Upon arrival in New Orleans we grabbed some glossy paper tourist maps of the city before exiting the terminal. I don’t like being one hundred percent dependent on my phone or gps, and so we studied the maps while waiting for local $1.25 express bus to the central business district instead of opting for a $50 Uber. But we wouldn’t have been able to do that with a lot of luggage.
We ended up getting off near a homeless underpass encampment, and because some faulty directions from a local guy on a bike got us a little turned around, we missed our bus transfer by a couple minutes. The surroundings were a little sketchy so rather than wait for the next bus we ended up walking the mile to our apartment, which got nicer and more iconic the farther out from the CBD we got. We traversed cobbled streets, passing by the local soup kitchen, and met a woman from France also looking for the 91, whom we directed to th next stop. Walking was easy because our packs were very light and manageable. And because we have been fasting every day during Lent, we didn’t feel like we were slaves to an eating schedule, which helped with versatility.
It’s not hard to accumulate “stuff”—it’s like the law of entropy: the longer you live, the more intentional you have to be about paring down. There are some downsides (typing this blog post on my phone, for instance) but they are offset by the versatility and freedom that comes with simplicity.
It forces you to be somewhat resourceful and less novel. To fit everything, I melted my deodorant into an empty (washed) glue stick tube, reused a slim hotel shampoo bottle (again, washed out) with toothpaste, and brought a small square of peppermint Castile soap that doubles as shampoo, body wash, and hand washing laundry if needed.
I had planned to just wear variations of the merino wool t-shirt, polo, and long sleeve depending on the temperature (you can literally wear merino wool for weeks without it smelling or needing to be washed). I wore them all on the plane anyway, and my bag was only half full.
There are a few biblical examples of not being too bogged down. David eschews Saul’s armor and weaponry because they were cumbersome and he wasn’t used to them (1 Sam 17:29), opting instead for a simple sling and stones to go against Goliath. Our Lord tells the disciples when they go out not to take a bag, sandals, staff or extra tunic (Mt 10:10).
I’ve traveled a lot solo, but I like traveling now with my wife, as she’s a great companion. Two are better than one, “because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up the other; but woe to one who is alone and falls and does not have another to help. Again, if two lie together, they keep warm; but how can one keep warm alone?” (Ecc 4:9-12)
The apartment we are staying in is nice: clean and simple, spacious, and a refreshing change from home. But we’re not staying long, of course. There is something to be said for laying roots, and establishing yourself in a community.. It’s hard being a traveler, a foreigner, sometimes, with nowhere to permanently lay your head, as our Lord said. You’ll never be a “local” here on earth, because our true home is in Heaven.
But it reminds me of the story I heard of an American tourist who visited the 19th century Polish rabbi, Hofetz Chaim. Astonished to see that the rabbi's home was only a simple room filled with books, plus a table and a bench, the tourist asked, "Rabbi, where is your furniture?" "Where is yours?" Replied the rabbi. "Mine?" Asked the puzzled American. "But I'm a visitor here. I'm only passing through." "So am I," said Hofetz Chaim.
I bet you would appreciate alpaca wool clothing
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