Our apartment in Brooklyn is filled with quirky travel finds. They range from the elegant (a Vietnamese painting on sectioned porcelain slats presides over our living room); to the messy (a growing collection of Thai napkins and weird hot sauces clutter our kitchen counters); and the absurd (scary puppets from Rajasthan jolt me out of sleep on a fairly regular basis). Though I inevitably end up adoring the treasures we collect on the road, I often resist purchasing them in the moment because I hate carrying things and have no stomach for haggling.