And So It Begins . . .
I’ve never written a blog before. Then again, there was that one time I wrote a story for my sister on a blog where I turned her and my other sister into a. a cow, and b. an ugly woodland troll. But this is beside the point.
The point is I’m trying to pack for Australia, and I have absolutely no idea what to bring.
I’ve been told it’s a basic rule of thumb to bring the things that mean the most to you, as in the things you can’t buy while abroad. But where do you draw the line between necessity and frivolous trinkets? It’s as if my parents don’t believe I need to bring my lucky wooden pig I made at summer camp when I was fourteen, despite the fact that he’s remained perched on my desk at school for the entire semester. Sure, his head fell off when I brought him home a month ago, but a little bit of super glue fixed him right up. I can’t buy him in Cairns, so is that an excuse to shove him in my suitcase and hope he doesn’t get too shaken up on the insanely long flight?
And what about pictures? And candles? And my memory foam mattress pad?
My mom just poked her head into my room to remind me to look at the list of things I need to pack in my carry-on. In all honesty, I’m going to forget something anyway, which is why I much prefer having someone else pack for me. That way, when I show up in Cairns with only one sneaker, I can blame it on them instead of my horrible memory.
Surprisingly, I’m not too nervous about the fact that I’m going to spend the next four and a half months in a country halfway around the world. A month ago I was freaking out. A year ago I remember lying awake and thinking, “Oh my gosh, I’m going to Australia in a year!” to which I replied to myself, “Cool it, you’ve got a while . . .”
I don’t have a while anymore, and I have the feeling that, in a few days time, I’m going to be freaking out again.
But until then, I’ll try to pack only the basic needs. If I manage to fit all those things and still find space in my suitcase, then I’ll go crazy with “frivolous” things. . . .