Souvenirs

I don't really think of myself as someone who buys souvenirs. I have built a life around travel (not tourism, please), so as a traveler I am a collector of experiences not things. And when I do just happen to buy things, they are meaningful, not the kitsch that fills gift shops. Textiles, hand carved bowls, woven stories, small paintings by a local artist, a CD with local music, handmade jewelry, scarves, table clothes (for theme-night dinner parties, of course), household decorative items (so much better than buying something at Pottery Barn). In other words, artisan goods that support the local economy. I would have no less.

With nearly 20 years and approximately 40 countries of international travel under my belt, you could do some simple math and assume I've returned home with at least 3 items from each place (if you believe that, maybe you haven't entered the markets of Latin America). But for simplicity sake, let's just say it is 3 items, which means there are at least 120 things in my house that are definitely not souvenirs.

Putting aside for just a moment the sheer volume of stuff that comprises, I feel compelled to reflect upon the amount of time and effort it took to both find and transport each item. While I will be the first to defend the joy of attending a local market, there is a threshold where time spent in markets reaches its cultural experience absorption rate. I know this, because I have been the weary not-a-souvenir shopper in these markets when everything starts to look the same. I have visited some of the best local markets in the world --Chichicastenago in Guatemala, Otavalo in Ecuador, the streets of Cuzco, Peru and the Portobello Market in London, to name only a few. After an hour or so of perusing, it becomes hard to distinguish the patterns in the textiles, the uniqueness of the art work, or what I actually like or do not like. It becomes a vortex where there is an overwhelming desire to possess not just the items, but through them, the culture--solidifying the experience in a material object, or literally an objectification of the experience. I think Americans have a particularly unconscious weakness toward this desire; many Americans feel we "have no culture" due to the normalization of our pop and consumer culture worldwide (not to mention absorption and rejection of our immigrant and non-white cultures into the dominant U.S. culture --there is a whole other reflection in here that I will save for another day), so we become enamored of (and want possess a small piece of) seemingly more distinct cultures.

So there's that.

And then there is the transportation of the stuff. And as my two photos in this post identify, I have transported some large items. The 100% wool Egyptian handmade rug (see the allure?) and the guitar (that's another story, but I will say the guitar was free), actually cost me extra money to transport. And the Egyptian rug came back with me to Ecuador, where I was then living. And then I moved back to Minnesota, another transport fee. And then I hauled it out to DC. Now ask me how many floors it laid on? How many feet it warmed? Zero. It has been rolled up since I bought it in 2000.

I sold these two items last night. After over 10 years of hauling two large unused items around the world with me, I sold them for a total of $225. After factoring the real cost, plus the time and energy to deal with them, I won't bother to factor the small percentage of money I recouped. And I can never recoup the time or trouble.

Whether handicraft or artisan goods, the collection and maintenance of these better-than-souvenirs has at various moments consumed me, versus me them (to use the common lexicon for purchasing). I want to be clear, however, that I do not think that every one of these items or purchases was bad or destructive. This is all about motivation and intention. Moving forward, it is important for me to bring a consciousness and honesty to my purchases as I continue to travel.

I am headed to Italy and Norway for the month of May. I look forward to putting into practice the increased awareness and humility this reflection has given me. I'll let you know how it goes.