MAGAN'S WORLD:SOMEONE YOU love is going away, going out to explore the world. You're excited for them but also a bit concerned, not to mention hopeful and envious. You want to give them a present, something special that communicates all this and that might also be useful to them.
Before the advent of airport security paranoia I would have recommended a Swiss army knife. Small enough to fit into any pocket, yet expansive enough to cope with myriad eventualities, it was the perfect gift, its corpuscle-red body seeming to pulsate with the love and positive intent of the giver. Yet as I now travel mostly with only carry-on baggage I can no longer bring a knife.
A journal might make a suitable replacement, although it could spark resentment if the recipient is not a natural writer and suddenly feels obliged to fill it. The heavy-bound red ledger that I was given before my first trip provoked that reaction in me, and it was only decades later, when it led to the publication of my travel books, that I realised how valuable it had been.
In my opinion the most useful gift for any reasonably fit traveller is a great backpack – the smaller the better. Again, you may not be thanked for it: most travellers baulk at the idea of a small pack. It’s as if they feel that bringing half of their possessions with them will somehow protect them from the uncertainties of the world.
A bag should be no bigger than 55 litres. Such a size can hold all the necessities for a hot or a cold climate, as well as half a dozen good books, some presents or mementos from home and, if required, a smart outfit for the time-honoured encounter with local dignitaries.
You might have to do without a third pair of footwear, but your body will thank you for the lessened strain. A small bag is an investment in the longevity of your knees and spine. With a 55-litre bag you can run at full speed along a train platform and duck inside a moving taxi with the bag still on your back. I know this from experience.
My trusty Waterford-made 50-litre Sporthouse bag has served me honourably for two decades. Unless packed to the gills, it fits inside any aircraft locker, allowing me the freedom never to have to check in luggage, which in turn leaves me with an extra 20kg baggage allowance to use if I want to bring something really special home.
If you’re looking for a small present, then the modern equivalent of the penknife is an MP3 player or a camera. I never travelled with such things until my editor encouraged me to buy a compact camera, and, although I was initially reluctant, taking photographs has led me to see the world in a new way.
I don’t carry a phone, as I wish to be disconnected from the outside world, but I always bring a little laptop, to assuage the cravings that kick in if I don’t get to do some writing every few days.
If you really did want to give someone something special, a gift that made storing photos, writing journals, checking information online and sending e-mails home easier, then a €300 laptop might be the ideal thing.
Wi-Fi is becoming more common in hostels and hotels in developing countries, and carrying a laptop means you have a great supply of photos and maps of your home and family to show locals. The awkwardness of a night in a Bedouin tent or a Hungarian bar where nobody speaks your language can be greatly eased with photographs of your local hurling team and sister’s First Communion.
manchan@ireland.com