The Art of Packing Light

I have not checked a bag for any trip, anywhere, in seven years. This is not virtue signalling — it has practical consequences. I miss fewer connections. I lose less luggage (zero so far). I move through cities faster. I climb stairs in metro stations without resenting my own decisions. And, crucially, I think about my belongings less.

Packing light is not about minimalism as a lifestyle or about anti-consumption as a politics. It's about the specific observation that 90% of what most travelers pack does not get used, and the remaining 10% is the part that mattered. Identifying that 10% in advance is the whole skill.

Here is what works for me. Adjust to your own climate, body, and tolerance.

The bags

A 30-litre backpack with proper hip belt and frame. Not a "weekender" duffel — those eat your shoulders by day three. A proper hiking-style pack with structure. I use a Cotopaxi Allpa 35, but Osprey, Tortuga, and Peak Design all make decent versions. Compresses small when underfilled.

A 10-litre daypack that folds flat. For day trips, hikes, beach days, museum visits. Packed inside the main bag when in transit.

Total: a clothing bag and a daypack. Nothing in the hold of any plane. Nothing rolling behind me.

The clothing principle

Fewer items, worn more often, washed more often. Synthetic or merino fabrics that dry overnight. Everything goes with everything else.

For a three-week trip:

• 3 t-shirts (merino preferred — odor-resistant, dries fast)
• 1 long-sleeve thermal layer
• 1 quick-dry shirt with collar (for evenings, restaurants, anywhere casual)
• 2 pairs of trousers (one hiking, one chino-style)
• 1 pair of shorts (skip in winter)
• 4 pairs of merino socks
• 4 pairs of underwear (merino or synthetic)
• 1 packable down jacket (compresses tiny, warm to -5°C with the thermal underneath)
• 1 rain shell (Gore-Tex or similar)
• 1 pair of trail shoes (worn on travel day, not packed)
• 1 pair of camp shoes or sandals (depending on climate)
• 1 swimsuit (always — you will end up near water unexpectedly)

That's 18 items of clothing. Rotate every two or three days, wash on a sink basin or use a budget laundromat once a week. Everything dries overnight.

The non-clothing essentials

Toiletries (in a 1-litre clear bag). Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, soap bar (acts as shampoo, body wash, and laundry soap — Dr. Bronner's is the standard), razor, sunscreen in a 100ml tube, contact lens supplies if needed. That's it. Buy specifics locally if you need them.

Electronics. Phone, charger (one wall adapter that handles the local plug type — Pluggable makes good ones). E-reader if you read. Maybe a small camera if photography is part of why you travel. AirPods or wired earbuds. That's it. No laptop unless you actually need it. If you actually need it, a 13-inch laptop is fine; nothing larger.

Documents. Passport, one credit card and one debit card in different pockets, a small amount of local cash, a digital photocopy of your passport stored offline (in your phone's notes app, accessible without internet).

Small stuff. Pen, notebook, a small first-aid kit (plasters, ibuprofen, anti-diarrheal), a packable shopping bag (for groceries, beach, picnic), a microfiber towel that compresses small.

That's the entire kit. About 7 kg total weight, comfortably below any carry-on limit anywhere.

What to leave behind

Anything "in case". You will not need three pairs of nice shoes. You will not need the formal jacket for the hypothetical fancy dinner. You will not need the second laptop charger. You will not need the giant first-aid kit. Most "in case" items can be bought locally in five minutes if they actually turn out to be needed, which they almost never do.

Anything you bought specifically for this trip and haven't used. If the kayaking pants you bought for the maybe-kayak-trip in Croatia don't replace something you were already going to pack, leave them home. Trips reward versatility, not specialization.

Souvenirs (purchased early). Stop. Whatever you bought in week one will get rained on, sat on, lost in the bottom of the bag. Wait until the last three days, or ship it home from a post office. Modern shipping is cheap and reliable.

Three books. One e-reader replaces them. If you genuinely cannot read on a screen, bring one physical book and trade it at a hostel for another when you finish.

The packing method

Roll, don't fold. Saves space, reduces wrinkles, easier to repack.

Packing cubes. Two, maybe three. One for clothes, one for tech and small items, one for laundry-in-progress. Optional but useful.

The 80% rule. Pack the bag to 80% full at home. The remaining 20% is for things you'll accumulate on the trip — a souvenir, a piece of clothing you didn't expect to buy, a half-litre of olive oil. Leaving room in the bag is the difference between an enjoyable trip and one where you're constantly negotiating with the zipper.

Compression. Knock the air out of the down jacket and the laundry bag. Most packs have a compression strap system; use it.

What you gain

The first benefit is mechanical: walking through a foreign city with everything on your back is faster than dragging a wheeled bag over cobblestones. You take stairs without thinking. You skip the wait at baggage claim. You don't pay airline checked-bag fees, which add up to real money over a year.

The second benefit is psychological. You stop thinking about your stuff. The bag goes on your back; it stays on your back; you don't worry about where it is or what's in it. Travel anxiety drops noticeably.

The third benefit is more philosophical. You discover that you needed less than you thought. This realization has a way of following you home, where it occasionally improves the rest of your relationship to belongings.

A note on style

You can pack light without dressing like a hiker. The chino-style trousers, the collared shirt, the merino t-shirt in a dark color — this combination is appropriate for any restaurant or museum in any city in the world. People who dress like hikers in cities do so because they want to, not because they have to. Choose accordingly.

What three weeks looks like in practice

Days 1–7: clean clothes, alternating outfits.

Day 8: laundry. Either sink-wash the t-shirts and underwear overnight, or use a service-wash laundromat for €8.

Days 8–14: clean clothes again. Repeat.

Day 15: laundry again.

Days 15–21: same.

By the time you go home, you've worn every item multiple times, you know exactly what you actually need, and you've spent zero time thinking about what to wear. The bag, when you check in for the return flight, weighs the same as when you left.

That's the goal.