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09

Oct

What’s in Your Suitcase?

by Joyce McGreevy on October 9, 2017

A souvenir store in Budapest, Hungary leads a writer to seek the locus of travel inspiration and other aha moments. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Souvenir stores straddle the border between “this place” and “any place.”
© Joyce McGreevy

Collected Travel Inspiration,
With & Without Souvenirs

Souvenirs—talismans of travel inspiration, mere trinkets, or  trash?  Can they inspire aha moments or only memorialize them?

The very word is a souvenir of 18th century French—from souvenir “to remember.” But I like the ancient Latin even better. Subvenire, “to come up from below,” tips its hat to the subconscious. It makes me think of opening old boxes in a basement and finding forgotten treasure, some silly, small item of no value.  And yet  . . .

Lost Souvenirs

My first souvenir? Petite plastic dolls from a Paris flea market. In the 1960s, my sister Carolyn and I splurged all our pocket money on them, one franc each. Ah, but that included “tous les meubles!”—all the furniture. Our dollhouse was a cupboard in our hotel, itself a souvenir of La Belle Époque.

A dollhouse in a store window in Sofia, Bulgaria leads a writer to ponder the travel inspiration we find in souvenirs. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

A dollhouse in a store window in Sofia, Bulgaria.
© Joyce

They’re long gone now—dolls, furniture, the hotel, too. But my flea-market mind maintains a little shrine for them.

The first recorded use of souvenir as a token of remembrance occurred in 1782. One dictionary after another presents this tidbit but omits the actual example. It’s like finding a silver lid minus the vessel.  Souvenirs are like that—parts that can only hint at the whole.

Today, few people admit to souvenir-collecting. Marketing reports attest that travelers spend more on sightseeing than on shopping, souvenirs, and nightlife combined. Yet souvenir shops do booming business around the globe.

It’s Only Natural?

Early souvenir hunters “preserved” the past by breaking off bits of it. In the 1800s, visitors to Plymouth Rock were even provided with hammers.

An 1850 souvenir of Plymouth Rock leads a writer to ponder the downside of souvenirs and the true locus of travel inspiration. (Public domain image, National Museum of American History)

A chip off the old block? Some souvenirs proved too popular.
Plymouth Rock Fragment by National Museum of American History,  CC BY 4.0

Can the quest for remembrances make us forgetful? Recently, a mother and daughter from Virginia mailed back “souvenirs” to Iceland—a stone and a bag of sand they’d collected from the black volcanic beaches of Reynisfjara.

Back home, they learned that Icelandic law strictly forbids such souvenir collecting. The tourism board accepted their apology and promised to return the items to their natural setting.

Practical Souvenirs

A friend of mine collects “shoe-venirs” when she travels. Every walk she takes begins in lands she has loved.

A chef I know collects  household objects—a moka pot from Milan, spices from Moroccan souks. They link his American kitchen to kitchens around the world.

I like how these souvenirs, modern cousins to ancient vessels and vestments, are connected to daily rituals.

Ancient gold jewelry in the Benaki Museum, Athens, Greece inspires an aha moment about their connection to ordinary souvenirs. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Charms of another age, at the Benaki Museum, Athens.
© Joyce McGreevy

Post-travel Souvenirs

One January, after returning from verdant Maui to snowbound Chicago, I saw melancholy sidle up to me. An aha moment intervened. I collected post-travel souvenirs: thrift store décor; Hawaiian-themed groceries; traditional island music. I adore Chicago, but Chicago-infused-with-Maui did wonders for my psyche that winter.

Garden objects in Maui lead a writer to ponder the reasons we find travel inspiration in souvenirs. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Objects catch our eye, but it’s the context that we crave.
© Joyce McGreevy

Ephemeral Souvenirs

Even minimalists-to-the-max collect souvenir ephemera. It’s scientific fact. Just as magnets attract iron filings, humans attract paper: playbills from Piccadilly, coasters from Costa Rica, a café napkin from Nantes.

One day, you rediscover it—the train ticket turned bookmark. Suddenly, you’re traveling again, backtracking along the past, or pressing your nose against a window onto the future.

A collage made of travel ephemera on an office wall in Chicago leads a writer to ponder ways people find travel inspiration in souvenirs. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Travel ephemera on an office wall in Evanston, Illinois.
© Joyce McGreevy

Whimsical Souvenirs

Now comes the parade of fringed pillows, ceramic caricatures, and other tchotchkes. Brazenly they shout out where you’ve been: Niagara Falls 1978! I heart Twickenham! Gibraltar ROCKS My World!

