Camera(s) and accessories.
Film or video? - (see section on making a film/taking photos)

Other.
	Return ticket. You misplace it fifty times during your trip, it's constantly showing up when you don't want it, and it sits in your money bag like some great, undigested lump. Boy are you glad that you have it when it's time to go home.
	Passport. Make plenty of photocopies of both your passport and your visa and ALWAYS hand over the photocopies, not the original documents. In a few places (like Dalat) this may not be possible but keep trying until it's clear that you have no choice. If the police get involved (they sometimes confiscate your passport from the hotel receptionist just for fun) then you will have to buy any original documents back (they'll call it a fine). Bring extra passport-sized photos of yourself.
	Credit cards and traveler's checks. There is nothing worse in a developing country than the feeling of being as poor as the people around you. Bring a monetary buffer. Split up your money so that if you get robbed you will not be penniless.
	An international driver's license is useful if you plan to rent motorbikes. If you don't want to apply for one in the West (or you don't have a motorbike license) then borrow one from a fellow traveler, photocopy it, white out their name, put in yours, photocopy it, paste in your photo, laminate it, and voila. It costs about 63 cents.
	Dictionary. You can buy pocket-size ones in the local book shop. Because written Vietnamese is a relatively new creation, you may have trouble looking up Vietnamese words (see language section). The government boasts 95% literacy. If you get off the beaten path then you are likely to run into a large chunk of the remaining 5%.
	Maps. I used to buy them in expensive bookstores in the States before leaving. Now I buy them on the street in the first city I land in. They are actually much cheaper and often more accurate, if not quite as sturdy.
	Money bag. I'm referring those things that strap around your waist. You can try using the smaller ones that hang around your neck but you should know that the largest Vietnamese bill is worth less than five dollars so $100 travelers' check will translate into a brick-sized block of money. Be aware that thieves can lean over you in buses and other crowded places and empty your bag (by slitting the bottom with a razor blade) in less than two seconds.
	Three pairs of socks and underwear. Why three? One you wash, one you wear, and the third is a backup in case it's raining and yesterday's laundry just won't dry.
	Three shirts. You can buy silk ones for a few dollars in Hanoi. They are lightweight, cool, and take up very little room. Your skin will be dyed the same shade as your shirt for the first two weeks (blue, in my case).
	Two pairs of pants/culottes. - cotton, a dark color to hide stains.
	1 pair of (long) shorts (I prefer culottes).
	1 pair of durable sneakers.
	Flip flops for 1) casual wear 2) relief from fungus 3) visiting ugly toilets 4)killing large insects.
	Medication - 1) for you 2) for villagers.
	Shampoo. If you are fond of your hair, avoid Vietnamese and Indonesian brand shampoos. They will make it brittle, dry and harsh. Western shampoos are available but expensive. Bring a small plastic non-leaking bottle that you can refill. A concentrate will cut down on weight.
	Soap and detergent become one after about a week.
	Hair ties/deodorant/etc. Unlike some other backpackers whose unwashed presence I've had the misfortune to come into contact with, I don't believe that traveling is an excuse not to bathe for weeks at a time, to allow a crusty brown ridge to grow along your gum line, and to cultivate long, straggly locks that attract cockroaches at night. On the other hand, I also don't think you need the 432 assorted lotions and items that normally line your bathroom sink and cupboard. Use common sense and know that you can buy generic versions of almost anything you forget. Except tampax.
	Tampax. I'm sure some entrepreneurial soul has started stocking them since I left Vietnam but they were hard to find when I was there.
	Address book. You can "forget" this one if you want an excuse not to write to Aunt Martha.
	A note on razors. The Vietnamese are not known for having huge amounts of facial hair. You can find razors but there may not be quite the variety (or refills) that you're looking for.
	Sunglasses. Again, you can buy them. They can also get stolen so keep an eye on them if you have an expensive pair. If you do decide to buy some be aware that RB does not necessarily mean Ray Ban and ditto for all the other brand names you are paying an arm and a leg for.
	Bug repellent. This one is not optional. Mosquitoes carry malaria.
	Hat. The Vietnamese have developed and refined their conical hats over thousands of years. The result is lightweight, shady, cheap, and doubles as a handle-less umbrella in rainy weather and a fan in the heat. It can carry an amazing amount of market produce and floats if you accidentally drop it overboard. You will, of course, look like a Vietnamese. If this is a problem, wear a baseball cap. The men's version of the conical hat is a bulbous olive-green affair that looks disturbingly like a VC helmet. If you must buy one, be prepared for a less-than-enthusiastic reception if you wear it back to America.
