Our first night backpacking, we took the train from Paris to Barcelona. I had spent six weeks in Paris on a study abroad with Santa Monica Community College, and I had planned to travel alone, but two girls from my program were heading out as well, so we decided to travel together for a while. Their names were Zar and Tanya, and they had sketched out plan for traveling, while I had planned to wing it. First stop? Barcelona! We hadn’t quite figured out the tricks of backpacking, so the three of us went together to find a place to stay, which meant trudging up and down steep flights of stairs till our shoulders were numb from the weight of our packs. My pack was especially heavy because I had overpacked, and I was carrying a wool blanket that weighed more than I did. My Dad said it would keep me warm. After this experience, we made a new plan: two of us would stay with the packs, while one of us went and changed money and started calling places out of our travel books. Once we found a place with beds, we all made the trek with our bags.
When we finally found a hostel, after climbing five flights of stairs to a small place with no air conditioning, I took my pack off my shoulders and said, “There is no way I’m carrying this thing around for six weeks!” I unzipped it and tried to find things I could do without. First thing to go? The heavy blanket on top, which I donated to the hostel. I didn’t know what I would use as a cover, but I knew it wouldn’t be a wool blanket.
As I dug through my things, I pulled out a massive glass bottle of Chanel No. 5. Zar and Tanya widened their eyes, “No!”
I nodded solemnly. “Yes, it has to go. It’s too heavy.”
We all looked at the bottle. They couldn’t bear to see me throw it away, so we started dumping it on our backpacks and all our clothes. Our entire room smelled of Chanel now. Even with all that dumping, the bottle was only 1/2 empty, but I kissed it and threw it in the trash.
Lighter now, we roamed the city and the streets of Barcelona were so beautiful it felt more appropriate to dance than to walk.
The next night, we boarded the train to Nice, and as we rumbled along the ocean and the South of France, I stuck my head out the window, the warm wind whipping my hair, the moonlight glimmering on the ocean, and I whooped with freedom and delight. Several other backpackers stuck their heads out too and joined me in a frenzy of joyful screaming. I looked over at all the heads poking out of the train windows, and it looked like starlight was dancing in their hair.
The next night, Tanya unzipped her pack and I saw my half empty Chanel bottle in her bag. I looked at her. She laughed, “I couldn’t bear to throw it away.” So now she was carrying it!
Still to this day, thirty years later, I smell Chanel No. 5 and I am transported back to that little room in Spain, to the exquisite lightness of being a girl who loves adventure. Who needs warm blankets and Chanel when she can have starlight dancing in her hair instead?
