Holiday Souvenirs: Postcards
Over many miles of travel I have amassed ‘collections’ as mementos.
Every morning I sip nostalgically from Blue Pottery ceramic mugs courtesy of Jaipur (although mine is actually black and white…), I picture the chaotic few hours my friends and I desended on the factory like locusts. Painstakingly choosing matching sets – as each piece is handmade there will always be slight irregularities – making them all the more precious. I attempted to continue this theme on visits to Japan and New Zealand, although the weight of these items makes it often not practical.
Years ago I began to bring the boys home a snow globe from each place I visit without them; it never ceases to amaze me the places you will unearth one of these icons of kitsch (snow globe from the French Alps of course, but Fiji…).
My Hermes silk scarves courtesy of trips to Paris my sister and I make together (always vintage, always bought for each other); liberally dowsed in Chanel fragrance from our foray into the iconic Rue de Cambon store where we gaze upon the beautiful couture. So posh you ask before spraying the perfumes. After these expeditions we head for lunch at a cafe across the street where we watch elegant Parisian women gather to sip lemon tea (we are most obviously the outsiders as we are the only ones to eat, choosing the same favourite each time, Croque Monsieur, avec Frites et Coke Lite…served with damask linen and solid silverware).
Then there are my Postcards.
There are more efficient ways to send a note to someone, to remind them you are thinking of them while far from home. Nevertheless, nothing ever replaces the joy of going to the mailbox to retrieve a Postcard – studying the picture the sender chose, examining the stamps and reading the message.
Many of my postcards are bog standard tourist fare, others were unearthed in markets, art galleries, local garage sales (always so much more rewarding in a foreign place…). I have postcards my mother received as a child from relatives left behind in Holland and postcards sent home to the boys when they were little. My grandparents travelled regularly to Rarotonga, postcards received from them began my love affair with swaying palm trees and things tropical.
All tell a story.
My youngest son is a collector, recently I sat with him and bequeathed my collection, beginning a new generation of wanderlust.