My Best Travel Packing Tips (Plus the Random Stuff I Swear By)

My typical bag carrying setup: main bag on my back, smaller bag on my front. We call this look the "pregnant turtle"

Packing for Travel: Thoughts from a Man with Two Bags, Three Cameras, and Zero $200 Water Bottles

I’ve read a lot of travel packing tips posts online with titles like “12 Items I Never Travel Without.” These posts often begin with something like a $200 water bottle—that, in the end, just holds water. For two hundred dollars! If that is what you want, I won’t judge you (although some gentle teasing would probably not be off the table), but that is not what this post is.

This post is not a checklist, or a shrine to gear perfection. It is, rather, a loosely organized set of thoughts, mistakes, preferences, and stubborn habits accumulated over years of travel. I’ve packed for two-week jaunts, summer-long wanderings, and an entire year on the road. I’ve packed for conferences (where I try to look semi-respectable) and for back-alley noodle hunts in Bangkok (where all dignity gets sweated out by noon). And through it all, I’ve tried to bring only what I need—and ideally, keep it with me rather than entrusting it to the whims of Delta’s baggage department.

A bit of context: I’m a man, which may matter for certain categories of packing like toiletries or clothing. But to be as useful as possible, my wife will make guest appearances throughout this post to offer her take on things I—let’s be honest—would probably ignore or get wrong for some travelers. Michelle's additions are in blue text. Also you can see Michelle's own post on her packing list here, or her ten must useful travel items here.

My travel is mostly independent backpacking, but the core principles I use work just as well when I’m heading off for academic conferences and research trips. (University professors are, as a group, not known for our sartorial rigor. “That’s your formalwear?” Yes. Yes, it is.)

One of my core strategies is to avoid checking bags. I travel with one main bag and a smaller daypack. I’ll cover that setup more below, especially for those of you flying on airlines where the carry-on weight limit is roughly equal to a medium-sized watermelon. When I do have to check a bag, I try to make sure it’s a choice—not because an airline agent tells me my roller is two centimeters too thick and must be sent to baggage purgatory.

In this post, I’ll walk through what I bring and why, loosely organized into five categories:

This is my full setup for 7 weeks of travel

• Clothing and footwear (a.k.a., how shoes somehow eat half my pack)

• Toiletries and the other bathroom-adjacent stuff (including first aid kits)

• Photography equipment (I carry a lot)

• Electronics

• Other (a wonderfully vague category I use to suggest things you may not think of as travel essentials, but are very useful)

This post will touch briefly on what camera gear I bring, but I’ll save the full nerd-out for another post dedicated to my travel photography setup.

Let’s get into it.

NOTE: while I have included links to some of the items mentioned in this post, I do not have any deals with any sites or brands (which is to say I will not get a single penny if you click on a link and buy something). These are earned, not bought, opinions.

The Great Debate: Backpack vs. Roller Bag

Let’s settle this once and for all. Or not. Probably not.

Backpack enters the ring first, smugly reminding me that cobblestones exist, that elevators sometimes don’t, and that sprinting for a train is infinitely easier when your hands are free. Backpack also appeals to my inner minimalist, whispering things like “you don’t really need three pairs of shoes, do you?” (Spoiler: I do. But I cram them in anyway.)

Then Roller Bag glides in effortlessly, cool as ever, pointing out that it carries the same weight without turning my spine into a question mark. It rolls obediently through airports and hotel lobbies. It has nice little compartments. It has structure. It does not, however, play well with uneven pavement, muddy paths, or tuk-tuks.

Roller Bag then looks me right in the eye and asks if I really want people to laugh at me for traveling like a 20-something into my 50s.

Honestly, I roll my eyes at these two as they battle for supremacy. Like most things in life, I don’t think this is an either-or situation—context matters. If I’m headed to a place where I’ll check into one hotel and maybe switch once or twice, I’ll probably take Roller Bag. But for longer jaunts where I’m constantly on the move, I reach for my backpack.

My fully loaded Farpoint. Notice how the zipper allows the whole front to zip open

By the way—while I’ve gone through plenty of roller bags in my life without developing any love or loyalty to a particular model, I definitely have a favorite travel backpack (note: it’s different from my favorite mountain trekking backpack). I love the Osprey Farpoint. It’s well made, relatively comfortable, and has a detachable daypack. While I usually use my camera bag as my second carry-on/daypack, I often attach the (empty) daypack to the Farpoint at the start of a trip. Because it’s attached, I still only have two bags. Now I’ve got room to expand my carrying capacity later (this is where the souvenirs go). If I end up filling the daypack during my travels, I’ll have to check a bag going home—but at that point, it doesn’t matter if Delta holds my luggage hostage for a few days.

