The Tale of the Argentine Boots

Note: I told this story to my mom over the phone, and she thought it was very funny. So I’m sharing it. I’ll be sure to embellish, and really draw out its moral.

feet up on my porch, valenzuela // the argentine boots

Once upon a time there was a Peace Corps Volunteer named Emily. She lived far, far away in a small pueblo in Paraguay. However, when she left her native land The United States of America, she did not leave behind her love of shoes or fashion. She brought those loves with her in a suitcase and in her heart.

Meanwhile, there was another Peace Corps Volunteer named Courtney. She too lived in Paraguay and loved fashion. And she was going to visit a new land: the land of leather, carne, sexy accents and beautiful people. That place is called Argentina!

While in Argentina, Courtney fell in love. With a pair of beautiful, black leather boots. No heel. Flats. Very sensible and tasteful; a classic beauty. She acquired the boots, but unfortunately had only a brief affair with them. After walking around Buenos Aires for a bit, she realized they were just too small.

So she sold them to Emily upon her return to Paraguay. Emily was budgeting for the month, and paid half upfront, and would pay for the second boot a month later.

And Emily and her Argentine boots lived happily ever after. Almost.

Some time passes. The air is crisp and cold. It’s boot weather.

Emily is invited to a birthday party in The Big City: Asunción.  As she packs her bag, she selects a darling outfit that inclues black tights and the black Argentine boots. You know, city clothes! She places them in her tote bag, deciding to change out of her bus clothes when she gets there. She takes an evening bus out of town, and in 3 hours arrives at her destination.

With one boot.

Dios mio!  Distraught by her lost Argentine, unpaid-for boot mate, she attends the party less fashionably.

Upon returning to her pueblo she visits the bus terminal to inquire about her boot. No hay caso, they say. There’s no use. She tells her host family and community members. She makes jokes about walking crooked. And she visits the terminal periodically for some time after. Their muted laughs and head shakes accompany her dwidling hope.

Until one glorious day. Isidrio, the bus driver, beckons her over to his house while she passes by one day.

“Are you the girl that lost the boot?”

“Yes! YES I AM!” Emily said.

“Stay here.” He walks inside. And brings out the Argentine boot. In perfect condition. Just as she had left it on the bus.

And Emily rejoiced, for she had already paid for that second boot while it was missing!

And thus she learned The Paradigm of Radio So’o.

Never abandon hope, and never be ashamed to tell your story. People will listen, and then will remember you. Even if they laugh about you. To your face. They’ll laugh about you with their friends, too. But eventually that chisme or radio so’o (radio meat) –both meaning gossip—will work in your favor. You just have to work the system.