The Shoes that Say, "Mañana, Mañana"

What do shoes say about a culture? The ever-present polished leathers here in the nation's Capital, where seriousness and professionalism will promote yourself and your cause. The colorful pumas on college campuses that express individuality while buying into a particular style. The comfortable sketchers of suburban moms, perfect for pushing strollers and shopping carts.

My parents and sisters returned from their vacation in Spain (I'm not at all jealous. No.) with a brand, spanking new pairs of espadrilles for my wife and me (not to mention some first-rate olive oil bought from a slow food market). These delightful slippers made "where the sun always shines," to quote from the website, seem to me a fitting expression of Spanish culture.

Though originally unaware of their name or their origin, the shoes were not altogether unfamiliar to me. Espadrilles are trendy in Europe, and I am sure I saw plenty of them in Germany during the summer, and I'm intuitively attracted to their thinness and style. They are undoubtably cool, and the vague pleasure I have in them now perhaps resembles the strange excitement some women seem to have about shoe shopping (I'll never know for sure).

Yet, for my American feet, accustomed to restless wandering, these shoes feel a bit strange. Comfortable and strange, like a foreign massage technique. The soles, of weaved rope hugged in rubber, feel too small for my foot, while the rest of the fabric, comfortable and generous, feel too large. But they fit, because they were not meant to promote our hurrying to the next task, they were meant to promote warm-weather leisure (they are certainly too thin for winter).

As I discovered today when I took my daughter for a stroll, these shoes weren't made for walkin'. The soles are too skinny for a hike. When I pushed the stroller uphill, the fabric in the back of my right espadrille slipped down as if to say, "it's sandal weather. Show some heal!" Remarkably, it remained comfortable half off. The only walking these shoes were made for are strolls on a windy, Mediterranean beach. Your errands? Your hurry? That can wait.

If espadrilles could speak, they would say, "mañana, mañana." Tomorrow, tomorrow. This was the Spanish mantra my wife learned when she spent a semester in Malaga. It is usually spoken in response to a request. It could mean, "I won't do that," or "I'll get to that," or "yes, but right now there are more important, or at least more pleasurable things to do. So let's put that off until tomorrow." It is usually a mystery to foreigners exactly which one the speaker means (though it reminds me of when we Americans say, "let's get together sometime"). Espadrilles are meant for sunny Saturdays and beach vacations. They are relaxed and comfortable and can bring you as far as that one open table in your favorite outdoor cafe. Wear them when you crack open that book for pleasure reading. Order that drink you have been fantasizing about since you woke up this morning, along with, perhaps, a plate of churros.

As for work, bills, diet, exercise, progress and discipline? Mañana, mañana.