He threw in some clothes and toiletries, and then gave up the rest of the valuable real estate in his pack for...books. Giant, hardcover Medieval history books. Not because he loved history or books all that much. I love books, but I'm not deranged enough to lug thirty pounds of them all over Italy and France. No, my boyfriend (now husband) brought all those books because he'd procrastinated on his term paper, and had to write the entire thing on the trip. The history books would serve as his portable library of references. He figured he'd have plenty of time on the trains. It became a running gag. You going to work on that paper today? A pause. Um...Let's get a beer instead. Of course, he waited until the very last week of the trip to get started, and wound up drafting furiously in the airport. Did he get it done? Yes. But from my perspective it looked very, very painful.