Among My Souvenirs

By Georgie McIrvin

Souvenir n. item kept as a remembrance of something or someplace. The careful selection of souvenirs is a critical part of any trip. These are the tangibles that jump-start your memory of priceless bits of trivia. These enable you to relive that special vacation experience over and over..

Since I love to travel, I have a display unit built into my hallway just to hold my souvenirs. Each was chosen with time consuming care, as I wanted to be sure it would trigger the total experience. I long ago realized that tee shirts fade and get discarded, so you'll not find any of them. Join me as I take down some vacation memories from the shelf.

Here is a paper-mache figure that looks like Juan Valdez with his coffee picking basket hanging around his neck. Not much to look at unless you were with me in Costa Rica and saw the massive fields of coffee plants where individuals hand pick each bean one at a time. When I look at this, I see the volcano in the background; I hear the piercing call of howler monkeys; I feel the lush greenness of rain forest; I hear the children's voices laughing and singing in the lantern parade on Independence Day.

The seashells, I collected at low tide on the North Sea at Cleethorpe, England. The extensive flowers beds that bordered the beach were colored by Technicolor. A couple, with a big brown dog, threw a ball onto the sea. The water was very cold. The dog quivered with anticipation, wanting to please and not wanting to venture into the frigid water. We had fish and chips at the local pub, where the pink cheeked, red-haired waitress posed for a snapshot in her scullery maid costume.

We were on a languid rafting trip near Ocho Rios, Jamaica. The raft was constructed of long bamboo poles lashed together with vines. We lounged on a crude seat built in the rear, while the raft was being poled down the river by the Jamaican gondolier up front. As we came to a bend in the river, a teen age boy threw an exact replica of the raft, about nine inches long, into the river near us. He dove in and swam out to meet us shouting, "five dollars". It now sits on my travel shelf.

Some souvenirs just call out to you. For instance, the rag doll with the straw hat, granny glasses, and gardening basket was sitting on the top shelf of a shop in a small village in Minnesota. I don't even like dolls, but she kept calling to me, "Take me home". I tried to resist, but she implored. Now she reminds me of my first glimpse of glorious fall foliage. Trees don't do that where I came from. I'm glad she wanted me.

Occasionally there is a souvenir that you go looking for. I have been a fan of William Wordsworth ever since I first read, "and all I once I saw a crowd, a host of golden daffodils." When I went to England, on my must see list was his home, Dove Cottage, and the daffodils. We got to Grasmere just one week too late to see them blooming, but in the gift shop at Dove Cottage, I bought a simple trivet painted with the golden flowers. I can still see the dark, gloomy rooms in which he wrote and the tranquil beauty of Lake Windemere, which so inspired him.

Some souvenirs have little intrinsic value. After completing my first hot air balloon ride ,west of Houston, Texas, we celebrated with a champagne breakfast in the landing field. The pilot's wife took the cork and fashioned it into a gondola, using the metal and wire clamp that held it in the bottle to simulate the balloon itself. It is a silly little thing, but it carries memories of the nervous anticipation of that new adventure, the silent drifting through the sky among the birds, the shwoosh of the gas burner when we needed altitude, skimming the tree tops as we landed.

These twists of wool yarn, I plucked from fences in the Yorkshire Dales. To calm my nerves as we drove down roads less than one lane wide or on the "other side" of two lane roads, I carefully cleaned, carded, and twisted the wool into yarn. The white wool could be found in abundance, but the dark was from a flock of all black sheep grazing in a pasture near the river. There we spread our lunch of cheese and tarts on a broad stump. The ruined castle on the hill was three stories high, but no more than 30 feet square. A little train ran along the river. Children waved to us.

This small replica of the Statue of Liberty looks just like every other one you have ever seen. But I bought this at a gift shop inside the Statue of Liberty. My companion had gone to climb up through the Lady's arm (I was too chicken), while I phoned my grandson back in Texas. "You will never guess where Nanny is calling you from. I am inside the Statue of Liberty." I also bought one for him, so we both can remember.

Sometimes, a souvenir is so special that price is no object. I had to think a long time before I parted with the price of a hand thrown, carved and beautifully decorated, signed by the artist vase in a potter's shed near the gateway to Rocky Mountain National Park. But when it speaks to me of snow in July, aspens bending in the wind, my first glimpse of a glacier, it was worth it.

So when you take a trip, think carefully about what you bring back as souvenirs. Make sure that it will access your memory bank, so that you can have the delight of doing it all over again. Still, don't forget the camera. Happy traveling!

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