My wardrobe for the year.
I hate luggage, which is ironic because I love the idea of a bag. Own quite a few of them, but to be clear, nothing strikes me as more cumbersome and less stylish than a large or medium sized suitcase. Few horrors wipe out my generally cheerful disposition quicker than a little trip to baggage claim. Standing, gazing for what seems like forever, while you plot your bag’s coordinates from cargo hold to tarmac, through the terminal’s bowels and finally to the conveyer belt while shaking your fists at the heavens for not revealing more efficient ways to keep us moving forward on our journeys.
No, we wait in baggage. We all stand there watching the endless looping belt scroll by as the jeans and sneakers clad guy that was 20 rows behind you on the plane suddenly squeezes into the 3mm gap between you and the belt; shifting everyone else to the side as he, in a sumo stance, readies himself for what will be at least 15 more minutes and 70 more bags tumbling down the chute before his arrives. And yours will still be nowhere in sight.
I don’t play the baggage games. Carry-on only. For the weekend, for the month, or for the whole damn year. The purpose of traveling is to win the no baggage claim game. You can laugh at me packing in July for a December flight. But actually, it simply means that when I open my closet, I got choices . . .
3x light long sleeve shirts, flip-flops
(removed 2 t-shirts. 6 is way too many)
All this(without the winter gear) comes in at 10.67 kgs. I really, really want to pare down to 9.8kgs, but it is not looking likely. You may have noticed underwear are missing . . . that’s the point! Just kidding. I have 3x adventure undies, and a 26 litre backpack to carry my winter gear and technology and toiletries — but I have almost no toiletries. I always get them in the country I am visiting.
That’s pretty much what it takes to stay out of baggage claim.