All hail souvenirs that sport the name Souvenir. If that Souvenir of Venice tea-towel were a person, it would stand arms akimbo and declare, “Yeah, pal, that’s right, I’m a Souvenir. What’s it to ya?”

Mass-produced pillows in California lead a writer to ponder why people find travel inspiration in souvenirs. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Southwestern “souvenirs” for sale—in a California suburb.
© Joyce McGreevy

“Elsewhere” Souvenirs

But what of provenance? During my youth in Ireland, the more stereotypical the souvenir, the likelier it was to be stamped An tSeapain tir adheanta—“Made in Japan.” Who made the faux French dolls my sister and I played with? Where did they live? What were their lives like? Souvenirs keep secrets.

Twilight in Baltimore, Co. Cork, Ireland leads a writer to compare the travel inspiration of souvenirs vs. experiences. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

A moment made in Ireland.
© Joyce McGreevy

Elusive Souvenirs

The day I left Budapest, I passed between souvenir stores. Innumerable wares glinted in the sunlight like autumn leaves. As a single-suitcase traveler, I pretend I’m “immune to the stuff.” But the ache of departure made me gluttonous with desire, as if travel inspiration were something to consume: I wanted the “all” of Budapest.

Oh, I see moment: Maybe that’s what travel souvenirs represent—a longing to live multiple lives in myriad places, in times that never have to end.

Empty-handed, heart full, I boarded the train and said goodbye to Budapest.

Now then, what’s in your suitcase?

See souvenirs so quirky they seem satirical, here. 

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

 

Cultural Symbols/Life Lessons/Worldwide Sites/Your Own Aha Moments

18

Sep

Discovering the Art of Sand Sculptures

by Meredith Mullins on September 18, 2017

A lion sand sculpture, part of the great Carmel Sand Castle Contest, discovering the art of sand sculpting. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

Winner of the 2017 Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest
© Meredith Mullins

The Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest

What lives and breathes sand and water . . . and brings out the kid in everyone?

What passion requires a unique combination of creativity, patience, delicacy, and grit?

What depends on building with the simplest of elements, but can rise to the pinnacle of artistry?

And what, without lament, is always inevitably destroyed?

Shovels in the sad, the remnants of a sand sculpture at the Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest, discovering the art of sand sculptures. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

Grand finale for a sand sculpture: Inevitable destruction
© Meredith Mullins

It is the wonderful world of sand sculptures, or, for us novices, the wonderful world of plastic shovels and buckets and mounds of malleable sand.

Oh, I see. Sand and water open the door for creativity.

Drip sand sculpture at the Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest, discovering the art of sand sculptures. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

The art of the drip technique
© Meredith Mullins

The Art of Sand Sculptures

There are sand sculpting events all around the world—well-known competitions from California to Florida and Europe to Australia. There’s even a World Championship of Sand Sculpting. Sand and water are a universal art form.

One of the classic sand events full of family fun is the Great Sand Castle Contest of Carmel—an informal competition held at the close of summer in Carmel-by-the-Sea on the central coast of California.

Roller skate sand sculpture at the Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest, discovering the art of sand sculptures. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

A Roller Derby tribute by Dereck, William, and Adrian
© Meredith Mullins

This year’s competition—the 57th annual— took center (sandy) stage this past Saturday, September 16.

The invitation called for everyone who has ever built—or dreamed of building—a sand castle to come to Carmel Beach, fearless in heart, tools in hand.

Carmel is known for its expanse of white sand beach—so soft underfoot, it feels like walking on powdered velvet. Beautiful to look at. Difficult to use as a building material.

Todd Weaver makes a sand sculpture at the Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest, discovering the art of sand sculptures. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

Veteran sand sculptor Todd Weaver makes the best of Carmel’s fine sand.
© Meredith Mullins

“The grains are round and fine because they’ve been rolled by the waves,” says Todd Weaver, a sand castle entrant and a veteran sand sculptor. “It’s like stacking ping-pong balls.”

He adds that some events import river sand for the competitions because the consistency is more like clay and easier to work with. Not Carmel.

What’s the secret strategy for this fine light sand? Water, water, and more water.

Sand sculpture with balls at the Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest, discovering the art of sand sculptures. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

Todd Weaver’s final sculpture won the Best Theme Award.
© Meredith Mullins

Lines in the Sand

The theme of this year’s competition was “Lines in the Sand,” quickly addended by the disclaimer that following the theme is not required.

