Packing for the tropics: somewhere between sensible and slightly unhinged

After my trip to Iceland earlier this year, where packing seemed to involve enough clothes, shoes and contingency plans to survive a polar expedition, I thought packing for a hot and humid destination like Indonesia would be a walk in the park. A few bikinis, some flip-flops, a bottle of sunscreen and perhaps a wrap skirt for visiting temples. Then I started preparing. And discovered there was quite a bit more to packing for four weeks in the tropics than I’d imagined. Especially when that preparation included trekking poles, a complete phone-in-volcano-prevention system and the contents of a small field hospital. Choices would have to be made. Also: packing cubes.

By the time I’d finished preparing for this trip, I’d discovered that packing for the tropics isn’t about cramming as little as possible into a suitcase. It’s about deciding which problems you’re realistically trying to solve. Heat and humidity? Easy enough. Volcanoes, jungle trekking, boat trips, temples, tropical downpours and somehow keeping an expensive phone alive? Slightly more complicated.

If you’re looking for a printable checklist, you can download my complete tropical packing list below. In this article, I’ll explain why each category made it into my suitcase. I was going to explain why a surprising number of perfectly sensible items stayed at home but since I ending up packing everything but the kitchen sink: maybe not.

Before you pack: think about the trip you’re actually taking

Photos of Bali could easily give you the impression that Indonesia consists mainly of lying on a beach, wandering from the beach to the swimming pool, from the pool to the restaurant, and from the restaurant to the cocktail bar. In that case, a bikini, a pair of flip-flops and a cover-up would be all you need.

That is, however, not the Indonesia itinerary we planned. Ours includes volcano hikes at dawn, jungle treks, waterfall hikes, temple visits and, of course, the cycling tours that I apparently cannot escape. Doing all of that in a bikini would be frowned upon at best, and downright dangerous or illegal at worst. I was going to need quite a lot of gear. More importantly, I was going to have to pack it in such a way that I wouldn’t need to ship a container to Indonesia weeks before we left.

If your itinerary includes fewer hikes and more beach days, feel free to skip the bad-weather gear, the stop-my-phone-from-disappearing-into-a-volcano system and at least some of the shoes.

Clothes: surviving heat, humidity and surprise downpours

Packing for Indonesia turned out to be less about bringing lots of clothes and more about bringing the right ones. Heat and humidity are a given. Depending on your itinerary you may also find yourself standing on a volcano before sunrise, sheltering from a tropical downpour or visiting a temple where beachwear is definitely not appreciated.

I packed lightweight, breathable fabrics that dry quickly. I did this mostly because I had no intention of carrying a month’s worth of clothes around Indonesia. We plan to do laundry along the way, which means I could pack fewer outfits without making people wonder whether I own any other clothes. I also tried to avoid cotton wherever possible. Once cotton gets damp in tropical humidity, it has an unfortunate tendency to stick to you like an octopus. It also takes far longer to dry than technical fabrics.

Dresses and skirts are wonderfully cool in tropical weather, but mine always come with anti-chafing shorts underneath. Without them, my inner thighs may very well declare war on each other. This is not the sort of souvenir I’m hoping to bring home. If that’s too much information, lucky you.

For temple visits I packed clothes that cover my shoulders and knees when needed. A lightweight scarf or sarong hardly takes up any room and will hopefully prove to be one of the most versatile things in my suitcase. It can double as a blanket on overenthusiastically air-conditioned transport, an emergency picnic rug and, if necessary, a towel that I will insist was always meant to be a towel.

Although I’m travelling to the tropics, I still packed a fleece and a lightweight waterproof jacket. The fleece is for early-morning volcano hikes and aggressively air-conditioned buses, trains and shopping centres. The waterproof jacket is for tropical downpours, misty waterfalls and those occasions when the weather completely ignores the forecast. I’m hoping neither will be needed very often, but I’d much rather have them than wish I’d packed them.

I also packed a few pairs of longer hiking socks. They’re not exactly a fashion statement, but neither are blisters. If I end up tucking my trousers into them, they’ll be even less glamorous, but neither are leeches.

Shoes: how many pairs does one person really need?

Shoes turned out to be one of the more difficult packing decisions. Every pair seemed essential. That is, until I looked at the growing pile on the bedroom floor and remembered I wasn’t actually moving to Indonesia. In the end, I packed four pairs, each with a very specific job. My hiking shoes are for volcanoes, jungle trails and anything slippery. My trainers are for cities, airports and long sightseeing days, mainly because they’re the only closed shoes my custom insoles fit into comfortably. I packed supportive sandals for hot days when my feet deserve a break, and my Tevas for beaches, waterfalls and any activity that involves getting wet on purpose. Could I have managed with fewer? Probably. Would my feet have forgiven me? Almost certainly not.

