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I have been travelling since 1988. The first trip was sixteen of us heading to Germany for New Year at the age of sixteen, which was considerably more adventure than any of us had bargained for and considerably less supervision than any of our parents later admitted to having intended. Solo travel, however, is a more recent development: I started doing it properly in 2014, and by 2017 had settled into a pattern of spending roughly six months of the year abroad, most of it in Southeast Asia. I have now visited somewhere in the region of ninety countries, sixty-two of them alone. I am currently in what I think of as the preparatory phase of a planned permanent move to Asia in 2027, which will happen slightly faster if you use the affiliate links below. I say this as a joke, but only partially.
Over those years I have accumulated a collection of travel gear that would fill a medium-sized van. I have gadgets I bought in 2019 that have never left the spare room. I have a USB hub that requires its own carrying case. I once packed a portable water softener. I am not proud.
What follows is a corrected version of my thinking: the gear I actually travel with, not the gear I once bought in an optimistic fever and then abandoned at the bottom of a drawer in Chiang Mai. I have tried to be ruthless. These are things I carry, things I use, and things I would genuinely notice if they were missing.
A note before we begin: I travel solo. I am fifty-four. I spend a lot of time in countries where the infrastructure is excellent, the food is extraordinary, and the heat is absolutely unforgiving. My kit list reflects that. If you are looking for a comprehensive directory of every travel gadget ever manufactured, this is not it. This is just what I take.
Luggage: the foundation of everything
Before you buy a single gadget, you need something sensible to put it all in. I know this more definitively than most people, because it cost me two pieces of luggage and a considerable amount of dignity to understand it properly.
The main case
The first casualty was a hard shell spinner in Fort Worth, Texas. The second was another hard shell spinner in Bangkok. In both cases I collected the case from the baggage carousel to find spinning wheels hanging off at angles that suggested the baggage handlers had been having the specific kind of bad day they were choosing to share with the travelling public. The Bangkok one was particularly memorable: I remember dragging it across the pavement to my hotel on whatever remained of its wheel architecture. Not my finest hour.
I now travel with a Flymax soft shell suitcase on two inline wheels, and the wheel configuration is the detail that matters. The Flymax uses inline skate-style wheels: narrower profile, deeper contact with the ground, partially recessed into the body of the case. They are considerably less exposed to lateral impact than the spinning wheels that jut out from hard shell cases and snap under pressure. In four years of being checked into budget domestic flights, thrown around outdoor carousels, and subjected to every variation of rough handling that Southeast Asian regional airports can produce, they have not caused me a single problem.
The soft shell itself matters too. Hard shell luggage sounds robust until the moment it cracks, which it does, with surprising regularity. Soft shells flex. They do not crack. They accommodate whatever shape is inside them rather than fighting it. And if a baggage handler is having a bad day, they flex around that as well.
Inline-wheel soft shell luggage on Amazon →
The backpack
I carry a second bag for day trips, laptop duty, and overnight stops where hauling a full suitcase would be absurd. Mine is a fifty-litre travel backpack that opens flat like a suitcase, which sounds like a small detail and turns out to be completely transformative when you are trying to find your charger at 6am in a dark guesthouse room without waking anyone up.
50L travel laptop backpack on Amazon →
Vacuum bags and luggage scales
The scale in that photo: Portable luggage scale on Amazon →
Two items I resisted for years and now cannot imagine travelling without. Vacuum compression bags are not glamorous. They make your clothes look like they have been processed for long-term storage and smell faintly of the last hotel you stayed in. But they work. I gain roughly a third more packing space, which on a three-month trip is the difference between checking a bag and paying a frankly punishing excess baggage fee in a regional Southeast Asian airport.
Luggage scales: I know. Nothing says experienced independent traveller quite like standing in your hotel room at midnight weighing your suitcase with a small digital device. But the alternative is the check-in counter at Suvarnabhumi, where a two-kilogram overage will cost you more than the flight itself.
Vacuum compression bags on Amazon →
The tech kit
I am going to say something that may get me thrown out of the travel blogging community: most travel technology is unnecessary. Your phone will handle ninety per cent of what you need. The remaining ten per cent is worth thinking carefully about before you commit to carrying it.
Travel adaptor
I use a TESSAN universal travel adaptor that covers plug types across most of Asia, Europe, and North America without requiring four separate adaptors. The important detail is to get one with multiple USB outputs alongside the standard socket, because modern travel involves charging a remarkable number of devices simultaneously and you will feel foolish monopolising the only power strip in a hotel lobby because you overlooked this.
