The Great Expat Cleanse: What You’ll Give Up (and Never Miss)

Minimalism by force. You’ll stop hoarding mugs, let go of your salad spinner, and wonder why you ever needed five types of mustard.

By Luna Dawson | Lokal by Luna

There’s nothing like an international move to slap the clutter out of you.

When we left Australia for Malaysia, I was determined to keep my “essentials.” My fancy citrus zester. My emergency drawer of hotel soaps. My slow cooker. Because obviously I’d be whipping up casseroles in the tropics.

Guess what didn’t make it? All of it. And guess what I’ve missed? None of it.

Welcome to The Great Expat Cleanse™ — where your lifestyle is forcibly stripped down to one suitcase, a box of regrets, and a burning question: “Why did I think I needed a fondue set?”

What You Think You Need vs What You Actually Use

When packing for expat life, your brain does weird things. Suddenly, every kitchen gadget is sacred. Every ugly hoodie is “sentimental.” You imagine needing niche items “just in case” — like you’re preparing for the Expat Hunger Games.

But once you arrive, you realise:

• You own 12 mugs but use one (with the chipped handle — the chosen one)

• The humidity makes your old cardigans feel like betrayal

• Your child doesn’t need 18 board books, just one you can read upside down while holding a chicken rice packet

Things I Left Behind (and Now Laugh About)

• The salad spinner. Because I now rinse veggies in a colander over the sink like a peasant and it works just fine.

• My rice cooker. Yes, I moved to the land of rice and gave up my rice cooker. And no, I’ve never cooked it better — the local brands are better, cheaper, and come with buttons labelled in five languages.

• The second blender jug. Who did I think I was? A smoothie bar?

• Seven throw pillows. Fun fact: in Malaysia, throw pillows = mildew sponges.

• Four types of mustard. And I don’t even like mustard. I was hoarding it like emotional baggage in condiment form.

  
  

You Know You’ve Undergone the Great Cleanse When…

• You carry shopping bags in your handbag and judge people who don’t

• You mentally price everything in Ringgit, even while visiting other countries

• You no longer own a junk drawer because your house is the junk drawer

• You give things away without guilt because you can’t be arsed packing them in bubble wrap again

Minimalism, But Make It Accidental

Here’s the thing: I never meant to go minimalist. I liked my stuff. My stuff made me feel... capable. Prepared. Stylish.

But Malaysia — and the heat, and the shipping costs, and the sudden realisation that no one cares if your baby’s swaddle matches your socks — taught me the beautiful truth:

You don’t need that much. Not to parent. Not to thrive. Not to feel at home.

You just need:

• A working fan

• A few outfits that survive both sweat and sambal

• Your child’s three favourite toys (two of which are plastic spoons)

• And maybe one chipped mug that reminds you of home

Final Word from a Former Overpacker

If you’re just starting out, still mourning your juicer or wondering whether to bring that pasta roller... don’t. Let it go. Say goodbye. Light a tea light candle if you must.

Because once you stop dragging your belongings (and your ego) across oceans, you’ll find something else waiting:

Space. Freedom. And a lot more room for things that actually matter.

Like unexpected friendships. Sticky baby cuddles. And a night market haul that cost RM20 and brought you more joy than any box from Amazon ever could.