Another reason I love the Farpoint: it opens like a suitcase, not a traditional top-loading backpack. Most backpacks require you to dig down blindly through layers of clothing just to find the one thing you actually need—usually buried at the very bottom. The Farpoint zips open along the side, clamshell-style, so you can lay it flat and open it up. This makes packing, unpacking, and grabbing something quickly way easier, especially when you're living out of your bag for weeks at a time.

The Trade-Off: Organization vs. Capacity

There’s another trade-off you’re going to need to think about. It’s great to have an organized bag. Being able to find something you need without having to dump everything out of the bag on the floor and sift through like you’re panning for a nugget of travel gold is important.

But here’s the catch: things that make your bag more organized also cut down on capacity. Your bag will definitely hold more stuff if you just cram everything in willy-nilly than if you put it all neatly into packing cubes. And I know some people are going to hate me for this but: no, packing cubes are not compression bags that magically make your stuff smaller—maybe if we’re talking about a down jacket, but not your t-shirts and underwear. Even if you have the special “compression” packing cubes, mostly what they do is change the shape of your cube—you are not getting a space savings greater than the loss of efficiency that comes from forcing your stuff into the shape of the packing cube.

That said, when you need something, it’s way easier to find it if your gear is organized in bags. So—it’s a trade-off.

For me, small items like socks and underwear go in packing cubes. Pants, jackets, etc., just go straight into the bag, laid out flat (or, on occasion, rolled—flat is generally more space-efficient).

Camera bag daypack. Lots of organization, but capacity is low for the bag size

The same principle applies to actual bags: anything that makes a bag more organized cuts down on capacity. I often use my camera bag as my go-to daypack because the interior structure keeps everything organized. But that structure greatly reduces how much stuff I can cram in. I can load my camera bag to capacity, then transfer all the contents into a soft, unstructured daypack, and everything will fit with room to spare. But it is harder to find things quickly in the jumble.

For me, the key is balance. Is the benefit of organization worth the cost to capacity? Different people—and different situations—will have different answers. The important thing is to realize that packing cubes do not allow you to pack more. They just help you force your t-shirts into cute little rectangles.

Clothing: Finding the Balance Between Practical, Respectable, and Packable

Clothing can be tricky. When I was a kid, my father taught me to always bring “half the clothes and twice the money” you think you’ll need while traveling. And when my daughter was about 16, she proclaimed to our family that “the difference between a traveler and a tourist is that a tourist has more than one pair of pants.”

In general, I try to be minimalistic with my clothing. I aim to balance comfort, convenience, and a certain level of respectability—but that’s easier said than done. On a recent trip to Peru, my wife and I spent time walking around chilly (and fashionable) Lima, hiking in sub-freezing temperatures high in the Andes, and boating through steamy tributaries of the Amazon River. So how do you make sure you can look respectable in the city, hike comfortably and safely in the mountains, and sweat through a t-shirt in four minutes in the jungle—and get it all to fit in one small section of your bag?

It’s tricky. Here are some strategies and examples of what I bring in terms of clothing.

General Guidelines for Travel Clothing

• Wear clothes you actually like. Don’t abandon your own style and comfort while traveling. There’s already enough stress without wearing clothes that feel alien. For example, I wear jeans when I travel—even though many travel blogs insist you shouldn’t. But I live in jeans in my everyday life, and I love having them when I am on the road. Sure they take a long time to dry, but I can live with that.

• Pockets are extremely useful. Full stop. Pants pockets. Shirt breast pockets. Travelers need pockets.

• I love linen. It may not be for everyone, but linen is one of my go-tos. It’s great in hot weather, works okay in cool weather (though breezy in true cold), and by custom, it’s allowed to have wrinkles—ideal when you’re living out of a suitcase. It’s comfortable and looks respectable.

• Men: the number of buttons on your shirt signals respectability.

  • T-shirt = casual

  • Polo = fancy casual

  • Button-up = presentable

  • But you can go too far: add a button to your pocket and you start drifting back toward casual.

  • Sleeve length also matters. When I’m exploring a city and want to look respectable but still relaxed, I go for a short-sleeve linen button-up. For a nicer dinner, I’ll wear a long-sleeved one.

