Tales of Repatriation

America 101 - Your Dirty Feet

Americans do things that seem puzzling — particularly after living overseas for a few years.

Feet, for example, are given special status in American households that I do not find in other cultures. Feet, wrapped in shoes fresh off the not-so-tidy streets, are allowed to enter any dwelling, including any home, without having to unwrap. Dirty shoes stomping across carpets and floors leaving heaven knows what in their wake.

#Ewwwwww

The Middle East, Africa, India, Asia and South America all adhere to a simple policy — leave your shoes at the door. In Singapore, I had a massive shoe cabinet that was lovely to look at AND stored my shoe collection. That I never had to worry if someone was going to permanently borrow my shoes is another story about Singapore and security.

In Egypt, one must remove shoes before they enter BUT you must put on house shoes (flip-flops to you people) before entering the bathroom. Bare feet must not enter the bathroom. There are genies in the bathroom. (True story, but I digress.)

In perhaps not so rigid and surveilled Kenya, my shoes came off at the door and never seemed to wander off save for the odd adventure initiated by one of the dogs or the occasional terrorist monkey.

The humble shoe cabinet or shoe rack, a staple in every house I've ever had outside of the states, seems to never have taken on in America and it leaves me with a bit of confusion when I go into my little apartment or a family member's house because I am an official member of the "take them off immediately when you get inside" club. When I start to remove my filthy shoes in homes, I'm typically met with stares of, "...why are you taking off your shoes?" which only seems to add to my suffering because I can't find a suitable place to leave my footwear in awkward silence.

The challenge is real people.

Whenever I manage to get my own space (I am in this flat temporarily and will be ensconced in my brother and sister-in-law's house short-term from mid-June), I worry that the shoe cabinet you will all find at my front door will be mistaken for some sort of outdoor pantry or oddly placed China cabinet. I fear and dread that people will come to one of my many quite spectacular gin-infused parties and traverse the interior of my home in their shoes drilling dirt and whatever other creature lurks outside into my carpets and floors.

I, like so many intrepid individuals, understand that the hotel slippers are intended to be permanently borrowed and am quite proud of my collection (currently in a box in a container somewhere over the Pacific Ocean). So, fear not friends, for when you choose to enter my dwelling, once you have discarded your shoes in the cabinet, you will be met with myriad stylish and comfortable options that are "inside" friendly.

For now, I long for my shoe cabinet. I miss the tidiness of shoes being stored outside and the area near my front door remaining clear of all wardrobe and debris. My current front door area looks like a thoroughly mined Macy's bargain shoe sale bin — it's not pretty.

I do find it a little odd that Americans allow shoes to freely stomp around a house when they seem so wholly obsessed with things being clean and shiny.

Grocery stores continue to assault my senses and one reason for that is the fruit and vegetable section. Tomatoes (pronounced toe-mah-toes you heathens) should not be the same size as a newborn's noggin'. Things should not shine and glisten from the bins. They came out of the dirt.

Where's the dirt?

Where's the ugly fruit and veg? Where are the potatoes still covered in dirt (because why would a shop spend money to wash them when you will wash them at home?)? Why is the red onion bigger than a sweet melon?

So, the fruit and veg are unnaturally and disturbingly oversized and shiny but the carpets and floors can be caked in "eau de street corner".

You are a strange people.

#learningtoamerica