Golden Shovel Award for the Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest, where entrants discover the art of sand sculptures. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

The coveted Golden Shovel Prize
© Meredith Mullins

Carmel city officials (including internationally-known professional sand sculptor Rusty Croft) and American Institute of Architects representatives make up the fun-loving and attentive judging panel. They awarded the following prizes:

  • First prize (Golden Shovel Award)
  • Second prize (Sour Grapes Award) (The winner of this award has to whine, mope, and tell the judges off.)
  • Best Traditional Sand Castle
  • Best Theme
  • Best Children’s
  • Best Bribe
Judges reviewing a sand castle at the Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest, where entrants are discovering the art of sand sculpture. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

Judges review the “Stairway to Heaven” entry by Halden Frei and Sebastian Danielson,
which won the Traditional Sand Castle Award.
© Meredith Mullins

Judging criteria include the WOW factor, originality of design, artistic impression, difficulty of design, quality of carving, incorporation of theme, and quality of bribe.

Two simple rules are stated: (1) No machinery is allowed, and (2) All decorations must be found on the beach.

One guideline is unashamedly mentioned: Bribery of officials is condoned and encouraged.

And, oh yes, dogs must be leashed.

Sign to leash your dog at the Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest, a day for discovering the art of sand sculpture. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

Carmel loves its dogs, but not on Great Sand Castle Contest day.
© Meredith Mullins

On the Beach

As expert judge, Rusty Croft says . . . “Dig in.”

And they did.

For a two-block section of Carmel beach, sand sculptures of all shapes and sizes appeared. The sculptors were solo artists, duos, families, small teams, and groups so large they might have benefitted from org charts (diggers, water carriers, carvers, rakers, sprayers, beer-drinking supporters, and cooks and bartenders for the judges’ bribes).

Team of sand sculptors work on a sand sculpture at the Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest, discovering the art of sand sculptures. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

The value of teamwork on the sculpture “All Lines Included”
© Meredith Mullins

There were children and adults. There were locals as well as visitors from afar who had driven hours to arrive at the beach by the 8 am start time.

There were veterans who had been to many of the sand castle contests over the years (including Jason Johnson, who had been to almost all of the 57 events, since he is a Carmel native and started coming as a child).

A sand sculpture aqueduct at the Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest, where entrants discover the art of sand sculptures. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

The delicate architecture of an aqueduct won Luci, Hannah, and Benjamin the Children’s Award.
© Meredith Mullins

There were birthday celebrants who, instead of a bowling birthday or a roller skating party, wanted a sand castle birthday. And there are first timers who just thought it would be fun to come to the beach for a day and build a sand castle.

Family inside sand sculpture at the Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest, discovering the art of sand sculptures. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

The Elfwing family from Sweden came on a first-time whim.
Their strategy: working from the inside out.
© Meredith Mullins

As for the sand forms, the variety was inspiring. Castles, aqueducts, Aztec ruins, sand villages, animals, sea creatures, shoes, man in a bathtub, and amazing mazes—all built within the four-hour timeframe.

And even though the “Lines in the Sand” theme was optional, several entries were particularly creative: “Lion in the Sand” and “Lines in the Sand-al.”

A sandal sand sculpture at the Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest, where entrants discover the art of sand sculptures. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

“Lines in the Sand-al” by Makenna, Connor, Neil, and Kyle
© Meredith Mullins

There was also “A Matter of Perspective” (a village of structures that spelled out L-I-N-E-S when viewed from a specific spot), and a structure with balls that appeared to be tumbling down carved steps but screeching to a halt just before the line in the sand (although one ball figured out an escape route).

Sand sculpture that spells out LINES for the Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest, discovering the art of sand sculpting. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

This village of structures spelled out L-I-N-E-S when viewed from the prime spot.
© Meredith Mullins

Tales from the Sand

Tom and Roan Collom were spontaneous entrants. They had no tools with them, so they adopted the “caveman approach”—their feet for rough digging and a Frisbee for a more refined “shovel” approach.

Two people digging sand maze for their sand sculpture, discovering the art of sand sculptures at the Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

Tom and Roan Collom go back to basics with the “Feet and Frisbee” approach.
© Meredith Mullins

With just these basic tools and the spirit of the day, they built a participatory maze, so visitors could plot a journey through the tangle of sand paths.

The Frei family designed multiple entries, including a birthday celebration and a mound constructed by Dad and his toddler, who kept smushing and jumping on the sand structure.

“I’m going for my fourth spire,” Dad said. “I think I’ll call the project ‘Ruins by a two-year-old.”

Dad and child make a sand sculpture at the Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest, discovering the art of sand sculptures. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

Dad and his two-year-old sand sculptor build . . . and rebuild . . . as needed.
© Meredith Mullins

The Humpback Homies went big. A whale of a design, inspired by all the whales that have been in the Monterey Bay lately.

