Three Skirts & A Dress
Two pairs of shorts. Sandals and tennis shoes. Four tops. Three pairs of socks. Five pairs of underwear. Three skirts and a dress.
How does one pack for a 6 month journey around the world? How many bras does one bring? Does one bring any bras at all? Surely, they are not part of a gypsy's wardrobe. Shoes? I could have filled the whole backpack full of them. Cosmetics? What does one bring when they don't know when or where their next shower will be? Laundry? Ha forget it.
Being a woman, and a scattered, impulsive one at that, packing has never been my forte. Not because I needed to pick out the perfect outfits, shoes, and makeup for my trip. But because I was perfectly content with shoving a bunch of crap that didn't even go together into a bag (or, shamefully, trashbag at times) the night before or morning of. I simply couldn't be bothered. Of course, when I got to my destination, I never had a thing that matched or anything I wanted to wear.
But it is an entirely different and strange feeling staring into an open empty backpack and trying to decide which wordly possessions make the cut for the journey. Suddenly, they all seem unnecessary. Looking back into my cluttered room, I realized all of these "things" were worthless and far more of a burden than anything else. I wasn't bringing any of them. I didn't need any of them. When it's just you and the world ... if you can't carry what you need on your back, you don't need it. Your clothes wear out... you buy new ones and trash the old ones on your way out. Jack Reacher style.
There is a beautiful freedom in that kind of simplicity. I have yet to experience it but I can hear it like a faint echo in the distance as I pack my bag. How light the world must become when the only weight is on your back.