Fifteen Things I Bring with Me on Airplanes

I’ve honed my carry-on inventory over the years, knowing that limited overhead space, liquids restrictions, and my comfort levels are key. Besides my basic travel documents, here’s the 15 things I bring with me on long flights:

A sampling of some of the things I bring with me on airplanes.

1. Pashmina. It’s my portable blankey. I usually bring a lightweight wool one with me, which I can easily drape over myself if I get cold–and it comes in handy when airlines don’t have blankets. In a pinch, I’ve even used it as a giant eyemask when I want to sleep. Before I leave for trips, I spritz my pashmina with perfume so if I happen to sit next to the guy who didn’t have time to shower, I can always cover my nose–yes, this actually has come in handy. Plus, it doubles as a fashion accessory once you’re on the ground and land. If I don’t feel like wearing it or hauling it around, I simply tie it around my handbag strap and forget about it.
2. Toothbrush and toothpaste. You won’t be sorry when you wake up on a long flight. And neither will your neighbor.
3. Earplugs or headphones. It’s amazing what earplugs or headphones can do when you’re trying to sleep or tune out the babies in the back. Surprisingly, what I’ve found is earplugs also help calm my nerves about flying since it tunes out all the extra noises that go bump on the flight. Extra tip: I usually take a set of the free headphones I get on flights and stash them in my purse for the next trip. It saves me money when airlines do charge for them.
4. Socks. If your feet are bare, it gets cold in those planes, and sleeping only drops your body temperature. Stash a small pair in your handbag to keep your toes warm. Cold extremities have kept me up and uncomfortable more than once, so I bring a pair for comfort’s sake.
5. Reading. You can only read “Skymall” so many times. I used to pack a good paperback, but now I’ve got it all on my kindle, which travels with me everywhere. That’s where magazines come in handy on flights that still require you to turn off electronic devices during takeoff and landing, because you can read them anytime AND ditch them (and the extra weight they bring) when you finish. Alternatively, crosswords or sudoku are another great option.
6. Facial moisturizer, lip balm, and hand lotion. We all know how dry the air is on planes, and I feel like a reptile after just a couple hours. I also stash a small sample size container of moisturizer for my face in my purse–the samples you get with makeup bonuses are perfect for this. Hand lotion is always a plus to have on hand. Hotel lotion bottles are a great size to squirrel away in your purse then throw when you’re done.
7. Jewelry and other meaningful items. I used to never bring additional jewelry with me aside from what I wore on the plane. Then I thought, screw it! I bring multiple outfits, why not bring the jewelry I love that goes with it? But my jewelry is meaningful to me, and some of it even cost me some bucks. So now I pack a small jewelry roll that I pack into my carry-on I can keep it on my person during travel.
8. (Facial mist. Okay so this is for those of you who have a little diva in you, like a little refresher, and have the extra space for it. Lavender mists, for the restful qualities, are always nice. I’m also partial to Julie Hewett’s rose facial moisturizer and Burt’s Bees Complexion Mist. But if you don’t want to use up precious cargo space in that quart-sized liquid baggy, leave it at home).
9. Kleenix. Nothing’s more annoying than a runny nose and stuck in the middle seat. Do you really want to ask your aisle-seat companion to get up every time you need to blow your nose? Stash a small pack, and let your nose rest easy.
10. Sleeping aids. I’m not one to advocate or tell someone to take sleeping aids, but for long flights, I like them. I talked to my doctor about my options, use a prescription-strength sleeping pill, and conk myself out for about 4-6 hours of any flight. Pop in those earplugs, and you’re golden.
11. Water bottle. I empty a water bottle before I leave home and refill it after security. Then I’ve got a full bottle of water with me for the flight, which keeps me hydrated. I’ve even brought it back to the galley and asked the flight attendants to refill it for me. It’s especially convenient for taking medications.
12. One spare change of clothes. You never know when the airlines might lose your luggage. That happened to my coworker once–the airlines lost her luggage and didn’t find them for five days–FIVE DAYS–into her trip. She was forced to wash her one pair of panties every day while waiting for the luggage that took days to arrive. Bring a spare pair.
13. Hand sanitizer. Sitting on airplanes makes me feel like I’m on a flying petri dish. It’s always good to have some sanitizer gel on board, plus you probably can use it during your trip when you’re out-and-about. Also, hand or baby wipes are another good option if you expect you’ll be cleaning off physical grime or dirt, since they capture and wipe away a lot. Plus, keeping your hands clean goes a long way to staying healthy and warding off colds during travel (see #15 below).
14. Battery charger pack. If you’re working on your laptop or listening to music, we all know how fast the batteries can go. Not all planes have charging options, so that’s where battery packs for charging come in as convenience-savers. When they come with different charging cables, they can do multi-duty on all your electronics in one trip. If you’d prefer not to have the extra battery pack to lug around, then invest in a new battery for your device. I bought a new $20 battery for my netbook and found it gives me about 8 hours of juice–pretty much enough to last me most flights.
15. Vitamins, Emergen-C, Airborne, zinc, and Vitamin C. Changing time zones, breathing in recirculated air, and germs on planes always meant that I would catch a cold every time I went somewhere. Now, I stockpile vitamins and supplements in a plastic baggy that I bring with me on the flights. I take a daily vitamin, zinc, and Vitamin C each once during the flight, and down some Emergen-C or Airborne at least twice during the ride. That’s where your bottled water comes in handy, so you’re not at the mercy of the airlines’ beverage service.

