Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Maybe I Should Buy A New Pair Of Shoes




In an effort to put off studying for finals just a day longer, I sit in my room listening to Juana Molina on my Pandora, and think about what it is I should wear for my honors thesis presentation tomorrow. Shoes - shoes are always my issue. I only have the three pairs, and even they barely pass as "professional." I don't want to wear either of the heels to campus tomorrow, so I decide to pull out the flats.

The flats - the flats are dark purple, with small polka dots and tiny bows, and they are currently hold a very flattened shape from a drying out processes they recently endured - smashed into a tiny pocket of my traveler's backpack so that I could pack all my goodies from Argentina safely in the bag. I pick them up and giggle to myself.

The flats have been a lot of places with me. They are often used as a stand in for flip flops, once such time they walked the Calle de los Muertos (street of the dead) and visited the Teotihuacan pyramids outside Mexico City, Mexico. The heat, sweat, and dirt mixed to make a lovely crust paste that covered my shoes and could hardly be washed off. The dust of the rest of the week only added character.

But even the dirt of the Mexico City pyramids wasn't why they were currently in the sink in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I wasn't washing off dirt, I was washing off dutch sand.
Dutch sand from the beaches of The Hague, Netherlands. It was the last night of WorldMUN 2009, and the Mar-Mars and I didn't have social event tickets. Of course, in true Mar-Mars & Little One fashion, we certainly were not going to let a little ticket stand between us and the prestigious farewell party. So we jumped on the bus bound for the last stop; beach access.

It was dark and we exited the bus with about 60 other delegates, all of whom had tickets. Not at all discouraged, the girls and I took the high road - literally. Escaping the light of the booming dance club below, we jumped the barbwire fence and made our way across the sand dunes which cover the entirety of the dutch beach.

Under the next fence and around the back of the tented night club we went, only to find there was no entrance for us. Casey (Narmar) pulled out her knife and suggested cutting through the club's tent siding on the dune facing side, reluctantly she was convinced this probably wasn't the best approach. What was approaching were the fencekeepers of the club (or rather the student volunteers of the host university) which meant we went away from the club and up the beach the other way. As we walked away however, we realized we had no where to go. Back down the beach we went, right past the fencekeepers who inquired "Excuse me, from where did you come?" "Up the beach" I replied. We giggled past, back up to the bus stop to reconvene.

Rest assured we made our way into the club afterall. Molly, in her sweet Magmar way, finagled some bracelets from departing delegates. With tape from the nearby hotel lobby, we flashed our bracelets for easy entrance. Drunk, happy and tired from dancing we left the party thereafter, only to find that rain would now soak both our clothes, and my sand filled shoes. Somehow we made it home that night.


As I scrub, my very smelly, very stiff, and very sandy shoes, I can't help but think "these were only twenty dollars.... maybe I should buy some new shoes?"


"No, they'll reshape after they dry tonight."