Limit each traveler to the amount of luggage he/she can easily carry.

For us, it’s two pieces each, period. A 22” x 14 x 9” main piece of luggage that, on international flights, could be carried on if we chose. But we don’t. We each wheel that sucker up to the luggage check-in and let the airlines deal with it, especially if we have very many connecting flights. Add to that a small carry-on daypack for each of us, which can be zipped to the top of our main piece of luggage. That’s it. Whether we’re touring for two weeks or five, these are the only two pieces of luggage we each take. No more!

And we do not overpack them. Three is the magic number: three pairs of slacks, three long-sleeve shirts, three short-sleeve shirts, three pairs of socks, three sets of undies . . . . You get the picture. Throw in a wool sweater (possibly two), and you’re set. If you travel as we do – to see and learn about the culture – you don’t need a wide variety of clothing. One type of clothing will take you anywhere you want (or can afford) to go.  Three of each gives you one to wear, one that’s just been laundered, and one that’s airing out.

As you well know, airlines are piling on all kinds of extra charges for second bags, extra weight, etc. And since we’ve already ascertained you really don’t need that many clothes, it just makes financial sense to take as little luggage as possible, thereby incurring as few additional charges as possible. You can also save yourself tips by having luggage that you can obviously and easily carry by yourself. Struggling with a great whopper of a suitcase or corralling a multiplicity of bags and boxes is a sure-fire method for setting yourself up for a trip-full of porter tips.

Addendum: We have yet to try this, but I just learned this tip, which I’ll pass along. If you’re checking your main piece of luggage and are traveling with someone close – close enough to throw your undies together with no embarrassment – mix your clothes. Some of his trousers, some of your slacks, some of his shirts, some of yours, some of his undies, some of yours. You get the picture. If the airlines lose one piece of luggage and not the other, you’ll both have enough clothes to keep touring.

Pack what you can’t live without for two days in your carry-on.

This isn’t new information if you’ve done much traveling anywhere, but it’s particularly applicable to foreign travel. There’s just no accounting for where luggage ends up sometimes. There’s also no accounting for why it takes so long to catch up with you. There’s no accounting for how much out-of-pocket expense you might spend to replace your stuff. And there’s no accounting for the convoluted logic the airline will use to avoid reimbursing you for expenses you incurred when it lost your luggage.

This is another one of those hard-learned lessons. We left our coats, cameras, and toiletries in our checked luggage one trip – the only trip when our luggage’s ETA turned out to be a trifle later – as in two DAYS – than ours. We were dead in the water those two days of that trip – the shortest of all the trips we’ve taken, wouldn’t you know.

Lesson learned: pack anything that would be impossible or next-to-impossible to replace (my husband’s CPAP machine for his sleep apnea, for example) or anything that would be very expensive to replace (a whole cache of toiletries and medicines, digital camera, or smart phone). We each throw in an extra set of undies, jacket, hat, and camera in our carry-on daypack, and we’re set. We don’t miss a beat while the folks at American Airlines are trying to figure out where they sent our luggage.