Things for the Memories

Some of the ugliest, most useless merchandise fills the shelves of souvenir shops around the world. And yet I’ve become an avid souvenir hunter when I travel, because plenty of worthwhile things also are available--although you may have to search them out.

I wasn’t always such an eager consumer. Years ago, I spent a year exploring much of South America and, later, another year circling the globe through Europe and Asia. I toted home nada, nothing, zilch--except for a lot of enduring memories. What a missed opportunity.

Yes, good memories are any traveler’s best souvenirs, but in recent years I’ve begun acquiring more tangible reminders of my trips. I’ve not yet become so acquisitive that I would regard myself as “Born to Shop,” the title of a popular series of guides for travelers.

But I always have my eyes open now for a souvenir or two. In many ways, this qualifies as a learning experience. In Mexico, I get to practice my faltering Spanish shopping for souvenirs.

Good souvenirs, that is--although even tasteless junk sometimes rates as a good souvenir if it is purchased for fun and not because you really crave a plastic replica of Buckingham Palace.

A well-traveled colleague, for example, collects snow domes, those clear plastic balls that erupt in a blizzard when you turn them upside down. Individually, they are hideous--she’s even got one from Miami, which never sees snow. But massed in an array of nearly a hundred, they really are impressive.

My own whimsical indulgence is bringing home complimentary bars of soap bearing the name of the hotel, resort or inn at which I’ve stayed. I plop these into a big ceramic bowl on the bathroom sink and invite house guests to pick the destination that entices them. Hardy guests can opt for no-nonsense soap distributed by El Tovar, a national park lodge at the Grand Canyon. Fragrant sandalwood soap awaits guests intrigued by the Regent, a posh resort hotel in Nadi, Fiji.

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Though we didn’t look on it as a learning experience at the time, several years ago my wife and I purchased a handmade black pot at San Ildefonso, a Pueblo Indian community in northern New Mexico famous for its potters. Once we got it home, that initial pot sparked our interest not only in collecting other styles of Pueblo pottery but in learning more about the Pueblo peoples themselves.

Since then, we’ve made a point of visiting museum exhibits of Pueblo pottery, watched Pueblo potters at work, researched pottery books and read histories of the Pueblos. And after several follow-up trips to the Southwest, we now own lots of pots.

But proper souvenir-collecting, as I also have come to learn, is a skill involving certain do’s and don’ts. Based on my experiences, I’ve put together some guidelines. Surveys indicate many travelers like to shop. Why not come home with something worthwhile?

Right up front, an important distinction must be made. A souvenir is not a gift. A gift is for someone else presumably left at home--maybe a box of rich Belgian chocolates from Brussels. A souvenir also is not a Japanese camera, Spanish porcelain figures or Irish crystal glasses--unless you buy them in their country of origin. Purchasing them, say, in one of the big cruise-ship shopping ports in the Caribbean, like St. Thomas or Barbados, is simply bargain-hunting.

So what is a souvenir?

Basically, a proper souvenir is something you buy as a treat for yourself--preferably an object that will help you recall your trip again and again. As such, the souvenir really should reflect the locale in which it was purchased, and it should be authentic. T-shirts, coffee mugs, key chains, bumper stickers, ashtrays and similar items sporting views of the Statue of Liberty or the U.S. Capitol lack authenticity.

My own preference in souvenirs is for handmade folk crafts, both traditional and contemporary, made in the region I’m touring. If I can buy them from the person who actually made them, so much the better--although, so far, I haven’t set this as a requirement. Crafts is a broad category, so our house is filling up with lots of oddities.

From Latin America and the Caribbean, I’ve carried home brightly painted, Carnival-like masks that decorate, or perhaps the word is haunt, the guest bathroom.

One dragon-faced mask from Panama was almost big enough to occupy its own airplane seat. House guests seem to take the masks in stride, although it may be unsettling at first to brush your teeth with so many curious faces peering over your shoulder.

In Prague, where marionette performances are popular, my wife and I purchased a handmade marionette a few years back dressed as a vizier in bright yellow turban and flowing purple gown. He hangs above the steps to the basement, cheerfully reminding us every day of our memorable stay in his hometown.

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In a back-street shop window in Venice, a city noted for fine glass, a glassmaker creating colorful abstract sculptures caught our attention, and we bought two inexpensive pieces that he had recently completed.

