The Jetsetter vs. The Scout

Colin with the dog, his crate, and a snowboard

We were getting ready to return to Austria for our second year abroad, and the pressure was mounting.  Our house had to be ready for a new family to move in -- all personal items removed and packed away.  I had to decide what would come with me to Austria, and what would stay behind. I didn't remember everything I had in Austria, so I was flummoxed -- do I take this item and have two, or leave it behind and risk having none? Of course, these were not life-or-death decisions. I was not heading out for a Doctors Without Borders expedition and trying to decide whether I needed penicillin, anesthesia, and the like. But I did have big Costco bottles of Advil, Tylenol PM, and gummy melatonin -- things that are actually hard to find in Europe. And they take up a lot of space! I also had to curate my shoe collection. 

I had taken some cute shoes with me the first time. Shoes needed to be good for walking around European cobblestone streets. Aside from one pair of strappy high heels, they all met that criteria. What I didn't know when I was packing last year was that we would be living on a hill and it is essentially a hike to get to and from the house on foot. So the question becomes -- can I hike in these sandals? I ended up with a few pairs of shoes that didn't get worn much.

I brought one pair of adorable sandals -- which I'd bought in Italy -- back to Santa Barbara for summer. I decided to leave them, and enjoy them when I'm in a beach town rather than a mountain town. I had the urge to bring more suitable shoes back to Austria with me, but this was tempered by the desire to pack light. I struck a compromise -- I'll take some shoes, but I will ultimately leave them in Austria. I will donate them to the shelter.

Our luggage in the back of a giant van

We were a few days away from departing, and I was still having this struggle -- what to take, what to leave. Mike and I were in the hot-tub, relaxing after a busy day, and I shared my dilemma with him. Not only was I trying to decide what to take and what to leave, but this conundrum was giving me an identity crisis. The jet-setter in my wanted to travel light. "I can live in Europe for a year with just one suitcase!"  The scout in me wants to be prepared for everything; the mom in me does, too. "Upset stomach, I have tums! Aches from snowboarding? I have rapid tabs. Button came off? Let me get my travel sewing kit."  

It is very, very hard for both of these identities to co-exist. As always, Mike had a simple solution to an extremely complicated problem. "Use a bigger suitcase," he said. I was packing two suitcases -- a small one that would fit in the overhead bin, and a slightly larger one that would be checked. (We had tickets that allowed two checked bags per person, so it wasn't a cost issue.) I was checking a bag anyway, he reasoned, so what difference did it make if I took the small rolling duffel or the medium rolling duffel? I had tied my identity up in a few liters worth of bag space (Patagonia measures its bags in liter capacity -- I have to look at them to know how much I can pack. I only think in liters when I'm cooking, and even then, I have to convert to cups!)

So I bumped up to the slightly larger duffel, and breathed a huge sigh of relief. I let go of the notion that I have to be a jet-setter every time I travel.  We were taking a snowboarding bag and large dog-crate with us, for heaven's sake! There was no way I was grabbing my bags, dashing off the plane, and hailing a cab, like some gal on the big screen.

I just went to Rome for a long weekend. That's when I get to be a jet-setter! Just a small bag for four days of wandering cobblestone streets and eating gelato.  No big jars of Tylenol or extra sewing kit.  Just comfy shoes, a brimmed hat, and my sense of adventure -- which takes up no luggage space at all!