the essence of the right sack

Carrying your life around in a 75 liter backpack for 10 months is a colossal feat and one that I was ill prepared for. Having packed for every situation possible, after the first couple of days down here I realized that I would be in the same shirt for 4 days at a time. AND NO ONE CARES. Our first travel experience in the chicken bus was from Laguna de Apoyo to Granada. And I let my sack hold me down, literally. Packed in like sardines, I was worrying about my backpack instead of having fun with all of the Nicaraguan School kids on their way home. Your backpack can make or break your travels. It was breaking mine and I was only on day two of the 10 month trip. So I decided to ditch a non-inspiring RCVA shirt, a long sleeve that was worn by Mel Gibson in Braveheart, one of the THREE bug sprays we had decided were absolutely necessary, body wash (that’s what shampoo is for) and a Spanish one textbook that I had only reached up to the –AR verbs in. We came to a decision point in Granada that the experiences we were going to encounter don’t come from the backpack at all; they come from the people you meet and the decisions you encounter. So what’s inside just needs to make you a happy camper at the end of the day. I’m sure this won’t be the last time we say f-you to things we thought to be essential but for now, we’re one step closer to not taking up four seats on the chicken bus.