What to Pack for a Country We've Never Been To

There is a specific silence in our bedroom the day before a trip.

Nim goes through his camera bags for the third time. I do laundry that does not really need to be done.

I never pack the day before. I pack a few hours before we leave.

Not because I am organised. Because I already know exactly what I am bringing. The suitcase has been finished in my head for weeks. My hands just wait for the last moment to catch up.

This trip has been in my head since June. And this packing is different from any I have done before.

1. Two Chapters, Two Wardrobes

Because a beach and a bush cannot share a bag.

Every trip so far has had one climate. Nordic in winter. European autumn. Cape Town in spring. One dress code, one texture, one temperature.

This one has two.

The first half is warm ocean, sand, days that end with wet hair. The second half is bush, sunrise wake-ups, dust on your shoes. My packing list has quietly split itself in two.

The maillots have won by numbers. Five bathing suits. I usually travel with one. I have never before packed a case where swimwear takes more space than shirts. And on the other side of the same case, layers for the cool mornings when we will need something over the shoulders at 5am.

The verdict: for a trip that has two chapters, pack two wardrobes. But keep the total weight of both under one carry-on.

2. What I Am Bringing That I Have Never Brought Before

The things a hot, unfamiliar country asks you to add.

Mosquito spray, five bottles of it. People I trust told me the mosquitoes there are patient. That is enough for me.

Antiseptic wipes. Extra hand sanitiser. Rehydration sachets I have never opened before. A pouch of medications that I probably will not need but I would rather have and not need than need and not have.

And a doudoune I am not bringing for the first time in fifteen years. A jacket I have carried on almost every trip since I started leaving Mauritius. This time, it stays at the top of my closet.

Some suitcases you fill. Some suitcases you also unfill.

The verdict: an unfamiliar country changes what you bring, but also what you leave behind. Both decisions tell you something.

3. The Things That Are in Every Suitcase, No Matter Where

My unwritten packing rituals.

Some things are in the case before I decide anything else. My Birkenstocks. My body mist. My perfume. My laptop. And underwear.

‘’ Fifteen pairs of underwear for five days.’’

I know. I have accepted this about myself. Nim laughs every time he sees me count them. Then he counts his own. He does the exact same thing.

I do not write a packing list. I never have. I move around the room and whatever my eye lands on that I might need, I throw in. There is no logic. There is no Notion doc. There is a woman moving around a suitcase with a playlist on, and slowly it fills.

Which brings me to my weirdest packing habit.

I pack to Marilyn Manson. The Nobodies. This is the New Shit. Rock Is Dead. It has been my ritual since I was twenty. Something about that voice and those guitars gets me into a state where I stop overthinking and just move. My love for that music has survived every phase of my life. It survives every suitcase.

The verdict: trust the objects that always come with you. They are your travel identity, even before you leave the house.

4. Nim's Anxieties vs Mine

A running joke about what each of us pretends we need.

Nim does not care about clothes. He never has. He would wear the same three t-shirts for two weeks and be fine.

His only real packing anxiety is his gear.

Cameras. Lenses. Chargers. The drone. Yes, the drone. The one he brings on every trip. The one he almost never uses. He insists. I roll my eyes. He packs it anyway.

I do the same thing with my polaroid.

I have carried that little camera through four countries. I have not opened it in three years. It sits in the front pocket of my carry-on like a small useless promise that this time I will photograph moments the phone cannot. I never do.

Nim never uses the drone. I never use the polaroid. We keep bringing them.

The verdict: every traveler has one object that pretends to be practical and is really just superstition. Make peace with yours.

5. What Packing for the Unknown Really Feels Like

The body knows before the mind admits.

I do not sleep the night before a trip. Not one hour. I lie in bed pretending, then give up around 3am and start rechecking the same flight booking for the fifth time.

This has been true for every trip I have taken as an adult.

For this one, I already feel it in my body. A trip is coming. Somewhere warm. Somewhere I have never been. Somewhere that only a small circle of people I know can pronounce properly. Every time I show a photo of the landscape, the answer is the same. Wow. I did not know there was a place like this six hours from Mauritius.

There is no map of it on my kitchen counter yet. I am keeping the mystery even from myself, in a strange way. I look at photos. I read one paragraph a day about the region. I do not want to arrive there feeling like I already know it. I want the first morning to still be a surprise.

The verdict: if you sleep the night before a trip, you are either too used to travel or not excited enough about this one. I would rather lose the sleep.

The Real Philosophy

I could pretend I have a system. A checklist. A method. Something to sell as a "How I pack in 10 minutes" reel.

I do not.

I pack by instinct. I pack to Marilyn Manson. I pack fifteen pairs of underwear for five days and I bring a polaroid I will not open. I do not make lists. I do not stress about what I forget.

Here is my whole philosophy for packing for a country I have never been to.

If you have your meds. Your underwear. One pair of shoes you can walk in. Your toiletries. Everything else you can find or buy along the way.

The rest is freestyle.

You are not moving there. You are visiting. Bring less. Buy the missing t-shirt in a local market on your second day and let it become the souvenir.

Sleep will find you eventually.

Somewhere over the ocean, probably.