There you have it – my 15 must-haves when I board the plane.

The Five Things I Bring to Hot Places

Keep cool with a compact folding fan that fits easily inside your purse or bag.

I’m from Minnesota. That means I grew up eating  hotdish, marshmallow jell-o salad, and sloppy joes. Childhood was awesome. But I also lived with our 9-month long winters, subzero freezing temperatures, and frigid, biting winds. Long johns were a staple in our closets, my pajamas had feet on them, and I remember my best friend saving plastic bread bags so she could line her moon boots with them.

Point is, I’m a winter baby. I’m used to cold weather and actually, in some misdirected way, kind of look forward to winter. But as happy as I am in the cold wintry temperatures, I’m a snowman when it comes to hot places. Move me closer to the equator, and I will basically melt.

Oh, hot places. Spain, Morocco, Yucatan, Sierra Leone. I’ve been to all those places and explored and sweat. Survival tips are few but help me survive. Here’s a few of them…

1. My folding fan. I know, it sounds geisha-like but it’s a godsend. It’s lightweight and folds up compact enough to fit in my purse. When I’m waiting outside in lines, for taxis, or just walking around, nothing is easier to cool off with than a folding fan. I got mine at the Japanese dollar store for a couple bucks, but you can find them online for a dollar or two easily.

2. A lightweight skirt or dress. Skirts or dresses are especially useful when you’re going to places where it’s not culturally respectful to bare your legs in a pair of shorts. Plus, the skirt or dress lets air circulate, which adds a little extra cooling relief. As for fabrics, I usually opt toward a very light woven cotton–it’s breathable, hand-washable, and will dry quickly. Synthetic maxi dresses and long skirts are great if you don’t have or want to iron them–but you will notice the breathability factor drops. One new bonus trend: elliptical dresses. They give the impression of being long and elegant, but their cut-cropped front means maximum air circulation and cooling. My favorite travel dress is a black synthetic elliptical dress from Statement Boutique–it goes with everything, requires no ironing, has plenty of air flow with the elliptical cut, washes easily, and  pairs easily with a cardigan or scarf for evening chill.

180 degrees of hot

3. Hat. I usually throw in my big floppy beach hat or a baseball cap just to keep my face shaded. Sunscreens wear off, and the hat is just extra protection.

4. Sunscreen. Sunscreen is a given, but I don’t just bring any sunscreen. I usually slather on two kinds: the typical kind with ingredients like the benzones that you’ll find in most drugstore brands goes on my face first since it’s moisturizing. But my “must” is a sunscreen with either zinc oxide and titanium dioxide–these are the ingredients that provide a physical barrier between your skin and the sun. People have described the oxide/dioxide sunscreens as smearing tiny rocks all over your face–which sounds horrible unless you can read between the grains and see it as an actual physical barrier that provides protection instantly against the sun. Other sunscreens, like the benzones, take time before they kick in and protect. Some oxide/dioxide sunscreens can run you some money, if you want to spend it. I personally have found an effective, inexpensive version that runs $8-11 in Vanicream. It’s rather sticky, though, and can leave a white film on your face so blend it in well. If you burn easily, a small bottle of aloe vera is also handy to take with you. See more about sunscreens on The New Rules for Sunscreen by the N.Y.Times.

