8 ‘Travel Essentials’ That Turned Out To Be Completely Pointless

Packed It, Regretted It, Left It Behind

Ditch the Packing Fails That Gave Me Nothing but Neck Pillows and Regret

I once packed for a month-long trip to Krakow, Poland for my CELTA course like I was fleeing a war zone.

• Travel iron. Check!
• First-aid kit fit for a field hospital. Check!
• Two backup shoes. Check!
• A folder so thick with papers it could stop a bullet. You bet!

By Day 3 in Krakow, the folder was gone. Thrown in a dumpster somewhere. I sure hope there were no identity thieves rummaging through those bins that day…

Oh, and that travel iron? Useless.

The adapter I brought from home didn’t fit anything.

And there I was, sitting on a single bed I had rented for the month, seriously questioning my life choices.

Specifically, why I thought I needed a neck pillow.

And a backup neck pillow.

Yes. I brought two!

It wasn’t just the weight of my overstuffed backpack that slowed me down.

It was the psychological load of trying to be “ready for anything.”

In reality, that meant being prepared for absolutely nothing.

For example, I missed the spontaneous market in Tirana because I was too busy retracing my steps for a lost power bank I never even used.

I stressed over my “emergency” protein bars melting into goo in my bag while ignoring the Georgian street food right in front of me.

Looking back, I wasn’t just overpacking gear. I was overpacking expectations, fears, and weirdly specific worst-case scenarios.

What if my AirBnb in Sofia didn’t have hangers?

Guess what? It didn’t, and I survived.

What if I had to attend a surprise formal dinner in rural Albania? (Still waiting on that one.)

If you’ve ever found yourself hauling around books you never read, shoes you never wore, or anxiety you definitely didn’t need, this article is for you.

Here are the nine things I thought I needed to travel.

Items I dragged through airports, across cobblestone streets in Strasbourg, and up way too many metro escalators in Kyiv, only to realize they offered me absolutely nothing but a sore back and some top-tier regret.

Let’s unpack it all.

1. That Travel Iron I Never Plugged In

In France, I once stood in a budget hotel bathroom with a slightly wrinkled shirt and a folding travel iron that looked like a rejected prop from a 1980s sci-fi movie.

I’d packed it with the belief that one visible crease would brand me as an uncultured American forever banned from every Paris café.

Unfortunately, I forgot one key thing: the voltage difference.

All I managed to do was trip the power and plunge my floor into darkness.

Turns out, if locals are not ironing their clothes daily, you probably don’t need to either.

Wrinkles fade. Memories don’t.

Save the weight and learn to embrace linen.

What to remember: If it requires voltage conversion, odds are you’ll never use it.

Pack only what plugs in anywhere, or better yet, what doesn’t plug in at all.

2. Backup Shoes That Wrecked My Spine

In Poland, I brought four pairs of shoes.

Four!

As if I was headed to Fashion Week, not riding minibuses and dodging puddles in Kraków.

The backup pair… the “just-in-case” loafers.

They were stiff, heavy, and chewed up my heels by the end of Day 2.

I carried them for three more weeks out of guilt, then abandoned them near a dumpster in Sofia.

You don’t need an alternate pair for every scenario.

Just one versatile pair that doesn’t hate your feet.

Function beats fashion when you’re hauling your life up metro stairs.

What to remember: One pair that works everywhere is worth more than three that work nowhere.

Your feet don’t care about Instagram… they care about cobblestones.

3. Emergency Snacks That Melted Into Cement

In Thessaloniki, I pulled a protein bar from my bag and found what can only be described as a sad, caramelized brick.

I’d packed a stash for “emergencies,” which apparently didn’t include the endless bakeries, fresh fruit stands, or 1-euro gyros on every corner.

Prepping like I was crossing a desert made me miss the joy of spontaneous, local food.

If your snacks are still in your bag by the end of your trip, they were never needed.

What to remember: Local food beats pre-packed anything.

