But first, here are things that I do not, I repeat do not like to pack. Note: I have taken all of these in the past, and learned from experience that they aren’t worth the space in my bag.

1) A towel. My mother thinks I’m crazy for not bringing a towel, but it’s much more hassle than use. Not only does it take up a lot of space, but it starts to smell. (Note: those tiny quick-dry towels start to smell even more.) Instead, I either drip dry if it’s hot out, use a piece of clothing, use a multi-purpose piece of cloth, or buy a towel locally if I’m staying in one place for a while.

2) Outdoor performance-type clothes. My first time in Africa, I took a bunch of quick-dry, Mountain Equipment Co-op type clothes. Looking back in photographs, I realize I look like a buffoon. Why does traveling require specially-made clothes? If I’m going somewhere hot, I’ll bring what I’d wear in Canada on a really hot day (but maybe a bit more conservative.) If I’m going somewhere temperate, I just bring normal clothes. I do, however, like to bring one pair of outdoorsy pants (usually capris) for hiking.

3) Many, many books. Even in Ouagadougou, the capital of a francophone West African country, I’ve been able to swap novels with other people or borrow from the library at the American Rec Center. There’s always a place to find books if I look hard enough. Usually one or two novels is good to start off with – otherwise I’ll be lugging around a ton of weight.

4) Any fancy uber-multi-use Swiss Army knife or cutlery contraption. Seriously, a good sharp knife (Swiss Army or otherwise) and a bottle opener is the only thing I ever have need for. If I have access to a kitchen, there will be cutely and other stuff there.

There was a time that I’d get really choked up when I left home or moved. A time when setting out to places unfamiliar was emotionally upsetting and draining.

Now it feels like par for the course. In fact, I’m feeling content and relaxed settling in to that same old, familiar feeling of getting ready for the unfamiliar. I don’t even have to think much about the stuff that needs to get done… I’m checking off the following list on auto-pilot:

1. Get extra bank card – The bank will put up a fuss but yes they will do this for you!
2. Call VISA and tell them “yes that person charging my card from some far-off country is me.”
3. Buy stuff that is impossible to find anywhere, like contact-lens solution.
4. Sell off as many worldly possessions as possible. (Anyone want a futon?)
5. Drink that disgusting traveler’s diarrhea vaccine and gag melodramatically.
6. Wash three continents off the smelly backpack and watch the water run brown.

Yes, this is a very comforting routine.

“Wow, that looks great on you!” she said.

“Yeah, but I’m only interested in any clothes I that I would wear in Central America. This is too revealing… you can see half my boobs.”

“Yeah, but it looks hot! Take it anyways!”

I know that I won’t take the dress.

Sometimes I feel like I am the only woman who makes a conscious effort to dress at least somewhat modestly when traveling in more conservative countries. Sure, I probably don’t dress quite as modestly as I could, but I try to at least find the halfway point between covered from head to toe and North American summertime clothes.

I have heard the following statement at least a half dozen times while traveling in Central America:

Girl wearing spaghetti-strap tank top and short-shorts: “It’s so disrespectful how men are always making obscene comments and staring at me here!”

While I’ve certainly heard a few catcalls, in my personal experience most men in Central America have been respectful to me. I’m not gross looking, so I’m going to guess that this has something to do with the way I dress.

I don’t think the fact that someone is “on vacation” or “backpacking” is an excuse to completely ignore social standards on dress. Even when it’s hot out, it’s not appropriate in many countries to have one’s boobs hanging out.

At the risk of generalizing, when I travel in Latin America I use the following rules:

Either pants, capris or skirts.
Skirts shouldn’t be too short. The shortest I would wear is a skirt that hits right above the knee.
No teeny tank tops – I usually have the shoulders covered.
No major cleavage, but showing some is ok.

In West Africa it’s different. Legs are considered much more sexual, so skirts should be longer. But showing skin on top isn’t as big a deal so I might wear a tank top.

Either way, a little thought goes a long way.