5. Water bottle and a lightweight caribiner. I sometimes bring a small, 16-oz. plastic, reusable water bottle with a hooked cap. An aluminum, small caribiner allows me to hook it to my bag or belt hook and forget about it–key when you’re taking pictures or keeping track of your belongings.

Footnote: Always bring your swimwear. I know this goes without saying, but sometimes you think you won’t have time, you’re not near the beach, or your hotel doesn’t have a pool. Bring your swimwear anyway. It’s small and packs easily into a corner. I’ve often encountered an unexpected water oasis, but regrettably, left my bikini at home.

Beating Loneliness When You Travel Alone

There’s a certain, indescribable appeal to traveling alone. You come and go as you please, eat where you like, and stay where you choose. You are adventuring on your own. But solo leisure traveling is not without its downsides for the socially-minded people. Loneliness has been my companion many times when I’ve traveled by myself – but I’ve learned ways to beat it and even embrace the single lane road.

The Varna seaside isn’t so bad whether you’re solo or not.

1. Stay in a hostel. Whether you want to or not, you will definitely meet people. Maybe you don’t like the shared room deal; some hostels offer private rooms but you still get the social experience of being around so many people. To some, they don’t like the idea of shared bathrooms or they find the communal living situation dirty. Whatever. It’s why we have an epidermis.
2. I always bring a couple books. Nowadays, with my Kindle, I travel light and have plenty of books at my fingertips to read. Whether I’m sitting on a plaza, eating at a restaurant, or just hanging out by myself, my book keeps me company and helps stave off the loneliness. It’s also a great place to keep your travel guide if you use one.
3. Journal. Bring a diary and write in it. Like a book, it gives you something to do, Unlike a book, it provides a space to reflect and save memories.
4. Talk to people. The easiest question in the world to ask: “Where are you from?” I’ve even found short, three-minute conversations can release some of the loneliness because it gives you interaction with people. I’ve also met some pretty cool people through these four-simple words.
5. Sign up for a group excursion. It might sound cheesy, but you’ll get to see some great sights, learn new things, and get to chat with people. One of my best memories is from a group boating trip off of Dubrovnik with no one I knew. The ending? My new friends and I drinking island wine with locals, going out to dinner, and hanging at the beach for the weekend.
6. Look for local events. Cafes and bars often offer movie screenings and other events – it’s an easy way to pop into a group setting and be entertained.
7. Keep an open face. I once asked a German woman how she coped with traveling solo. She said if she wanted to meet people, she’d go to a bar and keep an approachable, friendly face. If she didn’t, she’d keep her expression cool and detached. It works.
8. Keep in touch. The great thing about social media is you can keep in touch without trying. Thanks to Facebook, I’ve stayed in touch with my Paris friend Olivier even though we met 10 years ago on a hike in Tajikistan. We still meet up for dinner whenever I’m passing through Paris. The same goes for friends in London, Rome, San Juan, Oslo, and Taipei. And every time I travel, the list grows.

Beating the Airlines Baggage Weight Limit

I was headed to tropical Taiwan, with 85-degree temperatures, mirage-worthy sun, and just a touch of humidity to bring a sweat to your entire body. Stepping off the plane, I breathed in the heavy warm air, redolent of tropical rains and lush greenery. I wore industrial-strength woolen long underwear (or the ubiquitous “long johns” as we call them here in Minnesota), a pair of denim blue jeans, and natural fiber yoga pants layered on top. On top, I wore a thick, purple, woolen crewneck, a cotton t-shirt, followed by a long-sleeve shirt–all encased by a heavy wool suit blazer. It was human sauna-hot. And my arms stood out at 90-degree angles from my body. Why? Because I was over the airlines baggage limit of 50 pounds.

I was en route from Mongolia to Taiwan for work. March in Mongolia meant high wind shear, biting temperatures, and brittle cold days that left cheeks chafed and lips chapped. I actually had an ankle-length Patagonia down coat that was just like walking around in a giant sleeping bag with sleeves, an actual real sleeping bag rated to 30 degrees, a wool hat, scarf, mittens, and various thick socks all stashed away in my suitcase. And I was on my way to a delightfully warm country called Taiwan.

“Ghengi”

But woolens and warm weather gear were not the only culprit in my heavy luggage. The real villain was a 10-pound plaster statue of Ghengis Khan that I had picked up in Ulaanbaatar at the request of my partner, who insisted he had to have an effigy of “Ghengie,” as he affectionately calls the iconic warrior. Unfortunately, I was in a hurry and bought the first statue I saw, which was essentially a solid brick the size of a human head.

