One of the most enjoyable parts of a holiday is deciding which bit of touristy tat to bring home. A universal pleasure, that desperate urge to choose something you will remember forever and show lovingly to your children in years to come. A smooth piece of bleached driftwood. Hand-blown glass.
Indeed. Our family have always brought home shite. Though we did once buy a bull from a Majorcan glass factory. Mum always told me the reason it had five legs, one a bit shorter than the other four, was because it came from the seconds bin. I believed her for years.
Even Grandma managed to cause a furore at customs one year by smuggling a few too many bottles of advocaat in her luggage along with her usual cigarettes. The customs official was rummaging through her huge drawers asking if she had anything to declare and was rather flummoxed by her reply, “Only some of that yellow stuff.” She was wearily waved through.
My earliest memento memory is an old cine film of me clomping down the steps of the plane at Newcastle Airport, aged 5, resplendent in sombrero and poncho, carrying maracas and castanets. I don’t think I’ve moved on since then. I did go through a phase of buying a spoon in every town we visited, always decorated with a little coat of arms. I ask you. A spoon. Thank god for my brother who just collected beer mats from pubs and stuck them on the ceiling in his bedroom.
In Pompeii my mother managed to dig up a big chunk of marble with her foot which she secreted into her handbag along with lava from Vesuvius. In Rome the shops round St Peters were stuffed full of religious temptation. I always wanted to have a glow-in-the-dark Mary. Well, who wouldn’t?
The rudest tat was always found in Catholic countries – all that suppressed sexuality came out in their souvenirs. There was the little monk who flashed his plastic willy when his button was pressed. If I remember rightly my brother graduated from beer mats one year and took home a tiny nun whose boobs inflated when he pressed her belly. Happy times.
Thank heavens my own son has such a harmless holiday collection of fridge magnets. So cheap, easy to find and, as yet, inoffensive. Must have his father’s genes.
My favourite tale regarding holiday mementos, however, comes from our fly-drive trip round Eastern Canada. Early on in the fortnight we had a happy wine tasting session and purchased two bottles of special icewine which was quite an expensive dessert wine, recommended as an accompaniment to chocolate. I thought all wine went with chocolate but nodded intelligently and fished in my purse for my credit card nonetheless.
At the end of the holiday we were due to fly home from Montreal. We faffed about at the British Airways computer terminal to get our boarding cards and seat reservations then queued for a blissfully short time to drop the bags off. There was a feeling of elation as the cases disappeared from view, only to be replaced by Dougie’s face suddenly dropping:
“You know what we’ve still got in the hand luggage?”
“What?”
“Two bottles of Ice Wine!”
“You’re joking?”
“Nope, I didn’t think when the woman was talking about have you got any liquids etc etc, blah blah..”
“YOU DIDN’T THINK! YOU’VE BEEN LUGGING TWO BOTTLES OF THE BLOODY STUFF ROUND CANADA FOR A FORTNIGHT!”
“HOW COME IT’S MY FAULT, YOU DIDN’T THINK TO PUT THEM IN THE CASES EITHER!”
“BUT THEY’RE ON YOUR SODDING BACK!”
Okay, so we had in our hand luggage two lovely bottles of special wine we’d been carrying around since Day Three. Regulations say we can’t take liquids onto the plane and our cases were already somewhere in the bowels of Montreal airport. We had three options:
A: Pour them down the sink
B: Give them away to someone
C: Drink them before we went through passport control.
Dougie favoured option C but I couldn’t face slugging down two bottles of syrupy dessert wine before getting on a plane and risk being chucked off for dancing the macarena down the aisle. So we considered option B and walked back to the BA desk where a really nice chap had helped us at the computer terminal. We explained our dilemma and, as we were about to offer him the booty, he spoke to his colleague at the desk. She calmly picked up the phone, rang someone and five minutes later a little man appeared wheeling one of our cases! Dougie opened the case, revealing all our dirty washing to the gathering crowds, and slipped the bottles in between the more fragrant items. That’s service for you. Willy Walsh would have been so proud.
Thanks to Ellen at Ready for Ten for starting the ball rolling with this topic. Now, what do your kids like bringing back from holiday?
My first visit to your blog, but not my last. I had to chuckle at your momentoes. My mother was the same and had to bring back something from wherever we went. We had a chunk of marble from Pompeii and a lump of lava too as well as a chunk of column from the forum in Rome! She favoured silver charms with crests on and had a massive collection. She was also keen on those fabric badges you sew on to rucksacks, except she never sewed them on and they were replacements for those foily, sticky badges you put in your car windows (we had a VW camper van). I was tempted recently in New York to bring back mini Statues of Liberty for my daughters, but settled on Hard Rock Cafe t-shirts which went down much better – oh, and Hershey's kisses.
