Too Many Pockets

Before I left the Shaky Islands, I bought myself a new backpack. Not the heavy duty, tramping kind, but one of those ones you can throw a few bits and pieces in, such as books and a water bottle, to use as a day pack. Excellent construction, robust fabric, and a plethora of pockets. Just looking at it, I can count seven, strategically located to be readily accessible. Provided I’ve taken the pack off and have turned it to face me.
When I was travelling here, it was carefully arranged so I could find anything vital quickly. Hah! I may have been organised, but gravity and the occasional jostle rearranged things. Or I had to empty a big pocket to find something that used to be on top. Or was actually in another pocket, like, in my trousers.
I have a pair of lightweight parachute pants, or so they could be described. Again, seven pockets artfully arranged to provide maximum storage for least bulge, assuming I’m not carrying really fat objects, or loads of small items. Two pockets are closed with Velcro, two with domes, and one with a zip. Great for confusing pickpockets. Or maybe it’s in my jacket.
My summer jacket has four pockets, out front where I can see them. Velcro and zips are the order of the day, and it’s a nice pale grey; which means that at night I’m fairly visible and dirt shows like mad. Either that or it’s in my shirt pocket under the jacket and sweatshirt. Actually, as it was summer when I arrived in Europe, sweatshirts didn’t enter the equation. But here and now, I still have the opportunity of searching up to 20 pockets for something I left at home. Just as well I’m not wearing the money belt – there’s another two pockets.
I’ve got my daily haulage down to a routine. Textbooks into main pack pocket. Laptop goes there too, if I’m off to McD’s to use the free internet (Galina doesn’t have internet, or a computer). Water bottle into the pack’s second pocket, along with any lunch. Pocket dictionary into a side pocket, and umbrella into the last outside pocket. I try not to use the umbrella, on loan from Galina, as it’s leopard skin print and looks a bit girly. Shirt pocket gets KGU (have I ever said its pronounced kay-gay-oo?) student card, pen and Kazanski map. Trousers get mobile phone and jacket gets wallet and keys. I can now find what I want in 5 seconds flat. Provided I stick to my routine packing. Then I do the Aussie haka looking for what I probably left at home. Or have hidden under a hankie.
Of course, because I’ve got all these wonderful pockets in the backpack, and I’ve just remembered two more plus its mobile phone holder I’ve stowed, I have to deal with zips. Lots of them. The three main pockets of the pack have double sliders with long tags to find them. The tags are sufficiently long that it’s possible to accidently close them in a lower pocket (done that) or confuse left and right slider. The zips, sliders and tags are all black. Naturally, I’ve opened what I wanted to close and vice versa, and pulled them together when I wanted to pull them apart. On these occasions, I start questioning the heritage of the pack, or my own intelligence.
The pack is sufficiently commodious to allow me to carry my books, laptop and laundry together, and still have room for a few groceries. However, I try to limit these juxtapositions – the laptop is heavy, laundry is bulky, and groceries often include milk. I don’t want my clean laundry or laptop to suddenly be ruined by a burst bag of milk. Never mind that the pack would smell like a block of cheese if I didn’t rinse it quickly enough.
I carry the pack with me most of time. Great for incidental purchases, stowing the extra clothes cold weather implies, and that’s what it was designed for – holding stuff. Most of the larger shops have lockers by the entrance, and my pack is an easy fit. Just remember to put the straps all the way into the locker. I once returned to my locker to discover my bag was trapped in the locker directly below. Naturally, this happened when my Russian was still rudimentary. The keys to the lockers have tags designed to remind you that you’ve got a new key – they’re HUGE. Hard to ignore, even with 10 pockets.
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