Leave the Gun, Take the Cannoli (Packing For Rome)

Becca Dague Arcadia in Rome, Italy

Date

August 28, 2015
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One of my best friends sent me a text yesterday that just said: “How many times have you cried so far?” She knew I was packing, and for the record, I’ve teared up twice. Once was when I shrunk my favorite pair of pants in a pre-packing wash, and the other this morning when I forced myself to narrow down my lipsticks. Thirty-three really might have been a few too many, and if we’re all being honest, fuchsia was probably too bold for the Vatican anyway.

When prepping for studying abroad, choosing what to eliminate from suitcases and what to keep is absolute torture. Some things are easy—do I really need four boxes of tampons? (Italian women probably menstruate, so lets go ahead and eliminate those from the suitcase.) My One Direction cardboard cutout? (I don’t really think I need Cardboard Harry Styles watching me sleep with his lifeless shark eyes—better leave that here.) Other things present genuine dilemmas. Do I take the warmer sweater, or the one I know I like more? I’ve argued myself around and around in circles—comfort in the moment, or disappointment later on? Fashion or warmth? You might think, “Take the warmer—you’ll miss it if it’s not there!” But that case could be made for either sweater! If I eliminate one, I know I’ll be cold and wish I had it. If I eliminate the other, I’ll look back at pictures and wish that I had brought it instead. Major Major, I’m not sure we’re making any progress here.

Trying to get advice from other people is even worse. There are a million blog posts and youtube videos out there that give you advice on what to pack, what to leave behind, and what to take with you: so far, the average advice includes four tshirts, a pair of shorts, walking shoes that look like something a middle aged male nurse would treasure, and maybe a dress. If the video is geared towards winter travel, throw two sweaters into the suitcase as well. While these lists can be good starting points for packing, so far I’m finding that packing a year’s worth of my life into two suitcases is a lot more complicated than that.

For starters, a lot of this so-called “expert advice” is bogus. Not one of these videos has ever mentioned underwear or socks! How could I be expected to traverse the globe commando?! Even the advice that sounded brilliant at first has proved to be a grand sham in practice. If I use compression bags to squeeze two times the amount of clothing into one suitcase—surprise! It’s going to weigh twice as much, which means I’ll pay through the nose at the check-in counter at the airport. Better to just pack a suitcase normally to avoid having to give the airport an arm, a leg, and my first born child in exchange for transporting my luggage. And the travel youtuber’s assurance that running shoes work as both a day time tourist shoe and transition into evening restaurant attire? That’s bologna, and I think she knows it. Maybe it’s a secret power play to make it easier for the locals to identify Americans in European restaurants! (Hint: we’d be the ones in the running shoes.)

The advice I’ve been trying to live by while packing is from the source of all wisdom: The Godfather. There’s a classic scene in the first film in which, after trimming the fat of the mafia ranks, Peter Clemenza says to another mafia member to “Leave the gun, take the cannoli.” If we’re applying the phrase to the scene itself, it means to leave behind the murder weapon and take home the delicious dessert. But at the moment, I’m using it to justify anytime I pack an item that’s not totally necessary. Want to bring 33 lipsticks? Go ahead! Take the cannoli! Need to justify bringing an extra pair of shoes? Cannoli it up! You’d like to bring a few holiday-themed pairs of socks? Well, ma’am, you look like you could use a delicious Italian dessert. Take that cannoli!

The point is: when studying abroad, it’s almost impossible to go completely by the available packing guides—not only because they’re all sort of ridiculous, but also because they’re ridiculously impersonal. I’ve lived in a Gollum-esque cave of anti-party introversion for most of my college career, so it would be a waste of space for me to bring a sturdy pair of heels and a first-night-at-the-‘Bachelor’-Mansion cocktail dress. But for someone who goes out every weekend, that would be a great use of suitcase space! So, when packing, I’m living by the “Leave the gun, take the cannoli” mantra and bringing the things that are essential for me, not just “The Essentials.”