The more I travel, the better my taste in souvenirs

The more I travel, the better my taste(tāst) in souvenirs(ˌso͞ovəˈni(ə)r)

By Evelyn Hannon

In my 40s, as a newbie(ˈn(y)o͞obē) solo(ˈsōlō) traveller(ˈtrav(ə)lər), I spent endless time browsing souvenir shops in tourist(ˈto͝orist) areas(ˈe(ə)rēə) of towns and cities. It never dawned(dän,dôn) on me that if I shopped further(ˈfərT͟Hər) afield(əˈfēld) where merchants(ˈmərCHənt) weren’t paying big rents(rent), I could get much more for my travel dollar. Nor did I give much thought(THôt) to the size of what I was buying, and that I would have to schlep(SHlep) it around for the duration(d(y)o͝orˈāSHən) of my holidays(ˈhäliˌdā).

I learned and adjusted. But I also found that over time, the objects that beckoned(ˈbekən) to me changed as well. As my tastes matured(-ˈt(y)o͝or,məˈCHo͝or), my bags got smaller, and so did the time I spent buying tchotchkes(ˈCHäCHkə).

In my 50s I collected boxes from around the world. Not ordinary(ˈôrdnˌerē) boxes but ones crafted(kraft) lovingly by artists. These were small and fit easily into the nooks(no͝ok) and crannies(ˈkranē) of my backpack. The variety(vəˈrīətē) was delightful(diˈlītfəl) – silver(ˈsilvər) encrusted(enˈkrəst) from South Korea(kəˈrēə), painted camel(ˈkaməl) bone from Egypt(ˈējəpt), brightly coloured paper maché from Mexico(ˈmeksiˌkō), mosaic(mōˈzā-ik)-topped from Greece(grēs) and dozens(ˈdəzən) more were amassed(əˈmas) and displayed in my powder(ˈpoudər) room.

Then a funny thing happened. My interest in the collection waned(wān) while my grandchildren’s interest in it grew and so began a wonderful, new ritual(ˈriCHo͞oəl). Each time a child came to visit they were allowed to pick a box. Magically, my popularity(ˌpäpyəˈlaritē) increased as did their visits and pretty soon my collection had been divided(diˈvīd) amongst the little people in our family. Each gift was accompanied by a mini travel-story explaining where the box was found, who had made it and what that country was like.


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