The beginning of school crept up on me with stealth and under cover of darkness. I received a text on Saturday evening suggesting it would be "good for me" to go to the new teacher orientation Monday. That's it. No time, no location, no further notice. I was left scrambling for how exactly to arrange a nanny.
A Sunday night email gave me a time - 1:00- and an even later text (10:20!) let me know 2 o'clock would be good. Despite the contradiction, I made it to school on time, enjoyed a somewhat decent lunch and discovered the week would be full of orientation type stuff. So long vacation, hello working world.
Having spent most of my meetings at the French school staring at chic shoes, I was determined not to let it happen again (Not to mention the walk part of my commute in a pair of gifted new shoes that tore my feet up- again. I could digress into an entirely new post about the hazards of women's footware, but I'll try to stay focused.)
With no time to spare, I resolved to find my courage and head down to 9kilo and buy some shoes. Simple. I have never been a great shopper- it's just not something I do well. Shopping in public is kind of my nightmare. You might think there is really no other way to shop, but I am ready to argue that it is possible to find a fairly private aisle for shoe browsing, trying on and purchasing in a department store or even a mall shoe store.
9kilo (Neuf kilo, as we call it) is the intersection of two major roads. There is a small grocery store, a home supply store and a collection of restaurants. The Librarie de France is here along with a bank and an Orange cellphone recharge, supply and money transfer office. Down the entire length of one side runs a vegetable market. Because it is also on the stop for the bacchas, it is usually a bustling place. All four corners of the intersection are crowded, home to one type of taxi stop or another, and filled with vendors. In the evening the shoe and clothing sellers come out and begin setting out their wares.
The shoe displays range from a pile to pick through thrown out on a cloth on the ground to fancy rows of pairs, set out carefully with one shoe at an angle to the other giving the whole arrangement an artistic flair. It seems to usually be guys selling shoes and a few of them are generally milling about. There is not an ounce of privacy to be found.
I walked down one side of the road and back again to where I started. I stopped and watched a few women buying shoes, I eyed a few pairs myself and even conversed with a few of the sellers. They tried to make a few suggestions but nothing caught my eye enough to make me jump in. Finally, a guy yelling 1,000 franc inspired me to look again. For a thousand franc I figured I couldn't go wrong. Happily his little set up was a few steps away from the roadside and I felt slightly shielded from the masses.
Once you begin touching shoes, someone is there to help. They ask your size and then try picking stuff out for you. They will present their selection and urge you to try it on. If you accept, they are there to bend down and squeeze your foot into the shoe (no benches to sit down on means you could benefit from an extra hand, especially if your hands are full. I think it is more about maintaining dignity however.) It felt rather odd to be having a stranger put a shoe on my foot, but I fought the urge to just reach down and do it myself.
I did buy a pair or two from the 1,000 franc guy and went off in search of something truly satisfying. I'd been to all the stops and back. There was one final place that had still been setting up on my initial way past and so I hoped they'd have more of a selection. It was the last chance really.
Luckily, I found a lot of good looking shoes there. And by now I knew my size. The guy who helped me made me realize the value of a good shoe guy. After my first few choices, he understood my style and began presenting some appealing choices. He even waved off a few selections his shoe seller buddies tried to offer- vetoing on my behalf. Some of the shoes I thought for sure would be too small, actually fit. After that, I kind of trusted his judgement and even tried on a few that I wouldn't necessarily have picked myself. New style is always fun. And he was right, they looked great. Some other women trying on shoes jumped in to comment as well. 'Those are perfect for your feet," they said. What better sales pitch?
I ended up going home with 5 pairs of shoes- more than I have ever bought at any one time. They are used shoes, they probably won't last too long, but it was a lot of fun and not too expensive. I have broken my phobia of shopping en plein air and so now know I can just run down to 9kilo anytime I get a shoe jones or find myself feeling less than chic.
As one seller called out, trying them on is free, and so I'll keep that in mind as well. The whole experience left me feeling a bit pampered- and completely psyched that I won't spend the next meeting staring forlornely at all the fancy shoes in attendance.