• MICHELLE'S ADDITION: Women: Some ways to look more respectable

  • Dresses - even a causal cotton dress can make you look and feel more respectable

  • Skirts - maxi skirts are best especially when traveling in conservative countries

  • Linen or other flowy pants

  • Button up shirts - skirts and flowy pants can be worn with a t-shirt or tank top, but wearing a button up shirts can look even more put together

• To shorts, or not to shorts? In much of the world, shorts (aka “short pants”) are for kids. Wearing them as an adult can mark you as odd—or worse, disrespectful in very conservative areas. I usually just stick with lightweight pants.

• Everything should match everything. Every shirt should go with every pair of pants. Same goes for shoes, socks, etc.

• Bring lots of underwear. It takes up minimal space and is the most annoying thing to run out of.

• Make your feet happy. I basically live in flip-flops at home, and my feet do not like being imprisoned in closed-toed shoes all day. So I bring flip-flops, Chacos, or similar. On the other hand, if your feet aren’t used to walking around in flipflops, don’t wear them while you are touring a new city. Travel is not the time to break in new shoes or radically change your footwear habits.

Items That Go Into My Bag

Shirts and Tops

• Linen shirts with buttons. These are my staples. Quick-drying, surprisingly stink-resistant, and they add a level of respectability without sacrificing comfort.

• T-shirts. I wear a lot of these in daily life, so I bring them along. They take up little space, so you can even plan on two (three?) per day in hot, humid places.

• Something warm. Even when traveling to hot climates, I always bring a sweatshirt or shirt-jacket. I’ve done this ever since I flew to Thailand in July with nothing but hot-weather clothing and spent six hours freezing in the Manila airport on a layover.

• Coat. For truly cold destinations, I pack a down jacket. Lightweight, very warm, good-looking, and compresses well. The one big downside: useless if it gets wet.

• MICHELLE'S ADDITION: I usually pack similar shirts and tops plus a few tank tops for wearing under a button up shirt or alone in a hot climate. I often bring a long cardigan to wear on the airplane and a yoga jacket for something warm.

Pants and Bottoms

• Jeans. Lightweight, stretchy jeans are my go-to travel pants. I usually pack a second pair—often linen khakis (breezy, unfussy, respectable). Occasionally, I take navy seersucker pants, especially for hot, dusty places like Egypt. Linen khakis in that setting would need washing after every wear due to visible dirt, but dirt disappears into dark seersucker.

• Shorts. I try not to wear them in public in many places, but I pack a pair for emergencies or hotel lounging—they don’t take up much room.

• Swimsuit. Always. Even if you don’t think you’ll need it. It takes up almost no space and not having one when you need it is annoying. Often I combine this with my lounging shorts by bringing a pair of neutral, nylon running shorts that work just fine in a pool.

• MICHELLE'S ADDITION: I usually pack a pair or two of lightweight flowy pants in addition to jeans and linen pants. I also pack a skirt and a dress or two. Depending on the destination, I may pack leggings or nylon hiking pants.

Socks and Underwear

Lots. And lots. Don’t skimp. Re-wearing a t-shirt is no big deal. Re-wearing socks or underwear? That’s a different story.

Hat

I never used to wear hats while traveling. Baseball caps made me feel like a caricatured tourist and didn’t protect my neck. Wide-brimmed hats were hard to pack, and let’s face it—no one wants to be the person wearing a fedora on the plane. So I just lived with the sunburn.

Then I had a cancerous mole removed, and my doctor told me I needed to start wearing hats. Now I travel with a wide-brimmed brown fedora. Yes, it makes me look like a low-budget Indiana Jones. But there’s a reason that explorer stereotype exists: a brown hat and neutral-colored clothing just work. But please leave the whip at home.

Footwear (a.k.a. The Space Hog)

Ugh. Here it is. I lose so much space in my bag to footwear. It drives me crazy.

I generally take some combination of this footwear (never all of these). Top row, from the left: New Balance running shoes, Chacos, Adidas Sambas. Bottom row: shower flipflops, fuzzy airplane slippers, WHITIN minimalist sneakers, Merrell hiking shoes

• Rubber flip-flops (non-negotiable): These are mainly for the shower. I once skipped them and picked up a case of athlete’s foot that haunted me for two years. I’m not afraid of lava floors—but if the tile is damp and has hosted many a barefooted stranger of questionable hygiene, I’ll perform Olympic-level acrobatics to avoid it… or just wear my flip-flops.

