My Boots

So a lot of time has passed since I last blogged; since before I went to Patagonia and before my semester here even started! I’ve been busy and maybe I will post about all that fun stuff later, but for now here’s a note I wrote while coming back from a weekend venture to the driest desert in the world; the Atacama desert.

To follow the theme of Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots Were Made for Walking” song (no, Jessica Simpson was not the writer nor first performer), I’m not really sure what my boots were made for.

Maybe to make a fashion statement on the feet of great successes such as Jay-Z, or for dudes with elegant names such as ‘K-Fed’ to strut around stage with.

Or maybe for construction workers, or for people like my father who use them when they work on their hard-won yard and house every weekend.

I don’t know who or what these Tims were made for (it is indeed possible that a quick google search or peep on their website could tell me, if I were so inclined), and to be honest I don’t even know who their first owner was.

What I do know and what I can tell you is what they’ve been through since I bought them for about $7.50 at the Salvation Army down Devon in Roger’s Park, Chicago.

These babies went with me to Antarctic Chile in Patagonia, and to Torres del Paine. They were on my feet through my 30 km+ day hikes through mountains to see glaciers, stepped into riverbeds when the trail didn’t allow for their avoidance, and kept my feet dry while my companions’ running shoes and fancy hiking boots failed to do so.

They were further pounded into shape when one of my friends and I decided to run the last few hilly miles back to camp to catch Happy Hour.

Back in Santiago they were on my feet dancing cha cha or salsa the few times I wore them to class, gripping the floor and securing my movements in ways my black flats would never allow. Some days they carried me back through the city streets littered with food vendors and surrounded by mountains when I didn’t have enough money for the classy Santiago metro, and other times allowed me to be explore the city searching for new cafés or interesting sights while staying comfortable amid the hustle and bustle of the wonderful city.

They pedaled over 30 miles the day we biked to the Laguna Cejar and got lost in the driest desert in the world (Atacama), even walking through the sandy paths when it got too dangerous to bike in the total darkness with only stars to light the way.

 

 

They helped me jump over the muddy adobe puddles of San Pedro [de Atacama] and then protected my poor feet when we went to see flamingoes and gorgeous reflective salt flats of the Altiplanic Lagoons (next to the Andes Mountains) in the freezing morning hours early in Chilean winter.

Later they were strapped into a Burton snowboard and flew down the huge sand hills of Valle de La Muerte (to say nothing of trekking up aforementioned hills between runs).

Sandboarding in Valle de la Muerta

And they’re a satisfying and comforting weight on my feet on this fancy double decker bus taking us to the the city of Calama to catch a flight back to Santiago, hopefully in time for me to catch my philosophy class at 1:30 (spoiler alert: I didn’t).

I don’t know what these boots were made for, but these are the things they’ve done for me.

I’d say they’ve had quite an adventure.

I’d also wager that they aren’t done adventuring quite yet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So that’s that. Now back to studying for finals, finishing up some essays, et.c

Abrazos,

Dela