The Homies’ claim to fame, however, is judge bribery. In fact, they have remained virtually undefeated in this category over the years.

Whale sand sculpture by the Humpback Homies, part of the Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest, discovering the art of sand sculptures. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

The Humpback Homies sit back and relax after completing their whale.
The next step: the bribery portion of the contest.
© Meredith Mullins

This year was no exception. Their lobster gazpacho, filet mignon, organic fruits and vegetables, ice cold beer, and caramels won the hearts of the judges (although a champagne and caviar bribe and a taco stand offered by competing entrants raised the stakes.)

MariJane from Humpback Homies serving snacks at the Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest, where everyone is discovering the art of sand sculptures. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

The Humpback Homies’ lobster gazpacho bribe was a thing of beauty.
© Meredith Mullins

A “Go with the Flow” Philosophy

Aside from muscled shoveling, hand and foot compacting, precise water/sand formulas, and engineering/architectural design, just about everyone on the beach had the “zen and the art of sand crafting” attitude. Going with the flow.

Woman patting sand sculpture by hand at the Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest, where entrants are discovering the art of sand sculptures. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

Hands-on work by first timer Melodie Bahou, building an Aztec ruin with Cielo Cervantes
© Meredith Mullins

“You have to be ready to change,” mused Dereck Farren, talking about the fickleness of the sand. “It’s fun anyway, even if your creation fails.”

Of course all the artists have to be ready for the inevitable destruction. The tide will come in. The art will change . . . and ultimately will dissolve back into its simplest form.

“Once, our castles lasted for three days,” said Doug Evers of the Familia Creativa team. “Each day the sea changed the shapes.” But in the end, everything disappeared.

Abstract sand sculpture at the Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest, showing the art of sand sculptures. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

Even the Sour Grapes winner “All Lines Included” by Craig and Scott Comming (and team)
will wash back into the sea.
© Meredith Mullins

Soon, the sand sculptures of the Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest will be gone. The judges will no longer accept bribes. The lobster gazpacho will be just a fond memory. The carving tools will be put away. The beach will return to its pristine whiteness. And dogs will run free again.

Until next year.

Winners and judges of the Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest of 2017, discovering the art of sand sculptures in the best possible way. (Image © Meredith Mullins.)

The grand finale of the Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest 2017
© Meredith Mullins

The Great Carmel Sand Castle Contest is sponsored by the City of Carmel and the American Institute of Architects/Monterey Bay.

For more information about the art of sand sculpting, visit Judge Rusty Croft’s Sand Guys website.

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

 

Discoveries/USA

26

Jun

More Than a Travel Mascot

by Joyce McGreevy on June 26, 2017

A toy canine travel mascot named Bedford, dressed for Maui, inspires his human travel buddy to see the world differently. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

“Have pawsport, will travel,” that’s Bedford’s motto.
© Joyce McGreevy

To See the World Differently,
Take Your Travel Buddy

I have a confession. Although my posts for OIC Moments suggest I’m a solo traveler, that’s not the whole story. Truth is, I never travel without a guide. To some, he’s just a “travel mascot.” To me he’s much more, a travel buddy who helps me see the world differently.

Bedford, take a bow. And a bow-wow.

A toy canine travel mascot named Bedford, dressed in Scottish tartan, inspires his human travel buddy to see the world differently. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Testing the tartan in Scotland . . .
© Joyce McGreevy

A toy canine travel mascot named Bedford, sipping tea in Istanbul, inspires his human travel buddy to see the world differently. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

. . . and the tea in Turkey.
© Joyce McGreevy

Gnome on the Range

Seeing the world with a travel mascot is nothing new, of course. In the 1980s, an Australian man decided that his neighbors’ garden gnome needed to get out more. Photos he sent back anonymously featured the gnome at famous landmarks.

Cue the surge in gnome-nabbings, elfin escapades, and photographic tomfoolery. Petite plaster pilgrims began popping up around the planet.  Gnomes roamed to every continent, even Antarctica.

The World Is Flat Stanley’s

Then there’s the “Flat Stanley” phenomenon. What began in the 1960s as a dad’s whimsical bedtime story for his sons grew into a worldwide literacy project.

Kids send forth a paper cutout of Flat Stanley to discover fascinating places and people around the world. Today’s tech-savvy students can even launch a digital Stanley via smartphone. Students then collect photos and write about Stanley’s adventures.

Travel buddy Flat Stanley, shown at Doonagore Castle, Doolin, Ireland, inspires students to see the world differently. (Image © Jules Larkin)

He’s flat, but his world is wide: Flat Stanley at Doonagore Castle, Doolin, Ireland.
© Jules Larkin

Best in Travel Show

But the most famous travel mascot of all is Charley.

