By the time I arrived back in Johannesburg it was spring, and I, like the flowers, burst with new life.
Five months earlier, I left shaky. After a week of late nights stressfully researching the countries I was about backpack my way through, I then fumbled my way through driving on the left side of the road in South Africa before flying to Uganda with only the skeleton of a plan.
Upon my return to Johannesburg, one thing was the same: I remained largely plan-less for the months ahead. But one thing was noticeably different: I had earned confidence that it would all work out.
Actually two things were different: now I was also confidently driving on the opposite side of the road. Turns out, looking out the window crammed into the backseat of a shared taxi was enough to switch my brain to the other side. 😂
Arriving back at my friend’s parents’ house, where I had left some belongings – like my laptop – five months earlier, I immediately let out a sigh of relief. I sat on the soft, white carpet, in the quiet afternoon, and breathed in the comfort of knowing that I was protected inside the walls of the house. As fearless as I had been, I still had a lot of challenges thrown my way: delays, disappointments, near-deaths that I had to navigate alone. And now, it was finally over.
Solo travel is not for the weak-spirited. Solo travel in Africa is, well, not all that dissimilar from producing reality tv. Turning life’s drama into a good story to tell at the bar was once my job. I could manage my way out of any sticky situation – and make meaning of it on the other side.
And that was sort of the problem. Wasn’t the point of this adventure to get away from all of that… stress?
I have a lot of baggage. If I don’t die from the weight of my emotional baggage, one wrong slip of my bag into the overhead compartment and I’m definitely a goner.
Look, I’m aware that I overpacked. But I am attached to my baggage.
Who would I be without my baggage? How would I be without my baggage?
Because one person’s “overpacked” is another person’s, “I have everything I need” and that is the story I’m sticking with, the hill I will die on. There wasn't a single thing I packed that I didn't use, I was the envy of every other backpacker, to the point where they even asked me for my packing list, so I memorialized it here.
The thing about baggage – emotional and physical – is that the more of it you carry, the stronger and more prepared you are.
So you can pry my baggage out of my cold, dead hands.
Living out of a backpack – or even suitcases – is something that we do while we travel not because we enjoy it, but because it is a necessity to see the world.
We are better able to experience the world as it is when we leave our baggage – of all kinds – behind.
There's an art to packing only just what you need for the journey, the important part of the sentence being you. My packing lists are complete, I can say that with the same earned confidence I mentioned above. But we're each walking the path in our own shoes. In travel and in life there comes a time when choosing to let go of something is necessary to make space for something new. Only you know what you need – to bring, and to leave behind.
The best advice I read online before backpacking Africa was that I would want to throw out everything I used for the journey, because it would be stained with red dust. (It was.)
With that advice in mind, and knowing that my journey would continue beyond Africa, I left replacement things – along with valuables unsuitable for backpacking – in suitcases in Johannesburg. And not throwing out enough of my baggage after Africa was how I wound up with the insensible configuration pictured above.
This is a very long-winded introduction to the following meditation on what it is like to return to your things, after many months apart.
When I enter the house, it is peaceful and quiet. Devoid of the energy and chaos of the outside world. There is no one but me at home. I am safe within its walls.
I sit on the carpet, plushy, and white. I notice how the soft carpet supports and caresses me. It has been a long time since I have sat on clean, soft carpet.
I feel the feeling of comfort at being greeted by all of my things again, neatly folded, waiting for me in their cozy, packing cube nest.
I feel the feeling of surprise at seeing my meager belongings in suitcases – there’s so much more in boxes at home – and yet still wondering after five months without it: “why do I need all of this stuff?”
I feel tenderness, the care for myself woven into the mere existence of the stuff in these suitcases. I touch the replacement clothes I left for myself and notice how soft, how clean they are, like the carpet. The energy that they carry, vastly different from the energy carried by the clothes I had worn across the continent. Some might say that these replacement clothes carry no energy at all, but really it is less charged. More potential. I am ready to start anew.
I feel bewildered as I open my laptop, seeing its clean screen and pristine keys, watching it power up, hearing the sounds of cyberspace – another world entirely than the one I’ve just inhabited. And then – oh no! – I am perplexed as I realize I’ve forgotten my password. My brain, when prompted by the hint, can recall it. But the muscle memory of my fingers forgot.
I feel fondness, unpacking my things, one by one. I am thankful, holding these precious objects in my hands. I open up the case with my designer sunglasses. I feel elegant again as I try them on. I put on makeup to go to lunch with a friend I met along the journey. I giggle in the mirror, exhilarated to remember that I have eyelashes again.
I sit with my things, suitcases open, contents astray, for awhile in peace. This chapter in my journey is over. This is the bounty for finishing what proved to be a challenging experience. And now I can continue onward.
Clara Ritger
Related Read
Being reunited with my things lost its shine rather quickly as I realized that in the comfort of having everything I wanted and needed, lies the discomfort in carting it all around.
What is one thing you always carry with you but you don’t really need?
