And thus the day hath come. It is now time for me to leave. I have spent last night (really the past week) obsession over what to pack, whether its weight can be justified, whether I will need it, whether it has a wide range of uses, etc, etc. I am quite the anal retentive packer, that and stacking groceries on shopping converter belts are about the only times I am ever neat and OCD about anything. But alas. I lay all my things out in lovely neat little rows and pack like its a game of Tetris. Once I get there of course it will be a ram it all in and toss the neatness. But before leaving I am very neat.
I'm pretty happy with the size of my backback in the end. It's large enough to have quite a bit of space to spare, so I can buy things along the way and the weight is kept down a bit. But it's not bigger than me so I shouldn't topple over too easily.
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I got the weight down to a tidy 15kg which is pretty decent. Since I have a fair amount of stuff.
Naturally I look like a terrorist so had a bomb swab test as per usual.
Anyway, I am all a flutter, mostly excitement with a tinge of nerves. Have I got everything, will I be without some necessary item, or have I taken too much stuff and will I be a weeping puddle of tears lost on a train because my backpack is too damn heavy?
Well, nothing to it but to see. I am at the airport now enjoying a beer in the qantas club (that's right I am a snobby Q club member). I wonder how many backpackers have access to the Qantas Club under normal circumstances. But the luxuries will end in Copenhagen. And the excitement will begin.
Can't wait. :D
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