• Sightseeing shoes:

  • On short days, I often just wear flip-flops—because that’s what I do at home.

  • For long days, I want more support. I usually bring either a hefty sandal like my Chacos or, for more respectable settings or chilly days, a pair of very minimalist shoes (WHITIN Men's Minimalist Barefoot Sneakers) with arch-support inserts. (They’re basically heavy socks with rubber soles. I bought them online on sale for less than $20—the inserts cost more than the shoes.)

• Hiking/running shoes:

  • If the trip doesn’t include serious hiking, I leave these at home. For light hikes, my Chacos are fine.

  • But if I’ll encounter snow or real cold, I need something more substantial.

  • I often run at home, but rarely when traveling. One run will wipe out a clean t-shirt, socks, and underwear—too high a cost for the travel wardrobe.

• Rubber-soled slippers:

  • These fuzzy, comfy slip-ons are my favorite airplane footwear. They keep my feet warm on frigid flights, and the rubber soles mean I can wear them to the bathroom without worrying about… anything. They make you feel vaguely human again somewhere over the Pacific. Not a necessity, but breaking these bad boys out when I get to my gate? A total pro-traveler move. 

• MICHELLE'S ADDITION: My footwear typically includes rubber flip-flops, respectable sandals (I like Blowfish Fisherman Sandals), sneakers (I like New Balance), Chacos (for hot climate hiking and rural location or cities with broken sidewalks), and hiking shoes (for cold weather hiking - I like Merrel's)

The image to the right shows the clothing I brought on a seven week trip to Central Asia

• Hat (fedora)

• Three linen short-sleeve button up shirts

• Shirt-jacket

• Six pair of underwear

• Five t-shirts

• Eight pair of socks

• Jeans

• Linen pants

• Running shoes

• Chacos

• Minimalist shoes

• Shower flipflops

• Not pictured: down jacket (for early morning photoshoots on the Pamir Highway)

• Not pictured: sunglasses-because glare is a thing

MICHELLE'S clothing packing list for Central Asia

• Two button up shirts ( one linen, one rayon)

• Four t-shirts

• Four tank tops

• Tan linen Pants

• Black twill Pants

• Light weight flowy pants

• Wide leg leggings

• Jeans

• Maxi skirt

• Cotton Dress

• Long cardigan

• Down jacket

• Nine pairs of underwear

• Socks

• Three Bras

• New Balance sneakers

• Blowfish Fisherman sandals

• Chacos

• Shower flip-flops

*I could definitely be fine with less pairs of pants, but I like having a few more options to mix and match

Toiletries: The Unsung Heroes of the Carry-On

One quick note before we open the toiletry bag: many places around the world do not have countertops in the bathroom. So if you want access to your toiletries without balancing them on the back of a toilet or a slightly sloped window ledge, your bag needs a hook. Some companies make toiletry kits that are designed to hang and roll out—a good investment if you travel often.

My toiletry bag contains the essentials: deodorant, toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, shampoo, and so on. But there are a few extras that always make the cut:

• Chapstick – I live in Hawaii, so I’m not used to sleeping with air conditioning. When I do, my lips dry out fast.

• Nail clippers – Not necessary for short trips. But on longer ones, those little daggers will make themselves known.

• Imodium – I try not to take it. Usually, it’s better to let things pass naturally (hydrating along the way). But food poisoning doesn’t care about your bus schedule. When you’ve got six hours of winding road ahead of you, Imodium may become your best—possibly only—friend.

• Prescription meds – Be careful here. Some countries require a doctor’s note. Others won’t allow certain medications at all. It’s worth checking the rules in advance. And it’s also smart to talk to a travel doctor before you go. Do you need malarial prophylaxis? Cipro for serious digestive issues? Flagyl in case of giardia? In many countries, these meds are available over the counter, but take the time to know what you may need, and whether it is available where you are going.

• Hand sanitizer – Washing with soap and water is always better, but hand sanitizer is a good backup for public transport, questionable snack stands, or those bathrooms where the sink is “decorative.” Keeping your hands clean can go a long way towards keeping the Imodium unused.

• Sunscreen – Take it from me: sunscreen you buy abroad doesn’t always work (I love Thailand, but their sunscreen is aggressively underwhelming). Bringing it from home is often a good move—but beware liquid limits if you’re flying carry-on only.