The problem was, I was confident that the 2-bag, 50-pound limit I enjoyed from the U.S. to Mongolia was what I would get throughout my Asia travels. What I didn’t realize was that Korean Airlines’ international baggage limits differ depending on your routes: trans-Pacific flights enjoy the full checked baggage allowance; regional flights inbetween Asian countries–not so. Passengers are allowed a mere single bag at a laughable 50 pounds. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize this until I was already in Mongolia.

With Ghengie.

Fortunately, I could stash my duffel bag into my second suitcase, and the problem of how many bags was solved. But that still left the conundrum of actual weight. I was well over 50 pounds, and I really did not want to pay the extra $100 I knew the airline would charge me. So, I resorted to the last measure (short of ditching Ghengie) that was available to me: I wore all my clothes. It worked. When I arrived at the airlines counter and hefted my suitcase onto the conveyor belt, it clocked out at 49.5 pounds. I rejoiced and celebrated by peeling off an extra pair of socks and stashing them away in my suitcase: 49.7 pounds now.

But usually, I’m more prepared than I was that day. That’s because I have a secret airlines weapon that almost always gets me around the airlines’ weight limit for checked baggage…

My sister gave me a tip–and a bag–that has stood me well many times when I’m standing at the airlines counter. My IKEA bag. Big, made of crunchy-loud plastic, and emblazoned with colorful stripes. It’s a useful thing to have when you go to the airport and aren’t sure whether your bag is within the weight limit.

The great thing about this bag is, it’s compact, flattens easily to slip into the front pocket of my suitcase, and when expanded to its capacity limit, is about 15″ x 8.5″ x 18″. It’s come in handy many times when I’ve checked my baggage, only to find it’s a few pounds overweight. Normally, this would send me into a frenzy where I tear open my suitcase to see what will fit into my purse. Now, my response is a calm, cool “Really?” No sweat–I just unzip my suitcase, dive right in, and pull out a few more things to fill my IKEA bag. I’ve fit books, camera equipment, fluffy fat sweaters, shoes, and of course, my purse, into my IKEA bag.

It’s not a fashion statement piece, and you will look like you’re carrying a loud, $2 plastic bag from IKEA as a purse. There’s no disguising it, so just embrace it. I once got upgraded to first class but was using my IKEA bag as my “handbag.” Sexy. But it saves me a lot of hassle and money when I need it. The other great thing? It only costs a few bucks at IKEA. How’s that for savings? My IKEA bag now lives permanently in my suitcase and goes on every trip with me. Find a similar one for yourself here.

If I had had my IKEA bag with me, Ghengie, socks, sleeping bag, and a whole lotta other stuff would have dropped right in there, and I would have sailed right past 50 pounds in Mongolia. But, I didn’t, and hence, my maligned airport fashion show. But now I know, and have IKEA, will travel.

My Three Pairs of Shoes for Travel

Shoes are the bulky things to pack in your suitcase. Heels go akimbo, workout shoes become unmovable bricks, and black and brown shoes litter my suitcase in stiff competition against my grey and navy clothing.

During my last business trip, when I took no less than six (6!) pairs of shoes on a trip, I decided to sucker kick my habits to the curb. I’ve narrowed down my traveling shoe selection to three prime candidates, and they work GREAT. One caveat – this shoe selection is for spring-summer-fall seasons and assumes no snow or ice.

“The Three”

ONE. The black ballet flat. This is a classic, comfortable, and will go with just about any outfit and color – skirts, dresses, trousers, and even jeans. Versatile and did I already say comfortable? I could walk for blocks in these, and I have. These are J. Crew, soft supple leather, and pack down flat in my suitcase.

TWO. The nude heel. Packed a navy long-legged pantsuit? Not to worry–your nude heels will go seamlessly with them and give you the elevation needed to avoid dragging hems. Have a LBD that needs a little dressing up? Pair them with these heels to style it up. The heels give you the formality, the nude gives you the versatility, and you bring the rest. These are Nine West and come with an author’s bonus hint: to avoid blisters wearing new shoes, rub deodorant over your foot.

