Sole-Searching

In a previous article I looked for my inspiration in a steaming hot cup of coffee. I’m trying to do the same this month, but it’s not working and so I decide to go for a walk. I take my flippers (zapatillas) off (this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gone out for a walk in my slippers!), bend down (me agacho) and put my shoes on, doing up the laces (atándome los cordones) as quickly as possible. As soon as I walk out the front door, however, I start to feel uncomfortable. I look down and see that my shoelaces have come undone. How they came undone I don’t know, as I’ve only just done them up. I suppose I didn’t do them up properly (correctamente). How careless!

This time I bend down and carefully do the right shoe lace up, then, with equal care, I do the left shoe up. Then, I realize (me doy cuenta) I have a stone in my left shoe, so I undo it, take it off, shake it upside down until the stone falls out, put it back on and do it up again. “Do your shoelaces up” sounds so unpoetic and yet it is the verb we use more frequently. You can also “tie your shoelaces” or “tie your laces up”, but “do”, for all its vulgarity, feels so much better on the tongue (lengua).

Talking of tongues, when you stop to think about it, shoes are really quite sophisticated “beings” (seres). Like us, they have a “tongue” (lengüeta), one that doesn’t say very much, but a “tongue” nevertheless (no obstante) (perhaps we can learn something from them here!). Similarly, shoes can “smell”. OK, they don’t have a sense of smell like we do, but they can smell just as we can, in the sense of giving off (desprender) an odour. But where shoes beat us hands down (what a nice way to say ‘arrasan con nosotros’!) is in things spiritual – I’m talking about their soles. “What do you mean, soles?” you ask. That’s right, a shoe doesn’t just (please learn this word as “just” is a much, much, much more common way of saying ‘solamente’ – forget “only”) have one soul like human beings. It has two! Yes! Two soles! Well, at least some of them do. Like most human souls (almas), the soles (suelas) of most shoes are black and dirty – pure, clean soles are only to be found in “baby” shoes – shoes that have just left the shoe shop. But for shoes, having a dirty, black sole doesn’t mean eternal damnation because in the innermost sanctuary of their being they have another sole – an inner sole (plantilla). A sole protected from the impurities soles pick up along life’s path (camino). Pure and immaculate. In fact, the sole difference (hey, there’s another word we pronounce the same as “sole” and
“soul” that means ‘única’) between an inner sole and an angel’s soul is probably the smell. Or maybe angels’ souls smell a bit whiffy too. I don’t know; I’ve never met one.

Anyway, after all this sole-searching (or was it soul-searching?), I carry on (continuar) walking, looking for inspiration. The problem is, the only thing I can think about is how much I love the word “whiffy”. Now, if you ever want to say that something, somewhere or someone smells a little unpleasant (desagradable), then “whiffy” is a great adjective to use. It’s a great way to talk about an unpleasant smell because it is probably the least (el menos) offensive of all your options. Of course, you could say “It smells in here”, “It stinks in here”, “It reeks in here”, “It mings in here” or even “There’s a foul stench in here”, but if you simply say “It’s a bit whiffy in here”, you won’t offend anyone.

Now, what I didn’t tell you is that when I undid my shoelaces and took off my shoe to get the stone out, the inside of my shoe gave off a bit of a smell. In fact, it was incredibly whiffy! “It must be my shoe; it can’t be my foot… (!)”, I think to myself. And so, I turn around (me doy la vuelta), go back into the house, undo my shoelaces, take off my shoes, put some different shoes on and start doing up the shoelaces. But as I’m doing up my right shoelace, I start to lose interest in the idea of going out for a walk. In fact, I give up on the idea altogether (renuncio a la idea por completo). So (así que) I undo my shoelaces, take off my shoes, put my slippers back on and sit down in front of the fire. In fact, I’ve given up altogether on writing today. I’m sure I’ll think of something tomorrow…

Written by Richard Brown

Edited by Vaughan Radio y TV

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