Wave-Gotik-Treffen. Packing 101.

Not long to go now – I’m off to my favourite festival, Wave-Gotik-Treffen, on Wednesday. I usually leave packing until the very last minute, which results in frantically searching for that particular black dress in my all-black wardrobe, chucking in all my makeup in a plastic bag, and forgetting to pack something absolutely essential, like my toothbrush or passport. Well, OK, the latter has never happened before, but it wouldn’t be too surprising.

This year, I have a few days off just before the festival, so I thought I’d use this time wisely and get stuff done early. Which is why my suitcase is pretty much packed now. Now, that’s what I call a win.

Apart from stuff like clothes and boots and makeup, there’s a few things I make sure I always pack. This includes, but is not limited to:

  1. Blister plasters. I usually stick these little soothing patches of loveliness on problem areas on my feet just before heading out. Strutting about in New Rocks and Demonias can result in an awful condition called Treffen Foot, and I do everything I can to make sure I don’t miss anything because I’ve lost the ability to walk. On that note, a spare pair of comfy shoes is a must. It is not uncommon to see goths in trainers and sandals on the final day of the festival. Nothing wrong with that; putting yourself through unnecessary suffering just to look fab is just not worth it.
  2. Plug converter. If you live in continental Europe, you’re fine, but if you’re coming from anywhere else, make sure you pack one or two of those. It’s no fun to realise you can’t charge your phone because your plug doesn’t fit the socket.
  3. Painkillers. Because waking up with a headache from too much partying and not enough sleep is inevitable, and looking for a pharmacy when you do is not something you’d want to do.
  4. Hand sanitiser. You’ll be out and about a lot, you’re likely to eat street food without having the opportunity to wash your hands first. I put mine in a cute bat-shaped sanitiser dispenser, which gets me extra goth points.

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    Spooky sanitiser.
  5. Power bank. Even if you don’t use your phone abroad as much as you do at home, it’s not great to run out of juice in the middle of the night, just as you were about to call your friends and check where they were.
  6. Earplugs and an eye mask. You won’t get much sleep, and if you’re anything like me, you’re very unlikely to go to bed when it’s dark, so try to make your sleep as good as you can. I’m finding it hard to sleep when it’s light out, and, being a light sleeper, I wake at the slightest sound, so these items are absolutely essential.

And what’s on your list of stuff you always bring with you?

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Itchy feet.

Every now and again, I feel like taking a long break from life and going on an adventure.

Where I’m from, gap years are not that common, and unless your family has never had any money worries, you’re probably thinking of looking for a job right after graduating. Once you do, you hold on to it for dear life, because there’s not many jobs going on, and you feel like you should consider yourself lucky to have one. Travel? What travel? With what you’re making, a week in a beach resort in Egypt is probably the height of your dreams. Getting three or four weeks off? Forget it, you might as well quit. Then, there’s the societal pressure to settle down, get married, have children…

In short, once you’re a proper adult, there’s not much chance of you going on a proper adventure.

I’ve always felt slightly envious of those people who do crazy stuff. People who go quit their jobs to go to Malawi and build orphanages, or trek through Asia on a donkey, or some such. The wacky adventure I’d like to go on one day seems like a walk in the park in comparison.

See, I really, really want to ride from Land’s End to John o’ Groats. Alone.

In the grand scheme of things, the 874 miles is nothing. It’s perfectly doable in 2 weeks if you take it easy, less if you push yourself. It’s finding the time to do it that proves the most challenging. There’s always something else going on, some other trip planned already, and never enough annual leave to cram it all in.

But I promised myself I will complete it before I turn 40. So I still have a few years left.

lejog

The route, commonly known as LEJOG, is one of the most popular long distance rides in Britain, and takes you from the southwestern tip of the country to the northeastern one. I’m normally great with planning things, but I’ve never done a really long ride or a cycling holiday before, so even the thought of packing is daunting. How much stuff would I need? What should I leave behind? Should I camp it (probably not) or stay at local B&Bs and hostels (which sounds like a much better option)? When is the best time to go? Should I go hard and pedal like crazy, or take it easy and enjoy the experience? Should I do it for fun or for charity? So many questions, so many things to consider.

For me, the biggest challenge is doing it on my own. I’m very fond of travelling by myself, but a long distance bicycle ride is a whole other story. It takes a lot of resilience to keep on going, even when you’re knackered and you just want to rest your legs. To get in your seat, even though your arse is screaming in protest. To solve problems as and when they come, with no help from anyone. Yes, it’s terrifying, but also exciting somehow.

One thing I know for sure: I will do it, eventually. Because even though to some people completing LEJOG might seem like nothing major, to me it would be a massive achievement.

It’s all a matter of perspective.