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 Art of Buying Souvenirs |
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| introducinlyric |
 Nov 12 2008, 02:02 AM
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Rolling Stone
Group: Local Expert
Posts: 4719
Joined: 24-May 07
From: Sydney, Australia
Member No.: 56605
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Here's another article from Ben Groundwater
The art of buying souvenirs by Ben Groundwater
Jan, the slightly batty Danish woman from a few compartments down, looking kind of bemused.
"Don't tell me you actually bought one of those things," she said, pointing at my girlfriend's hat, a magnificent specimen of dubious quality and authenticity, acquired about 10 minutes previously from an old woman on a Mongolian train platform.
"Yeah, I love it," my girlfriend replied, parading up and down the carriage like she was wearing a Melbourne Cup fascinator, rather than the odd wool-and-velvet contraption she currently had perched on her melon.
"But ... What are you actually going to do with it?"
"I dunno," the GF shrugged. "But I couldn't pass it up - look at it!"
Batty Danish Jan did just that. "Well, as long as you're happy with it," she said.
And that's just the thing. She was.
Up until about four years ago, I'd barely bought a single souvenir. (I only learned to spell the word a few months ago.)
It was partly because I was mostly doing long trips and didn't want to carry the extra crap; but mostly, I had no interest in them, and didn't want to "waste" my money. It all seemed a bit tacky - as if you could sum up your whole experience in a country with a couple of fridge magnets and a wood carving.
Photos were my only souvenirs, and I was more than happy with that.
But a few years ago, during an ad break in the cricket, I was looking around my loungeroom, and I had an epiphany: I'd been travelling for almost a decade, through pretty much every continent on Earth, and I had absolutely nothing tactile to show for it.
That's not to say that travel should be about the amount of crap you can amass - the gathering of exotic bits and bobs with which to impress your uninterested friends. But I've figured out that it's nice to have a physical reminder of the places you've been.
A good souvenir doesn't have to be expensive, it doesn't have to be a perfect match for your new Ikea dinner set - the most important thing is, it just has to mean something to you. It has to remind you of something you did, someone you met, something you saw. And if it takes a conical wool-and-velvet headdress to achieve that, then so be it.
Since that epiphany, I've been on a worldwide souvenir-buying spree, and I've come to realise that there are two types of souvenirs out there: serious, improve-your-house souvenirs; and silly, where-the-hell-did-you-get-that souvenirs.
I've travelled with people obsessed with the serious ones, who've paid thousands to transport home wooden "Malawi chairs" and hopefully-priceless paintings.
That's fine - but I'm a big fan of the silly. When I used to work on tours in Europe, we'd run competitions to see who could find the silliest souvenirs on the continent - and as most of you would know, there's a huge range to select from.
Winners ranged from a fake mohawk in the colours of the German flag, to a Vatican City bottle opener blessed by the Pope (but really, in a silly souvenir competition, everyone's a winner).
I've got a few "serious" souvenirs lying around the house - some Peruvian pottery, a copper bust of Dzerzhinsky - but my favourites are the silly ones.
Somewhere along the line, I seem to have become obsessed with collecting silly hats - a passion possibly fueled by my mates' sporadic silly-hat-themed poker nights. That spirit of competition has led me to scour the world for ridiculous headwear - if a nation counts some sort of outlandish head-related garment as part of its natural dress, then I'm there. And I'm buying.
I've got a silly beanie from Peru, and even sillier beanie/scarf combo from Turkmenistan, a fluffy Russian hat, a highly tacky emperors' hat complete with rats tail from Beijing ... and so on.
Actually, any dodgy item of national dress is fine by me. Crap T-shirts are another favourite. Even little nick-knacks that you can pass around to friends when you get home.
Local music is a good one, too. You may hate the music where you are, or you may love it. Regardless, go to a local music store and buy whatever it is everyone else is listening to. When you get home, all you'll have to do is whack it on the stereo, and you'll be instantly transported.
Just like I am every time I glance over at that magnificently hideous Mongolian hat. Batty Danish Jan can't do that, can she?
What's your favourite souvenir? Have you ever regretted buying one?
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Do You Want The Truth or Something Beautiful?
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| starlagurl |
Nov 17 2008, 11:07 AM
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Rolling Stone
Group: TP Staff
Posts: 14139
Joined: 5-November 07
From: Ottawa, Ontario, Canada
Member No.: 103914
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QUOTE(jeremystravels @ Nov 15 2008, 06:16 PM) 
Sand from the beaches and deserts around the world (Mexico, Jamaica, and Caymans for now, getting some from Egypt and Jordan when I go next year)
This is a great one. I don't have a collection myself, but my friend Matt does, and everytime anyone he knows goes somewhere, they bring him back some sand! He puts them in pretty little jars, with labels on each one. It's cute.
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