From the ashes of Malev Hungarian Airlines rose the phoenix that is Wizz Air. Think Ryanair, but pink. Consequently, I can jump on a cheap flight to Budapest, my favourite city in the world, direct from Cyprus.

As with all the best plans, this one was hatched well into a social Sunday afternoon around the pool. “Maybe we should go to Budapest”, someone said, glass in hand. By Monday breakfast, I’d booked the tickets and a hotel.

Mrs L and I are looking forward to a mid-week weekend spent luxuriating on and beside the Danube with our great friends, Mr & Mrs M. I daresay we’ll also pop into a few of Sean’s hangouts.

Travelling Light

The older I get, the less stuff I find I need. My camino experience and my souring feelings towards technology contribute too.

Toiletries. Liquids in airports remain such a hassle that I try hard never to fly with any. I buy toothpaste and deodorant when I arrive and leave them in the hotel room. Such behaviour is anathema to Mrs L, and for a quiet life, I’ll play by her rules.

I’m taking a roll-on, razor, toothbrush, and toothpaste. That’s enough. If I want to wear cologne, I’ll go into a department store and find a tester. I rub my hair with a towel. The “just got up” look.

Clothes. The weather forecast is good. I’m travelling in shorts, sandals, and a T-shirt with a sweatshirt lest Wizz turns the heating off in the plane. Left to my own devices, I’d take little else, but I have received orders from the Chef de Mission (Mrs L) and so have an extra pair of shorts and an embarrassment of T-shirts.

Technology. I’m taking my iPhone, a charger, airpods and a Kindle.

Stationery. Here is where I indulge myself—I’m taking a journal, a couple of pocket notebooks, and a pair of pens. The journal is from William Hannah, the notebooks from Story Supply and Backpocket, and the pens are a Pelikan 605 and a Zebra Craft Multipen.

All packed into a tiny backpack designed to go under the seat of an aeroplane. 4KG all-in.

Not having to pay for extra luggage is great - but the true benefit of packing light is the way that it liberates and drives focus.

Packing

When space is tight, I’m forced to think carefully about what I’m going to take. Where am I going? Why? What am I going to do?

Before the Camino, a computer was compulsory for every trip. I probably had an iPad, too. But I’m on a city break with my wife and two friends. The only fixed events are lunch with some other friends and a cruise on the Danube. I don’t want to work, watch TV or balance my books.

Within two days of not wearing an Apple Watch, I found myself unable to remember why I’d ever thought them desirable.

Only having one plug and one cable is such a joy.

Day or night, I’m going to be in shorts, a T-shirt, and sandals.

My wife asks - “what if we go somewhere formal?”
“We don’t get in,” I reply.

I don’t want to wear pants, a shirt, or a tie. Should I be invited to a free high-class Michelin-starred meal, I’ll just rent a suit, or more likely, politely decline and go for a burger.

The Camino has taught me that the only person who cares what I’m wearing is me. Several times in Northern Spain, Stu and I were entreated to eat dinner from white tablecloths by proprietors impressed by our taste in food and drink at more informal lunches.

There are starchy places in Budapest—places where we might feel underdressed—but we’re not going there anyway. We’re going to walk the city, enjoy the sights, eat, drink, and laugh.

“But what if it rains?”
“That’s what bars are for.”

Travelling light does much more than reduce the hassle of flying. It enhances the entire experience. We’re going to enjoy the city and each other’s company. No jacket required.

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