You know him from John Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley: In Search of America, the 1961 memoir that inspired millions of readers to see the world differently. Here’s how Steinbeck introduced his travel buddy:

“He was born in Bercy on the outskirts of Paris and trained in France, and while he knows a little Poodle-English, he responds quickly only to commands in French. Otherwise he has to translate, and that slows him down.”

A toy canine travel mascot named Bedford, shown with books about traveling dogs, inspires his human travel buddy to see the world differently. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Bedford drops subtle hints that he’s itching to travel.
© Joyce McGreevy

From Portland to Every Land

Which brings us to my own travel buddy.

I first met Bedford while I was, uh, conducting a thorough study of American cultural artifacts at a Goodwill in Portland, Oregon.  There among relics that, in technical terms, included bric-a-brac, knickknacks, and whatchamacallits, I found a diminutive cloth canine lying face down.

Concerned that this downward facing dog might remain lost amid the archaeological middens, I resolved to secure him a residency.

So I set him upright at eye level, directed his gaze toward the main door, and tilted his head fetchingly. Thus, I reasoned, the very next person to see him would be captivated.

My good deed done, I walked away. But then I glanced back to check the effect.

A toy canine travel mascot named Bedford, shown at the Bosporus, inspires his human travel buddy to see the world differently. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Bedford on the Bosporus: A little whimsy can broaden one’s perspective of the world.
© Joyce McGreevy

That was 15 years ago. Since then, my Oregonian pal has adopted the name Bedford. Inspired by Bedford Falls in It’s a Wonderful Life, it also honors Bedford’s penchant for tumbling out of bed every morning in his eagerness to begin the day. Funny, I know just how he feels.

Business Travels with Bedford

Initially, Bedford’s travels were limited to business trips. Many a late night editorial slog benefited from his dogged assistance.

A toy canine travel mascot named Bedford, shown with laptop, inspires his human travel buddy to see the world differently. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

On business trips, Bedford would check my “ruff” drafts.
© Joyce McGreevy

He traveled undercover in those days, hidden in the checked luggage. Neither of us breathed a word about his existence to my colleagues lest they raise questions of seriousness.

As in “Seriously? You travel with a little toy dog?”

Which simply wasn’t the case. One, I’m rarely serious. And two, who are you calling a toy?

Bedford, Come Home!

It was on a business trip to Denver that my luggage went missing. But it wasn’t the replaceable business wardrobe that concerned me.

Looking back on it now—as one who’s since embraced her inner Pippi Longstocking—I’m not ashamed to tell you that I was thunderstruck with sadness. Yes, over a little cloth dog.

Several anxious hours later, my luggage resurfaced. Another passenger had mistaken it for his own. It was then that I made a Big Decision: It was time for Bedford to come out of the suitcase.

A toy canine travel mascot named Bedford, shown with tiny travel gear, inspires his human travel buddy to see the world differently. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Bedford’s travel style is muttropolitan.
© Joyce McGreevy

“A Dog Is a Bond Between Strangers”

So wrote Steinbeck, and it’s proved true of Bedford. This global Citizen Canine has:

  • facilitated delightful conversations with families from Amsterdam to Zagreb
  • coaxed smiles out of blasé sophisticates, weary waiters, and grouchy bureaucrats
  • and inspired many a business traveler to change the subject from marketing platforms to childhood memories.
A toy canine travel mascot named Bedford, shown with Irish children, inspires his human travel buddy to see the world differently. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Making friends in Ireland.
© Joyce McGreevy

I guess there’s just something about spotting a cheery canine character beside you in trains, planes, cafés, and long lines that helps break down social barriers.

Not to be dogmatic, but I believe Bedford has contributed to a pup-surge in pawsitive international relations. He loves all cultures, and understands every language except cynicism.

As Steinbeck noted of Charley, “This is a dog of peace and tranquility.”

A toy canine travel mascot named Bedford, shown at the Huntington Botanical Gardens, inspires his human travel buddy to see the world differently. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Coyly checking the koi pond at the Huntington Botanical Gardens,
San Marino, California.
© Joyce McGreevy

Oh, I see: If this mini alumnus of Goodwill “University” can graduate into a global goodwill ambassador, maybe there’s hope for the rest of us rovers.

With or without a canine traveling companion, we can see the world differently. It starts when we unleash our natural instincts for warmth and good humor.

Have you ever had a travel mascot or travel buddy? How did this help you see the world differently?

Comment on the post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

 

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