TESSAN universal travel adaptor on Amazon →
Power bank
Mine is a 25,000mAh unit, which is larger than strictly necessary and heavy enough to constitute a minor inconvenience in a day bag. It has, however, saved my phone on enough long ferry crossings and overnight train journeys that I no longer question the decision. A 10,000mAh bank is entirely sensible for city trips; for anything involving remote areas, boats, or rural guesthouses with questionable electrics, go bigger.
25,000mAh power bank on Amazon →
Headphones
I use JBL over-ear headphones as my primary choice on long-haul flights. They are reasonably priced, reliably good quality, and have never given me a reason to reconsider the decision. I do not have particular brand loyalty; they simply work, which is all I ask of anything I carry.
For situations where over-ear headphones are impractical, I switch to Samsung Galaxy Buds. The main one is the beach, or anywhere particularly hot: my ears, it turns out, sweat considerably when covered with large headphones in tropical temperatures, and no amount of audio quality compensates for that specific discomfort.
JBL headphones on Amazon → | Samsung Galaxy Buds on Amazon →
DJI Osmo Action 5
I started out using a GoPro for travel video and used it for several years until the overheating became impossible to ignore. To be precise: the camera would stop recording at inopportune moments in hot climates, which is exactly when you would be filming. It happened often enough that I stopped trusting it, and a camera you cannot trust is not a camera you want to take on a three-month trip.
I moved to the DJI Osmo Action 3, then the 4, and currently use the Action 5. There is a newer model, the Action 6, but it is not compatible with a number of my existing accessories, and the 5 does everything I need anyway. If something works reliably in the field, I see no pressing reason to upgrade it simply because a newer version exists.
A word about why none of this footage appears on the blog. I make travel videos for personal use only. As an introvert, I find it genuinely difficult to put content in front of public scrutiny in a way that includes my own face. It is also the reason most of the images on here are AI-assisted rather than photographs of me: it is not an attempt to mislead anyone, but the only way I have found to share my travels without the anxiety that comes with being the centre of attention. I love documenting what I see. I am considerably less comfortable with what happens when the internet looks at it. Those of you who have spent any time reading comments sections on travel content will, I suspect, understand.
DJI Mini 5 Pro drone
My first drone was the DJI Mini 3 Pro. I crashed it on day one of a three-month trip to Thailand. I had read that the follow mode would track a moving subject autonomously, which seemed like an elegant solution for getting aerial footage of myself on a scooter through the countryside. What I had failed to account for were the overhead cables that run alongside many country lanes in rural Thailand, which the Mini 3 Pro’s obstacle avoidance system apparently chose not to treat as obstacles. The drone held this position for approximately four seconds. The cable did not.
I am more careful now. I use the DJI Mini 5 Pro, which has considerably more sophisticated obstacle detection and considerably better instincts about overhead infrastructure. The footage it produces, when everything goes to plan, is genuinely impressive; the quality at this price point and weight would have seemed implausible ten years ago.
The standard disclaimers apply: drones require registration in many countries, are illegal in others, and flying near temples, airports, or national parks without specific authorisation is something you should not do. Do not attempt to follow a scooter down a lane flanked by cables. Learn from my experience rather than replicating it.
DJI Mini 5 Pro Fly More Combo on Amazon →
Security and the quiet peace of not worrying
I am not a paranoid traveller. I have been to places with genuinely elevated risks of petty theft and found that common sense eliminates roughly ninety-five per cent of the problem. The remaining five per cent is where these items come in.
Money belt
Not the kind that wraps around your waist and makes you look like you are smuggling a pancake. The kind that sits flat against your body under a shirt, holds your passport, emergency cash, and a backup card, and is entirely invisible to anyone who is not specifically looking for it. I use one with RFID blocking and have done so for years. I have never been pickpocketed while wearing it. Correlation may not be causation, but I am not about to test the theory.
Money belt with RFID blocking on Amazon →
Securing the case at check-in
TSA-approved combination locks are worth having if you are travelling to or through the United States, where security personnel are authorised to open luggage and may cut an unapproved lock to do so. Outside of that specific context, I would describe them as useful rather than essential.
My current approach at check-in is simpler: I put cable ties through the zip pulls of the case. This will not defeat a professional thief, but it stops opportunistic access and, more usefully, makes it immediately obvious if anyone has attempted to open the case in transit. On arrival I use nail clippers to remove them; hotel reception desks reliably have scissors if you forget. It costs almost nothing, takes ten seconds, and I have found it entirely adequate.
