I’m in Barcelona staying on a nice sailboat for four days. It once belonged to Frank Sinatra. Marylin Monroe might have had coffee where I’m sitting right now.

I met a really nice couple from British Columbia who are in the cabin across from mine. They are retired. Traveling. The husband has cancer and he said this is probably the last trip they will be able to take. He can’t eat solid food. His wife told me that he is starting to decline rapidly. He can’t see out of one eye.

This is why I’m traveling now. I’ve had people in my life — friends, my parents, siblings, in-laws — whose plans have been interrupted or stopped cold by chronic illnesses or worse. I wanted to do this trip now, before I get older, before I get sick, before I die.

While I can still enjoy it. Inspire people with the stories of it.

Death is a part of life. It arrives, and often we don’t know when. My hope is that we all work to perfect the life part in the meantime.

The hardest part of the safari experience is getting up at 3 AM and then resisting the urge to take a late afternoon nap when you get back. Aside from that, wow. What an experience. Well, two experiences. I had two safaris, one in Asia and one in Africa, in the span of five days. Crazy huh?

The first safari was inside Yala National Park on the southern end of Sri Lanka. It took a couple of hours to get to the park, and once outside the park we transferred to an open Land Rover vehicle with six comfortable seats up high with great viewing angles. I was able to cross a number of must-see animals off my list, including Elephants, a bear, the briefest glimpse of a leopard, and a number of other cool species. We got to the park at sunrise when the animals are just getting moving, and the temperatures are cool. As the sun rose in the sky, it got warmer, but I was never uncomfortable until the second I got off the bus back at the guesthouse. 

The second safari was in Nairobi National Park, which is 118 square miles of wilderness within the city limits of Nairobi, the capital of Kenya. You will notice the city skyline in some of the photos I took of wild animals. That just comes with the experience. The Yala safari five days earlier was so good, I was expecting a let-down in Kenya, but that didn’t happen. Despite the fact that the single lion we saw only lifted his head above the vegetation for only a few seconds, so I could get a somewhat decent pic of him, all of the other animals were more than happy to oblige. We also got to visit an orphanage that rescues baby animals that are taken away from, or abandoned by, their mothers. Plus an area where you can feed a giraffe by hand for 1500 Kenyan Shillings. 

I have two friends, Andy Lerner and Sean Crane, who are bona fide expert wildlife photographers with multiple awards under their belts. I just have my trusty iPhone 12 Pro Max and some bayonet-mount moment lenses. I share the results with you. 

All in all, I was blown away. Great experiences, both!

Images: First batch from Sri Lanka

Next batch: Kenya.

I was seduced by the YouTube videos of vibrant, young, travel influencers who rented tuk-tuks in SriLanka and drove them all over the sunny, gorgeous island. It looked like fun. I checked out the rental company’s website. They said it was fun.  I chatted with someone on WhatsApp, who was fun, and I gave them my credit card number. I was excited. Fun!

The plan was simple. Fly into CMB airport. Get a quick driving lesson and hit the road. Simple.

I waited for a long time for my bag to appear on the baggage carousel. The tuk-tuk driver who was to take me to the rental place kept messaging and calling me. “Where are you? Are you coming out?” So I forgot to take the time to get cash from the atm at the airport (rookie mistake). I rushed out, and we got into his minivan (not into a tuk-tuk? Hmmm…). 

When I got to the tuk-tuk rental place, it became clear to me early on that driving a gas-powered tuk-tuk was going to be hard. My muscle memory wanted me to do certain things I have done on my cargo bike and in a manual transmission car that were not intuitive in a tuktuk. The clutch was where the brake was supposed to be. The brake was in an odd and uncomfortable place for my giant feet. The driving position was cramped and uncomfortable. I am 6-foot-4 and the average tuk-tuk driver is roughly half my weight and size. And even though a tuk-tuk can only go 40km an hour, that was fast enough to land me in the hospital or worse if I was not 100% sure of my driving abilities. Which I was not. I let the driving instructor know that it was not going to work. I let the sales person know I wanted to cancel. 

