Tales of Repatriation

America 101 - The American Toiletry Kit

I was invited to stay with my good friend Aparna and her family for a few days in Northern California and it is a wonderful respite from Los Angeles. I am in the woods spending time with good people, a pool, and a wondrous English Lab Layla who is delicious.

In preparation for this trip, as well as a few days later this week in Monterey before I journey South once again, I had to pack a much smaller version of belongings than what came with me on my flight out of Singapore in 4 very large hard-sided suitcases.

My first task was to purchase a duffel bag because all of mine are in a container on a ship somewhere in the Pacific Ocean (and will be for 2 more weeks). I went where we all go to shop for stuff — Amazon — and was met with a thousand permutations of duffel bags in every color ever created. For the record, I chose the 80L size and it seems to be holding.

The next task was to pack the toiletry kit. My toiletry kit(s) (I have one for the plane and one for my luggage) houses items that are a reflection of living in places that do not have the things I think are critical and/or require a doctor's note to acquire. Singapore was extremely strict. Even if you didn't need a prescription for something, you had to scan your Singapore ID to purchase most items. If you tried to go down the street and buy more before the system thought you should, it would flag in every pharmacy in the country. While, just across the Chain Bridge in Malaysia, one could walk or drive across and buy as much as they need of whatever item they wanted without a prescription.

Over the past years, I would find my way to America consistently enough that I would raid Target and Wal-Mart for my favorite supplies and smuggle them back into Kenya and Singapore so that I was always well-stocked. While I embraced a lot of local variations, there are just some items, like tooth paste, that I could not relinquish to Colgate (EWWWWWW).

My toiletry kit weighs about 6 pounds because it is laden with every item I thought MIGHT be required when I was stomping off into the bush, onto a film set, or into some other locale where local versions were either ineffective, unknown, complicated to procure (prescription) or just didn't exist.

It occurred to me yesterday while I prepared my kit that it was probably time to stop packing as if I were going into the unknown where all manner of health issues may arise and care was either non-existent, not trusted, or too far away.

Living back in America means relentless convenience. Everything you could possibly need or want is a click or a road trip away and that means that all of the extra bits and bobs that have kept me company throughout the years are less necessary and likely will soon become relegated to THAT drawer in the bathroom.

If I forget something, the local petrol station will have a quick-e-mart that houses about 70% of what I need — on every corner. If not, I can poodle on down to town and find whatever I need.

I don't have to ration my Crest toothpaste, favorite deodorant, and other items that are not available once you leave the border.

It's time to Americanize the toiletry kit.

And I suppose it's also time to Americanize the way that I live, in general. I do not need to stock up on the "good paper" or the "binders" that I like because they're everywhere and will not be out of stock — ever.

I don't need to scour the Earth looking for a good pair of sheets that I can get through various channels because I can order them from endless shops or I can just go down to the shop and buy a set.

What will become of my "pirating, smuggling, pack my suitcases to the gills self" and how will I convert to my new "bringing little bits of America self"? I can't really say. An intervention may be required.