Packing List For A 90-Day Trip

A used suitcase - which you traded your entire board game collection for - that will succeed in getting all your belongings across an ocean, but will also rip at the seam in the process.

A sewing kit, which you’ll use to fix your suitcase, but not until the very end of your the trip, because even in a different country you’ll still be a procrastinator.

Four hats, three of which you'll hardly ever wear.

A single power adapter, meaning you'll only be able to charge one electronic device at a time, requiring the advance planning and strategy skills of a military tactician.

Exercise bands, which you'll only use twice, because you weren't being super honest with yourself when you were packing.

An acne prevention kit, which will work great up until it runs out half way through your trip.

Four books, half of which you won't actually enjoy enough to read beyond the first chapter. You’ll still carry them around the coliving, hoping to impress your housemates (they won't notice in the slightest).

A shit ton of sunscreen that you'll run through in the first two weeks before learning that sunscreen is incredibly expensive where you’re heading.

Noise canceling headphones, which you’ll use every night, due to living next to a rental house that hosts a revolving door of noisy and nocturnal tourists.

Your trusty headlamp. You'll learn it's broken on your first night kayak paddle, just as you get a significant distance away from the shore.

A $10 pair of sunglasses purchased at a gas station in Colorado. One day you’ll drop them and then step directly on them. You’ll super glue them back together, which will kinda work, but their quality will be undeniably severely diminished.

Three pairs of running shoes because even when trying to travel light you're too anxious to not bring backups.

A second pair of sunglasses - your backup pair - which you found abandoned on a trail in Colorado. You won’t touch these the entire trip because they're too nice and you fear you'd break them if you dare take them outside. Instead, they’ll spend the entire trip in their fancy case, which you found abandoned in a park in Chicago.

A Garmin watch, which you'll protect more than your passport, making you wonder if people have a point when they tease you about your Strava addiction.

A pair of wireless earbuds, used to avoid being alone with your thoughts. Your roommate will step on them while they're charging in the room's single power outlet. A little duct tape will fix them, although they’ll never be as stylish as they once were.

Your trusty and loved Nalgene water bottle, which on day three you'll drop on the floor and break, spilling water everywhere - including on your new manager’s feet. Everyone will marvel that they've never seen a Nalgene shatter before. You're just that lucky. You initially found the water bottle while camping in Wyoming two years ago and will wonder if its demise is symbolic of happy memories fading into the past (or something like that).

Six things of chapstick, because you always lose those damn things.

A pair of foam recovery slides, which have been your defacto house slippers for the past six years. You'll wear them to the beach. You'll wear them in the communal shower. You'll wear them on the 400 meter uphill walk to the dumpster. They won't make the return flight - because of how tattered they’ll get and also because you’ll forget exactly how you arranged everything to fit in your suitcase three months prior. It'll feel like the end of an era when you put them in the trash.