Here’s me on a hot day in Panama City, wearing a typical outfit:

Am I taking too much of a “blame the victim” mentality? Is it wrong to blame female travelers for the comments they receive? Should they have the right to dress as they want? Should I instead blame the men making the comments?

Obviously, I don’t think it’s “ok” to verbally assault someone… but I think that female travelers should be more respectful of local norms as well.

The other day I heard a hilarious suggestion (see #5.) That got me pondering, what is the best place to hide your money? Here are five common places (okay, besides #5.)
Places to keep your money safe.

1. In a money belt

Pros: You can keep a lot of stuff here and it will remain organized. Plus this will prevent pickpockets.

Cons: Criminals know about these. So while it will stop a pickpocket, a mugger is likely to check for a money belt. Other drawbacks: it can get uncomfortably sweaty, and it’s difficult to use if you are wearing a dress.

2. Inside your bra

Pros: This will deter pickpockets, and a mugger might be less likely to check here. It’s easily accessible no matter what you are wearing. If there’s not much money there it can’t be seen from the outside.

Cons: Not for (most) dudes. An unexpected make out session might lead to accidentally losing your money. And you can’t keep very much here.

3. In a secret pocket sewn on the inside of your pants

Pros: Very unlikely that any criminal will steal this, unless they also steal your clothes. Depending on placement, less sweaty and smelly than other places.

Cons: It will take effort to sew this secret pocket. Depending on the placement, it wouldn’t be easily accessible. And if you wear more than one pair of pants, you will have to sew even more pockets.

4. Inside a belt with a secret compartment.

Pros: All the benefits of a money belt, without feeling all awkward and lumpy. Easily accessible and not obvious.

Cons: Are you seriously going to wear the same belt all the time? Do you really need to spend $18 for such a contraption? Plus, if the belt is ugly you will look like a tool, but if the belt looks totally cool a thief might want to steal it anyway.

5. In a sanitary pad.

Pros: Who would possibly think to look here?

Cons: This is totally gross.

None of these ideas would work particularly well in a country like Ghana (before the revaluation of the cedi)… Here I am in 2006 showing off my loaded wallet… which contains a wad of cash that is worth at most $10.

While I’m in Canada and daydreaming about my next trip, guidebooks are like crack to me. Before leaving for West Africa last summer, I read Rough Guide and Lonely Planet’s West Africa books and Bradt’s Burkina Faso guide front to cover at least four or five times each. Over the last couple months, I’ve read Central America or Guatemala books by Rough Guide, Moon and Lonely Planet. I read the stuff before I go to bed, when I’m supposed to be writing essays, and even in the bath.

Then when I leave Canada and actually start to travel, I ignore the guidebooks entirely (aside from the occasional hotel recommendation.)

I wander around towns blind, pick restaurants based on how they look, and skip “must-sees” if I don’t feel like seeing them. (I must be the only person that’s been to Guatemala but didn’t “feel” like going to Tikal.) If I want to go out drinking, I don’t look under “nightlife” to find a town’s “hottest disco.” I go with word of mouth. If I want advice on safety, I ask trustworthy people that I’ve met. The guidebook starts to collect dust.

Then, six months later, I’ll go back and read the guidebook entries to the cities I’ve visited that I feel I know well. I’ll barely recognize the places! For example, in most guidebook entries on Ouagadougou (probably the foreign city I know best), most of my favourite places are conspicuously absent. Where is my favourite budget hotel (Pension Sarah) where interesting African and non-African guests sit and chat in the pretty courtyard? Where’s my favourite maquis (outdoor bar), where you can lounge around, sipping big bottles of beer and eating cheap grilled meat and a gloriously slow place? What about Le Festin, Ouaga’s answer to a cheap diner, where you can sit in clean, comfy booths and eat rice with a spicy peanut butter sauce? I think: this guidebook is not describing my Ouagadougou (or my Quetzaltenango, or my Paris…)

But then I go buy three more guidebooks for my next destination. And repeat the whole process. What gives?