My final sunset in Cambodia, the night before my flight to Germany
I am looking at all my worldly possessions strung out across my room in a guesthouse in Kampot, Cambodia. A 50 litre backpack, a smaller 20 litre pack, some clothes, my trusty Leatherman multitool, the little packing cell full of various electronic items and the keys to my much loved ramshackle motorcycle parked outside my door. Next to all this are my passport and printed itineraries for my flights from Phnom Penh to Singapore, then onwards to Frankfurt and ultimately Berlin.
Most of these items will be left behind in Cambodia when I board a bus in less than one hour to begin my travel writing scholarship. I keep telling myself I should probably start packing. I need to prepare for the journey, for the adventure, for the opportunity. But how much preparation can I really make in this situation? Once I throw what I need into the smaller pack, grab my passport, get on the bus and eventually the airplane, what more is required?
If I start to overthink things then I will begin to doubt myself. Mentally I feel prepared and so I try to leave my thoughts at that. Those last minute tasks I will save to the last minute as I always do. It hasn’t failed me yet, so why should it now.
Maybe that is why almost everything I own still remains in small piles around this room. I leave quite soon, and I should probably be more prepared. Instead I sit here in my own thoughts, absolutely content, convinced that I am completely ready. My passport lying on the table, not yet safely stored in my backpack, screams otherwise.
My bag finally packed with 45 minutes to spare.
