Just prior to the end of the Before Times, my wife and I spent about six months traveling and living in Europe and the UK. We learned a lot about extended trips and being nomadic, but the most common question we get about the trip is how we managed to pack for multiple seasons and climates.

We each had a medium carry-on bag, and the equivalent of a briefcase. Both of which were small enough to fit in the relatively tiny overhead shelves of European trains, and not be too much of a burden for carrying through cities. (Once we arrived overseas, we didn’t fly at all, our transportation was by foot, train, ferry, ship, or taxi.)

You’ll find plenty of sites with advice about luggage and what to wear and pack. But the one tip we learned — and never saw documented elsewhere — can be summed up in two words: fast fashion.

That is, we didn’t carry clothes for the three seasons during which we travelled (Summer, Fall, Winter). We bought and discarded clothes along the way. And the best and most useful of those came from the chain store Primark.

Primark, based in Ireland, is known for inexpensive clothing that doesn’t last long, which is perfect for this kind of trip. As the seasons change, replace what you’re packing. Doing this also removes anxiety from the laundry quandary — when your clothes are temporary and cheap, local laundry service or wash-in-the-hotel-sink becomes less worrisome.

How inexpensive am I talking? A whole outfit for less than the price of a meal! For example, I bought $12 jeans, $8 shirts, and a $22 jacket that I ended up bringing home and now wear for doing yard work.

Even if you’re not going on a long-term trip, packing light is always a good idea. And returning home with fewer clothes than you left with opens up room in your luggage for gifts, souvenirs, or other treasures you might find along the way.

An unanticipated bonus is that now, when we look at photos from our trip, not only do the locations bring up happy memories, but so do the long-lost clothes that we are wearing.

Yes, Primark is for travelers. Get a list of their locations from their website and bon voyage.

One of the most popular posts on Kevin Kelley’s “Cool Tools” site is my review of the Shave Well Shaving Mirror. It was also reprinted in the big (and fantastic) Cool Tools Compendium.

After I wrote an addendum to my review, the Shave Well company introduced their travel version, which I immediately bought and have taken on countless trips.

Nine years later, the mirror continues to be extraordinarily useful. Seriously, if you’re a shower shaver (or want to be), it’s a must-have accessory.

Instead of shuttling my travel-sized mirror between bathrooms at home, I recently decided to buy one for each shower.(Getting lathered up in the shower then realizing your mirror is in the other bathroom is a bummer.) When I looked on Amazon to buy another, I discovered that the success of Shave Well has spawned a host of imitators. Shamefully, an extra-large knockoff caught my eye, and I bought it. Bigger is always better, right?

Well, so far, so good. I am enjoying the larger size, but naturally, it’s also heavier. Too heavy to hang on the wall using the inexpensive suction cups that I use with the smaller Shave Well. And I’m certainly not going to cement a hook to my tile wall!

Instead, I recommend IKEA’s excellent suction cup hooks, such as the Krokfjorden or Tisken. They hold remarkably well.

(Photo by Kevin Baquerizo)

This year, I’ve driven back-and-forth across much of the United States multiple times. Resulting in at least 6000 miles of travel, and several weeks of being on the road.

As a fan of Blue Highways, stopping in small-town America is always a highlight. (Although not always a respite when in Trump-y areas, such as Deadwood and all of Oklahoma.)

One consistent attribute of many small towns is what I’ve come to call “Dead Soldier Square.” It’s remarkable how many places have memorials to residents who have died in recent military service. Occasionally, it’s an old-school statue, but more often the memorial consists of photos of the dead on streetlight poles, or otherwise distributed along Main Street. Every so often, the placards are placed in the windows of empty storefronts, which makes them even more haunting and evocative by combining two forms of civic loss.

The photos of dead youth haunt your every step. The intention is probably to remind the living of their sacrifice, but I suspect the actual result is numbing and normalization.

It’s especially poignant knowing that for at least some of these young people, joining the military was the only viable means of escape from the town. And now, in death, the town is the only place where they are remembered.

It’s election season in Nevada, and I was surprised to see how many candidate signs were placed in empty lots around Las Vegas. They were all lined up, like rows of corn plants in the Midwest.

