12 For 12: Things I Used Constantly During Remote Year

Mike Sholars
Go Remote
Published in
7 min readFeb 27, 2017
The kids love topical references, right?

Remotely Interesting: 12 For 12 is a series of a dozen articles covering everything I learned during my time in Remote Year. Are you putting together a packing list for your next trip? READ THIS. I mean, I guess you’re already reading this? KEEP READING THIS.

It’s very easy to over-pack for Remote Year. Hilariously, astoundingly easy. But on the other side of that coin is a question every prospective digital nomad needs to answer: What will I hate myself for leaving behind?

Some of these items are mundane, others are personal. All of them make me feel exactly like the entitled millennial I try not to be. But if you want a look at my daily life during RY — and if you’re preparing your own packing list — these items are the best way to know what I couldn’t go without.

Every day, I struggle to use non-Always Sunny gifs. Every day, I fail.

1. Google Chromecast

There. Will. Be. Downtime.

Whether you’re a party monster or a glorified hermit, you’re doing this for 365 days. You’ll get sick, you’ll get tired, you’ll just want some alone time. And the comfort of being able to project your shows/music onto a screen cannot be overstated.

From group screenings of shows and movies to background noise as I worked, my Chromecast has paid for itself several times over.

2. Stick Deodorant

I’m not bragging about understanding the very basics of hygiene; stick deodorant is rare around the world.

Europe seems to prefer aerosol sprays, but I lived through the AXE wars of the early 2000s. I can’t go back to that.

Asia, in turn, goes for liquid/gel roll-on deodorant, which has the winning combo of soaking your entire armpit while not doing anything about smell.

It’s the little things that sneak up on you. Prepare ahead and pack extra. You’ve been warned.

So, this exists? The internet is weird, y’all.

3. Multivitamin Pills

It is really easy to lose all semblance of a balanced diet while travelling. Are you in a country with non-potable water? That means you need to steer clear of any uncooked vegetables.

Suddenly you haven’t eaten a carrot in a month and you look like a vampire at sunrise.

So if you literally have trouble feeding yourself real meals (like me), invest in a tub of 200 pills and thank yourself later.

4. Baking Soda

A super effective face wash. Toothpaste in a pinch. Teeth whitener if you mix it with charcoal. Even a deodorant and a shampoo when you’ve got no other options. Put it in a sock and shove it in a shoe; your shoe smells fresh.

Remote Year makes everyone a little bit MacGyver-meets-Martha Stewart, and my full conversion into a Guy Weirdly Enthusiastic About Baking Soda is proof to that.

Sometimes the jokes write themselves.

5. My Netflix Account

First off, international Netflix is fascinating, and everyone should try it through VPN. If you haven’t been sucked into a Korean soap opera, you don’t know what true drama is. I watched a man fall in love with a mermaid and it changed me.

Like I said before, there will be downtime. There may even be boredom. But most of all, there will be a need for comfort. Remote Year can be hard and alienating and lonely at times. And those were the moments where I decided to binge Brooklyn 99 just to have a slice of my (intensely pop culture-focused) life back home for a moment.

6. A Toiletry Organizer

You will pack and unpack all of your worldly possessions at least a dozen times in RY. Far more if you factor in all of your weekend excursions and side trips. So my “put my toiletries into a plastic bag” strategy fell apart as quickly as the bag itself did.

Get a toiletry organizer. Preferably one that can unzip to hang from a hook. Some people don’t need to be told things like “keep your belongings together like an adult,” but some people aren’t me.

Also: Screw this movie.

7. Super Glue

Everything breaks. Sometimes in dazzlingly stupid ways, like the time I somehow snapped my glasses in half inside an open toilet bowl.

The strap to my laptop bag broke during my first month in Remote Year, but due to South America’s restrictive and unreliable shipping situation, there was no way for me to get a replacement. I’ve been walking around with a superglued laptop bag for almost a year with no issues.

Like I said: RY turns you into MacGyver.

8. Electrical Tape

Mountains will turn to sand, empires will fall, and every single one of your USB cords and charging cables will become frayed and exposed. Nothing escapes the inexorable march of time.

After months of travel, wear and tear, and constant spooling and unspooling, I do not own a single cord or cable that isn’t tipped with electrical tape. Same goes for my chargers.

For whatever reason, tape be shockingly hard to find when you need it the most, so pack it before you leave. Your gadgets will thank you.

My approach to life problems.

9. A Spotify Premium Account

I need music to survive. I can’t write without it, I can’t stand being in a silent room, and I may have a functional addiction to the Hamilton soundtrack. This one is a no-brainer, but it can be easy to overlook.

There will be times when you don’t have enough wi-fi to access YouTube or Soundcloud, or want a change from your iTunes library. Invest in Spotify (or your music streaming service of choice; they ain’t paying me for this) for long travel days alone.

10. One Hundred Chewable Pepto Bismol Pills

Honestly? I should have brought twice as many. I ran out before month 10.

Remote Year is a test of the mind, spirit, and body. But specifically, it’s a goddamn wrecking crew for your stomach. You could be the most worldly gourmet in your home city, but your stomach still isn’t ready, and nothing can prepare you.

Food poisoning and general Non-Fun Butt Stuff are unavoidable. The only thing you can do is be prepared. Pepto (or your stomach medicine of choice) can be used proactively and reactively.

I know for a fact there are some nights where I ate something really questionable, and the only thing that saved my ass was the medicine I took beforehand. For bonus safety, bring some charcoal pills along as well for when things go from bad to horrific.

Don’t act like you don’t know the song.

11. The MUJI Travel Pillow

It’s the best one in the world. If it holds up, I will use it for the rest of my life. I will be buried with it, and I will have an extremely comfortable corpse.

Five stars.

12. My Luggage Scale

The maximum luggage weight limit was a thing I never really felt I’d brush up against. Like the highest tax bracket, or paying country club fees, I thought these were problems exclusively owned and licensed by Other People.

Then I met Air Asia, and I understood how you could be charged like $40 for being .5 kg over a weight limit.

Travelling for a year with a 30 kg baggage limit forces you to make hard decisions. And you don’t want to be the person who has to abandon a pair of shoes and a jacket at the airport because they’re suddenly over the line.

A handheld luggage scale lets you plan, react, and wonder how you amassed so many tank tops in a single month. But the biggest reason to pack a scale (outside of becoming everyone’s best friend because of your stunning foresight) is for the moments where the standards change.

Remember Air Asia? After a year of airlines allowing a 30 kg checked baggage limit, Air Asia dropped it to 20 kg for our final flight. No warning, rhyme, or reason. Mass hysteria. Dogs and cats living together. And I alone, with my digital scale, was prepared for the coming weightpocalypse.

Be prepared. Do the math.

If you’re being charged $40 for every extra kg, you’re going to have a bad time.

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Mike Sholars
Go Remote

Writer, Editor, Aspiring Sellout. Forever A Member Of Remote Year Cousteau. https://about.me/mike.sholars