• Insect repellent – Everything I just said about sunscreen applies here too. Don’t assume what you buy locally will be effective—or that your skin will like it.

• MICHELLE'S ADDITION:

  • Face soap - using regular soap dries out my face

  • Hairspray - for when I want to style my hair

  • Make-up - I traveled once without make-up, then I realized that a few things like mascara and lip gloss don't take up much space and make me feel prettier for going out to a nice restaurant, etc.

  • Tweezers - for stray eyebrows and splinters

  • Q-tips - for ears and make-up (RAND'S ADDITION: do NOT put Q-tips in your ears!!)

  • Menstrual products - menstrual cups FTW!

  • Acne patches - you never know when a pimple will pop up even when you are in your 50's

  • Travel Mirror - many guesthouses have only one mirror in the bathroom, often with bad lighting.

  • Hair towel - many guesthouse only provide one towel. I use a small microfiber towel that twists on like a turban at home so I also bring one for travel

  • Curling iron - not at all necessary, but my hair gets crazy when it is air dried so it's worth it to me to bring.

 

First Aid Kit: Because Adventure Sometimes Bites Back

It may or may not fit in your toiletry kit, but let’s not forget a practical first aid kit. You don’t need to carry a full trauma kit unless you’re planning to hike across the Arctic, or cut your way through the jungle with a chainsaw. But having a compact, well-stocked first aid kit is smart—because blisters, bug bites, and mystery rashes don’t care how experienced you are.

This isn’t about prepping for doomsday. It’s about having the basics covered so that when something goes wrong—and it will—you don’t have to spend your evening miming “antiseptic cream” to a confused pharmacist in rural Laos.

Here’s a good set of items to consider for inclusion in a traveler’s first aid kit:

• Adhesive bandages – A handful in various sizes. The basics.

• Blister pads or moleskin – Because feet will revolt. Especially if you’re breaking in those new sandals you swore were comfy.

• Antiseptic wipes or ointment – For cuts, scrapes, and that time you brushed against something that may or may not have been barbed wire.

• Painkillers – Ibuprofen or acetaminophen for headaches, muscle aches, and that one bus ride you’ll be telling stories about for years.

• Antihistamines – For bug bites, mild allergies, and mysterious reactions to fruit you couldn’t resist trying at the market.

• Anti-diarrheal meds (like Imodium) – Not ideal for everyday use, but invaluable when you need to get through a six-hour bus ride without… incident.

• Rehydration salts or electrolyte powder – Great for heat exhaustion, food poisoning, or general travel dehydration.

• Motion sickness tablets – If you’re the type that gets queasy on boats, buses, or overly ambitious tuk-tuks.

• Tweezers – For splinters, cactus spines, or retrieving mystery objects from your child’s foot.

• A few safety pins – To MacGyver a sling, pin a bandage, or hold your pants up after that button finally gives up.

• A few alcohol pads – For cleaning tools or sterilizing small wounds.

If you’re traveling somewhere particularly off-grid, consider adding:

• Antibiotic cream

• Antifungal cream or powder

• A digital thermometer

• A few sterile gauze pads

MICHELLE'S ADDITION:

• Allergy medicine - if you have allergies like me. I like (generic) Flonase

• Allergy eyedrops - also helpful if you have allergies like me

• Anti-redness eyedrops - for those red eye flights and bad nights' sleep

• Nasal decongestant spray - I can't sleep well with a stuffed up nose

• Hydrocortisone cream - for bug bite and what ever else might make you itchy

• Charcoal tablets - helps draw out the bad stuff if you eat or drink something that your stomach disagrees with. I use this as a first line defense before Imodium.

Bonus tip: If you’re not sure what you'll actually need, visit a travel clinic before a big trip. They’re great at reminding you which diseases are present, which shots you might need, and what medical surprises your destination is known for.

You can build your own kit or buy a pre-packed one and customize it. Just make sure it’s compact, waterproof, and easy to find in your bag when you’re half-conscious and wishing you hadn’t eaten that questionable skewer in the train station.

Camera Gear: A Quick Rundown (Before I Nerd Out in a Future Post)

This is just a quick section on the camera gear I bring—I'll do a dedicated post on this later. Even so, if you just do casual photography for your Instagram, skip down to the next section.

I use four main systems: my phone, a mirrorless or DSLR camera, a GoPro, and a drone. I’m primarily focused on still photography, though I do video as well (not exactly as an afterthought… but sort of).

