They may be ugly, but...

Crocs are comfortable. They may be ugly, but they are comfy. I keep hoping they will hurt my feet. If they did I would be able to stop wearing them. I could put them on in the house like slippers and be sure that they didn’t make their way out to streets. But, instead I find myself two blocks from home, and the look on people’s faces tells me that I have bright green, comfy, foam shoes on. In Nazare these shoes stand out. People and, in particular, women dress up. There seems to be no such thing as casual Friday. Even when they are “dressing down” they are fancy folks. My always-practical Birkenstocks and comfy Crocs scream visitor/tourist.

Someone who had travelled to Nazare asked me if I had noticed the unusual number of people on crutches in town. I had noticed it, but had not really given it much thought. Now I have a few theories. First the fancy shoes and cobblestones really don’t mix. If you take high heels, smooth soles and mix in cobblestones it is a recipe for hurt. If you add moisture, navigation becomes a delicate ballet where only the seasoned survive. You are more likely to lose your dignity than maintain it. My rule on rainy days is to wear pants. If you wear a skirt make sure your underwear are clean, because you are likely to be showing them off.

Here people walking the seawall on a Sunday afternoon would look over dressed on Robson Street in Vancouver. Men are wearing dress pants with collared shirts, and if they do dress down with jeans and runner, they have tucked in cotton shirts and gold and silver lame runners. I have not seen a pair of Chucks and 501s anywhere. The women amaze me. They stroll the cobblestone walkways in delicate heels, pointy-toed high heel boots, wearing bedazzled and faux furred jackets and pants. No one seems concerned with comfort. I seem to be the only person who owns Lycra. Unlike in Vancouver, I am the only person wearing Lululemon clothing here. And I am also the only woman wearing comfortable shoes.

The cleaning lady just asked me to move my chair so she could sweep around me. I could tell she was coming up behind me by the clacking of her heeled mules on the stone floor.