THREE. The (black) workout shoe/walking shoe. Of the three shoes, the workout shoe is going to take up the most volume. But if you plan to work out or go for a run, you can’t avoid this shoe. You can avoid the bulk in your suitcase and wear these on the plane, however. Also, note the parenthetical around “black.” I want my shoes to double as a walking shoe, but I don’t want to stand out with brilliant white sneakers.

Perfect Host Gifts for Travelers

Whether you‘re traveling for business or leisure, you may have hosts who will be squiring you around or meeting with you. When I travel for work, I try to bring host gifts that are small, local to my community, and a gesture of my appreciation. Here’s a rundown of my perfect host gifts-list:

• Artisan chocolates – I go to my Local D’lish to find delicious lemon lavender and spicy chipotle chocolate bark made right here in Minnesota. Plus, they will gift wrap it for me in a bag of colorful confetti tied up with ribbon.
• Music – I usually go with a St. Paul Chamber Orchestra CD, but there’s also a range of local talented musicians I can bring.
• Scarves – Silk or wool scarves are lightweight and pack easily into your bag. Who doesn’t love a colorful accessory?
• Candles – Hand-poured, softly scented candles are also a great host gift and are an easy people pleaser. Candles in pretty tins are especially travel-friendly and easy enough to squeeze into a packed suitcase.
• Locally-distilled alcohols – My colleagues and I began an informal “local liquor club” for our committee meetings. We figured that, between the five of us, we could amass a commanding collection of Puerto Rican rum, Italian limoncello, English port, and from my side of the world–Minnesota vodka! I have my choice of Prairie Organic or 45th Parallel vodkas, but when I’m feeling festive, I double-fist it and just bring both.
• Jewelry – My coworker once brought our hosts those silver pendants in the shape of our home state. Often, you can get them for a bargain deal on daily coupon sites, and they bring a little shape of home with you. Necklaces and bracelets are the easiest, because you don’t need to wonder if ears are pierced or fingers will fit the rings.
• Homemade cookies – If my travel involves long meetings, I’ll sometimes bake a batch of cookies to keep the sugar levels surging. My favorite recipe is Reese’s peanut butter cup cookies – the peanut butter and the candies are quintessentially USA but quite new to people in other countries. Pack them in a Tupperware container to ensure cookie survival.
• Handcrafted goods from your local farmer’s market – You do need to be careful in case you’re trying to bring in something that might not pass customs in the destination country. Wild rice, maple syrup, jams and jellies (but be sure to wrap the glass jars in bubble wrap well), beeswax soaps and candles, teas, and handmade textiles like potholders and small bags are all possibilities. I also try to grab the business card or brochure of the vendor so I can pack it in with the gift to make it more personal.
• Local government/city memorabilia – Some city halls may have small pins and other souvenirs. Call your city hall to check.
• Local sports memorabilia – A baseball cap is easy to stash and adjustable to fit.
• Unique and different – Check out the gift store in an art museum. There are many clever and beautiful objects to choose from in these places. The MIA, Mill City Museum, Walker Art Museum, and Guthrie all have some great options. I mean, who wouldn’t want this awesome if not weird Critter Dusting Ball?
• Final tips – Always bring one more gift than you expect to give. There is always one person behind-the-scenes who meets you at the airport, handles your schedule, or provides support in some way who you’ll want to thank.

* On my ban list: key chains, refrigerator magnets, fragile stuff, boxy uncute t-shirts, and CDs with loon calls.

Happy gifting!

Uh Oh… It’s Traveler’s Diarrhea

I was writing a future post on hot places when I asked my partner for a good narrative story  for the post. He opens one eye sleepily, and says, “How about the time you had ABL?”

“ABL? What’s ABL?” I demanded.

To which he responds matter-of-factly, “Accidental Bowel Leakage.”

“I’ve never had Accidental Bowel Leakage!” I shout back at him, upset. “And there is no such thing as Accidental Bowel Leakage! I don’t even know what you’re talking about!” I’m not sure why I was so upset, since we’re at the stage in our relationship where we go to the bathroom with the door open and continue our conversations without interruption. Nevertheless, it hit a raw nerve.

The truth is, I have had Accidental Bowel Leakage, and it’s definitely no fun when you’re traveling and in a strange place.

I have a gut made of iron and can stomach most anything I put into it. But we’re all vulnerable to that chance bacteria that can propel your stomach into rebellion. (Like that time I ate a whole block of cheese wrapped in a banana leaf from a Peruvian market. It tasted great, but I later paid the price). I confess, I’m not one of those persons who only eats peeled fruit and eschews ice cubes in my drinks; I want to enjoy the foods when I travel, and frankly, I can’t keep track of all the rules. So, I’ve adopted a regimen based on past experience, doctors’ advice, and well-worn travelers’ tips.

