|
My parents
are intrepid travelers who’ve spanned the globe on a limited
budget for over forty years. As chief packing technician for
their trips, my mother developed increasingly streamlined
packing methods that now enable them to go on month-long jaunts
with only two carry-on rolling bags and a small backpack between
the two of them. I sum up her method with the phrase, “Pack
light, pack tight.” It’s easy. Envision the number of items
that you think you’ll need to take on your trip. Reduce this by
half and wedge it all into a small rolling bag or backpack,
making sure to roll all items into a cloth cigar before jamming
them in.
The Method
enables a family of five to fit into a Volvo sedan for a sixty
day camping trip through Scandinavia or Italy and Greece. With
the Method, the same family can circumnavigate the globe in a
summer with only a backpack apiece and two communal suitcases.
The Lewis family guarantees this.
Of course,
the Method is not entirely original; many elements have been
borrowed from others, such as nerd-travel-guru Rick Steves and
Mohandas Gandhi, a famously light packer. Nonetheless, the
Donna Lewis Packing Method is unique and worthy of analysis.
Therefore, I present to you the primary rules, which are gems
that will benefit you on upcoming trips.
Rule
#1: It’s About Rolling
Rolling is
the key to a tightly packed bag. At home, it’s okay to fold
your clothes and stack them in a closet, but in order to fit the
contents of three suitcases into one carry-on, you will need to
jam your clothes into the bag with much force. Under pressure,
folded clothes develop deep parallel creases that tell the
world, “My mother did a poor job,” “I don’t have a girlfriend,”
or “I don’t listen to my wife.” On the other hand, rolled
clothes subjected to the same pressure leave more subtle, wavy
creases that look like they were the result of a business
meeting or a nature hike, depending on the type of attire.
These creases show action.
Handy Tip: Don’t forget that you will need to assess
your philosophy on dirty laundry, because unrolled laundry can
ruin packing equilibrium. If you don’t plan to roll the dirty
clothes, buy a stuff sack that will keep the dank, crushed ball
of laundry away for your other clothes.
Rule
#2: Before Packing, Make a Mental Usage Flow Diagram
Avoid
repacking during your trip by visualizing the order in which you
will wear your clothes. For instance, let’s say that you are
passing through several Asian destinations en route to an
archaeology conference in Vienna. If you plan to go to the Gobi
desert before Nepal, don’t pack your anorak on top of your
sundress. Similarly, don’t place all of your sports bras in the
bottom under the carefully-rolled Tyrolean dress that you won’t
be wearing until the rave on the last night of the conference.
You’ll need to take out the dress each time you grab a bra and
that could frazzle the doilied sleeves.
Rule
#3: Fill Your Spare Shoes, If You Need Spare Shoes
Shoes
contain pockets of air that should be exploited. Spare shoes,
to be honest, are a luxury that you should consider foregoing,
but if you must take them, fill them with socks at the beginning
of your trip. If you buy any figurines or marionettes to give
away as fun stocking stuffers, make sure to choose ones that
will fit in your shoes, where they will be snug and safe.
Rule
#4: Leave Room for Touristy Gifts
The best way
to ensure that you have enough room for all the trinkets that
you will buy is to bring gifts with you. Once, on a trip to
Denmark, my mother stocked up on Chicago Cubs pencils to hand
out to the toe-headed boys and girls. Our family is full of
Giants fans, but this was back when Sammy Sosa was more bubbly
and less bitter, so a Cubs pencil could serve as a memento from
both the U.S. and Dominican Republic.
Pencils
don’t take up much space, so you can also bring along some
refrigerator magnets, although you should buy several varieties
so that customs thinks you are a collector rather than a
smuggler. If you still have room, consider bringing “These
Colors Don’t Run!” tank-tops. Foreigners can’t get enough of
those.
Rule
#5: Emphasize Matchability
When my
mother travels, her color palette revolves around navy blue.
Clothing that clashes with navy blue does not enter her rolling
bag. This allows a few clothes to become many outfits,
Geranimals-style. As an added bonus, my mother can pack thin
dress socks, which are so small that they can all fit in one
shoe, allowing space for a rolled-up Cubs banner to go with the
pencils and refrigerator magnets.
