Those who’ve had the opportunity (or perhaps the amusement) of accompanying me on a journey know that I don’t exactly hold fast to the principles of minimalist packing.

My suitcases are like treasure chests, brimming with what I deem essentials (though others may raise an eyebrow at my definition of ‘essential’), meticulously selected to prioritise comfort, convenience, and even a touch of luxury and indulgence.

On the return journey, the bags are often laden with gifts for my children and grandchildren. It’s as if my suitcases have undergone a magical expansion, courtesy of the irresistible allure of local markets and charming boutiques. By the time I’m zipping them shut, they’ve become honest-to-goodness Santa’s sacks, laden with goodies destined for my family.

In fact, it’s become a running joke in my family—whenever I go away for a holiday, I come back and have Christmas. It depends on what month I get back, what the Christmas is called. Last year, my family had Christmas in September. This year, it will be Christmas in July.

But amidst the laughter and the occasional eye roll from my more minimalist-minded companions, there’s a deeper truth at play. For me, each item or gift is a tangible reminder of the experiences and memories of each destination. They’re not just objects—they’re fragments of the journey itself, preserving moments that might otherwise fade with time.

So, while some may scoff at my overstuffed suitcases and my fondness for transforming a simple trip into a logistical puzzle, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Because, after all, if you can’t bring back a little something from each corner store or country farmers’ market you visit, are you even really travelling?”

“I haven’t worn these since I bought them. I should definitely pack them for my 3 day vacation, just in case”.

A well-prepared traveler