Done Packing

My backpack is filled to the seams, as far as the bungee straps will allow it to bulge.  It is brimming with  travel guides offering up a plethora of experiences, journals awaiting the words of adventure, hiking boots chomping at the bit to hit the trails, tank tops and ripped jean shorts ready to scream we've trekked in the rainforests of New Guinea , and books detailing personal accounts of kayaking the South Pacific. (I may fancy myself nearly a professional level kayaker ever since my quick stint traveling down stream on the Rio Negra in a kayak - one that was at one point pulled by a small row boat with an equally small outboard motor attached.)  All things necessary for a fruitful life in the South Pacific have been jammed and stuffed and crammed and squeezed into all 4,000 cubic inches of my wonderful green backpack.

I guess this would be the appropriate time for me to own up to the two large boxes of school related items that will be shipped and the suitcase that is as stuffed as a turkey on Thanksgiving and possibly the basement full of boxes I will be leaving behind.  I will be living in Papua New Guinea for two years (minus the few month delay in arrival); I feel as though I packed conservatively.

I discovered a few things as I unpacked the closet I have taken over at my parents and repacked it into my backpack (and two boxes and a suitcase):

1. I am an extraordinary packer.  What was once contained in my closet somehow expanded to fill one bedroom, half of a hallway, the counter space in the nearest bathroom, and a slight spill over into another bedroom during the packing process.  I must be able to assume that my tightly packed bags will be able to expand in a similar manner to fill an entire home in New Guinea.
2. I have a rather abundant shoe collection.  One might refer to it as just plain large, but when considering that I have worn the same four pairs of shoes for the last nine months (which has spanned three, going on four seasons now), one might question the need for the number of pairs in my possession.  I kept thirty-one select pairs of shoes - mix of sandals, flip flops, sling backs, peep-toes, boots, strappy heels, close-toed pumps, and the list goes on.  Obviously I did not carefully package and wedge all thirty-one pairs into my luggage; some were painstakingly placed into a box that will be stored in my parents basement.  I mean, seriously, how am I expected to forever part ways with four inch black polka dot satin peep-toes with a patent leather mary jane strap across the top?  Did I mention the over sized IKEA bag full of shoes I am dropping at Goodwill (or that I purged my closet nine months ago when leaving Florida)?
3. I love that everything I really need fits into a backpack (and two boxes and a suitcase).  I relish the thought of being able to pack my entire life in a backpack and just go.  You may be wondering about the aforementioned shoes being relocated to my parents basement.  If I don't feel as though I really need them, then why keep them?  One could also question the boxes filled with classroom supplies and children's literature lining a wall and stacked nearly to the ceiling in my parents basement, my bedroom furniture stacked on a parallel wall, or the few rubbermaid containers filled with household goods awaiting my return from New Guinea.  It's very simple:  my parents large, unfinished basements makes it very easy to be a pack rat without ever appearing to the outside world as one.  (One may also question why my number of classroom related boxes seriously outnumbers personal ones.  The ones who would, obviously aren't educators.)

My very wonderful green backpack is ready to board a plane, travel to the opposite side of the globe, and start this adventure in Papua New Guinea.  Am I?  Yes!  Yes!  A resounding YES!  And a very quiet, shallow breathed no.