Preventing the bacteria. If I’m going somewhere with higher risks of diarrhea, I’ll bring probiotics and Pepto-Bismol pills to take on a daily basis. Usually, I take about 3 probiotic (or yogurt) pills a day (but check the label). I take two Pepto-Bismol per day, although some recommend even more but caution that such use should be limited to the short-term. They almost always help keep my gut healthy while I travel, and it’s easy to do.

Talk to your doctor. If I need it, the one thing I ask for is a prescription from my doctor for the antibiotic, Ciproflaxin, just in case. I’ve rarely had to use it, but it’s a good backup to have in hand. Your doctor can also tell you other ways to prevent and treat traveler’s diarrhea.

Explore the “backup” options. Most often, diarrhea always seems to hit when I’m on a long bus ride. I once made a bus driver stop in the middle of the Peruvian desert so I could go to the bathroom. Let me tell you: the desert in Peru is a vast expanse with virtually no ground cover. None. I know, because I looked. After that embarrassing incident, I always bring Imodium with me. In trying to describe what Imodium does, I found this quote on its website: “IMODIUM® provides prompt and effective control of diarrhea by directly acting on the intestinal wall, by normalizing motility, and also by normalizing the balance between absorption and secretion of water and electrolytes.” I have no idea what that says, but it does stop me up. Mind you, I do not take it for extended periods but just for short-term situations, like bus rides.

(Here, once again, my partner helpfully recommends a plastic bag for this type of situation. His suggestion does not receive my endorsement).

Rehydrate. One time, I spent an entire night in Panama with food poisoning from some very bad nachos. I was supposed to go diving for a full day the next day, but the idea of getting on a boat in the hot sun was unthinkable. I wandered the town’s streets in the early morning and came upon a grocery store. I intended to buy some water or juice, but found Gatorade. I bought a large bottle and downed it slowly over the next couple hours. It worked great–my body didn’t reject it, and I felt rehydrated and was able to go diving just fine. Gatorade isn’t always going to be available, but you can easily make your own electrolyte  drink:

• 1 L (4¼ cups) water
• 2.5 ml (½ tsp.) salt
• 30 ml (6 tsp.) sugar

The other thing I do is drink tepid water or tea that’s slightly warmer than room temperature. Not cold and not hot–my body doesn’t seem to absorb liquids at those extreme temperatures.

Dr. Oz notes several foods that help with diarrhea, including yogurt, wheat toast, bananas, ginger ale, and, if you have it: jell-o. One woman told me that she would make jell-o when she had diarrhea and drink it as it cooled–finding it more soothing to eat as it gelled.

Pampering. In a sense. One of my friends who travels to India regularly for work recommended bringing baby wipes in case your bottom gets too chafed from toilet paper. I thought that was a little over the top, but I’m putting it out there.

Getting the meds in a foreign place. Sometimes, language barrier is your next biggest problem after the diarrhea. I was in Amsterdam with severe diarrhea and walked into a pharmacy that I swear what was the only place where a Dutchperson didn’t speak English. He and his assistant made genuine, concerned attempts to understand what I was asking for, but I finally had to resort to body language and pantomime to show my g.i. distress. I kept making futile gestures toward my butt and flowing movements with my hands out of my butt, but it was a good ten minutes before the young assistant suddenly said, “Ahhhh!” and reached for a bottle of carbon pills.

When asked what she would have done in that situation, my sister volunteered that she would have patted her stomach and her butt, while making the noise, “BLEAAAH,” in their faces. Thankfully, we live in an age where we don’t need to resort to diarrhea visual performance, but can use Google Translate to find the words and write them down or download the app onto your phone. But in a pinch when you don’t have internet access, patting your butt and stomach while making loud noises isn’t a bad way to go. Or, you can just bring your Pepto and Cipro and skip the interpretive performance.

Keeping Valuables Safe in Hotel Rooms

I once shared a bed with a guy for three days and didn’t know it.

We were both staying in a hostel, El Centro del Mundo, in Quito, Ecuador–the biggest party hostel in the city, if not the country. It was toward the end of my 3-month sojourn through South America, and I was short on cash with little left over for luxury accommodation–meaning, a room to myself. So, I opted for the ultra cheap accommodation at the hostel: a $2 bed in a large, 12-bed dormitory.

