The rules of the nomad by Greta Lackey

the-rules-of-the-nomad-by-greta-lackeyThe rules of the nomad

By Greta Lackey

I thought you were an international jet-setter? A phrase an ‘international jet-setter’ never wants to hear…

It’s been nearly one year since my last overseas trip (which was to New Zealand – does that even count?). But it’s actually been about 3 years since I quit my job, packed up and left on a whim. I floated from country to country, without  a care in the world, without a travel companion, without booking or planning and with a finite amount of money. I had no phone, no job, no plans, no mortgage … It was glorious!

I met amazing people, had extraordinary experiences and learnt many interesting facts about different countries and cultures. I didn’t lose anything, never had anything stolen, was never hurt, delayed, disoriented or displaced …

Six months later, I had travelled through over a dozen countries without so much as a hiccup.

All this seems like a very long time ago now… So long that it seems I’ve forgotten all the golden rules of the nomad.

When I arrived at the airport this morning, on my way to a much deserved holiday in Thailand, I remembered that I had forgotten … Everything!

Did I have my ticket on me – no!

Did I previously weigh my luggage to make sure it was under the required 7kg for carry on – no!

Did I bring the adaptor that I had strategically placed next to my luggage this morning – no!

Did I remember my earphones so I could drown out the inevitable in-flight mayhem – no!

Did I have any Aussie money on me so I could buy a much needed 6am coffee at the airport – no!

So, I was forced to explain in great and very ineloquent detail what flight I was on, I had to stuff my sneakers, my toiletry bag and my undies into my already overflowing handbag, I had to buy an outrageously expensive adaptor from the airport, I went without a coffee, and I have nothing to listen to on the way over – hence I’m writing this rant…

International jet-setter, I think not!

Have you ever arrived at the airport before a flight to remember that you have forgotten everything?

Have you ever arrived at the airport before a flight to remember that you have forgotten everything?

4 comments on “The rules of the nomad by Greta Lackey

  1. While I’m sure we all feel for you (and especially the part about not being able to get a coffee) I’m also sure we are mostly just envious that you are writing this post from Thailand 🙂

    It’s good to know you could still make your flight without your ticket.

    Have fun!

  2. I personally haven’t forgotten anything because I don’t travel much, and because I am so obsessed with knowing where things are at all times. (Back in high school they used to call me anal boy because of this. At least I assume that’s why they called me that.)

    But the above post does remind me of a story of a friend of mine. He was to attend a mathematics conference in the States. Not owning an actual suitcase, he stuffed all of his clothes etc. into a guitar case. For real. It was one of those “flexible” synthetic guitar cases. In any case it all looked very odd.

    On arrival, at customs they asked him why he was in America. (This wasn’t all that long after Sept 11.) He said he was attending a conference. They asked for any papers or documents relating to the conference. He didn’t have any. They asked what the conference was called. He couldn’t remember. They asked for contact details for anyone in the country that knew he was coming. He couldn’t provide them.

    I mean, personally, I wouldn’t have let him in. But they did.

    Which just goes to show that you can leave home without, well, anything and still have a good time.

    Sorry Jason.

  3. I knew who you were referring to at the mere mention of a guitar suitcase, Shaun. That story does not surprise me at all.

    As for me, when travelling internationally, I am super organised. Travelling domestically, as I’ve been doing a fair bit of lately… well, that’s another story. I lose things, I *never* arrive with my printed ticket, I’m running so late that I have to do some fast (ha) talking to be allowed onboard… it’s a shamozzle. I really have to clean up my domestic act!

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