I remember filling plastic water bottles with gin/ vodka when we had a VW van and driving back through Spain to the UK with them. I must have been about 10 and thought it was great fun. And that was without tasting a drop….
Majorcan bull memory gave me a giggle! Glad I'm not the only person to use the word 'shite' too! Without sounding too 'we were too poor etc.,' we did'nt really have too many holidays, well ok then, not any really, but visits to new places of any description usually called for finding a stone or pebble somewhere, that was easy to carry and easy to store….mum has a bowlful but where they all came from no one knows….wish they were seaglass though..I might start collecting that.
I think I'm a bit like your mum: I always pick up a bit of the place we're visiting. So our house is chockfull of 'meaningful' bits of stone and wood… Also, we bring back a lot of food. If in Europe, it has to be porc products, but in Turkey, we tend to fill our cases with the local goodies, e.g. a year's supply of honey, some garlic and red onions from the black sea, apples and dried fruit from Cappadocia…
Haha! We carried a massive bottle of Retsina home from Corfu. We never touched any of the stuff when we were there- why did we lug it home? Anyway, didn't matter- there was a train strike on and we had to get the bus from Newcastle to Aberdeen and I was in such a foul mood that I dropped my hand luggage down in a strop on the bus platform and it smashed like so many Greek plates. Opa!
Some great responses here.
Glad to know it wasn't just my mother stealing ancient relics – it's a wonder there's anything left in Pompeii thanks to mine and LavenderJack's mother!
Sally and Missy M – what is it that's so appealing about bringing back the local hooch?!
I think Sandrine and Libby have the best idea – free, sustainable treasures like stones and wood (though are you allowed to bring all that food back through customs, Sandrine!!?)
That is indeed customer service. Niceness brings niceness.
We always bring back fridge magnets – the kids love to play with them and they brighten up the white goods in our kitchen. When I went to Egypt though I brought back little containers of sand from most of the monuments I visited. I still have them. Little vials of dry heat…
Ah yes, the 'booze from around the world' collection. Think I still have some bottles of Metaxa and ouzo in the back of my drinks cupboard, gathering dust. BTW, your mum is hilarious. She needs a blog of her own, I think. x
Sand and stones, I am a little sad, but my mum threw out my collection when I left home – sob
@Susie – it's good to be able to sing a company's praises.
@Steve – I love that idea of the sand; you old romantic fool, you.
@Notwaving – greetings missus. Will have a word with mother for you. Not sure I should let her, though, as I'd be stuck for material of my own then!
@The Mad House – heartless woman! Pass the tissues, Jen!
EasyJet aren't quite so compliant. We brought a lovely and v expensive bottle of wine for the man who we thought was going to sell us his house (bah humbug, evil bastard, actually already sold it to someone else, stringing us along etc etc) and only realised at passport control. We wearily gave it up, and told the man he should have it and enjoy it….Oh no. Apparently they throw them all away. Even the nice ones…
Anyway, for your next holiday, guaranteed no liquids, a copy of The Undomestic Goddess. If you still want it. Send me an email with your address and I'll get it in the post.
@planb – what a waste of good vino! I suppose they think you might have laced it with anti-freeze!
Have emailed you my address for the book and suggested one I've just finished if you're interested?
Hilarious! My daughter is a shell and stone collector. We have an awful lot, I have to put my foot down a bit now and confine her to a select few. There was one occasion where she was moaning as we climbed the steep path from the beach to the car park. I was impatient with her and chivvied her along. When we got to the car and I removed her coat I could barely hold it it was so heavy with stones, no wonder she was having trouble walking!
@christine – oh bless her! Rory did that one year with conkers at school – his coat pockets were stuffed with them!
I'm the world's saddest stone collector. I spend the whole day at the beach staring at the area around my own feet. I cannot leave until I have at least one stone with a hole in it. And then……well, if there's one there must be another, and another…….. Hag stones, or witch stones some people call them. Magic stones I call them. A bloody nuisance my husband calls them. What does he know?
I love your mum, can I borrow her? Very nice of the BA staff though, you wouldn't get that on Ryanair.
@MSG – all these stone collectors!! Didn't know about the holey ones though, will keep my eye out for thise now.
@Very Bored – Start the bidding on my Mum auction!
The customer service was very surprising and very welcome!