Phone: iPhone 15 Pro

Let’s start with the phone. I currently use an iPhone 15 Pro—but if you’re someone who plans to rely heavily on your phone for taking pictures, I’ll just say it: Androids are better for photography. If I were relying on a phone as my primary camera, I would switch to Android.

That said, the iPhone 15 Pro can shoot in RAW format, which is a must for serious photography. The RAW workflow is clunky—I have to remember to switch to RAW every time I open the camera, and downloading the files isn’t exactly seamless—but it works. I shoot video in 4K and will bump the frame rate up if I think I might want slow motion.

Even though my iPhone isn't my go-to for still photos, it has become my primary video camera while traveling.

Important tip: If you're shooting RAW photos and 4K video, make sure your phone is set to only sync media over Wi-Fi—unless you have an unlimited data plan. On the iPhone 15 Pro, go to Settings > Cellular > Photos and toggle it off. If you forget to do this, you'll tear through your data plan faster than you can say "low-light wide-angle bokeh."

Main Camera: Canon Mirrorless or DSLR

On most trips, I carry one camera body: the Canon R6 mirrorless. If I know I’ll need to switch lenses frequently and quickly, I also bring a second body: the Canon 70D DSLR.

The R6 is my go-to for two big reasons:

1.     It lets me crank up the ISO with minimal grain (goodbye tripod!).

2.     It’s slightly smaller and lighter than the 70D.

Lenses

Again, it depends on the trip, but I generally carry only two lenses. First I take something that gets a pretty wide angle. My most used lens is a 20-55mm zoom. If I find myself in a situation where I need something wider than 20mm, I just use my phone. Second, I carry something with more power. Generally I use an 80-300mm zoom for this. If I know I will be shooting lots of distant subjects (for example, on a safari) I will take a longer lens. But those long lenses get heavy fast, so I leave them home on most trips.

GoPro: Hero 10 Black

These days, I only consider the GoPro a must when I need to shoot underwater. It’s also handy for mounting on a chest or head harness (great for rafting, biking, or sprinting away from things with teeth).

Most of the time, my phone handles video just fine—and it’s more likely to be in my pocket. But the GoPro is small enough that it still earns a place in my bag.

Drone: DJI Mini

I use the DJI Mini, and here’s why it’s perfect for serious travel photography:

1. It shoots in RAW. If you want to do serious photography, your drone needs to shoot RAW. For more casual photography, other formats are fine. For me, I don’t bother with anything that doesn’t shoot RAW.

2. It weighs 249 grams—just under the 250g threshold that triggers extra permit, registration, or insurance requirements in many countries.

    

Supporting Cast: Batteries, Cards, and Backup

I bring a healthy stock of camera batteries, especially when I’ll be in remote places without reliable access to electricity. I also carry multiple memory cards, both for capacity and redundancy. (I don’t like putting all my footage on one card if I can help it.)

For GoPro versatility, I always pack a few mounting accessories.

I also carry two tripods:

• A lightweight travel tripod for the Canon

• A mini tripod that works for the GoPro or, with a little creative problem-solving, my phone

Editing and Backup on the Road

Because I’m impatient (and because travel downtime is perfect for post-processing), I bring my MacBook and Wacom tablet with me to develop my photos while I am traveling.

To avoid losing any irreplaceable shots, I back up all media in three places:

1. My MacBook

2. A 2TB external hard drive

3. The memory cards themselves (I rotate them rather than loading them to max capacity)

When possible, I also upload files to cloud storage—but that’s highly dependent on internet quality. And let’s be honest: the places I find most interesting tend to have terrible, terrible internet.

To protect these backups, I pack them in different bags. That way, even if I lose a bag or two, I likely won’t lose all my photos and videos. Delta may lose my luggage—but they won’t take my memories with it!

This is a fairly standard set of photography gear for me. The camera body is the R6. The two lenses are the two mentioned above. The black pad at the top of the image is my Wacom pad.

Electronics: The Burden I Choose to Bear

I’ll admit it: I bring way too many electronics.

They’re heavy. They’re awkward. They trigger every security agent’s suspicions.

And yet—I keep bringing everything.

A good chunk of the electronics I travel with are already covered in the camera section: various cameras, my MacBook, my Wacom tablet (plus stylus), and my phone. I also bring an iPad, mostly for watching Netflix on planes or in hotel rooms when it’s simply too hot to exist outside of air conditioning.