The manager of the tuk-tuk place got involved and told me I could not get a full refund and talked me into trying an electric tuk-tuk with an automatic transmission, and that solved some of the issues. But they did not have one I could drive away. They would deliver the vehicle to my guesthouse by the next morning. 

I should have said no at this point and cut my losses, but I had already paid for the rental and left a deposit. So I agreed. I got online and bought a $6 train ticket to Weligama on the southern end of the island, and hired an Uber to the train station. 

The Uber driver took a lot longer to get to me than the app had predicted, and when he arrived, he was in a pretty beat-up black Prius, but I jumped in. We got to talking, and he asked me where I was going. When I said, “Weiligama,” he said that he was going to drive through there after dropping me off, and for 6,000 Sri Lankan rupees, he would take me there. I said no, I already had a train ticket. But then I did the math. 6,000 rupees is only around $19 US. So I changed my mind and agreed to forego the crowded 4-hour train and hang out with him in his Prius for the 1 hour and 45 minute drive. I moved up to the front seat, where the failing AC was slightly better than in the back.

He stopped at a few places for gas, a smoke, some water, and to pee. I stayed in the car with my stuff.

He was an interesting character. Wiry and fidgety. Maybe a little sleep deprived. His name was Rashon. He had lived in Sri Lanka all his life, but with work stints in other countries. Divorced with a 7-year-old son, whom he sees once a month. I’m sure he could have taken me to a remote location to meet some of his friends to rough me up and take all my stuff, but that didn’t happen. But it still felt a little dangerous. 

He drove like a man impatient with the world, swerving around all slower vehicles. Which is to say, 99% of them. We almost had an accident with a car driven by someone who was perhaps even more impatient. After some aggressive driving and beeping by Rashon, that episode ended as quickly as it started. 

One of the conversations we had on the way was about how crazy the bus drivers were in Sri Lanka. They had no respect for other vehicles or lines painted on the road. You really had to be careful, or they would squash you flat. The tuk-tuk company’s YouTube videos mentioned this as well. Buses are crazy. Watch out for the buses. At this point, I was thinking that the risk/reward ratio of renting a tuk-tuk may not be in my favor. 

I did not want to be squashed flat. 

We got to the ATM, and both got out to get cash, but I got the feeling he didn’t have any in his account based on how much gas he bought on the way — maybe 150 rupees worth. He never did put his card in the machine. He was on empty when we got to my accommodations.

I paid him a little more than we had agreed upon, as neither of us had change. He smiled and disappeared before any change could be found. 
 
I was up early the next day, and I took a shower and went outside my room to inquire about coffee. The tuktuk delivery was taking longer than they told me it would, and I had not heard from them, so I texted. Turns out the driver was waiting for me at the wrong place, and he eventually arrived. But when he was about to hand over the tuktuk, we discovered that the vehicle needed a charge-up, and my accommodations offered no practical way to charge the vehicle with the cable that was supplied. 

The Weligama Bay Eco Villa owners — husband and wife, and really lovely people — got involved, and we tried to brainstorm a solution. The delivery guy called the main office. The office wanted to talk to me. We could not plug into a lower-wattage outlet with an adapter because the villa owner was worried about a fire. There was a suitable outlet, but it was in a room that was going to be rented out soon, and the cable they had would not reach it either way. Back at tuktuk HQ, they found a place where I could charge the vehicle 1-3 km away, and for an extra fee, they would hire someone to bring it to me each day, and for $75 more, they would pick up the tuktuk so I would not have to drive it all the way back to Colombo. I was being upsold. I felt pressured. 

The innkeeper brought out tea.

The whole ordeal was making me really anxious, and seeing how people drive on the island during my time with Rashon, I decided to pull the plug (no pun intended) even if it meant losing my deposit. 

This was supposed to be fun. And it sure wasn’t. 

I take full responsibility for this whole ordeal, and really, I don’t care about the rental money or the deposit (although when I told the innkeepers how much it was, they both gasped audibly). 

That said, I think the tuk-tuk place could have done a few things differently. 

