As I walked through Customs at Japan's Kansai Airport last October carrying just 3.2 kilos of luggage, the officer looked at me astonished. 'How long are you staying?' 'Two weeks.' 'Is that really all you're carrying?' 'Yes I like to travel light.'
We all play games with ourselves. It's fun and it can even be rewarding. The game I'm obsessed with at the moment is taking as little luggage as possible when I travel. I dare myself to leave out something I've always taken before. Soap and shampoo. Spare glasses.
Each trip, I like to take less than the previous trip. I'm flying to Christchurch on Saturday. I don't think I'll be able to get it down to less than 3.2 kilos, as I've got some work and need to take the laptop rather than my iPad mini. But I'll leave out a few other things and enjoy trying.
My secret is to use kitchen scales (not luggage scales) and a spreadsheet on my computer. And to constantly remind myself that every gram counts. I'll pack my door key for my return home - 6 grams - but not its ring and pouch - a further 20.
Most people take anything they think they might use. I leave out anything I believe I might not use.
If I really need it, I can always buy it. In Kyoto I was irritated by long fingernails so I spent $4 on clippers.
For the last couple of trips, I've taken my ultra lightweight plastic pancho style raincoat. It's 70 grams that I've never used, so I won't take it again. I'm tempted not to bring my umbrella. But I always use that, so it's worth 146 grams.
The big one is a change of clothes. Not needed. I've tested this advertising claim: 'Icebreaker merino resists odour naturally, and can be worn for days - even weeks - without washing'. It's true. However I can't quite come at leaving out a second pair of socks and underpants.
The dividends of my smug obsession are obvious. No checked luggage fee on budget airlines and an extra spring in my step when I've checked out of my accommodation and have a few hours to explore the city before my next departure. My total luggage weighs less than the average traveller's daypack.
They're also less obvious. A spiritual sense of detachment from 'things'. Not to be underrated.