TSA combination locks on Amazon →
A good torch
I carry a small USB-C rechargeable torch, and I use it more than I expected when I first added it to my kit. Power cuts in rural Thailand. Finding the bathroom at 2am in a guesthouse without waking six other guests. Checking under the bed in a budget room, not because I think anything is there, but because I am that kind of person. Get one that charges via USB-C; the versions running on AAA batteries will fail in precisely the place where AAA batteries cannot be purchased.
Mini rechargeable torch on Amazon →
Health, hygiene, and staying upright
Travelling in your fifties is different from travelling in your twenties in a number of ways, the most notable of which is that your body will, at some point, stage a small protest. This section is about managing that protest with minimum fuss.
Vaccinations: before you pack anything else
This is not a gadget, and it belongs at the beginning of the list precisely because it is the thing most people leave until the last minute. If you are a UK resident, your GP surgery can administer a number of travel vaccinations free on the NHS after a straightforward risk assessment: these currently include protection against cholera, polio (as the combined TD/IPV booster), hepatitis A, and typhoid fever. Book these as early as possible; some require more than one dose over several weeks.
Vaccinations you will need to pay for privately include hepatitis B, Japanese encephalitis (relevant for rural Southeast Asia), rabies, tick-borne encephalitis, and yellow fever, which is only available at designated centres. Check the Fit for Travel or Travel Health Pro websites for country-specific requirements. Do this before you buy anything else on this list.
First aid and pharmacy basics
I carry a compact travel first aid kit and supplement it with a few additions: blister plasters, antiseptic cream, and Imodium Instants. I include the Imodium not because I am pessimistic about Southeast Asian food, which is genuinely wonderful, but because I am a realist about eating street food three times a day for weeks at a stretch. The odds will occasionally not be in your favour. Have the Imodium.
Electrolyte tablets belong here too. Dehydration in high humidity is sneaky and genuinely unpleasant. I dissolve one in a bottle of water on most days I am walking around in serious heat. It sounds like the sort of thing a personal trainer would recommend, which is not my usual demographic, but it works.
Mini travel first aid kit on Amazon →
Electrolyte tablets on Amazon →
Forehead thermometer
A forehead thermometer takes up no space and has, on two occasions in four years, told me something useful about whether I was genuinely ill or just dramatically convinced that I was. Given that the symptoms of mild heat exhaustion and the early stages of dengue fever overlap in unsettling ways, having an objective data point is worth the square centimetre it occupies in a toiletry bag.
Forehead thermometer on Amazon →
Mosquito protection
I am apparently quite attractive to mosquitoes. I say this not as a boast but as a statement of empirical fact confirmed by years of sitting next to people who emerge from outdoor evenings completely unscathed while I am treated as a buffet. Jungle Formula Maximum is the DEET-based repellent I use, and it is effective in a way that the citronella alternatives, which smell considerably nicer, simply are not. In guesthouses where the window screens look more optimistic than functional, I sleep under a mosquito net. It folds flat and weighs almost nothing.
Jungle Formula Maximum on Amazon → | Mosquito net for bed on Amazon →
Beach, water, and everything that gets wet
Spending six months a year in Southeast Asia means spending a non-trivial portion of that time near water. I have developed opinions about gear for wet conditions.
Waterproof phone pouch
Not a waterproof case for your phone; a waterproof pouch for your phone. The distinction matters because a case commits you to one form factor, while a pouch accommodates any phone, plus a card and some cash, which is the actual minimum required to function on a beach or in a longtail boat. Mine has been through conditions I would rather not describe and has not let me down.
Waterproof phone pouch on Amazon →
LifeStraw Go Bottle
I carry a LifeStraw Go Bottle, which is a water bottle with a built-in filter that removes bacteria and parasites from untreated water. In most of Southeast Asia this is not strictly necessary; bottled water is cheap and widely available. But there are places, particularly in more rural areas or during island camping, where reliable access to clean water is not guaranteed. The LifeStraw removes the uncertainty. It also removes the guilt of buying seventeen single-use plastic bottles a day, which, if you spend time in places with limited waste infrastructure, is something you think about rather more than you expected.
LifeStraw Go Bottle on Amazon →
Snorkelling gear
I bought a decent snorkel set with fins and have used it around the Similan Islands, off Ko Lipe, and along parts of the Vietnamese coast. Renting from beach operators is entirely possible, but the fins are invariably the wrong size and the masks invariably leak, and the whole experience is somewhat diminished by spending the first ten minutes treading water attempting to achieve a seal. Bringing your own is one of those investments that pays back immediately and continues to do so.
