By Patti Parish-Kaminski, Publisher
Hoofing around Spain loaded down like a “pack mule.”
Now, I am all up for a good trip – a grand adventure, if you will. But there’s one thing that I dread more than drinking cheap wine, which I absolutely loathe. And that thing is the “packing” of it all.
I’m not a great “packer.” I don’t like to “pack.” I don’t like guessing days out what I would like to wear. I don’t know what kind of mood I’ll be in, hence the issue. So, my strategy is to “pack” a little bit of everything despite the immense research I do in advance for trip preparation. This is not Mr. Kaminski’s favorite thing about me. The upside is I typically have everything I need, and whoever is traveling with me, well, I typically have everything they need as well. It’s really a gift.
It takes me days to pack for an excursion so going to Spain and Portugal was a significant task. I had already gleaned that I was going to have to be a “pack mule” on this trip – another “pack” I am not fond of – as Lisa Ann and I were going to and fro solo. So, in typical fashion, I did a copious amount of research and found the answer to my “pack mule” problem: I purchased suitcases that literally Velcro together. This technology was to assist with the entire “pack mule” situation as I could Velcro my two large suitcases together and pull with ease. And this helped somewhat.
Let me just put it out there that men in the South have been raised properly. They are helpful. They are polite. They assist whether asked or not. They hold doors open, chairs out and most significantly, they tote your stuff. Doesn’t matter if you know them or not; they are just chivalrous. Not so much in the countries we visited, regardless of how cute you look. Not sure I could live here without significant training, and I mean training the male species, of course.
In trip preparation, I was faced with yet another “pack” issue. Lisa Ann told me I needed to carry a “fanny pack” and not a purse. I do not see a “fanny pack” as an appropriate accessory as it would significantly compromise your ensemble. I don’t own a “fanny pack.” More importantly, I have no desire to procure one.
With the “fanny pack” discussion immediately aborted, it was suggested that I carry a “backpack.” I immediately squelched that idea as I am not a 12-year-old child.
Fewer than 24 hours into our European extravaganza, I got it – the “fanny pack” and the “backpack” logic. I was constantly loaded down – yes, like a “pack mule” – and frankly, toting stuff on my back or around my middle didn’t sound so bad. Plus, after 10,000+ steps daily, I really didn’t care as much about how my outfit was holding up.
Not sure I’ll ever get this “packing” thing down, especially since I keep buying stuff, turn to hand my bags to Mr. Kaminski, and he isn’t there. Guess I’ll have to trick Lisa Ann into toting my stuff so I can actually make it out of Spain. See y’all next week – on the porch!
Patti Parish-Kaminski
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