Pack like you're loading a save file

Every group has one man with a suitcase. By day three he's asking if the yurt has a lift. Do not be that man. One 40-litre carry-on is enough for a month if you're honest about what you actually use.

Boots are the only place to spend real money. Broken in before departure, not on the first pass. Blisters have ended more side quests than border guards ever have.

Clothes: wool, not cotton. Three t-shirts, two trousers, one warm layer, one shell. Wool doesn't smell like a gym bag on day two, which matters when the party shares a room.

Bring cash in small notes, paper copies of everything, a cheap backup phone if the main one might be inspected, a book, and earplugs. Someone in the party snores like a diesel engine — and it might be you.

Leave at home: the drone, the tripod, the six lenses, the supplements, the opinions you formed from a documentary. The place will correct you within 48 hours anyway.

Travel light. You can't outrun a border queue with a suitcase.