They could have let me know that even though tuk-tuks look fun to drive, they are not for everyone. Certainly not for someone like me who has never driven a scooter or a motorcycle.* 

Instead of trying to sell me on the idea, they should have listened when I said I was a big person and I was worried that driving a tuk-tuk would be hard for me. (Just getting in and out was a comedy.)

They could have trained their people to see when someone is a good candidate for renting and when they aren’t. 

They could have contacted my guesthouse and asked about charging options. 

And instead of trying to “solve” every problem, they could have listened to me when I said I wanted to cancel. Instead, they exchanged one problem (a difficult-to-drive vehicle) with another problem (a difficult-to-charge vehicle). 

After the delivery guy took the tuk-tuk away, I went for a swim. And when I came back, I was physically relieved that there was no electric tuk-tuk in the driveway for me to worry about. 

Live and learn, people. With emphasis on the word “live.” I don’t have to drive an underpowered electric golf cart 175 kilometers on Wednesday when I need to leave the island, and my chances of being squashed flat by a bus are dramatically reduced. 

I wonder if Rashon can give me a ride back…

—

*The only person who asked me if I had ever driven a scooter or motor bike before was the gentleman whose job it was to give me my driving lesson. When I said “no,” he paused. As if to say, “Uh oh, here we go again…”

Dear Dr. O’Connor, and the entire wonderful staff at Ophthalmic Consultants of Boston, and Dr. Ruby and his amazing staff at ACK Eye:

Thank you.

Your care has made this trip, and all future trips, possible because, simply put, I can see. Before my cataract and astigmatism correction surgery, just working at the computer was a frustrating, headache-inducing chore. And enjoying the outdoors or driving at night was difficult as well. But now I see better than I have since I was ten years old.

Seriously, this is a miracle of modern medicine.

I think about this every day on this trip. When I go to the beach, I am able to see boats on the horizon. When I ride on the back of a Grab scooter, I can look at the city unfolding around me. When I pack, I don’t have to worry about hundreds of disposable contact lenses and backup pairs of prescription eyeglasses and sunglasses. And when I sit down to write something like this (without squinting), I am aided only by a pair of cheap +1.50 reading glasses that I can buy at any drugstore.

On this trip, I have lost one pair of readers somewhere in a random guesthouse, and I have squashed another pair while climbing into a tent on the beach, and I just laughed. If those had been my old prescription glasses, I would not have been laughing. I would be panicking.

How does one get a new pair of prescription glasses in Sri Lanka? I’m glad I don’t have to solve that problem.

Dr. Ruby and staff, I have been seeing you as my eyes changed over the years for longer than I can remember, and your guidance through this process has been very helpful and comforting. Any time I had a question or concern, you made every effort. Post surgery, you made sure I was ready to go out into the world without fear.

Dr. O’ Connor and team. like most people, I was concerned and nervous about the surgery, but I didn’t need to be. It went very smoothly; the doctors, nurses, and anesthesiologists at OCB made me very comfortable, and they took amazing care of me. It was essentially painless, with only minor discomfort that lasted a matter of hours after the procedures.

I had to shave a month and a half off the budget for this trip to pay for the special (elective) lens inserts that also corrected my astigmatism (insurance paid for the cataract removal), but in all honesty, it was worth it. To be able to function as a traveler and a creator while only relying on reading glasses occasionally is such an amazing gift.

To everyone: The amount of enjoyment I am getting from this adventure would be far less without your skills and care. You are the best.

Okay, so I have worked most of the morning to map out my route home so that I can attend my friend Greg’s funeral service in New Hampshire. This plan allows me to return to Boston and get to Nantucket two days before the funeral, so I can hug my wife, do some laundry, pet my dog, and grill a steak.

There are two ways I can do this and both routes are fraught with uncertainty.

In this scenario, I would turn around after spending 7-10 days in Thailand, and jump from island to island (Hong Kong, Taipei, Japan) and make my way to the west coast of the US where I will fly back to Boston.