To keep everything running, I carry a universal electric adapter that lets me plug into just about any outlet in the world. I also bring a tangle of charging cords—most of which are interchangeable across devices—and I keep them semi-organized by coiling them and clipping them with one of my all-time favorite pieces of travel gear: the humble binder clip (more on that later).

One of the best—but also most awkward-to-pack—items I bring is a pair of noise-canceling headphones. They take up a significant amount of space, and their fragile nature means you have to take care with them. But sometimes you just need to shut out the world and let David Gilmour serenade you. Or tune into your audiobook while wedged into a seat on a crowded, chaotic bus where the person next to you is eating dried fish and arguing with someone on speakerphone.

I also pack between one and three power banks. On many trips, one small power bank is enough—to keep my iPad running through a twelve-hour flight or stop my phone from dying after a long day of navigating unfamiliar streets. But if I’m going off-grid for a while, and I need to keep not only my phone alive but also recharge camera batteries (drones consume battery power like Cookie Monster devours snickerdoodles), I’ll bring a couple of larger-capacity banks as well.

Note: If photography weren’t one of my primary travel goals, I’d pare way down. I’d bring just my phone, iPad, one power bank, a couple of cords, headphones, and the universal adapter. That’s basically what my wife brings. MICHELLE'S ADDITION: He's right and it also leaves me more space to pack a few more clothes and my extra toiletries :)

Random Stuff I Take

Two of my favorites: binder clips and a compass

Binder clips. Seriously. I don’t leave home without these. And they’re not just for keeping your visa paperwork and itinerary together. They’re great for coiling up your charging cords. And what about when the curtains in your hotel room don’t quite close and the sun is poised to spear you in the face at 4:30 a.m.? Binder clips will lock those curtains together like a boss. Need clothespins to anchor the laundry you just did in the hotel sink to the line you strung under the ceiling fan? Done. They also act as a toothbrush stand, function as an improvised money clip, and seal the bag of puffed rice you bought from that dusty corner store by your guesthouse. I travel with a quite a few in different sizes. Always.

Compass. Sure, your phone has GPS. But sometimes you’re deep in a covered market in a city where the cell data never worked well to begin with. Offline maps are great, but they won’t tell you which direction to walk to get out of the bazaar next to the noodle place you’ve been dreaming about since breakfast. When in doubt, clip a tiny compass to your daypack. It’s low-tech but magic when you're lost and hangry.

Door stop. Usually meant to keep doors open, but they work in reverse too. If you're staying in a hotel that turned out a little sketchier than the photos led you to believe, wedge a rubber door stop under the door from the inside after locking it. It won’t stop an angry mob with a battering ram, but it will keep someone from sneaking in quietly while you sleep.

Cutlery. You’ve been out all day. You’re tired, sunburned, and hungry—but the idea of leaving the comfort of your hotel room to get dinner makes you cry just a little bit. Room service is overpriced and uninspired, but thanks to modern food delivery apps, you can now get that amazing meal you missed at lunchtime brought straight to your door (sometimes even from famous street stalls). Just don’t expect utensils to make it into the bag just because you checked the box saying you want a fork. No worries—if you brought your own.

Foldable, smashable daypack. I usually use my camera bag as a daypack, but unless you're hauling a small photo studio, that’s overkill. My wife carries a lightweight nylon backpack that has no structure whatsoever—it’s just zippers and fabric. It can’t carry a heavy load, but it crumples down to the size of a softball and weighs next to nothing. It’s perfect.

(Biodegradable) wet wipes. Always. Whether it’s day 18 on a trek to Everest Base Camp or just a quiet picnic in a Prague park, wet wipes are non-negotiable for me.

Digital luggage scale. If you're taking budget airlines mid-trip where your bag weight matters, a small travel scale can save you a fortune in fees. Just hook it to your bag, lift, and you’ll know exactly how much stuff needs to go from your bag to your pockets at check-in.

Tiger Balm. It's technically a topical analgesic for muscle aches. But that’s not how we use it. Travel sometimes involves smells—like you’re trapped in a gym sock stuffed with wet cheese and halitosis. And I’m sad to say, sometimes the source is... you. There’s no escape—unless you smear a little Tiger Balm right under your nose. Then that’s all you’ll smell. This trick has gotten me through many a bus ride with my olfactory sanity intact.

Bandana. These are absurdly versatile. Show up for a biking trip in northern Japan only to find the air filled with yukimushi (“snow bugs”)? Unless you have a something to cover your mouth while you ride you are going to be eating (and inhaling) cute little floating bugs all day long. Or maybe you just need to wipe sweat off your brow? Or shield your neck? Or clean your sunglasses? A bandana is your friend.

