By now you’re probably wondering what’s behind all this Rollerbag Goddess nonsense. Here goes.
I am, at heart, a nomad. But I have never been a backpacker.
|Photo by rando on the Top of the Rock.|
I didn’t take the opportunity to backpack when I was in my 20s; I was too bent on making a career for myself in television and radio journalism, “paying my dues” as they say. The $6 per hour wage I was earning in small market radio news barely covered my rent and car payment, so traveling wasn’t an option. Eventually I made $8 an hour in television news and got rich.
All kidding aside, it wasn’t until I escaped broadcast journalism and entered media relations and PR that I made enough money to consider international travel. On my first solo international travel jaunt, I borrowed a friend’s backpack/rollerbag. It was brilliant–you could zip the straps in and extend a pull bar in mere minutes. But after being caught in a rainstorm, lost, walking for hours in Strasbourg, France, I grew weary of the backpack. Since then, I’ve been a huge devotee of rollerbags.
Upon my first visit to London, my host remarked that I was the first traveler she’d met who had “sensible luggage.”
I am not, nor will I ever be a beast of burden. I far prefer the click-click-click a rollerbag makes on the cobblestone streets of Europe to the ache and exhaustion of carrying my life on my back. That said, I’m no princess–I’m happy to sleep on hard mattresses or train station floors; to go where the going is less than good; and to sleep where no one speaks my language and there is no American breakfast buffet. I know I’m not alone. To all of the women (and men) who thirst for a life rich in travel, but easy on the back; to all who dream of rolling the world and immersing themselves, responsibly, ethically, and cheaply, rise up! Extend your pull bars, and go!
Dang, you look good!
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