i'd like a new pair of shoes

[Disclaimer: Dear TOMS-loving friends, you hereby have permission to judge me for the following. Heavens knows I have done the same to you and your feet in the past. J]

I remember one night at the Campus Ministries retreat my Junior Year, Terese Cox began our evening in the Word with the proclamation “I hate trends.” To demonstrate her despise, she held up a pair of TOMS shoes. Granted, this was a bold move, considering that said brand of shoes were, in that moment, spooning many a Ouachitonian heel in that Perrin chapel. Yet, Terese had my undivided attention for the rest of her spiel, for I, too, had similar distaste for those canvas slippers.

My resentment wasn’t about comfort. I had donned a few of my friends’/roommates’ pairs when they weren’t looking. I knew TOMS hugged one’s feet better than a snuggy or a great-grandmother. It was not so much about style either. I thought TOMs looked pretty cool, to be honest. My aversion to the shoes was more about WHY they were cool…

TOMS shoes were and are cool because every pair has that oh-so-hip stamp of social justice on the box. When you spend $44+ on a pair of TOMS, you can rest assured, that not only will you look hipsterlicious in your new duds, but 7,000 miles away, a child named Sikote, will also be strutting his stuff-- barefooted no more--on those dark, dusty, African paths. Because of you and your socially-compassionate ways, Sikote will no longer be threatened by the dangers of ring-worm, glass shards, and stylelessness.

Is it dumb that Sikote had a new pair of shoes? No.

Is it dumb that you can be trendy by being socially just? Perhaps.

In the words of Emilee Wade, “what will happen when it’s no longer cool?”

Thus, for 4-years, I resisted the trend, sitting on a prideful throne of simultaneously idealistic and cynical principles and trying (kind of) to keep my opinions to myself and thus, not offend my beloved TOMS-wearing best friends.

Yet, today, I would like to eat my words and take back the bitterness I have held against TOMS and TOMS-wearers for some time now.

TOMS shoes has now officially touched my family and me in a personal way.

I am here to report that thanks to TOMS shoes, two China-dwelling children are no longer shoeless. There names are…Emily and Susanna Schleiff.

And now, thousands of miles away from Ouachita and my—probably vain—desire to resist Ouachita trends, I have once again, secretly donned TOMs when their owners weren’t looking. I found that my previous resolve to never own a pair wavered as I slid my foot into that oh-so-comfortable-and-practical two pieces of canvas + sole. Maybe my future pair of TOMS will be from the Chinese black market. And maybe my purchase won’t instigate the giving of a subsequent pair to an impoverished African child, but it’s the principle of the matter.

And the fact of the matter is: I will be purchasing some ASAP.

i'd like a sprinkle of horse-hoof

There is a series of a sayings that circulates the expat community here in China. They begin like this: "You know you've been in China too long when..." For example: "You know you've been in China too long when the foot prints on the toilet seat are you own."

I am not sure when one has lived in China long enough to be dubbed worthy of adding to this collection of sayings. Perhaps the mark of "long-enough" is somewhere in that delicate window of time between "ceasing to notice the footprints" and "creating the footprints oneself." Nevertheless, worthy or unworthy, I would like to add my own "you know you've been" to the pot.

Last month I set off with a number of Ouachitonians into what can only be dubbed "real China." The city which was to be our home for three and a half weeks of cultural exchange could affectionately be compared the American boonies. Perhaps, you might argue, that a city of 1 million people is a lot closer to "metropolis" status than "Southern sticks." I mean, it IS rivaling the population of Arkansas for crying out loud. Yet, in comparison to my only point of Chinese reference--Beijing (this land that I call my home and in which I frequent the local Starbucks)--the term "boonies" is appropriate.


During our cultural exchange, our team was given a strict breakfast budget of 5 kuai (roughly 80 cents USD). Hoping for some semblance of normal as well as some good microbial flora to counteract my daily dose of Chinese street food, I opted for blueberry yogurt. 4.90 kuai of good-bacteria goodness. Hello, breakfast of champions! Wheaties ain't got nothing on this stuff. However, I was soon surprised to find that something strange was afoot inside that green-plastic-container-with-personal-spoon. Floating amid a smattering of real fruit swam mysterious pink squares. And not only were said squares NOT of the blueberry-blue hue that was to be anticipated in blueberry yoghurt, these squares were...GELATINOUS. Hold the phone, ladies and gentlemen. Not only do I NOT feel comfortable putting UEOs (unidentified edible objects) in between my mandibles, but I especially do not want UEO's seasoned with horse hoof. Like, Jel-LO! Heck no, techno! Not unless Bill Cosby or my grandma is endorsing it, thank you very much.

Yet the yoghurt was otherwise delicious. So, I decided to cope by avoiding the mysterious squares like I avoided the quasi-vegetables in my Campbell's chicken noodle soup as a child.

However, after several days of 4.90 kuai blueberry yogurt consumption, I began to notice an odd transformation in my morning culinary habits. Not only had I stopped avoiding the mysterious, gelatinous, not-blueberry pink squares, but I had begun to--gasp--SEEK THEM OUT! And one morning, after an unfortunate grocery store sale rendered the dairy section sold-out of my yogurt of choice, I was dismayed to find that the strawberry yogurt I was forced to settle for was completely gelatinous-square free.

What. A. Let-Down.

And to think that the strawberry yogurt had the gumption to call itself "Chinese yogurt!" Psh! Tasted like Yoplait to me. Bor-ing!

All that to say, I think it is time, if I may be so bold to suggest, that a new saying be added to the "You know you've been in China too long" canon.

I give you:
"You know you've been in China too long, when yogurt fruit is but an inconvenient obstacle in your spoon's path to yogurt gelatin."