I Went For A Walk. In Sandals. Made of Straw!

Every April, the students and teachers at my school go for a walk in sandals called "waraji." We make the sandals ourselves, with a little help from a group of expert elderly ladies and gentlemen.

The sandals aren't all that difficult to make, as long as you understand the concept of weaving. You need the sandals to last, so you have to make sure you keep tugging at the rows as you weave, keeping them densely packed.

If you work relatively fast and don't have to wait too long for help with the more difficult parts (getting started, adding the toe strap, and putting on the finishing touches), you should be able to finish a pair of waraji in under two hours.

As I started to make my sandals, I talked to another teacher about the upcoming walk. I was under the assumption that we were going to take a bus somewhere, go for a leisurely walk for maybe 15 minutes, go to a museum or whatever, learn something about the history of the sandals, and then eventually walk back to the bus and return to school. Boy was I wrong!

The teacher told me that we were going to be walking "7 kilometers ... one way. And 7 kilometers ... back." What the? Are you kidding me? 14 kilometers? In sandals? Made of straw? Oh my God!

I'm glad that I found out about the length of the journey early enough, since that inspired me to make a rock-solid pair of sandals. If there is such a thing.

Even though I felt that I was doing a good job making my waraji, I was so worried about the possibility of them falling apart during the hike that I kept asking the students and teachers who had already been on one of these walks if they thought my waraji would last. Luckily, everyone I asked gave me the thumbs up.

My supervisor was so impressed with my work that he asked me if I could make a pair for him, as well. Besides, he said he had no time to make his own. Since I had plenty of time, and since my supervisor does me countless favors, I immediately obliged.

One of my buddies joked that I should keep the extra pair as a backup just in case my original pair ended up falling apart after all. He said I should tell my supervisor that I lost the second pair or that someone took it. I definitely gave that idea some thought, but only for an instant.

The last thing I was wondering about concerning the hike was whether or not everyone went barefoot or wore socks. It turns out there was no rule for that; everyone did whatever they felt most comfortable doing.

When I tried out my sandals in my bare feet, I actually liked the feeling so much that I decided to go without socks on the hike, at least to start. But I planned to bring a pair of socks with me, just in case.

The next day, Friday, just before the hike began, I taped up some of my toes, gave my waraji one final inspection, and was good to go.

The outbound hike went better than I expected. I was able to walk fairly fast, the sandals weren't nearly as uncomfortable as I had imagined, the sandals didn't come close to falling apart, and the seven kilometers seemed to fly by. Before I knew it, I had arrived at the campground where we stopped for lunch.

There we divided into groups of about 12 students and 2 or 3 teachers and were all responsible for cooking our own food, which was a strange concoction of pork and vegetables turned into soup.

For whatever reason, my group decided to eat rather close to the smoky "kitchen" area. At first, so as not to insult anyone, I remained with my group. But after only a few minutes, I got up and walked away. I really couldn't stand the smoke. And I simply couldn't understand the idea behind sitting on the hard cement floor when we could have been sitting on soft grass, as just about every other group in our area was doing.

After lunch, we all relaxed for a while, cleaned up after ourselves, and hit the road again.

I thought the return hike would be about as easy as the hike to the campground. But that wasn’t the case.

I guess the main reason for that was that my waraji were wearing out fast. They were noticeably thinner than they were when I started walking in them, so I began to feel just about every step I took. What started as a fairly enjoyable walk was slowly turning into an exercise in pain.

I suppose I could have taken off my waraji and switched to the pair of "normal" sandals that I was carrying in my backpack, as many of the kids had done by that point. But I wanted to stick it out until the end. So I persevered.

Eventually, I made it back to school. And, unlike many pairs, my waraji survived the ordeal in great shape.

Too bad I can't say the same about my legs and feet. I can still feel some muscles in my legs that I never knew existed. And the blisters on my right foot are still bothering me. But I’ll be back to normal in a few days. And I’m another experience richer!

To celebrate the occasion, I’m thinking about making a T-shirt that reads: “I’d rather be walking in waraji.” Of course, that’s far from the truth. But it does have a nice ring to it.