Really? And How Are You Going To Get It There?

Over the years Mike and I have tried to keep as souvenirs of our travels something indicative of the region, small and light...something we find especially beautiful or useful or that just reminds us of the places we've been.  More often than not, I'm the one that strays from the path of reason -- although Mike has had his moments.  For example, that harpoon he had to have when we were in Alaska.  The shop keeper did convince us to ship it home, and it worked out just fine.  I, on the other hand, have been known to be unwilling to allow the object of my desire be removed from my "hot little hands" and have insisted that "I can get it home."   The results?  Some fragile, awkward, heavy, or unwieldy objects have made the trip home with us (OK, mostly with me) by ship, train, or plane. On occasion I have even tested the boundaries of the RV...glassware from West Virginia, or a pull-down classroom map from Kansas, but those hardly count against me.

An original pull-down classroom map at a ridiculously low price in an antique store in
Atchison, KS.  Getting this one home? No problem!  We have a 34-foot RV!  You get some
idea of the age of this map by how many of the countries' names have since changed.

Eons ago while in college at Central Methodist (now CMU) I had the opportunity to spend a month in England for a class between semesters. It was a fantastic experience visiting Parliament, Big Ben, the Tower of London.  And because my mother raised me right I spent any free time seeking out antique venues along streets like Portobello Road.  On one such excursion I came across a cut glass cruet set that I decided would be a perfect gift for my folks. Why I thought they needed a cruet set on the kitchen table next to the French's Mustard and the Heinz Ketchup I don't know but at the time it made sense. When I proudly showed my purchase to our adored sponsor, Mrs. Forderhase, an English Professor, she just smiled and shook her head, murmuring "Well, at least it isn't a wedding dress."  (Apparently, the previous year a young woman, who was not engaged, had purchased a wedding dress.)  Mrs. Forderhase admired the beauty of the cut glass and assured me that my parents would love it. The only caveat was that it could not go in the luggage.  I would have to hand-carry it.  This was  day three one of a four-week train odyssey...but those cruets made it home unscathed.

Cut-glass cruets from England, purchased 43 years ago,
still have a place in my Mom's dining room

Did I learn my lesson?  Not exactly.  A few years later while visiting with family friends in Mexico (holã, la Senốra Tola) I came across a potter in San Miguel de Allende who made beautiful ceramic tiles. One or even a half dozen would have been a pretty reminder of the trip. But if one wanted to use them....thus, I ended up with sixty.  Yikes, those tiles were heavy!   Yep, I carried my cumbersome cache through three airplane changes. Today I could barely lift them, much less carry them all that distance, and the airlines wouldn't let me on board with them, anyway. And where are they now? A few were set into the backsplash when we remodeled our kitchen some years ago.  The rest are still waiting for just the right project.

A few of our hand-made (and HAND-CARRIED) Mexican tiles
adorn our kitchen back splash

 There are those finds that are not extremely fragile or heavy but just awkward.  On a bus trip through Eastern Europe with my folks, we enjoyed visiting everything from ancient cathedrals to farmers' markets.  One day while in a small town in Hungary, while Dad and the rest of the tour group had lunch, Mom and I scurried off to visit the lively local weekly market in the town square.  We returned with a handmade basket used locally to carry vegetables. One thing about carrying a sturdy wooden basket-across hundreds of miles in a bus - you can put lots of other finds in it. Today that basket hangs next to an antique egg basket in the hallway arch at Mom and Dad's farm.

I don't remember for certain, but I'd be willing to bet that by the
time we got this basket back from Hungary, it was filled with
lots of other treasures from our trip

One would think that time and experience would teach a lesson.  But as we grow older we simply become more of who we are. I still have a penchant to bring that "prize" home - regardless of the momentary inconvenience.  While in the city of Hue in Vietnam, Mike and I had the privilege of observing a talented craftswoman create a conical hat that when held to the light tells a poetical story. The young woman sat on the floor and using her feet and her one arm, created her masterpieces. (See our January 14, 2014 blog  Nón Lá Cúa Viȇt Nam)  The experience of watching her create the non bai tho  (literally translated "poem conical hat") which is produced only in the city of Hue made it unthinkable that we leave without purchasing one (well, actually, two).  It was a bit inconvenient carrying them on the remainder of the trip and wearing them on board several different flights on the way home...inconvenient, but well worth it.

The inside of a conical hat.

Despite missing her right hand, this artisan weaves beautiful conical
hats, and can make about two hats each day

A "trademark" of the hats made in Hue.  When you hold them up to
light, you can see a scene "woven" into the hat - in  this case, a pagoda.

Too fragile to pack, I wore both of these hats, one atop the other,
on our flights home from Vietnam

Rarely do you get a second chance to buy a treasured object.  When you see "the" item that you just have to have, you need to buy it.  You can't say "no" to fate and you can't over-think it, no matter how illogical the purchase or the circumstances.  While travelling in the state of Rajasthan, in India, our group of sixteen stopped at Dastkar, a self-help initiative that provides jobs for skilled local women.  I had purchased a few manageable gifts but had decided against buying a lovely folk-art handmade quilt because it was very bulky and rather heavy.  But as we boarded our bus, one of the group had to go back to use the restroom, and we were told there would be a delay of about fifteen minutes.  Our guide commented to me that I could have bought the quilt and mailed it home.  Back off the bus I went; into the shop and, with uncharacteristic speed, bought the quilt.  Sometime later the same day, the guide told me that I must have misunderstood him.  No, we wouldn't have an opportunity to go to a post office, much less pack up the quilt for shipping. And no, it couldn't go in the bus' luggage compartment, since we were each only allowed one checked bag. I lovingly lugged it with me the rest of the trip.  More than once I thought our guide was laughing under his breath.  But, hey, it's okay.  I brought it all the way home on the plane and I still think it is lovely.

My quilt from India

Working on a quilt. These women can sit like this
for hours while they work

Regardless of the job, the women wear their beautiful and colorful
saris to work every day.  I even saw one woman making charcoal
and she was dressed in the most gorgeous blue color.

Since the women's self-help co-op is close to a tiger preserve, it is only natural
that a tiger figures prominently in the quilt.  Note the intricate work around the border

Like the pictures that you take and the new friends that you make, the "perhaps impractical" souvenirs that you bring home -- no matter how you get them home -- are all part of your Road Stories.