But after seeing so many of these strange outcroppings, I began to notice a disturbing similarity. Many of the signs featured portraits of the candidates. (In fact, at first glance, they’re easy to mistake for Realtor advertisements.) However, of the signs that featured a photo, they were almost exclusively showing Caucasians. Mostly men, of course, but also white women.

Now, granted, Nevada is about 73% white, but I couldn’t escape the feeling that the message being sent was “Vote for me because I look like you.”

As the co-author of Las Vegas: Underfoot, a photo book about Sin City’s terra magica, I was thrilled to find a thoughtful appreciation for casino carpeting at Casino.org. A kindred spirit, indeed!

Earlier this year, my wife and I decided to take advantage of an apparent lull in the plague by hitting the road. Specifically, “the mother road.”

Route 66 begins in Chicago, just a few blocks away from our home, and ends somewhere in California. (Where, exactly? Figure it out. Have you confused my blog with Wikipedia?) Our plan was to drive it through Arizona, then diverge into fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada.

I should note that one does not actually drive Route 66. It doesn’t exist anymore, except as various non-contiguous historic snippets of varying length. Most of them are business loops through small, forgotten towns that desperately suckle from the teat of having once been a vibrant part of the route.

We’ve driven portions of the route before, I knew there was no shortage of roadside kitsch to explore, so I thought a travel book would be helpful in this regard. (Alas, online resources like Atlas Obscura were unimpressive.) However, I was surprised to find that my local Barnes & Noble had exactly zero books on the subject. What the hell? It’s literally a Chicago landmark.

So, I turned to the Amazon, making heaving use of their “Look Inside” feature to preview the contents of each book that caught my eye. Thank heavens I did, as it revealed how boring and filler-packed each book was. I began to fear that I would never find the mother lode about the Mother Road. (Forgive me.)

Then I came across Secret Route 66 by Jim Ross and Shelly Graham. The book’s subtitle, “A Guide to the Weird, Wonderful, and Obscure,” was right up my alley. Look Inside revealed the location of road tar footprints improbably left by a very heavy bird crossing the road. I couldn’t click “Buy Now” fast enough.

I’m glad that I did. The book added a lot of flavor to our road trip. If you’re going to buy into the nostalgia of taking such a drive, you should embrace all the quirky and cheesy things that come with it, and this book will help you do so.

My initial concern about the book was its age. Published in 2017, I feared that the ravages of Trumpism and COVID-19 would render much of the information obsolete. Some information the book includes was probably out of date before the book rolled off the printing presses. However, many of the roadside attractions have weathered other storms and are still in operation (although barely so, in some cases). Furthermore, like the aforementioned chicken footprints, many of the features that Ross and Graham have included are not dependent upon visitors to keep them afloat. (The authors do love pointing out old bridges, for some reason.) As with any book, use the web to sanity-check any information that would throw your plans out of whack if it’s no longer correct.

If you get the book, I recommend paying attention to the small towns that the authors highlight. We pulled off to visit several of them, and they were almost all worthwhile, charming stops. One that we intended to visit is Galena, Kansas. But I accidentally programmed the navigation system for Galena, Missouri instead. We discovered that Galena, MO is a town of less than 500 people with a surprisingly large “downtown” for its size. However, we felt like we were in a Twilight Zone episode. Every business (even City Hall) was locked up tight in the middle of the afternoon. We didn’t see a single person, but there were at least a dozen cars parked on the streets. Was there a mandatory town meeting in progress? Were they watching us? It was an eerie and interesting visit!

The book does have one glaring flaw: a complete lack of any discernible organization. For example, the first item in the book is from the middle of the route. Did it not occur to the authors or publishers that a linear progression, East or West, would make perfect sense? Its random presentation of locations makes the book very difficult to use as a planner, and worse, worthless as a reference during the drive itself. Even a simple map of the route, with locations indicated, would make the book much more useful. Truly, what were they thinking?

To work around the problems of aged info and perplexing organization, I recommend creating a Guide in the Apple Maps app. Moreover, while you’re at it, take a look at the curated Route 66 guides that are available in Maps, they’re perfect for the mainstream attractions.

Happy trails!