There are three problems with this route:

1. This plan will not let me literally circle the world. Philosophically I’m not really in favor of backtracking.
2. It requires that I visit at least one place I’ve already been.
3. I can’t (yet) find a flight over the Pacific available for AMEX reward points, of which I have a couple hundred thousand to use. The cost for this leg will likely be around $3,000 for a lie-flat seat, when all is said and done.

The benefits of this route are:

1. It’s the most straightforward route. Almost literally a straight shot home. I can even do it in as few as three flights. But five might be less of a strain on my body and mind.
2. It’s also the shorter of the two routes by around 3,500 km.
3. It goes with the Jet stream, so it’s faster.
4. I will pick up a day after losing a day when I crossed the international date line last January.

On this route, I would spend a 5-7 days in Thailand, a 6-8 days in Sri Lanka and then hop to Nairobi Kenya for 3-5 days (with a stopover in Mumbai for maybe a day and a night), then fly to Barcelona (or Ireland) and fly home to Boston from there.

The downside of this route:

1. It requires two somewhat long flights stuffed in economy. I would, of course, pay extra for legroom and pray for an upgrade.
2. There’s some uncertainty about whether I can pull these routes off. And whether I might be rerouted through the Middle East. This is the reason for the stop in Kenya. A lot has to go right for me to get home in time.
3. I feel uneasy about it because Kenya and Barcelona were not part of my planning whatsoever. More uncertainty.
4. It’s not the most direct route. And it’s longer. A full 20,200 km.
5. Jet lag city, baby.

The benefits of Route 2:

1. I will realize my goal of circling the world.
2. I get to see four cool new places along the way.
3. The last leg from Barcelona to Boston* can be done in business class for AMEX reward points (and I’ll still have around 140K points leftover).
4. Right now, on paper, it’s cheaper. A good consideration.

I’m leaning toward the more uncertain, more exciting, more adventurous route (Route 2). What would you do?

*Or Dublin –> Boston, which is another route for which there are currently AMEX reward seats available.

Okay, here in Vietnam, the two most ubiquitous foods are pho (“fuh”) and báhn mì. Pho is a noodle soup (I’ll likely write about pho at a later date) and báhn mì is a sandwich made with a crisp baguette and various meats, sauces and vegetables.

Technically, what I just said is not exactly true. The literal meaning of báhn mì is “bread.” The bread in a báhn mì sandwich is a Vietnamese baguette very similar to a French baguette. The Vietnamese borrowed it from the French, which is the least the French could provide after nearly a century of colonial rule. I have been told that one of the most popular ways people in Vietnam eat báhn mì is to dip the baguette in condensed milk and eat this for breakfast with coffee. I’ll have to try this before I leave Vietnam in a few days. All of that being clarified, when someone mentions báhn mì here, what they most often are talking about is a sandwich.

I’ve had báhn mì –the sandwich — at every step along the way on my journey north to Hanoi where it is rumored that the best báhn mì can be found. I will seek it out and report back here.

(It is also rumored that the best pho is in Hanoi as well. And the best egg coffee. And the best cafe where you are likely to be squashed by a train. I’ll be there in two days so if this turns out to be my last post, the train got me.)

[Side note: The ladies who tailored my suit in Hoi An jokingly warned me to stay away from the báhn mì or my suit soon would not fit. It’s funny because it’s true.]

In Nha Trang I found a shop called “My Báhn Mì” and I ate there a couple times. Their sandwiches are a good size. Larger than other báhn mì I’ve encountered, but not gigantic.

On my last night in Nha Trang, I ordered three of them, ate two and saved one for the long train ride to Hoi An. This safety báhn mì fit nicely in the water bottle holder on my backpack and it was accompanied by the @barrie.prints lap napkin, pictured above and below.

In Hoi An, there are two competing báhn mì shops. One was made famous by Anthony Bourdain and frankly, I was not interested in standing in line while my expectations were raised, so I went to the place that Helen, the proprietor of my hotel had recommended. Madam Khanh, the Báhn Mì Queen.

Good gracious they were good. How good? I was not able to stop eating long enough to take a picture. Actually, I did take one snapshot inside Madam Khanh’s. The above shot I stole off of google.

