Jettison The Junk
The Sunday Age
Sunday July 31, 2005
As the last strainings of the Fijian song reach us across the water, I think how wonderful it is to listen to the melody. In fact, I think I'd like to listen to nothing else ever again, so moved am I by the experience.
However, I know from bitter experience that the sound of strumming guitars and swaying island singers may be magical when you still have your toes in the silvery sand but back home Bula Melodies volume four on CD just doesn't have the same appeal.Some things, it has to be said, just don't travel well. Like Hawaiian shirts, for example. Unless you're Leonardo Di Caprio in Romeo + Juliet or under 20, it's best to leave the Hibiscus print in the souvenir shop in Waikiki. There it looked bright and cheerful and somehow rebellious; back home it looks just plain embarrassing, the kind of thing your uncle would wear to a family barbecue along with that hat with the stubbie holders each side and a straw reaching down to his mouth. Likewise, hair braided on the beach in Bali might look cool in Kuta but should definitely be unravelled before you hit the home runway. Ditto henna hand tattoos from India. Hard to get rid of in a hurry, they tend to look like dermatitis before they fade completely; trust me, I know. Along with the standard list of things that should be confiscated at customs, I'd add Mexican sombreros (especially those with sequins), batik prints, shell-and-string plant holders, snow domes of any description, and anything made of coconut husks.It often seems that, when it comes to holiday mementos, it's taste that takes a holiday as much as us.It is questionable how much the standard souvenirs really represent the country they hail from. Judging by our own souvenir shops, for example, Australia is full of people in hats with dangling corks (also worn by much of the wildlife including kangaroos and koalas), men in Aboriginal-print ties, people throwing boomerangs at random, and various stuffed cane toads dressed as surfers, swagmen or entombed in plastic.Sometimes, of course, we buy a souvenir precisely because it is so tacky. The Elvis with battery-operated pelvis that I picked up in Memphis is gloriously over the top but who would want it any other way?I am also rather fond of the musical Scottie dog that plays Scotland the Brave, although the whisky-flavoured McCondoms bought in the same highland store were probably a mistake.For successful souvenir vendors, sales can be all about timing. According to Catholic News, Italian manufacturers are churning out earrings, key chains and other trinkets with the new Pope's face on them.Apparently Germany outstripped Italy in the race to produce papal merchandise. The day after the announcement, Pope Benedict's home town, Marktl am Inn, had come up with papal beer, Vatican bread and a cake called "slice of Ratzinger".Of course, bad timing isn't necessarily a disaster. All those Charles and Camilla mugs stamped with the wrong date will probably be worth a fortune.
© 2005 The Sunday Age