An important tidbit for those wishing to visit the graves of people buried in the middle of South Dakota:

Every single online mapping source (literally, all of them, MapQuest, Apple Maps, Google Maps, Waze, Yelp, TomTom, etc.) list the location of Huron’s Riverside Cemetery as Frank Ave SE. (I’m avoiding repeating the complete wrong address here, to not feed the ‘bots.)

However, Huron’s Riverside Cemetery is actually located at the intersection of SD Route 22 and Sherman Ave SE.

Which, when viewed from the perspective of a bird, is kind of near the river. But this is not apparent from the ground. (Just in case you, in a fit of desperation, try to suss out where it is located using logic and reasoning.) Your better approach, as proven effective by the present author, is to interrupt a nice couple unloading groceries from their car that is parked in the driveway of a home located near the incorrect address, and ask them where the cemetery is located. They are likely to laugh and tell you how to get to where it actually is. (“Go down this road, hang a left on the main road, it’s on your right about a mile down.”) Be sure to thank them, as well as the midwest proclivity towards friendliness.

I reported the mapping mistake to Apple and Google, but given that every provider had it wrong, it’s likely incorrect in the state’s own database. But this is far from the only thing that godforsaken South Dakota gets wrong.

Greetings from Manitowoc, Wisconsin — and the exact spot where Sputnik fell to earth.

The second-best thing about Manitowoc was the “Ditto” antique store that’s in the back of the “Dead By Dawn” B&B. The former was charming and had some great locally sourced hand-carved figurines. The latter was closed, but the idea is just wonderful.

We also visited the Sheboygan Indian Mounds Park. When we arrived, there were three cars in the parking lot. By the time we exited our car; we were the only ones there. (Hey, don’t leave on my account!) We saw not another (living) soul during our visit. We heard the trees speaking (which we recorded) as we followed a diminishing trail that crossed at least two dwellings that were reminiscent of those depicted on Sasquatch “documentaries.”

Unexpectedly, there are contemporary houses that abut the mound area, giving truth to the trope about living on an ancient Indian burial ground. I wondered if a realtor would consider being on sacred ground a selling point.

Because it was so quiet and peaceful, and seemingly welcoming, we decided to have our picnic lunch at the tables near the entrance. Unfortunately, the tables were covered with dirt and sap, so it was a standing meal.

As we left, a tree in the yard across the street caught my eye. It seemed to take human-like form, but that may have been a trick of the light.

At the 3 Sheeps Brewery, which we visited before the mounds (so thus, could explain the tree thing), I was drawn to a vending machine that sold advertising cards which just happened to also be a game of chance.

I couldn’t resist spending a dollar on a ticket. I was not a winner. But I enjoyed the 3 Sheeps beer, so I guess that’s a “win” of another sort.

One of the most unsung, but most useful, things to add to your suitcase is a package of RediTape Duct Tape. It’s the regular duct tape you know and love, but comes in a reasonable length “flat pack” that makes it easy to pack. (You can get it in multiple colors, too. I prefer white, which looks less industrial than the typical silver tape.)

What will you use it for? You’ll surprise yourself at how many uses you discover. The adage that “when all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail,” becomes true — a good, strong piece of tape solves numerous problems: inside pants that need hemming or repair, suitcase and shoe repairs, first aid, automobile cabin rattles, tamper-evident bag seals, and hotel room peephole privacy covers. (Yes, it’s paranoid, but sadly actually happens.) I’m confident you’ll find even more ways to use it once you have it on hand.

While some hotel rooms provide a night light in the bathroom, most do not. And for me, a nightlight is a necessity. Not just for late-night micturition, but also to help quickly resolve the feeling of “where the hell am I?” that sometimes happens when I wake up in the middle of the night.

So, I travel with a nightlight in my dopp kit. I use an inexpensive and bright night light (although I do wish it were less bulky). It’s cheap enough that I don’t beat myself up too badly when I accidentally leave it behind. But I hate it when that happens, so I came up with a technique that helps me remember to unplug and pack it before I depart.

In the photo, you can see that I’ve attached a long, multi-colored string to the night light, using a piece of tape. (I got this rainbow string at Home Depot, but any dark-colored string would do the trick.) The idea is that a long, hanging string will catch my eye when I’m scanning the room to make sure that I’ve packed everything. This has worked for me 20+ room nights and counting, so maybe it will work for you, too.