Souvenirs

Cape Town, South Africa

I love stuff. Picking it out, buying it, unwrapping it, admiring it, collecting it, giving it.

It pains me to think back on all the souvenirs I wanted on this trip, yet declined buying. Alpaca sweaters in Peru; jade bracelets in China; silver, chandelier earrings in Varanasi; wool blankets in Wanaka; Komodo figurines; little beach pants for my niece and sarongs in Thailand; journals made from elephant poo paper; a woven wallet in Bhutan, essential oils in India, sound bowls, magnets, tablecloths, wooden salad tongs, tea, soaps, ceramic pitchers, handmade tote bags, you name it. I’d come home with a thousand new pairs of earrings just for myself if I could.

The tangible take-homes we do have are small, flat, or daily wearables: maps, brochures, postcards, t-shirts, ticket stubs, coins, entrance bracelets, and the like. I bought a mini golden elephant that lives in the smallest pocket of my purse, which, when I’m rummaging through and land on it, makes me smile. It even set off the metal detector at one of our airport security checks. It made me smile then, too.

Twice we sent packages to the U.S. with things we want to keep, acquired at no cost, yet didn’t want to haul around for a year. For my birthday, the hot pot restaurant in Xi’an where we ate gifted me a Lucky Duck birthday coffee mug. At the end of the Hobbiton tour in New Zealand, each participant received a tavern-style ceramic mug to keep. The seashells we found on the beaches in Indonesia started our collection; we sent those home, too.

While I adore the experience of having pieces around me connected to experiences of other people and places, I know the stuff isn’t the valuable part, it’s the memories attached to them.

But I still really love the stuff, too.