Strong shoes - I used to have one. Mama bought a pair for me as a graduation present at Cardams in 1998. It was a dark brown, suede leather, and ankle-hi ladies lace up boots. And true to form and function, it served me for a total of four years before it finally departed the material world and for it – I bestow the title, “my favorite shoes for all time.”
I won’t classify this blog entry as a fashion rave because I have never been fashionable in my entire life to be credible enough to give one. I would just say, this is an honest-to-goodness recount of my good old boots. For the record, my brown boots or combat boots as for my jeering bros, are the most “wearable” pair of shoes I ever had. It passed the durability test with flying colors when I scaled mountains and trodden rocky terrains during my greenhorn years as a researcher. I refer to my brown boots as my survivor shoes since it went through a series of ultimate wear and tear challenges - I fed it with dust, mud, water, stones and even insects and subjected it to all weather conditions – and given little time to dust, dry and brush – Voila! lookin’ instant brand new again. Exaggeration is not my style but indeed with a few magical brush strokes, my boots seem to say, “Ok I’m good to go, next destination please.”
Literally my boots went where I went. Since I wore them the moment I am off to the next field assignment, it saved space for a backpacker like me. My boots were so adaptable. I wore them when I attended courtesy calls and meetings in some big-comfy-carpeted offices. I also wore them when hiking and crossing shallow waters.
Memorably, I wore my boots during my baptism of fire, my first and longest field assignment; it was 1999 and our team of 3 was to survey rubber-planted areas in Mindanao. As fates would have it, I wore my boots during a field visit to an area in Davao del Norte where vast tracts of land planted to rubber trees were converted into banana plantations. The experience was sending feelers relative to one aspect of my future which I failed to decipher. Who would think that the man I was destined to marry in 2003 spent a significant portion of his young life in this particular town before their family permanently resided in Davao City.
My good old boots was with me through my active years of field work. I never slipped nor faltered for it kept me steady on sloppy and stony pathways. It more than protected my feet from getting beaten and sore from the long treks, it helped me walk with confidence and courage to cross unfamiliar landscapes and step into unknown territories. After four year of service, ageing came in form of worn-out rubber soles, wash-out and dried leather, I wrapped my boots in onion paper and laid it to rest in a shoebox. I did not have to heart to discard it so I kept it behind my closet. Two months later I purchased a replacement that never measured up to my old boots, since then I never wore boots again.
Living in this tropical country I reverted to wearing sandals and rubber shoes. However when I got pregnant with my first born, flats and flip-flops became my greatest allies in the midst of stilettos and pumps in the jungle called the Office. Can’t relate with me? I can only say, to each its own.
I won’t classify this blog entry as a fashion rave because I have never been fashionable in my entire life to be credible enough to give one. I would just say, this is an honest-to-goodness recount of my good old boots. For the record, my brown boots or combat boots as for my jeering bros, are the most “wearable” pair of shoes I ever had. It passed the durability test with flying colors when I scaled mountains and trodden rocky terrains during my greenhorn years as a researcher. I refer to my brown boots as my survivor shoes since it went through a series of ultimate wear and tear challenges - I fed it with dust, mud, water, stones and even insects and subjected it to all weather conditions – and given little time to dust, dry and brush – Voila! lookin’ instant brand new again. Exaggeration is not my style but indeed with a few magical brush strokes, my boots seem to say, “Ok I’m good to go, next destination please.”
Literally my boots went where I went. Since I wore them the moment I am off to the next field assignment, it saved space for a backpacker like me. My boots were so adaptable. I wore them when I attended courtesy calls and meetings in some big-comfy-carpeted offices. I also wore them when hiking and crossing shallow waters.
Memorably, I wore my boots during my baptism of fire, my first and longest field assignment; it was 1999 and our team of 3 was to survey rubber-planted areas in Mindanao. As fates would have it, I wore my boots during a field visit to an area in Davao del Norte where vast tracts of land planted to rubber trees were converted into banana plantations. The experience was sending feelers relative to one aspect of my future which I failed to decipher. Who would think that the man I was destined to marry in 2003 spent a significant portion of his young life in this particular town before their family permanently resided in Davao City.
My good old boots was with me through my active years of field work. I never slipped nor faltered for it kept me steady on sloppy and stony pathways. It more than protected my feet from getting beaten and sore from the long treks, it helped me walk with confidence and courage to cross unfamiliar landscapes and step into unknown territories. After four year of service, ageing came in form of worn-out rubber soles, wash-out and dried leather, I wrapped my boots in onion paper and laid it to rest in a shoebox. I did not have to heart to discard it so I kept it behind my closet. Two months later I purchased a replacement that never measured up to my old boots, since then I never wore boots again.Living in this tropical country I reverted to wearing sandals and rubber shoes. However when I got pregnant with my first born, flats and flip-flops became my greatest allies in the midst of stilettos and pumps in the jungle called the Office. Can’t relate with me? I can only say, to each its own.
No comments:
Post a Comment