Checking in, I threw my backpack on the floor by the bed and headed out into the city. What I didn’t know–and neither did my surprise bedbuddy–was that the hostel accidentally gave my bed to another backpacker named James. That first night, I stayed out all night partying, and James slept in “our” bed. The second night, Bedbuddy James stayed out partying, and I ended up crashing in the bed (I was wondering why the sheets were so messed up, and there were socks in my bed). The third night, we both were out partying, and neither of us slept in the bed. It wasn’t until the next day when I was taking a well-earned, post-party nap in the bed when James returned, only to cry out (rather territorially, I thought), “She’s in my bed!”

We soon sorted it out after that, but lesson learned: sometimes you’re sharing beds–and space–with strangers. You don’t always know who’s in your space, and while I’ve been mostly lucky, I do take precautions–whether I’m in my own room or sharing with 12.

Thus, the topic of hotel security. I’ve stayed in some crazy and different accommodations in my day. Hostels, cheap hotels that rent by the hour, budget rural inns, all the way up to the Four Seasons and Ritz-Carltons (the latter of which, mind you, are pretty rare for me). Fortunately, staying in the Four Seasons or Ritz-Carltons usually gives you the option of the in-room safe, or even the reception vault. But when you’re staying in accommodations that don’t have these options- which is usually the case for me- how do you keep your valuables safe?

I always keep at least 2 small padlocks in my travel suitcases. They’re inexpensive, and usually use a 3- or 4-digit code. An easy code you can plug in for 3-digit padlocks that you won’t forget is your telephone’s area code. The easiest code you can plug in for 4-digit codes are the last 4 digits of your telephone number or your birth year. I always use these codes, and despite the plethora of 20-some mini-padlocks I have floating around between my suitcases, I can usually get the padlock code within 1 or 2 attempts. When I’m leaving my hotel room for the day, and I have some valuables–e.g. my  jewelry or extra cash–I secrete them away in some pocket or item of clothing, then lock my suitcase zippers shut with the padlock. It’s not foolproof, but it keeps your valuables under some lock and key.

That said, some common sense rules apply. Don’t leave valuables, cash, or other things you wouldn’t want to lose out in plain sight.Tuck it away, lock it up, or else bring it with you. I also check the windows–if I’m on the ground or second floor, I’ll shut and lock the window. If you have to leave money behind, you can always section it off according to bill denominations: e.g. fold some paper around all your twenties, writing the number of bills you have on the paper; do the same for all other denominations before you secrete it away in a preferably padlocked place. It will at least help you keep track of how much money you have stored, rather than guessing, “I THOUGHT I had $200 here but maybe I didn’t…” Sometimes the front desk has a vault as I mention above- but keep in mind the convenience factor and how often you need to retrieve your valuables. Finally, always make sure the room door shuts completely behind you and locks when you leave. Then hit the streets and let your mind rest easy knowing you’ve taken what precautions you can.

International Aid

In my last post, I regale the plastic bag as fix-all, be-all manna from heaven. My fixation probably stems from emotional scarring, from the one time I desperately needed a plastic bag and didn’t have one.

I was standing dripping wet, naked, with only a threadbare towel wrapped around me in a small hotel in Copan, Honduras. It was budget accommodation–we’re talking less than $10 here–and you got what you paid for. The rooms were small, dark and odorous; the bathroom and shower was a shared affair down the hallway for all guests. Notably, when the reception kid showed me the hotel rooms, he carefully skipped showing me the bathroom and instead gestured vaguely to its whereabouts.

The bathroom was a silent, breathing monstrosity. Upon opening the door, I found a toilet and a narrow shower side-by-side in a very, very small space. Standing in front of the toilet, I could barely shut the door behind me because the space was so narrow. What made matters worse was the fact that the toilet was seriously clogged. If I had to provide an honest and accurate description of that toilet, it looked like someone ate twenty baleadas from the last century in rapid-fire succession then took laxatives for extra fun. That toilet was where all baleadas go to die. To top it all off, there was no leeway between the narrow shower–the space where you wanted to get clean–and the clogged toilet–the space you wanted most to avoid.

But, I was in my easygoing 20s and happy to be in Honduras with my backpack on my back. What was a cramped little bathroom and ten-day old traveler’s diarrhea in the toilet bowl?  No worries!

