When you have lived somewhere for four years it’s emotionally draining to say good-bye to friends and logistically exasperating to transport your life elsewhere.  But between canceling your cable service and buying International traveler’s insurance, make sure you enjoy your time in the US as much as possible before you go!  Five tips:

1.  Make a Bucket List

• I made a Google doc of all the things I had always wanted to do in New York but hadn’t made time for yet.  My friends went in and added their names next to activities they wanted to join me for so I got to see my friends and try new things!
• My list ranged from seeing a Broadway show (“Rock of Ages” to be specific. I’m still singing Here I Go Again and smiling to myself) to trekking to Harlem for the infamous Dinosaur BBQ (overrated!) to seeing my rockstar friend Sean Bradford perform his own show at Joe’s Pub (only in NY!)

2. Enlist men to help you move

• Perrin and I both had strong men load our stuff into SUVs and vans.  We’re no damsels in distress but mattresses are really heavy!
• I live on a six floor walk up with tight turns on the stairway.  Since I didn’t document my own move I’m sharing this strikingly similar experience from “Friends.” PIVOT!

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So what am I taking to Ecuador? You mean beside my hair dryer, straightening iron, skinny jeans, and matching shoes? Kidding.

The only two things I really, truly need on a trip: passport and ATM card. Everything else you could technically, though uncomfortably, if-push-came-to-shove live without. Unless, of course, we’re talking about medications that you actually depend on for survival, like insulin or an asthma inhaler in my case (ok, so maybe I need 3 things).

In Costa Rica a few years ago I met six Kiwis whose passports had been stolen from their cabina while they were sleeping. Now if I were a thief, I would not pick on such a large group of rather large men. The next day, one of their passports was found near the side of the road along with a machete wrapped in a towel. After hearing that, I figured it was probably for the best that they had slept through the incident. Unfortunately for the remaining five, the nearest New Zealand embassy was in Mexico, meaning they had to cross through Nicaragua, Honduras, and Guatemala – without passports. How’s that for a detour?

I’m quite happy to be taking along my newly acquired, perfect-for-traveling ATM card. I’ve been searching for an ATM card that doesn’t add insult to injury by tacking on exorbitant “out-of-network” ATM fees along with a 3% “international transaction” fee. Citibank charged me a 3% fee on my last international flight just because the carrier is based in another country, despite the fact that I bought the ticket online in the US and paid in US dollars. So finally, the perfect card that reimburses me for any fees incurred from using other ATMs, and no international transaction fee! I’m thinking with the extra savings I should be able to buy an extra guinea pig or two….

Along with these 2 most important of important items, I will be taking along my money belt to keep my passport, credit/debit cards, and cash hidden on bus rides or weekend trips.  One thing I’ve learned: Keep what you care about close to you. Better yet, on you. And hidden.

I once traveled with a girl in Panama who kept her cash stashed in an empty can of bug spray. When I saw her pop off the top to reveal wads of rolled up bills, I thought, Clever. As long as no one is looking to looking to steal your bug spray.

As I’m trying to figure out what to pack for the “eternal springtime” of Quito (what does that even mean?), the biggest challenge is finding the balance between packing light and packing to live somewhere for 3 months.

I’m a light packer by nature. Okay maybe not by nature, but by the nurture of lessons learned the hard way. Between losing, misplacing, or being robbed of my fair share of things while traveling, my load has been lightened in more ways than one. Thus when traveling through Latin America and Southeast Asia, all I carried was a gray Jansport backpack. Not the massive backpacker-style packs that are the size of a golden retriever.  A regular school backpack. When I had to carry my backpack for long distances (imagine, no taxis!) I was quite the happy camper compared to my aching, sweaty companions who were struggling under the weight of half their wardrobe.

Lesson #1: Pack only what you can carry on your back while running at a full sprint to catch the last (or only) bus of the day.

I’ve seen a lot of people bring things of sentimental value with them when they travel. Their favorite necklace, favorite pair of shoes, forty favorite shirts. Big mistake. When their vintage Pumas go missing after they’ve taken them off to step inside a temple, or they find themselves Tiffany heart-less after squeezing through a large crowd, they’re devastated. It may sound pessimistic, but as I’m packing I’m asking myself whether I’d be okay if these things didn’t make it home with me.

Lesson #2: Never pack anything you would be sad to lose.  In other words, pack only what you wouldn’t miss.

Half of the fun of living in a new place is integrating yourself into your adopted country. Not only does haggling for a hand-woven shirt in a nearby market help support local enterprise, but dressing like the locals do shows that you’re willing to adapt to their culture.

As a traveler, assimilating into the culture will open doors you can’t wait to walk through, such as being invited to meet someone’s family and seeing what local life really is.  And afterward, that embroidered belt or woven poncho will evoke more treasured memories than that glow-in-the-dark shotglass you were considering.

Lesson #3: Be ready to blend.

I promised in last week’s post, Top Ten Packing Surprises, that I’d break down my dream gear bag for everyone this week. Well, despite having been widely criticized for my comment about American condoms, I have decided to be upstanding about my promises: my complete travel kit, in a handy, checkbox form.

Brian's bag was full of beer. What about mine?

Not just any beer. IceHouse.

If you see any glaring omissions (that don’t fall under the Obvious category, like a passport), then leave them for me in comments, or email me your own Complete Pack breakdown.

