior backpacking experience, I faced the task ahead. Here’s what made the cut:

Clothing:

5 J. Crew ribbed tank tops (I live in these, and they’re great for layering.)

1 skirt

2 dresses (one that works for colder weather)

1 bikini (I’m planning on buying a Brazilian bikini because, apparently, that’s the only way to beach it down here.)

two pairs of flip-flops (one leather, OluKai, one non-leather, Merrell, which can double as a shower shoe when I’m staying in hostels that have community bathrooms)

sneakers

everyday shoes for walking, hiking, etc

favorite jeans

Patagonia rain jacket (the hood that doesn’t want to stay put is a source of frustration)

20+ pairs of underwear

2 bras

1 sports bra

running shorts

long-sleeve dry fit running shirt

2 pairs cotton shorts

leggings for running and cold-weather sleeping, if necessary

khaki-type pants

4 T-shirts

3 sweaters: 1 light wool, 1 heavy wool, 1 cotton

hoody fleece

black comfy pants

beach cover-up

1 cute/sexy halter top (already I fear I’ve not packed enough going-out attire)

scarf that doubles as light blanket or hair towel if absolutely necessary

several pairs of socks

absorbant towel

lounge/sleep pants and T-shirt

long-sleeve shirt, good for layering

sleep shorts

2 hair scarves

2 hats: one light weather, one wool

Personal Care Items:

Suave 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner

Blistex DCT

earplugs, several pairs

Venus razor cartridges (I forgot the actual Venus razor, but I reckon I can still shave my legs using just the razor portion.)

toilet tissue

Nars The Multiple (Thanks a mil, C., for lightening my make-up load significantly!)

Dove soap, several bars

toothbrush (I have serious misgivings about leaving my electric toothbrush behind as my whites haven’t seen a cavity since I started with the Oral B spin brush many years ago.)

dental floss

tampons

mascara

loose powder

body lotion

eye mask for sleeping

suncreen, 30 SPF

insect repellent with DEET

tweezers

q-tips

night cream for face

daily facial moisturizer

1 lipgloss

Medications:

Dramamine

Immodium

Pepto Bismal (I have a stomach of steel, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.)

Malarone (anti-malaria pills)

Aleve

Tylenol

Neosporin

Antibiotics: Cipro, Doxycycline

Clear Eyes (not sure why I bought this)

Diflucan (not interested in being caught in a foreign country without this)

heartburn medication

Alka-Seltzer

vitamins (is this in the right category?)

Other:

Steripen (Thank you Rachel, Aunt Carol, Mom and Dad!)

cameras: Panasonic Lumix FX 37, Pentax N73 digital SLR

batteries

zip drive

extra memory cards for cameras

Sony Vaio laptop

Skype headset

REI headlamp (a supposed necessity for long bus trips)

Books:

Lonely Planet’s South America on Shoestring

Joseph J. Keenan’s Breaking out of Beginner’s Spanish

Richard Ford’s Women with Men

Paul Beatty’s White Boy Shuffle

(I’m counting on book exchange places to keep a new book in circulation always.)

I figure I will end up chucking a few things as necessary. As it is right now, what I’ve listed fills my large backpack, my day-pack and another over-the-shoulder bag. My friend Denise drove me to the airport yesterday, and I was fortunate to have a ride today as well, so I haven’t had to do much walking with all of my stuff just yet, but I’m not sure how much weight my back can handle carrying if I have a lot of ground to cover.

Agent Greg

The computer has been diagnosed (it wasn’t the hard drive!) and optimized for forty bucks.  I’m using it to type this post, in fact.  Agent Greg, a member of Best Buy’s Geek Squad, called to deliver the good news, although he was hardly able to explain the problem.  Something about a particular profile being corrupted.  All of my files are in tact, and I was happy to elect the optimization option for a small fee without pressing for further information.

Although I know I would have managed without the computer and probably would have considered the breakdown a sign that I should travel more lightly, I can’t help but think of what Harry, an Australian I met in China, said of his trip around the world (during his last week, nonetheless).

There were two things he would have done differently, but I only remember one.  Harry said he would have brought his computer.  Less a seasoned traveler than Harry, his words have stuck with me, and so I’m sticking to bringing my laptop on the road.

Permission to freak out

I’m wide awake at 4:47 AM, but I am not freaking out.  I’m just not particularly sleepy.  And I’m hungry and in a place (my parents’ house in a suburb of Buffalo, NY) where I can head straight to the fridge and grab any number of satisfying food items, something which will soon feel like a luxury.

It’s not the loss of a real bed–traded during my upcoming travels for a hostel dorm mattress or a stranger’s couch– or the realization that I won’t have a stocked pantry that freaks me out, though, admittedly, it has crossed my mind once or twice that I’m not about to be doing my back any favors.  And then there’s that little voice in my head, or rather the voice of a former co-worker’s spoken knowingly and yet without any knowledge of me, “You might not travel until your money runs out, you might travel until you get tired of sleeping on people’s couches.”

I had nodded and laughed to be polite, but even that–the unfamiliar, perhaps often uncomfortable sleeping arrangement night after night–didn’t scare me or make me question my decision to quit my jobs in New York and spend my savings to travel and write.

The recent freaked out feelings that I’ve been experiencing intensely (and on one or two days, that’s putting it mildly) don’t seem to be well focused.  Talking to my English Literature PhD-track friend Eileen didn’t move me towards any grand self-analysis beyond, “I’m…(hiccup, sniffle, sob) just really…(gulp for air, sniffle, cry) scared.”

According to Timothy Ferriss, author of The 4-Hour Work Week, I’m precisely where I ought to be at the moment, questioning my move towards freedom.   In my case, given that I’ll be traveling solo, the freedom that I’m seeking (from the daily grind, the burnout, the lack of stimulation) will also involve isolation.  And following Friday night’s Say Goodbye party in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, where I gathered with a group of friends to share a beer and offer up half-goodbyes as we took to calling them, facing potential isolation is nothing short of terrifying.  After holding my one-month old nephew–my first–to my chest for hours yesterday evening as my family came together to welcome my sister, recently returned from a year in China, embrace the newest addition, my brother and sister-in-law’s baby, and wish me well on my journey, being alone seems, well, it seems daunting.

Some things I know: it will be great.  I won’t regret it.  I can come home anytime.  What I’m doing is pretty cool.  I am brave.  I’ll only be alone insomuch as I want to be (as it is with all backpackers, in my experience).  I’m ready for this adventure.

I anticipate experiencing a few more serious moments of anxiety and fear before I leave, and it’s good to be in a safe place now with family in close physical proximity and friends only a phone call away.  Having been given permission by so many to freak out as necessary before my departure, I am grateful and fortunate and comforted.

(Thanks to all those who endured my lengthy, tear-soaked voice- mails on Saturday afternoon.  It might happen again.)

The week countdown begins.