please, mr. postman

Everyone looks at your shoes.

Well, the people who look at shoes do.

As of today, I am prepared to suffer their nosy judgment. My ever-swelling feet are to be clad with fine Corinthian leather, as Ricardo Montalban would (and did) lie.

Mr. Postman delivered my latest purchase this afternoon from Amazon. If I had not come north, I would not now own them. Amazon would not deliver them to my Mexican address, and Amazon Mexico did not offer what I wanted.

As you may have guessed, I am a tad picky about my shoes. I favor a certain brand and make. About a decade ago, I started wearing a variation of these Eccos.

Most shoes make my feet feel as if they are being restrained by a Sylvia Plath jacket. Not these. They are so light, I feel as if I am walking foot nude. Dancing shoes could not be more comfortable.

Unfortunately, Mexico has not been overly kind to the three or four pairs i have worn out in my travels. Quality leather and Mayan ruins do not make good partners.

In most Mexican cities, there is a shoe shine man within easy walking distance. They do miracles with my shoes.

In our little fishing village, there is only one shoe shine guy who shows up periodically in the Barra de Navidad plaza. He repairs luggage as a sideline.

You have met him already in "i simply adore the colors here". In May of last year, I dropped off my scuffed mahogany-colored Eccos. When I picked up the refurbished shoes, they were shiny. But in a new color that could charitably be called muddy brown.

At least, they were uniformly brown. That is, until they started peeling like an old barn in Kansas.

While I was in Bogota last April, I stopped in a square for a shine. I pulled out my telephone and either read the newspaper or stumbled through my Spanish lesson in Duolingo.

Whichever it was, I was so engrossed I paid little mind to what was happening at my feet. When he announced he was done, I was shocked to see my shoes had acquired a new layer of paint. This time, the brown was dark enough to pass for black. To gild this particular tale, he charged me almost twice what the guy in Barra charged.

Because the soles on my shoes are beginning to give way, I decided to retire them. After all, makeup can be ladled on just so many times.

Thanks to the wonders of Amazon, I ordered a pair on Tuesday, and they are here on Thursday.

I can hear some of you right now. Yes, there are plenty of shoes in Mexico. Leon is one of the largest manufacturer of shoes in the world. But good shoes are a rarity in our local shoe shops.

One of these days, I will return to Mexico City and shop the halls of El Palacio de Hierro until my Visa cries "tio."

Until then, These new shoes will keep me on the stylish road. And, Jennifer, you are correct: they are better than bacon.