His work opened our eyes to the beauty of contemporary glass, and we have since purchased small sculptures in Montreal and on the Big Island of Hawaii, both developing centers of modern glass art.

Over the years, we have almost filled the walls of our living and dining rooms with paintings acquired on our travels. One of the most recent, purchased in a small gallery just outside Utah’s Capitol Reef National Park, captures in vivid impressionistic splashes the colorful clouds that we had just seen swirling over the park’s high, rocky bluffs.

So far we’ve been lucky. All of these souvenirs still delight us as much as the day we bought them--perhaps because every one of them sparks pleasant memories.

Finding quality souvenirs is not always easy, and standard souvenir shops--the tacky outlets common to many national and state parks and other tourist attractions--often are the last place to look.

Sometimes it can be difficult even deciding what sort of souvenir best reflects your destination. Let’s say you are visiting Washington, D.C. for the first time, and you want to take something home as a keepsake. What would it be? Maybe an antique political poster or button, both of which can be found in specialty shops in the capital.

In this country, one of the best sources for quality souvenirs is a museum shop--such as the Smithsonian Institution’s--many of which feature the works of local artists who may or may not reflect a local style.

In recent years, I’ve become interested in Hawaiian culture and history, so following a visit to Honolulu’s Iolani Palace, where the Hawaiian monarchy reigned, I was happy to find in the museum shop an album of songs written by Queen Liliuokalani, Hawaii’s last monarch, and performed by a Hawaiian ensemble. For me, it was the perfect Hawaiian souvenir.

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In some places, artisans band together to run a cooperative crafts shop, or a shopkeeper features local artists. I’ve found these galleries to be a good source for souvenirs. Two that I’ve come upon just this year are the League of Maryland Craftsmen in Annapolis, which markets the crafts of about 70 potters, woodcarvers, painters and other artisans living in the Annapolis area, and the Pennsylvania Crafts Gallery in Bushkill, Pa., highlighting 40 of the state’s artisans. Ask at tourist information offices for such shops.

If there’s such a thing as a souvenir town, I’d nominate Scottsdale and Sedona, Ariz.; Silverton, Colo.; Mendocino, Calif., and Quebec City, Canada. Because of the steady influx of tourists, all of these inviting communities support quality crafts shops. Scottsdale, Sedona and Silverton stock Native American crafts of the Southwest in profusion, and the prices are good. Mendocino is an art center, and the crafts are contemporary and upscale. Quebec City specializes in local crafts, also at very good prices.

As a former non-shopper turned souvenir hunter, I offer these suggestions:

* Don’t travel with the idea that you have to return home with a souvenir from every trip, but do seek out shops and galleries where something might appeal to you. For me, art and crafts galleries are as fascinating as fine arts museums, and there’s always the possibility that I can buy a work I like.

* Do buy something that catches your eye, and do so before you leave the shop--because you may never see the likes of it again.

* Do at least some preliminary research if you are interested in such Native American crafts as Hopi kachinas, Pueblo pottery and Navajo jewelry and rugs. Quality and cost vary greatly. Of course, we didn’t follow this advice. We bought our first kachina and first pot because we liked the looks of them, and then we began to learn the difference between good and bad.

* Do buy from a reputable shop. This is what saved us from expensive mistakes with the kachina and the pot. As it turns out, both purchases are of good quality, and we paid a fair price. Look for signed items, and ask the shop for a biography of the artist. Find out if the artist has been mentioned in any crafts catalogs. I was amazed, after purchasing a signed San Ildefonso pot, to find the potter represented in a museum collection in Taos.

* But don’t ignore street or stall vendors. We bought a charming, primitive-style painting in the French Quarter of New Orleans from an artist with a pushcart. He’s my age, and on two subsequent visits to the city, I’ve stopped to chat with him and see his latest paintings. He’s obviously not a great artist, but we like his work. Bright hand-painted pottery from the streets of Guadalajara, Puerto Vallarta and other Mexican cities--purchased for pennies--decorate our house.

* Do buy only what you can carry home on your own, especially if you are touring a developing country. I regularly hear complaints from tourists who purchased a large item abroad and months later still haven’t received it. Or it arrived broken and they can’t get a replacement or refund.

* Don’t worry about where to put your souvenir at home. If you like it, buy it. You will find a place for it. Trust me.