Bigfoot hits Hobbit-town
I always enter into the world of shoe-shopping with the noblest of intentions. I’m not expecting to be the hippest hustler in Hanoi, but it’d be kind of nice to look o.k. Easier said than done…
My sandals were pissed off with me. I’d worn them practically every day for the last 3 months & they no longer had a mutually supportive relationship with my feet. They could have been civil about it, perhaps sending a brief email requesting a divorce or even just snapping clean in two somewhere I was in a position to trade them in for a younger model. Somewhere unlike Hanoi. But no, they had to be vicious, and cause me pain for an entire afternoon. Ok, I get the message. And I need some trainers anyhoo. I’ll just find some…
I started my search with some vague ideas about what kind of trainers I wanted. My unpaid but highly knowledgable personal shopping assistant, the lovely Jane, had some vague ideas too. Together we could surely find something snazzy, laid-back, that sent out “cool english teacher” vibes. Or could we? Problems soon began to arise when it was discovered that Vietnamese people have small feet. Ubersmall – with a quirky punctuation mark over the “U”. I on the other hand, do not. Jane reminded me of the umpteen opportunities I had had to buy shoes before we got here. I reminded her of my generic opposition to buying stuff in general – it makes my backpack too heavy. Oh the folly of a plonker.
I was beginning to consider asking my parents to send my old, smelly trainers from the U.K when I noticed a basket of tennis balls outside a shop. Tennis balls are great – even for a non-tennis player such as myself. They bounce, have a lively colour, and are spherical. Mmmm – spherical! They also aid thought processes. So I stopped and entered the shop. The staff laughed at my dying sandals. I would have joined in more wholeheartedly if my right foot didn’t feel like the muscle was being chewed by a giant panda. “Do you have any shoes, ANY shoes, that might fit my ogre-sized feet?” They looked. There was one pair. I waited with baited breath to see if they would turn out to be pink stilletoes with pictures of Joseph Stalin on the side. Sadly they were just regular trainers. My feet slid in. My head nodded. My hand went to my pocket. Dong was exchanged. I stepped outside, complimentary tennis ball in hand. Hop, skip & a jump – the Buck was happy..
Tags: Hanoi, Vietnam
The Dude
lol x