Here in Hue, which is in central Vietnam, I came upon a báhn mì shop called báhn mì Truong Tien O Tho. It feels a little bit like Henry Junior back home. Family run. Quick. And really good. They even have the wax paper bags with orange lettering.

This báhn mì is spicy and super flavorful with three kinds of meat, cilantro, pate and more. The sandwiches are made and then toasted over an open grill before they are slid into a bag and handed to you, all warm and tasty. I’m in love. The sandwiches are a little small, so I ordered three, but I could have easily chowed down five.

Their slogan, literally translated with the help of google: “Wishing You Palatable!” Back atcha, O Tho.

I will update this post as more báhn mì information becomes available. And it will.

Update 3.20.26 — I had a báhn mì last night during a food tour of Hanoi. It was good, but it was not “the ultimate báhn mì” and I will be in search of that elusive báhn mì tonight.

I’ve been on this trip for 100 days now, and there are another 40 days before I re-enter the United States to attend the funeral of a friend. I have not decided whether I’m going back out on the road after the funeral or if I’m going to go home and assess the situation with the war and the economy and my expenses. I sense that I have enough money to stay in places like the Philippines, Thailand, Sri Lanka, and Vietnam for another five months minimum. But as I get to more touristy places, or more Western cities, the money disappears a little faster. 

Here are some observations of the trip so far.

People are good. I’ve met a few people who were tying to extract money from me, but I would not call them bad people. They are just trying to get by. The vast majority of people I’ve met in the last 100 days are kind, curious and helpful. 

Travel is starting to feel normal. This is a weird thing to realize but being on the road, living out of a backpack, not knowing where I’ll be or what I’ll be doing in two weeks, eating a new, different food every day is starting to feel like  “life.” What does that tell me? Either I’ve gotten over this travel bug and need to go home, or I was born for this and I need to keep going. So, who knows?

I like being by myself. I have to be honest right now, and I hope that I don’t hurt anyone’s feelings by saying this, but I have not felt lonely for a single moment in the last 100 days. Not even a little. I have not been depressed or sad, except when I received the news that my friend Greg had died. My wife did come visit me for two weeks in Japan, which was wonderful.  I have also enjoyed the temporary company of other humans I have met along the way, but mostly, I have reveled in being alone, experiencing the peace of my own thoughts. I know a lot of people are not fortunate to have a quiet mind, but I am lucky that there is no little voice in my head questioning everything. My days on the road have been filled with writing and walking and coffee and downtime. Yes, there have been challenges, but they are just little puzzles to solve.

Uncertainty is a blessing. I wrote about this for the I&M this week, so instead of recreating that here I will just say, embracing uncertainty has given me an inner calm that I have not been able to have any other way. 

You can get a decent pizza anywhere. It’s a simple thing. Dough, salt, tomatoes, cheese, pepperoni, mushrooms, onions and fire. These things are pretty much available around the world. 

Favorite cities. Kyoto, Japan. Sao Paulo, Brazil. Mexico City. Hoi An, Vietnam.

Favorite Accommodations. El Nido Beach Camp, The Philippines. Nagtabon Payapa Garden, The Philippines. Casa 344 Galapagos, even with the teeny tiny ants. Green Town Hotel, Hoi An, Vietnam. Our little apartment rental in Tokyo.

Favorite foods. By a mile: Bahn Mi in Vietnam (sandwiches with meat and pate and veggies on a crusty baguette). Ties for second place: Ramen in Tokyo, the tacos in Mexico City, all excellent but some better than others. Fruit sandwich in Japan. The pepperoni and honey pizza in the Galapagos.

There are fewer gross bugs in the world than I expected. (Now that I’ve written that, I’m starting to see them everywhere I look.)

The US is irrelevant to the rest of the world. Once respected and held high as a standard for the rest of the world to aspire to, we are now a backward, nationalistic bunch of dorks. Nobody cares. It’s not even hate or jealousy. It’s indifference. 

