The Straw Hat

I am fairly proud of my ability to pack. I know how to reinforce things so they are not as vulnerable, and how to condense clothing so it takes up less space but doesn’t turn into a completely wrinkled mess. So when I bought the straw hat, I knew it was going to be a challenge to get it home, but I expected to be up to the task.

First, I wore it a lot. For two thirds of the trip, my straw hat sat on the bus seat next to me or rode on the under-seat compartment on the planes I took. The only reason it didn’t go to Komodo with me was because I had a chance to pack it well and leave it with the travel agency, thus put it at less risk.

For the final flight home, I spent over two hours packing. Most of that time was devoted to constructing a nest in the checked luggage which would support and cushion the hat on the way home.

The most interesting thing about my coolie hat was the reaction from the locals. Coolie hats are still standard wear for farm hands. Farm hands are still in the lower classes in Indonesia.

For an obviously well fed American to go around wearing some thing clearly picked up in the morning market struck a lot of people as laughable. There was a certain amount of pointing and a lot of smiles.

I knew quite well what people were thinking, even if they insisted on doing it in three languages – none of which I speak. I smiled anyway. I’ve always been a little iconoclastic.

As for the condition of my straw hat on arrival at home? I think I did remarkably well.