If the shoe fits (and feels good), wear it.

Today I was going to write a post with helpful hints on how to pack for a journey. Shortly after this idea, I realized that I cannot write helpful hints about this subject because I suck at packing. Sure, I get the work done when it needs doin’, but it is only after much over-thinking, pulling of hair, and going through clothes with the organizational skills of a tornado. The final product usually works for what I need, but somehow the number of items I unpack at my destination does not correspond with what they feel like on my back. It feels like I’m toting around half a kindergarten class, but surprisingly I have very few things. (I don't get that). So instead, I will merely make a suggestion of something to take that makes my life on the road more comfortable.

I believe strongly in the attributes of tennis shoes when traveling (or tennies or sneakers or trainers or runners or whatever you may call them). When I spent three months in Xela (Quetzaltenango), Guatemala, I wore nothing but tennis shoes. Here are some reasons why I didn’t wear sandals or flip-flops (or thongs):

• temperatures near freezing in the morning;
• it was the dry season, so the streets that were dirt were more like dust – lots and lots of dust, sometimes inches deep ... like snow, only dust;
• when it did rain, the streets were extremely flooded and muddy – lots and lots of mud ... like dust, only wet;
• the streets that weren’t dirt were cobblestone and the sidewalks were uneven, therefore fabulous terrain for twisting an ankle;
• and lastly, but not leastly, I walked an equivalent of at least two hours every day. Up hills; down hills; to my volunteer job; back home for lunch; down the hill to the center of town (El Centro) to recruit volunteers and run errands; then back up the hill to work for the afternoon; then back to El Centro for meetings, sessions with my Spanish tutor, or hanging out with friends; then back up the hill to my Guatemalan home.

All this in flip flops would’ve killed my feet and all those things attached to them.

I can understand a desire to bring hiking boots. For many of you, that is certainly a valid option. There are amazing hiking expeditions in most Latin American countries I’ve visited. Some up mountains, others up volcanoes, some for days across the highlands. But I don’t do that. The hiking I do, although at times quite challenging for me personally, does not usually necessitate hiking boots. Exception: I spent a couple weeks in the rainforest of Panamá and cannot imagine being there without hiking boots. Although they were actually more like sneaker-hikers, i.e. not “heavy-duty.” Second Exception: In Ecuador, I hiked in the rainforest for a day through plenty of mud and my actual heavy-duty hiking boots were covered by the end of the day. Tennis shoes would have been annihilated.

TRAVELIN' DOWN THOSE DUSTY ROADS ... Dirt (dust)
street in Xela, Guatemala. Those are Sarah's feet.

Rather than continue this back and forth discussion about the virtues of tennis shoes and/or hiking boots, let me just say that all I am suggesting is to take a shoe of some kind that is comfortable, sturdy and that fully envelopes your footsies. They don’t have to look like you’re going off to play doubles at the country club. But if you are going to do a lot of walking-- and you will be doing a lot of walking-- make sure you will be as comfortable as possible so you won’t miss out on all there is to see and do because of blisters, bunions, falling arches, bones spurs, and the like. Think about what you might be doing and choose your shoes accordingly. Visiting museums in Mexico City? Probably tennis shoes. Camping along the Inca trail to Machu Picchu? Probably hiking boots. But you know what works best for you. Just leave those flip-flops for the days you give you and your feet a break.