The best souvenir is the one you can't share

There is a group of buskers playing an upbeat melody while tourists stand by to listen.  The trumpet player's elastic cheeks puff out like balloons.  A teenage girl wearing a skirt and high tops begins to dance, her arms stretched out wide, swinging herself in circles.  Her mouth is open in laughter and her eyes reflect the street lamp above her.  

By the river people are feeding the waterfowl.  There is a little boy running amongst the swans, shrieking with delight each time he manages to touch one, but stamping his foot at the pigeons each time a swan escapes his chubby fingers.  The little girl nearby is trying to feed the swans with the bread her mother has entrusted her with.  She, too, squeals in excitement as the swans rush to claim the chunks of bread.  The children's reactions mirror each other when a couple strolls past with their dog and all of the birds scatter; they each begin to pout, their lower lips trembling, and run to hang on tightly to their mothers' legs.  

These are moments that cannot be captured by a camera lens.  It always amuses me to be wandering around amidst hordes of tourists, all of whom have their cameras in front of their faces, snapping photos of everything in sight.  Their tour guide with a yellow duck attached to a stick blabs away about the year 1652 and that one king, and the dude from the 1300's who married that one woman.  The yellow duck bobs in and out of the crowds and the pack of tourists follow along like kindergarteners on a leash.  There are always a few stragglers, the ones kneeling down to get a good angle on that castle with their Canon Rebels that have become extensions of their noses.  The funniest part of the whole spectacle is when someone points their camera at a building to take an artsy shot of a balcony with an ornate lamp, and all of a sudden thirty other cameras point in that direction, terrified to miss something they were supposed to photograph.

  

It makes me chuckle, but quite honestly I miss their enthusiasm.  I have gotten to the point of not taking photos of everything in sight because it's not a novel experience anymore.  The massive Prague castle looming over me as the sun sets is a spectacular vision that will forever be etched in my memory, but the lighting had cast shadows in all the wrong places and there wasn't enough space in the square to get a good shot.  So I let my camera hang by my side and instead tried to memorize the flecks of gold glinting in the sun and the way the eyes of the people in the carvings seem to follow you. These are the things you just cannot capture, no matter how expensive your camera is.One of the most lasting lessons I've learned from traveling is knowing when to put your camera down. Some things are better off stowed away in your memory, where they can be photoshopped by your experiences and emotions.  The best lighting and filters come from how you were feeling at the time and who you were with. 

I don't blame anyone for trying to capture the moments, the historical cathedrals and castles, the monuments, or their extravagant dinner plates.  I do it, too.  It's a preservation technique, and our digital devices guarantee us an unlimited number of memories.  But once in awhile, it's better to soak in your surroundings instead of trying to catch them like fireflies in a jar.  You might have them, but they're not free to flit around and morph with your feelings.  After all, nobody spends that kind of money on a plane ticket just to get a photo of a landmark.  The best and most valuable souvenirs you can possibly bring home are your memories.

K

Prague, Czech Republic