Follow me as I blog my way through 12 months of travel, 20 countries, 2 volunteer programs, 44,000 miles, over 20 flights, countless chicken bus rides and 365 wonderful work-free days.

Posts tagged ‘Planning’

Packing it.. literally, physically and mentally

If you have stumbled across this post in hopes of finding some great packing tips, you’ve come to the wrong place. (but please feel free to stay).

To be honest I’m really tired of reading articles and tips on packing for a year-long trip that say one pair of pants is enough and to just pack for a week and wash regularly.

I can’t do that.

I’m not the most fashion conscious person out there. I don’t use hair dryers/straighteners/curlers.  I live in jeans and I rarely wear make up. A pair of pluggers and some runners is fine with me. But I can’t just take one pair of pants and 2 shirts and be happy about it and I don’t want to wear the same thing every day.

For the last month or so I have found myself lingering around my lounge room, during which time I have been gradually adding to my ever-growing pile of clothing, toiletries and electronics. And I don’t even need to mention the little extras that get secretly thrown in there by my mother on a regular basis.  And FYI, I say lingering because I don’t actually attempt to pack anything. I just stand there staring at it in hopes that it will somehow miraculously shrink in size and then pack itself perfectly into my 60L backpack.. with extra room for souvenirs of course.

Knowing that time is ticking away and that what is sitting on the floor in my lounge could potentially fill 2 backpacks, I thought it was time to do some research. I found a book on backpacking tips (that’s a lie.. my mum found a book that up until now I didn’t think I needed to read).

Sitting down to this little gem I hoped that I would find that magic piece of advice that would take all my packing troubles away.  ‘Ahhh a packing list section’ I thought.. brilliant.  Until I read it…One pair of pants.. and wait for it… two pairs of underwear.  If it wasn’t for the fact that I was reading this on my Kindle I would have thrown the book across the room. Two pairs of underwear??? She can’t be serious.

No really.. is she serious?

So I’m giving up on books and articles and I’ve decided to throw it out there in hopes of getting some useful suggestions and advice. Be brutal.. but don’t forget I’m going for a year, living in rural Africa for 1 month of that year, camping for about 5 months of it… and… yeah now I’m just making excuses.

Here’s what I’ve got so far:

4 skirts, 1 dress maybe 2, about 10 singlet tops, 2 pairs of jeans, 1 pair of black pants, 1 pair of 3/4 pants (suck it pant haters), 8 pairs of underwear, 2 cardigan thingys, 1 black thin jumper, 1 hoodie, 3 scarfs, 4 pairs of socks, few bras.



1 skirt, 1 dress, 7 singlet tops, 2 pairs of jeans, 1 pair of black pants, 7 pairs on underwear, 1 cardigan, 1 hoodie, 1 thin black jumper, 2 scarfs, 2 pairs of socks, 2 sports bras and 1 normal bra.

Sorry I just won’t compromise on the underwear !!

Total weight, including clothes, toiletries, electronics, volunteer gifts.. 22.7 kilos.


You give me FEVER… the best injection ever

You’ve been planning it for months. You’ve made lists, and checked them twice 10 times. You dream about it and think about it everyday. You find ways of bringing it up in every conversation you have with every person you see. The trip.. the big trip.

It’s so easy to do all of these things and be blasé about it when you’re still living your ‘normal’ life. But then there is that moment when you stop.. and realise.. oh my god this is actually happening. It’s not a dream anymore. IT’S REAL and there is no turning back.

That moment for me was this morning when I got my Yellow Fever Vaccination.  I’m assuming it wasn’t the rush of a foreign substance being pumped into my veins.. no it was general excitement. I walked out of the doctor’s surgery and I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. I felt free.

The reality is that in 9 weeks I will find myself in Kenya, about to take on something I have never done before – volunteering – or teaching English for that matter. Standing in a class room full of children so eager to learn and hear what I have to say.. but what do I have to say? I have no idea, I’ve never taught before.

As for my placement and accommodation, I’ve requested to be placed somewhere as rural and remote as possible so chances are I’ll be living in a simple hut with no water and no electricity. Past volunteers have told stories of only being allowed to bathe once a week in one bucket of water. As for my meals, I’ve been told I’ll be eating lots of rice and potatoes and that it’s not uncommon to have to pick weevils out of your food before cooking. Sleeping is generally on a mattress placed on a dirt floor and I’m afraid to even think about the toilet situation. I’ll live like this for a month before heading South on a camping tour.

So that’s the reality. That’s what hit me this morning while sitting in that doctor’s office. Such a huge impact for such a small needle.

How vastly different my life will be. And I can’t wait.

No wait… I’m not ready

I’m now on the official countdown. Ok so I was technically on the official countdown about 6 months ago but now that I’m into singular digits, it’s super official.

I’m leaving in 9 weeks (oh my god) and it’s really starting to hit me. In just 9 weeks I’ll be leaving my family, my friends, my oh so comfy bed, my favourite foods, my hot shower and my clean and varied selection of clothes, and I won’t see them again for a year. A WHOLE YEAR…

So I’m working myself up for that moment… and freaking out in the process.

I find myself going to bed at night and wrapping myself in the clean sheets, sinking into the comfy mattress and drifting peacefully to sleep. I’m embracing every moment of it knowing that for the next year I’ll be sleeping on god knows what, swatting my mosquito net out of my face every time I roll over and chucking a hissy fit in the middle of the night because something is crawling up my leg. I don’t want to go.

I find myself standing under the shower for a lot longer than I should. Loving that hot water comes out and that I have no chance of being electrocuted by live wires hanging above me. And loving that I’m behind a locked door and I don’t have to wear shoes in case I get a fungal disease. I don’t want to go.

I find myself consuming sushi by the bucket load, craving Thai food and fish and chips. Cooking Sunday roasts on weekdays and eating chocolate like it’s going out of fashion. I miss food from home when I’m away. Does Africa have sushi? I don’t want to go.

I find myself longingly staring into my wardrobe, agonising over what to take with me. I should take 2 pairs of jeans because they always stretch if you wear them for too long and they don’t fit properly and then you have that saggy arse thing going on and you look a bit like you have a penis because the front goes all pouchy.. but I can’t take 2 pairs because my mother has packed my bag so full of useless items that I’ll never use and I don’t even have room for underwear. I don’t want to go.

I find myself spending more and more time with family. The hugs are longer, the laughs are louder and more frequent. I feel like I want to hold on to them and never let go. And I’ve begun questioning myself why on earth I would choose to leave them for a whole year. I don’t want to go.

So here I am.. 9 weeks to go and I’m clearly in the freaking out stage of my countdown. I’m sure next week will be different. I’ll move on to the totally unprepared stage or something, but for now, I’m not ready, time is going too fast. Help!!