“Hello” and “thank” you are the most important phrases in any language. I have found that I can literally get by with these two phrases and no other understanding of any language anywhere in the world. It also helps to smile and be kind and to point and to have a little guide full of handy icons that you can show someone. But really, language is not as important as being a nice, patient person.

Regrets: zero. I have no regrets about any of the choices I’ve made while on this trip. It has all been a wonderful series of discoveries. But most importantly, by taking this trip, I will not experience the debilitating regrets I would have had if I never got on that airplane. 

Getting sick in a foreign country throws everything off. I have learned that as soon as I start to feel a little ill on this trip, it’s time to get horizontal and close the blinds. Trying to power through a sickness and enjoy an experience in a foreign country is pointless. Get better first. Then get going. 

I am more comfortable around poverty than I thought I would be. Maybe it’s because the places where people live on $5,000 a year allow my USD to go further, but also because in places where there is poverty, people find ways to make visitors feel comfortable. They have been so gracious. 

I love this experience. Traveling and seeing things I’ve never seen and meeting new people fulfills me like nothing I have ever experienced in life. If I could do this for the rest of my days, I would. I do know this: it won’t be the last adventure. 

Hoi An, Vietnam is a little city similar to Nantucket where I come from. It’s an historic town, with many older buildings. Its economy is based on tourism and it has more than its fair share of hotels and restaurants. It’s on the water. It has some very nice beaches. Maybe that’s why I enjoyed my stay here so much. While in Hoi An, I had a suit tailored for my son’s wedding, I tried a number of traditional foods, some that are only available in this town, I did some biking and beaching and walking. It was a really nice, stress-free week. Here are some pictures from my time there.

Visiting Vietnam, a country we went to war with over six decades ago, while my country engages in a military action in Iran is a somewhat surreal experience.

Vietnam is a very beautiful place. It is so green and lush. The people are beautiful. The towns are beautiful. The food is amazing. It’s also a place that vibrates with activity. The motorbikes that outnumber cars 20-to-one are constantly beeping to let everyone know they are there. (These are not angry beeps, they are just helpful announcements to pedestrians and other vehicles.) There’s a growing prosperity here, and for a communist country it has certainly embraced capitalism. (That said, most people here live on a budget of around $5,000 a year. The economic realities are different than in the US.)

Vietnam is also a place that has obviously been shaped by war. I was a child during the American war, as it is known here. But I remember it as a theme in our lives vividly. I remember my mother working to pack up medicines and supplies to send to Vietnam in the late 60s. We were encouraged to paint flowers and peace signs in the cardboard boxes before they were sent off. I remember my cousin John returning from Vietnam to live with my family briefly while he complete some college courses.

The people here who have first-hand knowledge of war in their country are, like me, in their sixties or older now. Two days ago, I came upon an older couple who asked that I pose for a picture with one of them and then I took a picture of them both, standing between two war-era defensive bunkers that figured heavily into a victory for the North Vietnamese in 1967. The man I posed with was likely a small child at that time, too.

More than a week ago, I visited the War Remnants Museum in Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon), and it was a raw emotional experience, with Man’s inhumanity on full display in a completely clear-eyed format. There is nothing much I can say about it except that I feel shame for the past. And for the present.

I have had conversations with a few Vietnamese people, but we have not talked about politics of my countries most recent actions in Iran. The people here are too polite. They want their guests to save face and not feel uncomfortable. And I’m grateful for that.

I’m not going to get into my true feelings about my country’s recent actions except to say, I’m disappointed and dismayed, but not at all surprised. The strikes on both sides have shut down a large and important air corridor for travelers like me, and if the war is still happening in four to six weeks when I will need to return home for the funeral service of my fried, Greg, I may have to reroute through Africa, travel by train northward through China and several countries with “stan” in their names, or fly east, roughly retracing my route home and not completing my goal of circling the world. For me the conflict in Iran is an inconvenience; for the people in the region, it is much more serious.

I can’t help but think that if my country’s leader had gone to war in the 60s, instead of receiving a deferment, we probably would not be at war today. Some important lessons are never learned by the people who need them the most.