I came to Jet Set Zero thinking I knew a thing or two about packing. After all, I’d backpacked the Rockies, the Cascades, and even lived and guided in the Alaska backcountry. I learned the value of a lightpack from a man that saws the handle off his toothbrush and packs a sporknif to shave a few choice ounces.

But as it turns out, I knew nothing about packing. Here are the top ten things that surprised me.

Packing for Saigon, Episode 1

10. Bring Multiple Pairs of Shoes

Ok, self-consciously, this sounds like a no-brainer. Why the hell would you only bring one pair of shoes?

I’ve always been the kind of guy that was intentionally fashion-deaf, and overly practical. Hell, I wore tapered jeans until Junior year of college, when someone told me what tapered jeans were, and how terrible I looked in them. So I packed only a handful of survival equipment for Vietnam, and spent almost an hour mocking Brian for the five pairs of shoes he was bringing (including two or three minutes on-camera).

Then, on a fateful night in Saigon, an alleged drug-addict stole my size-16 shoes by flinging them over an iron gate with a broken broom handle. The next morning, I found myself entirely shoeless and filled with volcanic rage. As size 16 is a bit of a rare find anywhere, let alone in dwarfish Southeast Asia, I had to spend the next two weeks in bright blue Crocs, the toes of which I had cut off to accommodate my feet.

Needless to say, Brian had the last laugh.

9. Bring Fashionable Clothes, But Not Too Many of Them

Here’s another area where I doubted Brian’s packing practicality. As it turns out, America (for the most part) is the least fashion-conscious stretch of dirt on God’s otherwise green earth. So if you are as I was, unfashionable by American standards, find someone who can help you buy decent looking clothes (and shoes). If you don’t, it will take about twelve seconds on the streets of Tokyo before you start to feel like Forrest Gump, inside and out.

Looking shabby outside Tokyo Tower.

This all being said, don’t go nuts. You really only need one pair of good jeans, three or four t-shirts, and anything else the climate may demand. And unless you’re an ogre like I am, you’ll do most of your shopping in situ.

8. Don’t Bring White Socks

If you’re sensing a fashion theme here, that’s because some of the first lessons I learned about packing were that I dressed like an American gym teacher, and only an American gym teacher should wear white socks. Take it as a rule.

7. Earplugs, Eyemask

You may think you can sleep anywhere, but try getting a full night’s sleep in the chapel of a busy airport. You may think you don’t need a full night’s sleep to function, but try getting the best deal on a taxi fare when you’re exhausted. Sleep = acuity = money.

6. Antibiotics

I’m almost certain to get dinged here, but I will be honest. I’ve worked with children abroad, and you will get sick every week or every other week, guaranteed. Best to fake or play up some sort of respiratory infection so you can have handy a supply of broad-spectrum antibiotics. We had a stash of hundreds of doxycycline (an anti-malarial), which I took at the first signs of illness. Note: I am not giving you medical advice, and yes, I’ve heard of antibiotic resistance. Unfortunately, I have also heard of Korean toddlers.

The most dangerous thing in this picture is his hygiene.

5. Deodorant

Lots of cultures eschew deodorant, but you probably shouldn’t. As an interesting side-note, Korean people think our body odor smells like butter, whereas we think they smell like garlic. I hope this ruins fetuccini alfredo for you forever.

4. American Condoms

I know– crude, but true. First, you may find condoms in other parts of the world don’t… fit so well. Second, I feel that if I’m skeptical about how well protected my head is by a Vietnamese helmet, condoms are a natural parallel.

3. Pack Yourself a Cold-Weather Kit to Ship

The whole point of living the jet set life is to liberate your future from the clutches of materialism, so why let your materials determine where you can go?

You should pack light, but keep in mind that someday you may want to go to Tokyo in December (against the advice of those that love you the most). Pack a small box with a couple of sweaters, a hat and a solid coat and leave it with someone who can ship it to you, wherever you may end up. It’ll free your options, and save you the money it would cost to outfit yourself on the road. In Tokyo, we’re talking a lot of money.

2. Bring the Things You’ll Want Right Away

God help the world if I don’t have coffee in the morning. When I arrived in Istanbul, I had 50 euros to my name, and no housing or job prospects at all. I knew that a jar of instant coffee could potentially cost me almost a quarter of that money (a chunk I would happily spend, I might add), so I brought a week of instant coffee in a bag with me. Laundry detergent and soap also fall in this category.

If you find yourself packing Franzia after this, you may have a problem.

1. Bring the Smallest Backpack You Can

The absolute, number-one tip I could relate to anyone looking to travel for an extended time abroad is to bring the smallest backpack possible. There are so many reasons for this that I could not possibly cover them all and keep your attention. I’ll simply say that you will always use the space you have, but not always the things you have.

For example, I left for Saigon with my ex’s 40-liter Granite Gear pack and only ever needed to buy clothing once (ok, twice if you count the shoes). But when it came time to leave again for Tokyo, I brought a half-full 95-liter Arc’Teryx. Look at the difference in our departure: in Saigon I left with a smile on my face; in Tokyo I look like Rush Limbaugh on a treadmill.

I would recommend 45 liters as the ideal travel size. If you need more space than that, you’re overpacking.

Come back next week, when I’ll give you a comprehensive run-down and checklist of my ideal travel pack– two years and six countries in the making.