Because the last day of Spring Break coincided with daylight savings time, I arrived for my scheduled train to Philadelphia just a few minutes late and ended up having to catch one that left an hour later. Wouldn't if have made sense for break to start this week so it'd be easier to adjust to the new timings?
Irritated at 30th Street Station's Amtrak schedule for doing this to me, I waited with my heavy mound of baggage, immediately worrying about how to lug all this to and from the train and up and down the stairs of Philly's station. "Traveling light" is a condition that I've never experienced, and I've accepted that I will never be one of those sophisticates who can and does travel with minimal baggage.
This time, my luggage was particularly heavy because I was taking containers of kabobs and rice (courtesy of my aunts), seasonal items (three pairs of sandals, an umbrella and a stash of allergy medication) and other things that I always feel are necessary but ultimately, never use.
Perhaps my genes have absorbed this trait from my mother.
Every summer, en route to and from Bangladesh, my mother exercised her right to take the allotted eight suitcases. And then there were various pieces of little carry-on luggage that held last-minute buys and necessities we suddenly remembered or served as places to store items from our suitcases to avoid paying the excess weight fee. Other travelers would have quaint, miniature bags or never exceed two suitcases. With our cargo, airline employees probably thought we were permanently moving back.
But on this occasion, it wasn't only my hereditary condition. The weekend before, my friends, MJ and Manu, came and left Philly with their bags in tow and perspiring from heaving around suitcases. We each were reflections of one another, and I realized our shared feature transcended my mother. Maybe it's from everyone's mother.
I once read that when a person carries heavy or burdensome baggage for journeys, he shows that his inner state is storing and accumulating dark emotional and psychological residue and so repels people by his appearance of drudgery. In other words, no one wants a person that comes with baggage.
Along with the banal things we carry, we also carry the experiences of our journey, the mementos from our stops and the mounting wisdom that trails with us, the traveler. Then, it is about choosing to share all of that especially with those who are significant to us.
For me, after that intensely compact and hectic four-day Philly excursion with my friends, I realized baggage is not only about sharing what one brings, but about what to keep.
I want to pack the memory of MJ taking pictures of every landmark including rocks and trees; getting our eyebrows threaded for $4; witnessing a dog that looked like a mutant beast from X-Men (I'm still not sure if that was a dog); stuffing ourselves at Desi Chaat House; becoming buddies with its owners (our South Asian charm gave us extra food and they took our suggestion for a new dish); going shopping at Center City; finding out that the real Continental restaurant was not a shady diner; discovering the cupcake truck and devouring the Nutella chocolate ganache, and red velvet cream cheese flavors; hoping to rob that truck some day (when I get my license); the gastric delight and the ensuing heaviness from Marrakesh Express and Copa Cabana; the Barbie pink-Mexican restaurant from the walls to the plastic lawn chairs we sat on; MJ petrified of people walking Philly's streets after 9 p.m.; being pushed out of a cab by a psycho driver on South Street (we will never go back); me trying to make edible eggs for breakfast; our hormonal and fruitful outbursts and the moments of scathing enlightenment.
Of course, the list could continue, but what's more it's also essential to know what not to keep. My indecisiveness must have driven everyone crazy, as did my incessant worrying about whether my friends were having a good time, but what truly mattered was that we were all together.
Perhaps it was enough to be on a journey especially with those who are significant to me, but the baggage I carry and keep is also worth hauling.
Tanzima's column runs biweekly Fridays. She can be reached at t.chowdhury@cavalierdaily.com.
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