TRAVEL| TAKING OFF

If My Backpack Could Talk…

what would it say?

This story was suggested by Karen Schwartz when she read “A Traveller Needs Good Luggage”.

Here is my backpack’s story.

I was born in the Jack Wolfskin shop in Rothenburg in 2011. My owner had never heard of Jack Wolfskin — she’s from Australia — but needed a backpack. Her stuck-up pretty Parisian model had let her down — the zips had broken. Here I am 11 years later still as perfect as the day I was born.

Two brothers and one sister left that day with me — two pairs of Jack Wolfskin socks and a pair of Jack Wolfskin hiking sandals — still going strong but has had a couple of visits to Mister Minit for repairs. She loves those socks and sandals almost as much as she loves me.

That year, my owner travelled twelve more European countries before flying home to Australia. Since that trip, I’ve accompanied her to Europe four more times visiting six more countries as well as Iceland and Morocco. I’ve also been to China and North Korea.

I’m happy to undergo security at most airports but I don’t like Heathrow. They always demand a thorough search and they’re so rough with me. They don’t need to thrust their hands so deeply into my private compartments. What do they think I’m hiding? Drugs, a secret weapon, maybe a pair of tweezers or vodka?

Actually, I did carry a flask of vodka through Bucharest, Athens, Santorini and Rome without being discovered. It wasn’t hidden though — just in my side bottle department. My oblivious owner had forgotten she had it!

I’m languishing in the bottom of her wardrobe dreaming of the next trip I might take. Will she take me back to Europe or will she finally get the courage to see South America or simply have a little sojourn in Iowa? No matter, I’ll be ready for her wherever she goes.