It’s Friday, the weekend, and I should be looking forward to a two-day break. And I am. Except that this weekend will – must – be filled with one of my least favourite activities: packing. This time I’m packing for a two week trip in a country I’ve spent hardly any time, in another hemisphere and therefore season. And it’s hot there. It has been years since I worked in a properly hot summer (Korea doesn’t count – it wasn’t proper hot). I have been buying bits and pieces of clothing I might need on and off for weeks. I still need some shoes. I’ll have to get them today after work. I really hope I can find some that are nice and not too expensive but I’m sceptical – just a few weeks too early for the summer stock to be in.

Then of course there is the question of the bag. My small, cabin-luggage sized suitcase is in the Eastern Cape, so no chance to get that before I leave. I was thinking of taking a backpack, but it’s a US flight, so they’re particularly fussy about what you can put in your  carry-on luggage. I’d have to check it in. And the backpack doesn’t always stay closed. So, a big suitcase. But it feels so silly to pack into a big suitcase. This is the suitcase I packed my whole life in to go to Korea for a year. My life fitted in that suitcase, surely it is too big for two weeks.

So perhaps I will take it mostly empty. Plenty of space for souvenirs. At least, if I was someone else. I’m sure I won’t be able afford many souvenirs in dollars (sigh – third world currency). Plus, it’s a business trip. Not that I won’t do any exploring – I’m not going to waste a 20-hour flight – but most of the time will probably be spent in a hotel conference centre.

I hope not all of the time. As I frantically make lists of what I still need to buy and what I can’t forget to pack, I find myself pausing every now and then, with glee if I’m honest, in anticipation of nearly two weeks in the hot.