Okay, let me tell you how my last vacation went totally “naked” packing-wise. Honestly, I got so sick of dragging that massive suitcase everywhere like a pack mule. Last trip to Miami? Spent 20 minutes digging for my toothbrush under 5 pairs of shoes I never wore. Dumb.
So this time I said screw it – let’s see if I can survive with just seven things total. No magic number, just sounded crazy enough to work. Grabbed this old hiking backpack I had collecting dust. Smaller than my gym bag, seriously.
First up – clothes. Chose one pair of quick-dry shorts that look kinda decent for dinner if I shake the sand off. Then this dark gray t-shirt, hides stains like a champ. Swore by this button-up too – wore it unbuttoned at the beach like a dork, rolled up for dinner, even slept in it when the AC went nuts. Two underwear made the cut cause cotton dries slow.
Shoes? That was hard. Almost took flip-flops AND sneakers until I remembered they call it “barefoot travel” for a reason. Shoved my feet into these ugly sandals that handle trails and restaurants equally badly. Win.
Toiletries got brutal. Squeezed sunscreen into a tiny contact lens case – looked like I was smuggling drugs. Half a toothbrush got sawed off with a kitchen knife. Left shampoo entirely and used the hotel’s soap soup for hair. Felt gross for two days until my scalp gave up protesting.
The real test was Puerto Rico. That backpack felt stupid light walking out of the airport. Major win came when hostel changed rooms three times – just slung the bag over my shoulder while others wrestled rolling suitcases up staircases.
But oh man, low points hit hard. Day three monsoon hit. Wore soaking wet shorts for 5 hours straight. Looked like I peed myself at the rum tasting tour. Sunscreen ran out faster than rum. Used cooking oil from breakfast buffet once – smelled like a walking empanada.
Washed underwear in sink every damn night. Hung it over balcony and prayed it wouldn’t fly into someone’s paella. One pair went MIA – spent beach day commando under those thin hiking shorts. Let’s just say I picked bar stools carefully that night.
By day five? Actually got used to it. Noticed I wasn’t wasting time deciding outfits or unpacking crap. Just grabbed the bag and moved. Felt kinda… free? Still smelled faintly of fry oil though.
Flew home with half the backpack empty. Even stuck a dumb souvenir hat in there. Would I do it again? Hell yes – but next time I’m duct-taping the sunscreen cap shut.