Ziplock bags (reusable). These are the MVPs of the random gear world. Use them to separate wet clothes, shield electronics during a rainstorm, store snacks, corral receipts, or protect your passport during monsoon season.

Water bottle. If for no other reason than to avoid single-use plastics. You don’t need a $200 artisanal model that filters air and sings lullabies—just something you’d use at home. If you want extra peace of mind, get one with a filter for use in places with sketchy tap water (which will cost you a bit, but not $200).

Duct tape or gaffer tape. Wrap a few feet around your water bottle or a pencil and you’ve got the fix for broken zippers, cracked bottles, flapping soles, mosquito net repairs, or mystery noises in your ceiling fan. Also makes you look like you know what you’re doing.

Earplugs. For flights. For honking cars. For hotel bunkmates who snore like vintage chainsaws. They’re cheap, tiny, and absolutely sanity-saving.

Tiny sewing kit. A needle and thread can save the day when your pack splits or a button goes rogue. I don’t always bring one—you can usually pick one up locally—but if you're more responsible than I am, it's a good call.

Travel towel (quick-dry). Small. Lightweight. Doesn’t smell like despair after one use (although it will by the third use—be warned!). Perfect for beaches, hostels, or that surprise waterfall hike you didn’t plan on.

Mini flashlight or headlamp. Yes, your phone has a flashlight. And yes, it eats your battery like a toddler eats Goldfish crackers. If you just need a light now and then, your phone is fine. But if you’ll be using it more regularly (temples at dawn, regular power outages, night jungle walks), a small flashlight or headlamp is the way to go.

Tissue packets. Not just for blowing your nose on the bus. Public restrooms do not always have paper. So if you want it, get used to always carrying your own. The alternative is to adapt to the local tradition of using a hose . . . or a bucket of water and your left hand.

Gear We Used to Bring (But Don’t Anymore)

Here’s a list of some of the gear we used to carry but eventually ditched. I’ve left off obvious relics like alarm clocks (thank you, smartphones). Like a lot of new travelers, we overpacked. Fear-mongering (mostly from companies trying to sell us stuff) convinced us we needed to prepare for every possible disaster, inconvenience, or rare jungle disease. But the more we traveled, the more we realized we were hauling around things we didn’t actually need.

• Our own mosquito net. In the early days, we carried a full-sized mosquito net to hang over our bed. In reality, anywhere you need a mosquito net, your lodging almost always provides one. If we were traveling in rural sub-Saharan Africa, we might reconsider. But in most places, it’s just dead weight.

  
  

• Money belts. Back when we were more fearful, we wore money belts everywhere. Now, unless we’re heading somewhere truly remote where we have to carry a ton of cash, we leave those waist-level sauna pouches at home.

  
  

• Cable lock (for securing luggage). We never went too overboard with security gadgets, but we did used to carry a long, locking metal cable to secure our bags to train bunks and hostel beds. We’ve since let that go. In all our years of travel, we’ve never had a theft that would have been prevented by a locking cable.

  
  

• Travel-specific clothing. We fell hard for the ads. Quick-dry pants with zip-off legs (the horror!). Moisture-wicking shirts that made us look like we were gearing up for a moon landing. Now? We just wear the clothes we like to wear at home. Turns out cotton works fine for most of the planet.

  
  

• Eye mask. Sure, sometimes it’s bright when I’m trying to sleep. But I just can’t relax enough to fall asleep in a strange place with something covering my eyes. It works for some people. I am not one of them.

  
  

• Kindle. I still love the Kindle, in theory. But I rarely bring it anymore. These days, I load up my Audible account with audiobooks and listen to them through headphones. It lets me “read” while walking, flying, or trying to ignore the goat tied to the roof of the bus.

Final Thoughts on Travel Packing Tips

Packing for travel is part science, part superstition, and part slowly learning the difference between what you might need and what you’ll actually use. Some of it comes from careful reasoning. Some of it comes from trial, error, and hauling a useless item through six countries before admitting it never left your bag.

What works for me might not work for you—and that’s fine. The goal isn’t to pack perfectly. It’s to pack thoughtfully, stay flexible, and embrace the fact that something will break, spill, chafe, or leak at exactly the wrong time—because travel doesn’t care how organized your packing cubes were when you left home.

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