I’m trying to get most of this packing
business out of the way at the beginning of the week. I’ve pared down
considerably. (See above: The Cute Tiny Purse, capable of holding only
identification, debit/ATM cards and a pair of sunglasses.)
The first time I went to Europe, I packed
two dresses, two tops and a pair of jeans. One of my style-conscious classmates
brought along a ginormous steamer trunk. Big enough to stow a couple of bodies.
No kidding. That thing made it up more flights of hotel stairs than a Justin
Bieber groupie. I was a little envious at the time, because said classmate —
she had exquisite taste, by the way — wore a different outfit every day of our
three-month journey. On the other hand, she would have been SOL had there been
no bellhops to tip.
I am not your gal traveler
insofar that I’m not fond of toting around a serious amount of “stuff” when I
go on vacation. The thought of stowing things in the upper bin makes me cross on
domestic flights because I know I’ll be vying for a limited amount of space
that’s eaten up by folding strollers and diaper bags.
No, I’m a one-suitcase kinda gal. Preferably
the size of a gym bag. For a couple of reasons:
A whole lotta luggage irritates
reasonably sane traveling partners of the male persuasion, who tend to be
austere minimalists.
— and —
Back strain is a terrible thing.
Panama leaves me slightly flummoxed
because I’m going to be dealing with at least two distinct climates. One,
around Boquette where the coffee plantations grow (sweet!), is cool,
mountainous and damp, necessitating long sleeves, pants, closed-toed shoes and
perhaps raingear. The others are sunny and warm — so I’ll also need to bring
along dresses, shorts and beachwear. I filled half of a large suitcase before I
got twitchy and tossed most of it back out again. Still. Way. Too. Much. Stuff.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know …
First world girl problems.
