Confessions of a packaholic (that just doesn't learn)
There’s a Brazilian expression that says that to make a mistake once is human, but to make it twice is stupidity. I really obsess when I get something wrong. It just glues to my head. I completely forgot about placing my bet for the world cup again and I am killing myself for it.
Needless to say, I suck at not being good at something. In school, I would get terrible period cramps every time we had Physical Education to make sure I would not have to endure another volleyball day. Or worse, gymnastics!!! PE was the 1st subject I had ever failed and one of the reasons I decided to move to a school with no compulsory “exercise” class in high school. Don't get fooled: I am a sucker with a plan.
But now, all grown up, there are a few things I just don’t manage to squirm away from. The one in my head right now: Packing. There was a time when this would get me excited and - gasp - I even thought I was good at it.
First, packing would mean Bahia (a family destination that my baby brother thought was a synonym for vacation). I would collect bikinis, wearing a different one every day, as if the children's pool was my catwalk. Backstage was such a mess, when asked to take my clothes off the chair all I could think was.. “what chair?”. My clothes dominated hotel rooms like they currently take over my house. Opening my travel bag was not so different from flipping the Jumanji board and the vines suddenly taking over.
Then, it came the time when packing would mean traveling alone. Butterflies. I would suffer with the eternal tradeoff dilemma: on one hand, trying to pack everything in one suitcase to make it easier for me to shlep; and, on the other, cramming as much as humanly possible because I did not want to spend my allowance on things like shampoo or towels. In the end, I always made the same choice. I felt the adrenaline of a boxer heading to the ring on my way to the airport, knowing it won't be easy, but that I was prepared and I would put in all my force to lift that brick suitcase.
Packing also created bonds between my friends and me. Isabela taught me to roll every little thing in tiny burritos to make fit twice as many things. My cousin showed me that when things get out of hand, sometimes, the only resource to make more room is to fold dirty laundry. And, me, of course, I shared my parent's lessons on packing every little thing in small zip pouches inside larger bags (the babushka technique) just in case the suitcase opened up mid-trip. Yes, I proudly passed on the unheard-of fear of having to collect our underwear directly from the baggage claim conveyor belt.
Then I met Kalman, the carefree Pisces that did not even know you should put a padlock on your suitcase. He moved to another country for his MBA with 1 pair of sandals, 1 pair of blue sneakers, and 1 pair of boots. I had more shoes for a weekend trip. His suitcase for the year was the size of my carry-on. I just didn’t get it. Deep down, I just felt stupid with all my stuff.
I still have 4 days till I leave and I am already thinking about what will I take with extra palpitations about the record-high rates of lost baggage. After doing something for so long you would only expect I would learn from my overpacking mistakes. Is this genetic? Or even though I travel quite often they are still around a couple of months apart and this is not frequent enough to incorporate past learnings? Do I just get easily overwhelmed?
I put in so much energy to pack appropriately and I am so confident I did a got job - but then.. here I am packing to head back home with 2 suitcases bursting with things I didn’t even get the chance to wear. I try to calm myself down. What’s the big deal that I have all this stuff? I want to pack my belongings, handmade crafts, souvenirs for me, presents for family, new clothes, my favorite kettle, old clothes, crunchy granola, farinha d’água, and my grandparents.. you get it.
Ironically, I’m on another mini trip right now and I brought nothing. I am wearing my husband’s and mom’s clothes and doing fine. It’s been SO refreshing.
Having less stuff is a mental health aid, that, maybe, like electroshock therapy, a patient will never ask to be prescribed.
Is this human, or is this stupid?