If your itinerary consists mainly of beaches and resorts, you can probably leave the hiking shoes at home. If, like us, you’re planning to climb volcanoes at dawn, wander through jungles and chase waterfalls, each pair earns its place in the suitcase.

By this point, I was extremely grateful for packing cubes. They don’t make your suitcase any bigger, but they do make it considerably easier to pretend it is. They also spare you from unpacking your entire suitcase every time you want one clean T-shirt or a fresh pair of anti-chafing shorts.

The “don’t ruin the trip” essentials

There are plenty of things you can buy when you arrive if you forget them. Toothpaste. Sunscreen. A T-shirt because you underestimated just how hot it was going to be. There are also a handful of things that have the remarkable ability to ruin an otherwise wonderful holiday before it has properly begun.

The passport sits firmly at the top of that list. After accidentally driving to Poland without mine earlier this year, I now check that it’s in my bag with slightly more enthusiasm than most people would consider necessary. (If you’re curious how that happened, you can read the full Poland without a Passport story here.)

I also keep my travel insurance details, flight confirmations, hotel bookings and a copy of my passport together, both digitally and on paper. Chances are I’ll never need the paper copies, but they’re small, weigh next to nothing and have an uncanny ability to become useful the moment your phone battery decides it has had enough.

Medication belongs in this category too. Nobody wants to spend the first day of their holiday trying to find a foreign pharmacy because they forgot their regular medication. Mine goes into my hand luggage before almost anything else, together with a copy of any prescriptions I might need. If you take medication containing opiates or other controlled substances, don’t assume you can simply throw it into your suitcase. Some countries require a medical certificate or official declaration, so it’s well worth checking the rules before you travel.

As for payment, I never rely on a single bank card. I keep a backup card separate from my wallet, just in case one gets lost, stolen or eaten by an enthusiastic ATM. Mostly, this separate storage means Marc. I also withdraw some local currency as soon as I arrive. ATM distribution isn’t always as generous as it is in the Netherlands, and I’d rather sort it out while there’s one right in front of me than start hunting for cash when I actually need it.

Finally, there are the unglamorous little things that become surprisingly important the moment you realise you’ve forgotten them. A universal travel adapter, charging cables for every device and a power bank. My phone is my camera, map, boarding pass, translator and emergency contact all rolled into one. Keeping it charged isn’t about convenience; it’s about making sure I can actually get where I’m supposed to be.

What went into my hand luggage

My passport. My purse with two bank cards, a credit card, my driving licence and some euro notes, just in case. I don’t know which case.

Paper copies of our plane tickets, itinerary, insurance information, and the accommodation, transport and excursion vouchers. The latter carefully cut out and sorted into one envelope for each week. I am not kidding.

The medication I actually need, plus a few over-the-counter painkillers because flying. My phone, with its charger, and my e-reader, also with its charger. A reusable water bottle, because airplanes are basically deserts with wings. For the same reason: lip balm.

A clean dress, underwear and socks and a bikini, just in case my suitcase decides to spend a few days in Saskatchewan while I’m in Singapore. I’d rather be wearing fresh clothes than wondering what my luggage is getting up to. You’ll notice I haven’t packed an AirTag. I know they’re incredibly popular, but I’ve deliberately resisted. If my suitcase decides to spend a few days in Saskatchewan while I’m in Singapore, I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to do with the knowledge that it’s in Saskatchewan. It’s not as though I can pop over and collect it. Update: although we made the 45-minute connection in Frankfurt, my suitcase decided to add an extra day at Frankfurt Airport. I was really happy with the essentials in my hand luggage.

A toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant and a comb. Thirteen hours in economy has a remarkable effect on one’s appearance, and I’d quite like to arrive looking remotely human.

Earplugs, a sleep mask, an inflatable travel pillow and a lightweight throw to use instead of the scratchy airline blanket. And finally, my notebook and a pen, to jot down observations, ideas for the blog and the answer to the question, “Are we nearly there yet?”

What I left at home

The kitchen sink.

Everything else had a surprisingly convincing argument for coming along.

Download my Indonesia packing checklists

To make planning a little easier, I’ve created two free printable checklists for you to download: a complete Indonesia packing checklist and a hand luggage checklist.

The hand luggage version contains everything I wanted to have within easy reach during our journey. Although, if I’m honest, I still wonder how I ever fit everything into the backpack.

I created these checklists for our Indonesia trip, but while writing this post I realised they’re remarkably similar to what I packed for Thailand. If your itinerary includes beaches, temples, hiking and tropical weather, they should work just as well for you.

🧳 Download the Indonesia Packing Checklist (PDF)
🎒 Download the Indonesia Hand Luggage Checklist (PDF)

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