Because there was no place to put my clothes in that narrow space, I would scurry over to the bathroom in my towel, holding only my soap, shampoo, and room key. Wanting to avoid the disrespectful and “ugly American” image of Naked Girl running down the hotel corridors, I always made sure the hallway was clear of any people before I cautiously ran to the shower in my immodest attire. I placed my key in the only place that seemed dry and safe: on top of the toilet tank. It worked great, until one day, I stepped out of the shower, only to reach for my key when it slipped out of my reach and fell into the toilet.

I stood there in denial, mouth agape, for a good five minutes. I didn’t know what to do. There was no way I was going down to the front desk to ask Reception Kid for another key–if they even had one. In vain, I peered into the toilet, but it was impossible to see anything. Finally, I peeked out into the hallway and spotted a broom in the corner. I quickly grabbed it and ran back to the toilet, thinking I could hook the key with the broom and get it out. The problem was, there wasn’t enough space to stand in front of the toilet with the broom and the door shut–I had to leave the bathroom door open.

So there I stood in the bathroom, wearing a towel and stirring a diarrhea-filled toilet round-and-round with a broomstick.

(If anyone had asked, I would have told them I was Canadian).

After 10 minutes of futile stirring, I gave up, practically in tears. Then I remembered there was another guest–a Dutchman–staying down the hallway. I crept down the hallway and knocked on his door.

“Yes?” asked a somewhat suspicious voice.

“Hi,” I called out loudly into the door, “I’m staying at the hotel, and I dropped my key down the toilet. I can’t get it out, and I was wondering if you could loan me a plastic bag so I could wrap it around my hand and reach into the toilet to get my key out, because the toilet is filled with diarrhea.”

There was a very long pause before the door finally opened a crack, and a single hand appeared holding a plastic bag. I uttered my thanks, grabbed the bag and yes, fished my key out of the toilet. The next time I saw the Dutch plastic bag guy in the hallway, I thanked him again and offered to buy him a beer. He looked at me askance, shrugged, and accepted. We had a great time out and told my toilet story to the whole town. Which brings me to my final use for plastic bags: international aid.

Uses for Plastic Bags

7/1/15

My sister–a mother of 2 diaper-clad youngsters–recently told me that California bans plastic bags at stores. Hence,whenever they come across plastic bags, they squirrel them away as precious commodities for diaper disposal. I couldn’t believe it. I’m reasonably frugal myself, but I never thought of plastic bags as rare and valuable assets. In all my travels through Latin America, the plastic bag is ubiquitous–bright white-red or white-blue striped plastic bags everywhere. People were even buying and drinking water straight out of clear, plastic baggies.

But, as I was packing for my next trip, I found myself paying a visit to our “bag cupboard,” where we stash all the grocery and retail bags we come across. I pulled out three plastic bags for my packing, only to find myself returning for more. Huh? Suddenly, I was the one chasing plastic bags and worrying that I didn’t have enough of these things. It gave me pause to stop and think about how much I rely on plastic bags when I go overseas. Here’s a quick rundown:

Collecting your dirty things. Laundry, shoes, I throw anything I don’t watch touching my clean items–ahem,  who wants street shoes coming in contact with your clean panties?–into plastic bags.

Cheap and fast compartmentalization. If I want all my personal hygiene in one place, I throw all the products into a plastic bag. No more rooting around in my cavernous suitcase to find the shampoo. I do the same with other like-minded goods, such as electronics and chargers, medications, or pens/notebooks.

Protect electronics and other water-vulnerable items. If I’m worried about things getting wet, or my shampoo leaking onto other items, I just throw them into a plastic bag and twist the top shut. Extra worried? Throw on a second one and double-bag it. (Large ziplock baggies come in extra handy here, especially since they can do double-duty if you’re headed to the beach or on a boat).

Unforeseeable situations. Here, my partner helpfully volunteers “pee bag.” When I ask him if he has ever used a plastic bag to pee in, he emphatically answers, “Uh, NO.” But he clarifies by saying, “It’s for emergency situations. You never know when you might need to emergency pee. To which I ask, “Can’t you just pee on the ground?” To which he rallies in return, “Not if you’re in the middle of the desert, and you need to drink your own pee. Then you’d pee in the bag.” So there you have it: if you’re going to the desert and worried you might run out of water, bring a plastic pee bag. You can never be too prepared for an unforeseeable situation.