Author Bio: Christine Michaud

Gone are the days when I lugged around a backpack big enough to carry an exotic lover back home. Strapping half my material universe to my back is just not an option anymore. Years of exploring far away lands under 12-ton backpacks has left my disproportionately small feet irremediably crippled. In fact, being a slow convert to the “pack light” cult earned me chronic heel spurs and Achilles’ tendonitis in both feet, as well as a dislocated bone in my right foot that took four years to diagnose.

So for this two-month overland trip to be possible, a radical review of my packing habits was in order. There would be no half-measures, even if that meant having to wear a G-string every day.

First I got a pack as small and light as possible. My friend Frank who backpacked around Asia for 3 months swore by his 30 litre pack: according to him, anything bigger was for tourists (the ultimate insult to any traveller!). I shopped around for a couple of months and finally settled for a frameless (lighter) 35 litre pack, the 5 extra litres being justified by three factors: the need for a jacket (cool nights), the fact that I have hair (Frank shaved all of his off) and might like to wash it with shampoo once in a while, and generous feminine attributes that require industrial size bras, more bulk I assume Frank didn’t have to worry about.

Then I wrote packing list after packing list with every single item I wanted to bring, systematically eliminating anything that couldn’t justify its weight: I would take nothing but the bare essentials. I shopped till I dropped for small, lightweight and quick dry items. One day, when I thought I could eliminate nothing more, I packed it all up in my bag and slung it across my back. Pfffff! No way, too heavy. Spreading all of its content on the bed (for the one millionth time), I took away one t-shirt, my sleeveless polar vest and one long sleeve shirt.

Desperate to find other undesirables to leave behind, my eyes fell on my piled cotton undies. Five neatly folded pairs sitting next to my small cosmetic pouch, pretentiously taking more room than the t-shirt I had just discarded. “Nothing but the bare essentials”, I reminded myself. Then it came to me and I couldn’t help but smile: G-strings! Of course! Why didn’t I think of it before!

The only problem was that I had never been able to wear a G-string for more than a couple of hours, bearing such self-inflicted plight because I knew someone would soon make it his business to free me from this perpetual wedgy. But I remembered reading a Cosmo article years ago about an experiment that had been done with hundreds of women to see how many would convert to G-strings permanently after trying them for two weeks. The result of the poll was that 95% of the respondents claimed they would switch to G-strings (made them feel sexy and free) and would never wear full back panties again.

Although I have yet to be convinced of how scientific Cosmo surveys really are, it was enough to persuade me that the daily wear of G-strings had to be an acquired taste.

Incidentally, there happened to be an underwear sale at El Corte Ingles (a large chain of department stores in Spain), so I raided the string racks, treating myself to purple, red, black and bubble gum pink Brazilian-style undies.

No more than three days after my G-string training had begun, I was already a convert, having joined 95% of those Cosmo gals in wondering how I could have ever worn anything else. Extra room in my pack!

So now I’m ready. My packing is over, I’ve read Lawrence’s Seven Pillars of Wisdom from cover to cover as well as all the Middle East Thorntree posts for the past month. I’ve contacted every friend and acquaintances that I knew had friends or relatives in the countries I will visit and have got quite a few numbers to call in Cairo, Amman and Beirut.

Unfortunately, my feet are still troubling me. They have the bad habit of giving out on me whenever my stress level goes up (some people get ulcers, I get bad feet, go figure). It’s actually so bad that I will need to take my cane along (so much for packing light…). Then again, I guess being on a mission to stay off my feet as much as possible can only lead to interesting experiences…

Ma’a assalaama

Inquiries or feedback, contact: xtinemichaud@yahoo.ca

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