A suitcase is no longer a burden
I used to judge people who traveled with suitcases and neck pillows. I, a youngster with only an Osprey backpack and zero cozy airplane amenities, thought that if you needed to travel with a suitcase, you weren't truly traveling. I saw the “rolly” bags as burdens and believed the owner was weak, unable to give up their earthly possessions. At 21, I saw suitcases as transportable capitalism containing silly little hair dryers that would blow out power outlets, silly little makeups and designer shoes, and vacation reads that would never be cracked open. I swore to myself I would never travel like those people. I would carry my belongings on my shoulders, the less the better. I would let my neck fall onto the side of the plane barely cushioned by a balled-up sweatshirt.
Well, now I'm 31.
It's been 10 years since I first converted personal items to carry-on, since I slept on hostel cots; and could sleep on a boat, on a train, on a plane, or in a van. I've changed a lot in the last 10 years. For example, I now have a full brain. I work a full-time job that keeps me awake at night. My knees get weird if I do too much activity. I can feel my bones. I absolutely cannot watch people deplane, or I get in a rage. I'm just tired. So, as I prepare to take an international trip to Iceland next week, I am packing a memory foam neck pillow and I am packing my shit in a rolly bag.
I plan to wear a slow-release vitamin B2 patch that supposedly helps with jet lag. I'm bringing magnesium to make me sleepy, rose tea, probiotics because I get backed up when I travel, tums, an eye mask, ear plugs, and compression socks for solid blood circulation on the transatlantic flight. My younger self would tell me I'm being a baby. She would ask me, “when did you become so uncool?” She would ask me this from basic economy, sipping on a $14.00 Bloody Mary. And I would respond from my panic-purchased exit row seat with more leg room, “You shouldn't drink on the plane it'll make you more jet lagged.” Though I still deeply want a Bloody Mary on a plane, I know now that my body will burp up the acid into my throat in exchange for a weak buzz.
My younger self backpacked Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam. I left suitcases behind because it was easier to pack up and catch a bus or a ferry without one. I may have become an uncool traveler, but I didn't know anything when I was younger. My old way of moving from place to place doesn't apply to every country or to every being traveling. It depends on an individual's needs. At 21, I needed to stay in party hostels, cover as much ground as possible, find deals, eat cheap meals, and party party party. At 31, I need a private room, a nice meal regardless of price, a delicious cocktail or two. I need all stuff will stay in one hotel room the entire time I'm there. I need good sleep and maybe a geothermal spa experience to sweat out my adult stress. I need a neck pillow. My choices aren't fueled by FOMO anymore. I can now practice self-care and honor my desires and distastes.
After backpacking around Europe at the age of 21, I flew home to the US and watched The Secret Life of Walter Mitty on repeat while working at a video store. Walter Mitty, played by Ben Stiller, ends up in Iceland. I started obsessing about Iceland, thinking the country had to be my next adventure. I, like Walter, spent more time dreaming about who I could be in Iceland rather than focusing on grounding myself in the US. Eventually the obsession subsided once I began my senior year at the University of Minnesota. But once I graduated, I moved to Thailand and visited Malaysia, Cambodia, Vietnam, and Bali. I moved home after 18 months and saved up money working in a warehouse for a week-long yacht party in Croatia. In early 2019, I impulse-purchased at yoga retreat in Guatemala. None of these were Iceland. Then COVID happened and I was unable to go anywhere, but I became a writer. In 2014 I promised myself to become a writer and to travel to Iceland. Here I am. In 2024 I am a writer about to attend a writer’s retreat in Reykjavik. I'm glad it took this long. Without these ten years of struggle and learning, I'm not sure I would have done Iceland right. I get to visit Iceland as a writer, which I've always been, yet had to put into committed practice. I get to visit Iceland knowing I don't have to cut corners and knowing I can take care of myself.