Sunday, September 19, 2010
My Left Foot!
I inched my way to the back of the bus to signal the driver that I needed to get off (and hit the red button). All was fine until the bus came to an abrupt stop (a herd of goats crossed the street), and I had one foot on and one foot off the bus! “Please God,” I prayed, “don’t let the bus start again until my left foot follows my right foot!”
My left foot followed, but without my shoe. Somewhere on bus #11 in Cuenca, Ecuador is a size 7-1/2 black sketcher shoe with Velcro straps. They were my favorite pair of walking shoes. Sigh. As the bus took off, I chased after it yelling, “Mi zapoto…mi zapoto, por favor!”
Do you think the bus stopped for my left foot?
I "strolled" across the street to Coral hoping that not a single soul saw this signora with one shoe on and one shoe off. At one point I thought about slipping off the right shoe, but that would have made me barefoot.
After I arrived at Coral there were so many people (especially in the school section) that no one noticed I had one shoe off and one shoe on.
Not one person.
When I was handed a shopping cart (push cart), I fell a little to the left. But thankfully my right foot held me in the upright position and “we” carried on.
As I wandered all three stories of Coral—pushing, pulling and carrying my cart up the stairs and down the elevator—I realized I could pretty much do well with only one “foot.” I bought paint supplies, food for the week, and cleaning items which came to a total of $24.34 (yikes!).
As I headed for the checkout, I felt slightly relieved that no one had noticed that I had one shoe on and one shoe off. After I picked up my receipt, I headed out the sliding doors where the security guard noticed that I had a missing “zapato.” At that point, he offered to get me a taxi. He didn’t ask “why” or “how,” he just assumed I only had half a pair of shoes. It was a relief to get in the taxi and not the bus because—quite frankly—I was afraid of losing my right "foot."