Snorkel set with fins on Amazon →
Sun, heat, and the ongoing negotiation
The sun in Southeast Asia is not the polite, conditional sun of the British Isles. It is a serious structural fact of daily life that requires a considered response.
Sun cream
I use Malibu SPF 50, which is not a particularly technical recommendation, but it does the job without leaving you looking like you have been frosted. I apply it every morning before leaving my accommodation and again at midday if I am spending time outdoors. I have been burned badly enough in Bali and in southern Thailand to have learned this lesson the hard way. Do not learn it the hard way.
A hat that actually works
A decent sun hat is not optional in serious heat; it is structural. I have a panama-style hat that packs down reasonably flat and survives being stuffed into a bag without looking completely disreputable. Wide brim, lightweight, and it does not make me look like I am about to judge a village fete, which at my age is a more pressing consideration than it once was.
Panama/fedora sun hat on Amazon →
Sunglasses
I wear Ray-Bans, and I am aware that this carries a certain amount of lifestyle weight as a recommendation. I wear them because I have had three pairs over fifteen years and none have broken in a way that was not entirely my own fault; because the polarised lenses are genuinely effective in strong tropical light; and because when you are squinting at a temple complex in Ayutthaya at 2pm in August, optical quality matters considerably more than you might think.
The Justin and the Aviator are both models I have worn. If you plan to be near water, add a pair of floating sunglasses straps; you will thank yourself the first time you lean over the side of a longtail boat.
Ray-Ban Justin on Amazon → | Ray-Ban Aviator on Amazon →
The flight: making it bearable
I fly long-haul three or four times a year, plus a number of shorter hops between Southeast Asian destinations. The accessories do not change much between the two: a fourteen-hour overnight flight and a two-hour hop to Krabi share the same basic comfort requirements, scaled to the duration.
Travel pillow
I held out against travel pillows for years on the grounds that they were fussy and slightly embarrassing. I was wrong. A good memory foam travel pillow in a U-shape reduces neck pain on overnight flights to a degree that justifies every bit of the mild awkwardness of wearing one. Get one that clips to your bag rather than inflating; inflatable ones are marginally smaller but noticeably less effective, and you will spend the flight enduring a very slow deflation that is dispiriting for everyone involved.
Sleep mask and travel blanket
Airlines vary wildly on whether they provide a blanket on long-haul flights. Some do, some do not, and some provide one that is technically a blanket in the same way that a sheet of A4 paper is technically a blanket. I carry a lightweight travel blanket that doubles as a pillow, and a contoured sleep mask that blocks light completely. The contoured shape means it does not press on your eyelids, which sounds like a small detail and turns out not to be.
Travel blanket and pillow on Amazon → | Blackout sleep mask on Amazon →
Earplugs and compression socks
Foam earplugs in addition to headphones may seem excessive, but they are for sleeping, when wearing headphones is not practical. I buy them in bulk and leave them in every bag I own. Compression socks are medically recommended for long-haul flights if you are over fifty and sitting still for twelve or more hours; I find this recommendation slightly tedious but medically sound, and so I comply. They are not interesting. They work.
Foam earplugs on Amazon → | Compression socks on Amazon →
A final thought on buying things
The honest version of any travel gear guide should probably begin with a warning: the single most effective thing you can do for your packing is to stop buying items and start using what you already have. I own, at a conservative estimate, at least a third more travel gear than I actually need, and most of it was purchased in moments of optimistic anticipation before a trip.
The items in this guide are the ones that survived several rounds of that kind of rationalisation. They are things I carry, things I use, and things I have replaced when they wore out rather than quietly abandoned. That is, I think, the most useful recommendation I can offer.
If you have questions about any of them, drop a comment below. I read all of them.
Most of this kit earns its place in the bag because of what it lets you do, not just what it is, and that pairs naturally with my list of the travel apps I actually use. If you are working while travelling rather than purely holidaying, I would also point you towards what solo travel has taught me about working remotely over 50, which leans harder on some of this gear than a typical two-week trip would.
A note on how I write: Every trip starts with a journal, filled in wherever I happen to be; on a bus, plane, train, or in a backstreet cafe that has clearly seen better days. It’s not tidy, and it’s not always legible even to me. When I get the time, I use AI to help turn those notes into something readable, organising drafts and occasionally rescuing a sentence that has wandered off without me. The experiences, the perspective, the humour and every editorial decision remain entirely mine. As for the photos, I’m not remotely fond of having my picture taken, family portraits included, so I also use AI to help visualise the places and moments I write about.
