Still weeks away from leaving and a bureaucracy-ridden distance from confirmation, and at the risk of tempting “the wrath of the whatever from high atop the thing“, I’ve decided to be unusually optimistic and start the packing process. I almost had a magical packing moment this morning, when I thought I’d managed to fit all the things I’ve been considering taking into the suitcase at the first go. Until I realised I’d forgotten about shoes.

I am one of those odd creatures who enjoys buses, loves airports, doesn’t even mind delays and is willing to eat some airline food. Packing is probably my least favourite aspect of travelling. Not that I’m concerned about leaving something behind (mostly because I always overpack). Just because it’s tiresome. I’m not bad at packing, as such. I’ve reached the point, based on experience, where I can pack a suitcase for a business trip in Gauteng (ranging from 2 days to 2 weeks) in around 10 minutes. A trip overseas for a year is a little more complicated.

What I am discovering, however, is that there is a ceiling to how complicated packing can really be before it just becomes ridiculous. I have also been strangely affected by a brief trip to Moz earlier this year/late 2008. I’ve generally been a fairly economical packer – at least since travelling for work became a very regular part of my young life for a few insane years – but I’ve never been particularly good at that Zen-ish ‘travelling light’ and ‘relinquishing-obsessions-with-worldly-posessions’ approach.

Backpacking for a couple of weeks seems to have begun to change that. Which is not to suggest that I have suddenly become Zen – I’m far too OCD for that. But I am a lot less concerned about not having packed something I might need. I have a sense of what basics I will probably use and I’m taking just a very few other bits and pieces. I’ve even taken it further and thrown out years and years of accumulated junk so that most of my life will actually fit into one suitcase (except the 2 bookcases of books).

Ok, the real reason for this change (although facilitated by backpacking and one or two other experiences), is that I have to have space to take some of my precious books with me. And I may well arrive on the other side and wish I’d packed more stuff. But ass I pack and repack my bags, and toss out more and more, over the next couple of weeks, it’s a wonderfully superior feeling to pretend I really am Zen and am totally into ‘travelling light’.