I’m setting my alarm tonight for 3:45 AM so I can get up, brush my teeth and leave this (spacious and well equipped) apartment in Nha Trang Vietnam to catch a train to Hoi An Vietnam. And right now, my stuff is scattered all around this apartment.  

There’s electronics in the kitchen. There’s clothing all over the bedroom. There’s a few things in the bathroom. And there’s even a sweaty pair of pants hanging up on the balcony.

It’s times like these that I get to take an inventory of what I have with me. And of what I do and don’t need. There are things I regret bringing along, and things I cannot live without. And a few things I wish I had with me right now. 

Stuff I wish I had left at home:

One heavy pair of pants — Again with the pants. I have two pairs of pants and both feature heavy duty ripstop fabric. They were fine in Japan, but now I find having two pairs is overkill and I wish I had a lighter pair that don’t make me sweat as much. 

Three white T-shirts — these are three of the four white things I brought, and since they get washed with everything else, they are getting a little dingy. Heather grey would have been better.

Two sporks — who needs two sporks? I have not even used one spork.

A few of the meds I brought — I’ve only had mild stomach upsets so far. But I have enough Pepto to last me a month. 

Second pair of water shoes — One pair is going in the trash, I think.

A lot of my charge cables — I find that I use the same four charge cords over and over and lot of the specialty cords I have packed go unused. I did have one (cheap-o) cable die on me, so I was glad to have a spare.

Extras: toothbrushes (I have three), sunscreen (2), towels (2), underwear (7) and more. I don’t need all the boxer shorts I’ve brought, for example. 

Stuff I’ve already discarded:

Thermal leggings — once I left Japan for the tropics, there was no reason for them. 

Dish soap — who travels with dish soap?

Complementary gifts for first-class passengers on airlines — It’s pretty much junk.

A heavy metal water bottle with a built in thermometer, given as a gift. Sorry. Too heavy.

The plug adaptor that only works in Brazil. Gone.

Tossing tonight: My old pair of pink native Jeffersons (pictured in the photo at the top of this post). The bottoms are worn smooth and are therefore somewhat dangerous to wear on wet surfaces. I can get a new pair when I get home. Also, it’s possible to buy similar shoes nearly anywhere in SE Asia. So I’m happy to save some space.

Stuff I’m glad I packed:

Logoless, plain t-shirts — I see a lot of tourists in their NY Yankees hats and BANGKOK! t-shirts and all I can think is, “tourist.” I get the feeling I’ll see a Something Natural t-shirt any day now. I’ll stick with plain t-shirts (Unless it’s my I&M t-shirt).

Flashlight — This little Thrunite flashlight is rechargeable and I use it often. It has a low light more and a really night 1200 lumen setting. Good to have by the bedside. Good to have in a tent. Good to have when the public restroom has no lights. Good to have when walking back to the accommodations from a restaurant. The only down side is the clip broke, so now I can’t attach it to my baseball cap to go hands-free.

One small adapter with two USB C ports and one pass though plug and one charger with two USB C ports. That’s all I need to keep everything charged. 

Two super short fast charge cords — Shorter cords are better than long ones that get tangled. 

Nano Bag — this little lump unfurls to become a shopping bag that can carry a massive amount of stuff. It’s perfect in an airport when my personal item has too many bags of pistachios in it. 

My collapsible water bottle — It rolls up and stows away when it’s not used for hydration. And it has its own carabiner attachment.

Arch support slides — the monkeys got the first pair. Now I have a second pair. I think I scored the only size-12 arch support slide sandals in the Philippines last week.

Nite IZE 12-inch Gear Ties — These things have a bunch of uses from keeping my coffee bag closed to attaching my rain jacket to my sling bag to securing my headphones so they don’t fall off my personal item bag. Brilliant.

Bandaids — always good to have three or four. 

A couple things I will likely buy if I run across them:

French Press — okay, I already bought this in Manila. $6. A worthy investment. 

A pair of very light pants — see above. 

Another collared shirt — I only have two and one is constantly wrinkled. 

Pain reliever — time to restock.