	Flashlight. Vietnamese bulbs have the half-life of soap bubbles on a windy day. I once bought a pack of ten, only to discover that seven of them either didn't work or immediately blew out. A little pocket flashlight can come in very handy during the frequent power failures. Local batteries, by the way, last only marginally longer than bulbs.
	Pocketknife. If you're embarking on one of those long trips in which you will eventually be whittling down your toothbrush to save weight, consider taking the smallest pocketknife that you can get away with. You probably won't need the super-duper model with the saw blade and the magnifying glass. On the other hand, on a long trip almost everything you own will break down at least twice, so a versatile pocketknife can be worth its weight in gold. If you're going on a shorter tour, they are still useful to cut cheese and salami during picnic lunches.
	Sewing kit. You can buy one of those fancy ones with a lousy pair of scissors and multicolored bits of thread that break if you look at them wrong. Or you can bring one spool of tough brown thread, a couple of needles and the above-mentioned pocketknife. Or you can just use the dental floss in your toiletries kit and the sutures needle in your medical kit. Or you can pay one of the ubiquitous tailors twenty cents to fix whatever just tore...
	Toilet paper. This one's a no-brainer. Always carry some in your back pocket.
	Water bottle. Bring two if you can. This allows you to iodize one while you drink from the other.
	Iodine tablets. I've read in several source guides that iodine has a detrimental health effect if taken over a long period of time. I followed up on this question with the EPA, DEP, MWRA, and about six other accronymed government associations. I eventually found myself talking to a technician in a lab in Minnesota who directed me to a six-month military study on the subject. No adverse effects were recorded. Iodize your water if you can't boil it. It may taste horrid but it beats a dose of amebic dysentery. (Chlorine tablets do not kill giardia and amebic cysts). By the way, if you drop in the tablets and let them sit for an hour or two (depending on the tablets) you can reduce the dosage by half.
	Vitamins. Bring them and take them. I didn't and got scurvy.
	Books. In both Hanoi and Saigon you can buy second-hand books in most major languages. They may seem expensive compared to other items in the local economy (1 book = 6-9 bowls of soup) but remember, they are exclusively marketed to foreigners, at foreign prices. You can trade in the books you've finished reading, two for one.
	Raingear. This can be optional if you happen to be waterproof. A raincover for your backpack is not optional, however. In a pinch you can use a sturdy garbage bag.
	Zip lock bags. They have too many uses to count.
Optional.
	Compass. I make my living getting lost, which is why my friends never let me navigate when we're in a hurry to get to a new hang gliding site or contra dance. I found the compass less than useful in the mountains, where you find your way by asking farmers and going in whichever direction they point their lips. The compass did come in handy when I was on a motorbike on backroads - the compass was often the only indication that I was at least traveling in the right direction (sometimes there were no markers for twenty miles).
	Juggling balls (fillable). I had my mother make me three small cloth balls that I could fill with sand and juggle. The children loved it and it was a good village entry technique. If you're really into entertaining children, magic tricks also work. So does pulling faces.
	Origami. I use origami to the same end. I simply sit in a corner and start to paper-fold. Origami paper is lightweight and takes up very little room. If I get desperate I use it to write letters on.