Rule
#6: Think, “What Would A Hobo Do?”
It’s a shame
that the lesson that most Americans take form the Great
Depression is the fallacy, “The best way to end a depression is
to start a war.” Rather, the real nugget of wisdom to be
gleaned from the 1930s is, “Pack light!”
The
itinerant Americans who rode the rails revolutionized packing
efficiency. The stick bundle—the direct ancestor of today’s
rolling bag—didn’t hold much, but it was invaluable for the hobo
on the go. The hobos’ secret: Choose fabrics that are easy to
hand wash. I can attest to this wisdom. On our trip around the
world when I was sixteen, I either wore paper-thin, powder-blue
pinstriped pants or a pleated madras short. These could be hand
washed easily so I could feel fresh and clean without having to
carry many clothes. The fact that I looked like a jackass was
unfortunate, but that had more to do with my poor sense of style
than my packing technique.
Similarly,
my younger brothers usually wore matching nylon shorts and
shirts that could be washed and line dried in about five
minutes. The tops were white with satiny shamrock-green
panels. The shorts were very short and all green. Normally,
I’d advise against synthetics because they don’t breathe well,
but the white part of the tops were mesh, so breathability
wasn’t an issue.
Rule
#7: Make Plans to Avoid Food Poisoning
Food
poisoning can spoil your holiday, necessitate unscheduled hand
washing of clothes and leave you too weak to carry even one
bag. When confronted with a dodgy glop of mayo or a gamey piece
of meat, repeat the mantra, “If in doubt, toss it out.” Also,
don’t trust food kiosks on ferries between Greece and Italy.
Misplaced confidence in the cheese and salmonella sandwiches on
the Corinth-Brindisi line resulted in bulk intestinal disorders
for the Lewis family back in ’85.
Handy Tip: Choose your camping spot carefully if your
family has acquired bulk intestinal disorders. A long walk to
the public facilities is inconvenient.
The
following summer, my parents—having learned a valuable
lesson—went all out to ensure that we didn’t get sick in India,
the first leg of our around-the-world journey. I mentioned
earlier that we traveled with a backpack apiece and two communal
suitcases. My parents were told that Dehli’s drinking water was
unkind to the uninitiated and that food vendors often recycled
the straws in the soft drinks. Consequently, they filled one of
the two suitcases with bottled water and straws, so we could
drink soda and brush our teeth without internal ramifications.
Hauling around a seventy pound suitcase of water so that your
family stays in the pink is a true act of love.
Handy Tip: A few years back for my birthday, my mother
gave me the indispensable, It Was Probably Something You Ate,
by Nicols Fox. This book, which I’ll discuss in an upcoming
piece, covers the myriad of ways that you can die from food
poisoning. A thorough read of this book will save you hundreds
of dollars because it will keep you from eating at restaurants
for several months. However, if you enjoy food, this may not be
the book for you.
Rule
#8: Stuff Your Passport Into Your Pants
Apart from a
bout of botulism, nothing ruins a trip like losing your passport
and airline ticket. This needn’t happen if you buy a money belt
to hold your important documents. The belt—which you can buy
through Rick Steve’s website—fits
neatly below (and inside) the waistband of your hand-washable
pants. After about half an hour, you get used to the packet;
you just need to wear a long top or you’ll look a little pudgy.
As an added bonus, the money belt keeps not only your trip
secure, but your front warm.
My wife and
I recently drove about 4,500 miles on a month-long road trip
through British Columbia and the American Northwest. This gave
me a lot of time to reflect on life and—because I began each day
by loading a bunch of unnecessary items into our car—assess my
adherence to the Donna Lewis Packing Method. I realized that
I’d strayed from the rules, although certainly not #7. I also
suspected that the original Method could be expanded. Here are
my additions, which I call the Revised Lewis Method.
Rule
#9: Don’t Overemphasize Decorative Stitching
In an urban
environment, there are few limits to the benefits of decorative
stitching, but in the rugged American West, I advise
moderation. I got good use out of a smart brown jacket with
decorative white stitching across the shoulders and down the
front. The jacket has a vague western feel, but is both
masculine and urbane. Unfortunately, I went to the well once
too often and brought my Polynesian-sunset-colored jacket, also
with decorative stitching and—I’m a little embarrassed to
say—subtle decorative zippers. There’s no denying that it’s a
cute jacket, one that turns heads in our favorite creperie, but
it is out of place in rural Montana or Wyoming. It announces,
“I am not armed. There will be no repercussions if you hit me
with a pool cue.”