Unless you’re heading into the wilderness, skip the granola bars and follow your nose.

4. Apps That Ate My Battery, Not Helped My Trip

I once had 14 travel apps downloaded before my first trip to Georgia.

• Four were itinerary managers.
• Three promised language help.

But, none worked without Wi-Fi.

In Tbilisi with a dead phone, asking a sock vendor for directions to my Airbnb in English and Russian. He understood neither…

What saved me? Google Maps, a notes app, and a solid translation tool.

Everything else was digital noise in a foreign language.

What to remember: If you need Wi-Fi to make it work, you probably don’t need it.

Download what functions offline, or don’t bother at all.

5. Travel Journals I Never Had Time to Write In

In Albania, I brought a beautiful leather-bound journal to document every “deep” thought. Because I’m a serious writer of course… lol.

But after hotel check-ins, language charades, and a commute involving two mini-buses and a boat, writing wasn’t happening.

I scribbled on receipts, sent voice notes, and forgot to take photos that would’ve said more than that fancy Italian journal ever would.

The intention was noble.

The reality?

Journaling is a luxury.

Capturing the moment matters more than how.

What to remember: Capture moments in the way that fits your energy.

That could mean scribbles on receipts, or just letting a story live in your memory.

6. Books I Carried But Never Read

Three books. One me. Zero time. In Ireland, I packed a memoir called Angela’s Ashes, a self-help book, and a dogeared Rick Steves’ guide called, “Europe Through the Backdoor”.

I read none of them.

Not even at the airport.

Turns out, sitting on a bench in an Irish village, watching locals argue in fast Gaelic is more entertaining than any thriller.

Unless reading is a ritual for you, leave the paper bricks at home.

Travel gives you enough stories for a lifetime.

What to remember: Travel time rarely turns into reading time.

If it’s not something you’d pick up at home, leave it on the shelf.

7. Packing Lists That Were Meant for a Cruise, Not Real Life

Before Bulgaria, I followed an influencer’s “ultimate travel checklist.” It had wrinkle-release spray, packing cubes, and something called “evening wear.”

I wasn’t cruising the Med. I was in budget hotels and Airbnbs with flickering lights and towel racks doubling as laundry lines.

No one was inviting me to a rooftop gala. I was hand-washing shirts in the sink and hoping for decent water pressure.

Pack for where you’re going, not for someone else’s highlight reel. 

Real travel isn’t curated. That’s why it’s unforgettable.

What to remember: Make your own list after your first real trip.

If you didn’t use it once, it doesn’t belong in your bag next time.

8. Guilt Items (Like Work You’ll Never Touch)

In Spain, I packed a USB labeled “writing projects” and a notebook for “business ideas.”

I didn’t open either. Not once.

Why? 

I was walking the Camino de Santiago, for Christ’s sake!

I simply carried the extra burden of guilt around in my bag like a Catholic penance.

A constant reminder that switching off is harder than it looks.

If it’s real work, schedule it. If it’s guilt in disguise, ditch it.

Travel isn’t your mobile office. It’s your reset button.

What to remember: If you wouldn’t take it to a beach with no Wi-Fi, don’t bring it “just in case.”

Rest isn’t failure. It’s the point.

What I Pack Now for Short Trips: 3 Essentials, One Bag, Zero Stress

Now I pack like I’ve been burned. One outfit for the weather. One backup. Something to sleep in. Phone and laptop chargers, flip flops, and a half-empty bag.

That’s it.

The rest? I find it on the road or realize I never needed it.

You don’t need to carry the world to see it.

Every trip teaches you what matters.

Everything else is just weight.

What to remember is simple.

Pack light, not trendy.

Protect your back, your sanity, and your sense of humor along the way.

So what’s the most useless thing you’ve ever packed just in case?

Second coat in July?

Extra shampoo? (I wouldn’t know. I’ve been shaving my head for years.)

Or maybe it was that leather journal still soaked in bad decisions and crushed dreams.