	Life magazine (for locals). One or two magazines with lots of unusual photos (nothing naked) can provide hours of entertainment for almost any local you meet (particularly villagers). There are very few sources of outside information in Vietnam and even fewer foreign life pictures. Be prepared to answer a barrage of questions, either with your dictionary or through the ingenious use of sign language... "I returned to my hut to find my Giay family poring over the Life magazine I had left lying on my plywood bed. They were unapologetically insistent that I sit down to translate the impossible photographs - a Greek fisherman pulling a 1300 lb. fish; a Miata, shiny red and voluptuously curved; and a supersonic jet punching through the clouds. They were particularly interested in the photo spread about the Damms, a poverty-stricken family in the midwest. I tried to field their excited questions. "Not all Americans are wealthy," I explained. They tapped the old pickup behind a portrait of the sullen family and marveled at its size. "Some people in America don't have enough to eat," I added. They showed each other the half-empty coke bottles lying around the filthy bedroom. I pointed out the picture of the Damms all sharing a single bed. Several Giay reverently stroked the edge of the mattress, marveling at its thickness. We were having separate conversations. When they had thoroughly discussed the ramshackle house, the kitchen, the dogs and the useful trash lying around in the yard, they turned their attention to the family members. Why were their clothes and hair so dirty, their faces so unhappy? Perhaps their water supply was far away and they couldn't do laundry or wash. Maybe their fields were suffering a drought and there was no harvest. Or they had lost a loved one and did not have the resources to provide a grand enough leave-taking ceremony. I left my hosts with another magazine and retired to read the article myself. Why were the Damms unhappy? Their welfare check was late and they had made a fruitless visit to town to pick it up. The mother was addicted, on and off, to methaqualone and the father was abusive, overweight and unemployed. The article was gently sympathetic. I tried to conjure up a suitably sensitive explanation for my infinitely poorer and endlessly hardworking hosts, and failed." Excerpt from Hitchhiking Vietnam
	Laminated photos from home. This has the same purpose as the magazines. Be careful which photos you choose... "Flower squatted by the back door, watching the Mekong rain fall with patient resignation. I handed her some photos I had brought with me from America and sat down to help her through them. I had, with what I thought was considerable foresight, chosen only pictures that I knew would be of ready interest - a family Christmas shot and some close-ups of my favorite pastime, hang gliding. The women gathered around. They surveyed my parents' living room, discussing every detail. What a lovely place, they breathed. No, far too grand to be a house, a temple perhaps. "And this," someone pointed to the Christmas tree that stood off to one side, "so strange..." I tried to explain its shape and the blue-green needles that had no counterpart in the lush, big-leafed tropical Delta. They waved me away. They were captivated by the ornaments - the shiny red balls and airy straw stars - that hung from every branch. They must be the fruit of the tree, they decided after a prolonged argument. They were quite sure the balls would be sweet and soft inside, the stars brittle and bitter. They offered to give me a basketful of ripened guava if I would send them some Christmas fruit from America. I tried the hang gliding photos. This, at least, they could have no preconceptions about. I struggled to hold their attention while I leapt and gyrated through a long, tortured explanation; carrying this strange, triangular device up a steep mountain, hooking myself onto its underbelly, running like a headless chicken, launching and soaring like an eagle. They waited, listening and watching and nodding their heads wisely. "What," they asked at last, "is a mountain?" Excerpt from Hitchhiking Vietnam
	If you plan on spending significant time on a motorbike you might want to bring some tools. Again, unless you can't bear to part with the Craftsman set your daddy gave you, you should know that you can buy almost anything locally. If you are bringing in your own motorbike or bicycle, bring your own spare parts unless they are completely generic.
	Duct tape. I always carry it and never use it. It's something of a security blanket.
	Pens and paper and notebooks. In case you haven't noticed, I like to write. I put this under optional, although your parents/spouse/children/friends at home might not agree.
	Backpack. There are only two things you need that you should not skimp on - a comfortable pack and comfortable hiking boots. In steamy Vietnam you may not want boots, but if you plan on covering any real miles with it, buy yourself a nice pack. It's worth it.
	Safety pins.
	Twist ties.
Luxuries.
	Thermarest. It inflates itself, deflates into a surprisingly small roll, and makes for a comfortable night's sleep on virtually any surface. Don't forget a repair kit.
	Extra books. If you were going to spend a year on a deserted island and could only take three books, which would they be? I face this question every time I go on a long trip. I usually bring a desktop encyclopedia, a journal, and a book of assorted poetry. Then I spend my time yearning for an airport thriller that requires absolutely no brainpower to read and gives me a few hours of fantasy escape from wherever I happen to be.
	Inflatable headrest. The kind you use on planes. They fold into a very small package and make a great pillow. The Hmong have a habit of handing you a brick to lay your head on when it's time to go to sleep...
	Cup. If you're worried about sharing. It has other uses, but it's definitely a luxury.
	Toy games. They break the ice with village children. Also useful when it's raining cats and dogs and the bus you're on is stuck on the wrong side of a major river for thirty-six hours...
	Bivy. I brought a little one-person netted tent with me. It was slightly smaller than a coffin and folded up into an object slightly larger than a Frisbee. Although I used it frequently in the Mekong, I realized that almost every place, even poor huts, can come up with a mosquito net if you ask for one.
	Small calculator.
	Lighter.
	Rubber chord with mini clips for hanging laundry. You can buy them in most outdoor/travel stores. They look a whole lot more useful than they are. Now pile it all up on your bed and decide which half you're not going to take.