Tales of a Backpack

Backpacking around is a western concept it so seems, but leafing through history books, the fancy colored backpacks have been an offshoot of many ways travelers carry their worldly possessions.
If a mother can carry her baby in a sling bag, I carry my baby, my organizer, my cellphones, snacks and my room basically inside my Adidas backpack. And is it heavy, nah, weighing just a ton, it is quite lightweight compared to the burdens that are invisible.
Yes, my backpack, has been a descendant of many years of practice. I did not carry backpacks in high school, I carried clunky shoulder book bags.
I started packing books in these bags in college. I often had to contend with no name bags, the ones where the English is misspelled, or those bought from the sidewalk vendors at a bargain. And later in the year of use, the backstrap gets ripped through and all my belongings just fall with a big splat to the ground.
That is why I so love this backpack now, it is an Adidas, in fiery hot red, with the trademark tri stripe decor and a rounded body. The sweet fact is I just won this in a raffle at the opening of a spa in QC.

My backpack is a symbol of all the things I carry through this lifetime, happy moments, challenging adrenaline surging situations, and foot dragging times, a bag is always there to accompany my melancholia, and to carry the fruits of my victory, from mundane items picked at a bargain sale, to books that secure my work focus and add to my knowledge.

And so, I go and I travel, and tell the tales of my ongoing travels.