Pico Iyer’s commentary about Graham Greene’s novel The Quiet American (see previous post) left me curious about something. And since my husband and I are in a mild state of panic about taking our 8-month-old on his first transatlantic flight tomorrow, I’d much rather babble about my curiosity on a blog post than, say, pack. (My worry: Baby John is teething again and will keep everyone up all night crying. Husband’s worry: We’ll have so much luggage and be so distracted by baby John that we’ll be sitting ducks as mugger-targets in Rome’s train station and have all our bags swiped.)
The combination of trying to figure out the minimum necessary to pack for a baby and Iyer’s comment that that he never travels without Greene’s novel got me thinking: what are the things that you, as a traveler, thinker, human being, never travel without? Iyer says The Quiet American is a kind of “personal bible” that he always has tucked into the outside of his carry-on when he travels.
I don’t have any personal bibles, but I do have things I can’t imagine leaving home without. As a writer, I obviously never travel without pen and paper. Pencils I do not love, so it’s gotta be a pen — preferably more than one, just in case. I’m also addicted to those little Moleskine journals — unlined and blank, with the pocket in the back — but to be honest I find a small pile of index cards to be one of the most useful tools ever.
And a book. Of course. I can’t imagine breathing without a book. Mostly I try to read something related to the place I’m going to. A novel, preferably, unless I come up with a travel classic like Thubron or Chatwin or Morris. Most modern travel books I find, frankly, too shallow. That is, they’re less about the place than they are about the bumbling adventures of the writer. I’m just not interested. But for a trip like this, that’s a bit spur of the moment and where I’ll be revisiting old haunts, I’m just as likely to scrounge among the 38 books in my to-be-read pile and take anything that looks interesting.
The ideas we take that could be cliches but that they’re real: curiosity, a sense of adventure, an open mind, a willingness to learn and be taught. The memorization of please, thank you, where is the bathroom, etc., in any language. A map.
But there’s one thing that I no longer carry and it still rankles, every time. The exciting prospects of travel dip a little with the removal of my pocket knife from my handbag. Now this is a stickler. Honestly, among anyone reading this, who used to travel without a pocket knife? I never did. I’d be just as likely to leave a finger behind as one of my knives. I’ve got a selection of them: the old multi-use and heavy Swiss Army knife that used to be my grandfather’s and really needs a cleaning, the tiny Victorinox flat knife set that almost as slim as a credit card and holds all sort of random tools (like an LED light and, yay, a pen the size of a toothpick), the lightweight knife with a jagged edge that my mountain-man stepfather gave me, and my favorite, the slightly heavy but small and simple knife with a smooth wooden handle that my sister and her Texas-native husband sent from Houston.
I really, really miss traveling without a knife. At home I’ve always got one in my handbag, ready to open packages, slice an apple, or pop out a tightly wedged battery. I’ve used it to whittle willow sticks for roasting marshmallows and for jiggling open the back of my computer keyboard. I never dreamed of leaving behind this simple little tool when I traveled until — well, you know. We’re just not allowed anymore.
It’s always one of the last things I do before leaving for the airport. Got passport, check. Got credit or debit card just in case, check. Got water bottle, yup. Got a book to read, always. Got knife? Whoops. I slide it out of the pocket where it usually jostles around with my lip balm and a few index cards, and leave it on the kitchen counter. Always with regret and not a little annoyance.
Pico Iyer was the most recent contributor to National Public Radio’s series “You Must Read This.” On Monday he elucidated — in beautiful prose only Iyer is capable of — 
