Posted by rita on Monday, May 15, 2017 in 2017 Blog post.

 

Shoes and Stories

Shoes. Shoes! Shoes? Hmm, a shoe is defined as “a covering for the foot, typically made of leather, having a sturdy sole and not reaching above the ankle,” and while that is the technical definition of a shoe, shoes are truly meaningful beyond their service, as they hold more personal and evocative connotations than their utility. Shoes cover our feet and keep them safe as we travel from place to place, but they also tell a story. Shoes show wear and dirt and age and implicitly, they also show meaning for their wearer. My shoes sure do. And so now, I want to tell you a story about my day today and my dear Birkenstocks and a shoe store bearing my name. During our class break today, I went out and saw a little shoe store with my name, Rita. It was a cute little place, though nondescript. I wanted to enter and browse for shoes because my favorite sandals had begun to fall apart. They have been with me just about everywhere and endured weather from rain to snow to heat and I love them very much. When I look at them, I don’t see a shoe style, but I see a story — many stories, in fact. I see myself dancing in the rain with my little sisters, I see myself wearing them with socks and drinking tea while reading, I see myself in the green grass at the park with friends. They are related to my heart. I know that is corny to say, but I find it to be true. And so, you would understand that I am very particular with the shoes I decide to wear because they will keep a persistent appearance in my personal vignettes and memories. However, I can’t wear those old Birkenstocks forever and so, the time had come for me to go shoe shopping. I didn’t have enough time during that short class break to look for new shoes, so I decided to look after class. After class, as we walked to lunch, we stopped at the shoe store, but it was closed. I was a little discouraged, but decided to come there later in the afternoon. And finally, when I returned in the afternoon, the store was open and I could begin to look for the new friends that would accompany me on my travels. I entered the store and though, it was small, it was lined from top to bottom with shoes. I knew I was looking for another pair of Birkenstock sandals, but I wanted a new style. There were three women in the store. I thought them to be a grandmother, mother, and daughter (or niece). I was hesitant to enter the store because in my short time in Cefalù, whenever I have entered a store just to look, I have felt uncomfortable because of the directness of store employees. Back home, I often go to stores just to window shop and try on clothes not intending to purchase. Store employees there will greet you, but they won’t shower you with attention. Here in Cefalù, I have been approached many times by street vendors and store employees when by or in their establishments, so I feel guilty when I don’t patronize them. I had decided to not enter stores unless absolutely necessary (i.e., I am going to buy something or am almost certainly going to buy something) because I want to be respectful of the employees working in the stores here. I can only imagine what it feels like to wait on patrons, especially in a place like Cefalù that has an economy centered on tourism. Anyways, the youngest of the three women helped me with my shoe selection. I tried on two different sizes and about four different styles and decided on a new pair. The young woman helping me was very sincere and against my will, even helped me try on the shoes, another difference I noticed. I told her that I decided on that pair and she smiled and turned to the grandmother. Only then, did I speak to the other woman — the one that appeared to be the mother (middle-aged). I had knocked over a shoe display in the tiny showroom and crouched to the floor to rearrange them. She insisted that she do it herself and crouched down as well. We smiled at  each other as we met eyes on the floor and began to talk. She asked me where I was from, in surprisingly perfect English (Italian accent). I told her the United States and she asked me to tell her specifically where. I then told her Charlotte, North Carolina. She surprised me again and told me that she had actually lived in the United States for ten years (1997-2007) and only came back when her mother became ill. She pointed at the grandmother sitting behind the counter and told me she was the namesake of the store, Rita. I gasped aloud and said that was also my name. The woman translated this to her mother and we all happily looked at each other. I stayed in the store and just talked to this family. The middle-aged woman told me that she had lived and worked in Chicago and that she loved it there, that she loved big cities. And she told me about her mother and how she had owned this shoe store for forty years and that the store was hers. Though she had a husband (who has passed on now), she ran the business herself. She also told me that Cefalù is just open for business until October, really, and she misses the American lifestyle. I thought to myself and she said aloud that cliché about “the grass being greener on the other side.” It’s true, I love the lifestyle in Cefalù, it’s simple and sweet and slow, but she says she misses the complexity and fastness of life in the United States. The cliché is true. We want what we don’t have. I loved talking with Rita and her family at the shoe store and promised to return (maybe I will even interview Rita!) and learned a lot. Who would have thought that shoe shopping could be so culturally edifying? I need to tell that one to my father and see what he responds. This experience made my heart so warm and also it made me think about a couple of things: (1) how I usually shop, (2) interacting with vendors, (3) Cefalù’s economy, and (4) the people that live in Cefalù.

1. I usually shop online back home. It is quite a difference experience to shop in-store I have found. It means I am much more intentional about entering a store. I have to have the intent to purchase something here or I don’t feel comfortable entering. I think that the little shops lining the streets in Cefalù are precious, though, and make me wish I visited stores back home more often than frequenting online businesses.
2. I loved the level of personal interaction I had with the vendors at the shoe store today. They weren’t trying to sell me a product, but they were kind and sincere and asked me about me. I felt so very welcome. That is a feeling I can’t say that I’ve felt very much back home.
3. After talking to the middle-aged woman, I thought again about the economy in Cefalù and what it must be like to live there during the quite time of the year, which could be about half the year or a little more. I wonder what life here is like typically, especially when all the businesses close. And I wonder about myself, would I still love this place if it was quieter and there was less going on than there is now?
4. Talking to Rita really was so wonderful. This woman opened her own business (which has multiple locations now, by the way) forty years ago. She did it by herself, it wasn’t her husband’s either. That just was such a beautiful thing to hear. I don’t know much about how women are treated in Italian society, their opportunities, feminism, etc., but she was a pioneer, most definitely, and for that she should be proud. And then her daughter, she left her small town and went all the way to Chicago (Shecago)! She should also be proud of what she accomplished, even though she came back home, she went much further out into the world than most people from here ever do or even think about.

So yes, my blog post was about shoes, but it was also about stories. And my new shoes already hold many stories for me, the first one being of Rita and her family. They have already experienced so many other happy moments today, as I have worn them, this one being the most touching. There is more than meets the eye in Cefalù. I find that everyday, as I meet and share moments with the people that call this place home. Being a student/tourist here is not the most genuine way to live here, but if I try and if I ask questions and if I look to have local experiences, I can learn more about culture and history and life than in any classroom.