Excess Baggage

I bring too much stuff every time I go somewhere, especially if that somewhere is really far away. When I studied in Ireland for a semester of high school I brought photo albums, books, a couple of my favorite movies, at least five pairs of shoes, a plethora of toiletries and clothes that I did not wear one time during the four months that I was there. My host father, Liam, and my host brother, Jonathon, had to wrestle my suitcase into the "boot" of their tiny Toyota and up the stairs of their house. I am not overly concerned with the incident. It didn't bother me or have any negative repercussions, but looking back it was completely ridiculous. Ireland has book stores, drug stores and movie rental places with movies that actually play in Irish VCRs. It didn't even occur to me that these were options, and to try to pack light. When I went to Austria to see my aunt for Christmas my freshman year of college, I did better. I put my bulky winter sweatshirts and coats in those vacuum pack things that you see on infomercials. I am sure that I struggled with the shoe issue, because I always do, but I managed alright. I still brought stuff that I didn't use, though. I would like to be able to pack like Tomoko, the Japanese student that stayed with my Irish host family for a couple of the same weeks that I did, and who packed in one teeny-tiny suitcase that made me wonder where the other one was. My aunt Sarah has travelled the world with, like, two pairs of black pants and three shirts. Or so she says. I think she's telling the truth, because when she comes home she is always asking to borrow my grandma's socks, or jacket or sweater.

My desire to pack lightly for Africa started out innocently enough, as the spawn of two separate rationales that, when combined, convinced me that there could be no other way. Firstly, I want to feel the satisfaction of being able to accomplish my goal of packing for five weeks in a really small suitcase. If I can do that, I will have accomplished something that I have admired others for, and I will not have to lug around an eighty pound suitcase and keep track of a bunch of crap while I am trying to enjoy my African adventure. The other rationale is what really made it clear to me that this was a goal that I should not take lightly. Apparently, "OR Tambo, Johannesburg and Cape Town airports have a serious baggage pilferage problem," according to some reference materials that I received for this trip. Really, what is the point of bringing seventy pounds of extra stuff that is just going to get stolen? I will pack only necessities, and cheap ones at that, in a carry-on that will stay with me from my house to Minneapolis to New York to Dakar to Cape Town. No one better mess with me.

I knew that the biggest challenge of packing everything in a carry-on would be the TSA's liquid regulations. Bastard terrorists. So, to remind myself not to go overboard, like I am known to do on occasion, I put a quart-sized baggie in my bedroom. It started when I put a small bottle of lotion in it. Then on a trip to Target, I found these great little packets of Tide that are measured for washing clothes in a sink. I added those to my bag. I could not pass up the tiny body washes for $2.50 at Bath and Body Works, so I bought a couple and added them to my collection. I went to Sephora with my friend Kathy and bought some tinted moisturizer. I threw that in. My bag was starting to look a little full, so I decided that I better prioritize. I made a list of all the liquid things that I would need to bring and started buying them. I felt the pressure that only a triage nurse or a mother stranded at sea with her children could understand when I had to start cutting items. Hairspray was the first to go. I don't even use hairspray in the United States. What the fuck was I going to need it for in Africa? This is not cycle four of America's Next Top Model. Two bottles of body wash? What was I thinking? A bar of soap is not liquid, I could bring that. More devastating was the realization that my Oscar Blandi dry shampoo was losing the race against items like regular shampoo, toothpaste and my new, tiny bottle of Vera Wang Princess, which were all non-negotiable items. You may ask why I needed to put DRY shampoo in my quart-size bag of liquids. It is because it is an aerosol, and aerosols are on the list. I decided that I don't care. I am taking it anyway in a different part of my suitcase and using my powers of persuasion and my good looks to change the mind of anyone who tries to give me any trouble about it.

I successfully whittled my liquids down to the appropriate amount. They fit in a Ziploc. The zip is holding on for dear life, on the verge of busting open at a moment's notice, but it's zipped and that's all that counts. After I won that battle, I started to wonder if I could really fit everything in the minuscule suitcase that I drug up from the basement and put in my room as a constant reminder to pack conservatively. So I put an umbrella, a couple shirts, soap, an extra pair of glasses and my prescriptions for Malaria and traveler's diarrhea inside it just to get an idea of how much space I had to work with. I made the mistake of letting my friend Meghan see the suitcase and it's contents, and she commented, "Wow. You are going to Africa in a month and you are halfway packed." I told her that I would appreciate if she said that I "threw some things in a suitcase" as opposed to saying that I had started packing. I also swore her to secrecy. Finally, I corrected her obvious exaggeration. I would say that I am only about a third or fourth packed.