It has been exactly a week since I officially moved back to England, after 367 days in North America*. It has also taken me all of those seven days to recover from jet lag and reacclimatise to English water – something I will admit America has us beaten on for taste, but my tea finally tastes normal again. Liv and I completed our northern North American voyage safely and without getting arrested or losing our phones, marking it a resounding success.
I learnt a few things about travelling that I was not expecting, but will forever treasure as powerful knowledge. Firstly, however lightly you think you have packed, you can always pack lighter. Setting off with a full camping backpack, adorned with shoes in plastic bags hanging from the sides, a full normal backpack stylishly worn on the front like a baby chimp clinging to its weary mother, a guitar and a shopping bag full of snacks and t-shirts is not the way to travel if your idea of fun includes any aspect of comfort. Luckily the snack bag disappeared once we ate the snacks (a bonus sized packet of chocolate digestives was key in helping to preserve our sanity on the first few Megabuses) and I was able to send some clothes home with an English friend we met up with in New York. However, somehow I still managed to adopt and maintain the pregnant pack-mule look, up until I caved and bought a suitcase three weeks later in Portland. Reflecting back on my wardrobe over the last four weeks, I can imagine I would have survived just as well with 70% of the clothing I brought, although I doubt I would have smelt as nice.
Consequently, the second thing I have learnt is that “backpacking” is overrated. Backpacks are for people who are planning on staying in the wilderness somewhere (camping, hiking, Scotland etc.) – why force yourself to carry something heavy that you could alternatively pull almost effortlessly behind you? With a backpack, you are relying solely on your physical strength; suitcases have wheels (unless you are a certain kind of hipster), meaning physics is on your side. Despite my brief love affair with the gym and getting into a physically robust enough state to be able to perform eight real pressups in a row, I very quickly discovered that I am a weak person with feeble knees and zero upper body strength. Liv, who has a medically validated back problem, complained less than I did and even offered to carry a bag for me when the moaning probably started to grate a little too much. Backpacks are for the kind of trips that you need a compass and trangia for, not for people who will have public transport or Uber at their disposal. I do realise that I sound quite cynical, but that is because I am. Backpacks are shit.
If there was one thing I was mortally glad to have brought with me, it was the ziplock bag of Yorkshire tea that I hurriedly packed a few minutes before we left my flat in Boston. American hostels do try, bless them, to provide an acceptable breakfast experience (at least the ones that include a free breakfast in their price. Those that do not are, quite frankly, not worth anyone’s time or cash and should be shunned). Almost all the hostels we stayed in offered free coffee and Lipton tea bags at breakfast. Sadly, drinking Lipton tea is like drinking liquid disappointment and no matter how long you leave the tea bag in, it never passes the point of an off-white weak nightmare. Unless all of America is lacking tastebuds, Lipton’s slogan, “America’s favourite tea”, is a filthy beige lie. Having to wake up in time to get the free hostel breakfast (usually around 9.30 am) is harmonised by the ability to whip out a real tea bag and make a proper brew. Much like a bag of weed at a festival, Liv and I even found that our supply helped us make friends, as we ended up spending a day in Chicago with a couple of girls we had bribed friendship off at breakfast after sharing our stash.
This is not an advice blog, because I am sure I have officially been certified as unfit to aid anyone’s human experience, and anyone can tell you to remember to bring the hostel necessities that are flip flops, earbuds and a lock (unless you are like Liv and I who prefer to walk on the wild side and believe in the goodness of strangers/spoon our valuables while we sleep). However, if I were to offer any thoughts on how to make travelling in North America more comfortable, they would go like this: bin the backpack and embrace the case because, let’s face it, you’re probably not doing any real trekking. Equally, unless you have somehow cleverly managed to arrange sleeping locations next to bus stops or train stations with direct transport links to the city’s big train/bus station or airport, make sure to factor in your budget the cost of taxis to and from stations so that you are not overexerted before you even get to the next exciting destination. After all, travelling is the least fun part of travelling.
*Not including that week I came home, but don’t be a pedant.