Souvenir for di mama

I am a disaster when it comes to souvenirs. At least, finding nice souvenirs and then delivering them in one piece. There are two options: either I eat it (YES REALLY) or I forget it on the plane. The latter has happened to me now for two trips in a row. The first time I realized it in the parking garage of Schiphol when I was called by a KLM employee and had to run all the way back to a specially found lost and found box at the airport and had to wait there for half an hour. The other time (uh, two days ago) I only realized at home that I was missing something. Sorry Sander, that was your gift, yes. That American beer will surely be very nice for the staff of Delta Airlines.

But now: I am thankfully not everyone forgotten. The gift for di mama has survived. In the American town of Bend, there is a cute little shop (called ‘The Workhouse’) where they have all sorts of handmade cuties and unique souvenirs that you immediately want to take home. My mother has the same travel gene as I do, and when I found a necklace with a small leather book on it, I knew right away: this is the perfect souvenir.

I bought one for her and even one for myself. I wrote a sweet sentence in it at the Truudster (her nickname, yes) and now the idea is that she does the same in my little book. An old-fashioned poetry album in micro format. Totally travelproof and cozy. You understand: I scored points here. NICE.