Rule
#10: Communication Is Vital—Don’t Pack Two Light Jackets for
Your Wife When She’s Already Packed Five
This rule is
self-explanatory.
Rule
#11: If You Are Paranoid About Auto Break-Ins, Don’t Pack More
Than What Fits in the Trunk
If you are
like me, you constantly worry that either bears or hobos will
break into your car because they see the pack of Snapple on the
floor or the dress clothes draped across the back seat. You can
alleviate nearly all of these fears by fitting everything into
your trunk.
Corollary: Never Pack Yoga Mats
Rule
#12: Use Restraint When Purchasing Refrigerator Magnets
Limit your
wife to one refrigerator magnet per national park, not four.
Rule
#13: Analyze Your Dark to White Sock Ratio Before Leaving for
Your Trip
I packed
sneakers and a pair of fairly dressy brown leather shoes. I
also brought along leather sandals—man-mules to be precise. To
accompany these, I packed seven pairs of brown socks and three
white. That’s a 7:3 dark to white sock ratio for a trip to the
fecund Pacific forests and arid western planes. A quick
analysis should have told me that a 7:3 ratio might be
appropriate for a trip to New York City, but for our trip, 3:7
was more appropriate.
Rule
#14: Avoid T-Shirts With Deep Vees
Vee-neck
t-shirts are handy because you can wear them on their own, for a
salt-of-the-earth look, and then pop on a collared shirt for a
dressed-up turn. You can hook your sunglasses into the vee for
a little Euro flavor.
Be aware,
though, when you buy vee-neck t-shirts. If you purchase ones
with deep vees, you’ll show off too much chest hair, which
doesn’t please anybody. At that point, you might as well put on
a speedo and pool shoes because you’ve taken the look too far.
Rule
#15: Buy a Snappy Orange Shirt, but Don’t Wear It With Your
Stylish Orange Jacket of Different Hue
A well-cut
orange button-up shirt is indispensable if you plan to take
travel photos. If you wear it over a vee-neck, you hardly ever
have to wash it! Judging by our pictures, I wore mine 95% of
the time.
Corollary: Don’t Rely on Your Wife’s Stockpile of
Sunglasses–You Will End Up Fielding a Great Many Questions About
Them When Showing the Travel Photos, Particularly Ones That Say
“Liz Claiborne” on the Frame
Rule
#16: Don’t Rely on Gift Shops to Address Packing Deficiencies
Early in our
trip, it became clear that I needed to address the preponderance
of brown socks and deep vees, but I stubbornly refuse to shop at
Wal-Mart, which greatly limits the shopping options in the
American West. Because we spent much of our trip in and around
national parks, I hoped to save time and avoid Wal-Mart by
purchasing white socks and t-shirts at park gift shops.
Unfortunately, it is tough for a nattily clad man to find
suitable apparel at a gift shop.
In my
younger days, a “Hang Loose Hawaii” t-shirt from Waikiki with a
cartoonish hand giving the “Hang Loose” sign, or a phony Fila
track suit from a stall in Hong Kong, was an acceptable purchase
if I needed additional supplies. Now, however, socks with moose
are out, along with shirts adorned with embroidered Native
American symbols. I did find a brick-colored shirt with a
1920s-style drawing of Yellowstone Lodge. Sadly, it was a
girl’s size large and when I tried it on, it gave the wrong
message about my sexual orientation.
Eventually,
I broke down and bought two t-shirts at The Gap in Jackson,
Wyoming. This temporarily broke the Wild West magic of our
trip, but I hadn’t followed Donna Lewis’s hand washing rule, so
I really needed a clean shirt. Incidentally, the tees both have
decorative stitching across the shoulders.
. . .
There you
have it, the Revised Lewis Method. I hope my insights have been
helpful and that you will use the Method on your next vacation.
If you have specific questions about the Method, I will gladly
answer them if you contact me at
jlewis@prancyhorse.com.
Copyright Jeff Lewis, 2004. |
