A number of people on the boat said the same thing: “So I guess the lesson here is that we don’t really need all those things we pack, do we?” And at first blush, I was thinking the same thing.
My years of business travel taught me to pack well, and I’m willing to rinse things out in the bathroom sink mid-week. And I’ve never been one of those people who needs a different outfit for each day or who thinks about the number of nights we’ll be dining onboard and packs accordingly. I’m a big believer in repeating outfits – in fact, our mother always said you should wear the same outfit for the first two days of a cruise so that people would remember you (she probably read that in some 1950’s How The Rich Travel article in Redbook).
When we used to work a 5-day-in-the-office work week, I remember colleagues who would never show up in the same clothes twice in the same week. On the other hand, the well-dressed European business woman (in a pre-COVID world) owns one or maybe two suits, three or four blouses, and a couple of good scarves and that’s her entire, lovely work wardrobe. But I digress.
As I said, I was thinking along those same lines about fewer outfits, but after a few days I thought, no, I like having a range of clothes to wear. Maybe not something new each day, but at least the choice of 3 or 4 daytime outfits and 2 different things for evening (for a week-long trip).
But what would I do differently after this past week? I think I would pack fewer ‘insurance’ items; you know, things you pack just in case, but hope you don’t need. When my little carry-on did arrive, I realised, yes, it was indeed very heavy. Things I didn’t need and won’t pack again: cozy pjs when a t-shirt will do, flip-flops when cruise ships already offer slippers, & long underwear. Okay, that last one sounds nuts; I can explain. Nine years ago I was on an April cruise that turned out to be the coldest spring on record in eastern Europe. God, we froze! Our Aussie friend took to wearing some of his wife’s panti-hose under his jeans when we left the boat, as insulation. This time we were going to be near the sea, and I had only packed a light trench coat, so I came prepared. But I now realise that if it were colder than anticipated, I could always buy a long-sleeved Tee and tights in any town. Ditto the hat and gloves I packed. Those are all the items I call ‘insurance’ and from now on I will buy them only if needed.
I have streamlined my technology down too – I’ve figured out how to manage with one less charger and two fewer cables.
I will bring fewer toiletries, but not a huge difference; as I said earlier, I’ve never been a big packer to begin with.
On the plus side: thank heavens I wore my comfy walking boots, and had my fleece over my arm on the plane. I had two scarves with me and I used them to change my look each day – one woman commented that she hadn’t even noticed I was in the same black Tee and black jeans each day; she just noticed my ‘look’ changed thanks to the scarves.
Oh, and to every smug little madam on board who, when I had to ‘borrow’ an aspirin, or socks, or buy undies, said, “I always pack one or two in my carry on for just such an eventuality” – I DID pack all of that in carry-on, you mouth-breathing, middle-aged, middle-class moron, they MADE me check the little wheelie bag because the airplane was so small! Sorry, but there was one wench who just kept . . . well, let it go, Elaine, let it go . . .
But that leads to one last lesson – re-distribution of goods. I can’t help but wonder, on that first little plane out of Kirkwall, if I had put on my sweater and coat, if I had moved a couple of things to my big shoulder bag, if I had gone out to my car and jettisoned a couple of smaller items, would all of this turned out differently?
That will certainly be part of my thinking on my next trip, that’s for sure.