So What's It Like to Travel? Vanity & Hygiene

When you are on an extended journey such as I am and experiencing vastly different cultures, facing constant newness, and dealing with daily challenges, you seek ways to maintain normalcy. One of the few places that you can exert control is on your own person. Therefore, vanity and hygiene take on an interesting significance and the ways in which both manifest themselves are indicators of one's state of mind.

Because we take with us wherever we go a measure of vanity, packing for a vacation means selecting clothes that are fashionable as well as functional. A two week jaunt at a beach resort means a wardrobe that assures you will always look your best. But as the length of the trip expands the number of clothes more utilitarian than cute increases. Thus, a trip of my duration means that I frequently look like a dip. Especially when it is unbearably hot, but I’m trying to be culturally correct. At first, this really bothered me. It hasn’t been that long since I finally believed in my own attractiveness. So when someone viewing the picture of my family expresses amazement that that hot woman in there is really me, I am peeved. I know that I’m looking nerdy, buddy, lay off!

I have confirmed what I have long suspected, that my self-confidence about my appearance is largely based upon the lushness of my hair and the curve of my body. So when my hair is pulled back into a tidy, school-marmish bun or a braid or is totally frizzed out and showing signs of a desperately-needed haircut -- which I won’t let anyone abroad do – and the curves are intentionally hidden, I don’t feel anything but nerdy. And I fairly certain that's a true assessment of my appearance. So my only recourse is to hope that my vivaciousness prevails and live with it. Deborah the Dip Does Asia.

However, I can still be clean. Well, actually that’s not completely true. Roads are muddy, food drops on shirts, hot weather makes for dirty necks, and there’s no laundrymat nearby and not enough time for handwashed clothes to dry before leaving tomorrow. Sometimes travel requires a loosening of hygiene standards. I now accept that my jeans/sarong are a walking napkin.

I’ve developed several scales to monitor vanity and hygiene. Here’s the first, the Vanity Scale. I confess I've gone up to #4.

1 = Vanity rules! Clothes are clean and match. Sporting lipstick and nail polish.
2 = Shirt dirty, but still wearing lipstick.
3 = Shirt dirty, no lipstick, but feet are clean.
4 = Wearing the same thing awake or asleep.
5 = Coin dropped in coffee cup as sitting on a park bench.

As for the ultimate indicator of hygiene, I offer the Underwear Scale. I'm not telling where I am on this one, but it's probably worse than you think you'd do.

1 = Clean underwear daily.
2 = Change of underwear dependent on showering status.
3 = Turning used underwear inside out.
4 = Liberal use of panty liners.
5 = What underwear?!

There are many times when the clothes you are wearing are not the clothes you wish to be wearing and there's no handy place to change, so you do it where you are. And, as discussed in A Hostel Environment, the word "modesty" can not be used in the same sentence as "hostel" unless the words "lack of" are also used.

The final word in managing hygiene is the situation with the bathrooms. Generally, I've been able to find one when I need one, but You Can't Always Get Want You Want (thank you, Mick Jagger). Thus I offer the Toilet Scale:

1 = No problem.
2 = Some problem.
3 = Holding up.
4 = Holding my nose.
5 = Holding it until I return.

With regard to vanity and hygiene, I am amused by the degree to which I let things go. Sure there are things I don't compromise on -- yet. For example, clean sheets and towels are a must. But clean clothes? Would be nice, but isn't always possible. Polished nails? Now only as a treat. Lipstick? Nah, chapstick will do some of the time. But the earrings have only been taken off in Saigon where reportedly motorcycle thieves drive by and rip them off of you. For some reason, the earrings are my last statement about being "well put together."

So, picture Deborah wandering the world looking proper but dumpy. But not to worry, when I've hit a vanity low, my self-esteem can always be rescued by the ever-popular and over-discussed -- all together now -- leopard capris pants!