An Ames in Ireland: Pictures of Returning, Writing of Remembering

Sometimes you forget your shoes. I don’t mean, forget to put them on. If that happens more than once, I think you might have a problem worth discussing with your doctor. No. What I mean is sometimes, when you’ve been walking for a while, slipping in and out of a pair of shoes for days on end, you forget about what your shoes do for you. And so you wear them through town on rainy days, not noticing them because they are keeping your feet dry. You only notice the shoe that lets the cold puddles lap at your curled toes, or the shoes that get caught in the cobblestones or the ones with the heel just high enough to make your legs look great, until one too many drinks. You never remember the shoes that allow you just to walk without thinking about it, as if they are a part of your muscle memory, an extension of your own foot.

The Docks at night

I’ve been forced to remember to pay attention to my shoes here more than in Seattle. Though the weather is the same, ultimately I spend far more time out walking in it, rather than driving through it. Thus, I’ve gone through quite a few pairs of what used to be my ‘favorite shoe’. In fact, it’s been 3 pairs of ‘waterproof’ boots, 2 pairs of heels, a great pair of black and white oxfords, and, today, I’ve officially worn through my ultimate, “don’t think about me shoe”.

So happy to go back to my favorite brekkie spot!

This shoe, it was perfect. The most perfect part? I never had to pay for them. A dear friend of mine lent them to be while I was on a road trip around America, exploring hills and valleys, farms and…well a lot of the trip was in the Midwest so really there were A LOT of farms. This shoe also saw Mt. Rushmore, Yellowstone National Park, and after I got back to Seattle this shoe swam in the Pacific Ocean and it climbed around Mt. Rainier. Then these shoes came to Ireland with me, where they instantly walked me to the Atlantic Ocean, letting the waves kiss their rubbery soles. This shoe then got tucked away in my wardrobe, because the rain got to be too heavy and I didn’t see how a pair of flats could protect my defenseless feet from the numerous lakes they call ‘puddles’ here. And that, my friends, is how I began to forget about these shoes. I complained as the soles of one pair after another gave out in my nice boots. My favorite pair got so worn out it made my toes bleed to wear them. Walking to the shop one day to get a coffee the entire bottom of one of my boots just fell off, leaving me walking with an ankle cuff and exposed foot. Thus, it was back to the drawing board. I bought a pair of shoes for far too much money, and they have been pleasant but I’ve noticed if I wear them for too many days in a row my toes start to ache. They are an ‘every other day’ boot. So one day, when I opened my wardrobe to grab my sneakers, to look ultimately as uncool as possible but at least be comfortable, I saw the tips of these brown, rubbery plastic flats. More fashionable than sneakers, but just as comfortable, I thought, “Let’s just brave it today. Maybe it won’t rain!”

Well, anyone who’s been in Galway, or anywhere for that matter, knows the second you say that it is going to start pouring. However, surprisingly, as the rain fell in sheets, and my coat began to be soaked through, and my hat became more a decoration than a mode of protection, and my mascara streamed down my face in black streaks that left me looking slightly demented, I forgot about my shoes. They were doing their job. My feet, somehow, managed to stay completely dry. Turns out, these plastic, rubbery shoes cover just enough to ward off any attempt from above or below, blocking both rain and the puddles it creates. These shoes became my unknown go-to. I never even realized how often I wore them. Through rain and sleet, for nights out on the town or for nights in looking out, these shoes became a part of my routine.


Nights walking home

Then one day, I went to slip into them and I noticed the strap on the left one, with its little fake button, had gotten loose. I tried walking around my room some, to see if I could still manage, but the give of the strap meant the shoe fell off again and again. This caused me to stumble, and as I am clumsy enough I figured there was no reason to add to that a dangerous shoe; certainly it would have me stumble right into the thrashing river on my walk to school, or perhaps tip me into the street to be crushed by the maniacal drivers of this little town. Either way, the risks outweighed the benefits, and so, it was time to remember my shoes.

A lot has happened since my last blog post. School has been underway and taken up a lot of my time, and the people I’ve met have certainly changed who I am and who I want to be. Though I think I’ve become more inspired in certain ways, a lot of me has stopped feeling that sort of romantic call to writing I used to have. I didn’t just forget my shoes these past few months; I forgot a piece of me. I think that’s okay, I think that’s allowed. A phone call from home recently has put a lot of things in perspective, though, and I think it’s time I remember my shoes, because it’s only a matter of time before they aren’t just an extension of my foot anymore, and I don’t want to only remember them because I miss them.

These are more pictures of places my comfort shoes have brought me. I couldn't be happier.