My, What Big Feet You Have . . .

Something I’ve noticed over the past few weeks – Koreans have huge feet. HUGE. In proportion to height, huge. Noticably huge. Almost approaching clown feet huge. So, I’ve been noticing this, but thinking, “Oh, yeah, I’m going to be able to buy shoes here this year . . .” So, on one of my trips downtown, I stopped into Debec – the Saks of Daegu. Whose motto, in bright neon lights in English on the side of the 16 floor building, “White Debec, White Sense.” Which makes no sense. Anyway, once inside, a whole floor of shoes. Shoes and shoes and more shoes. A whole section of boots. Over the knee boots, boots with sparkles, red boots, black boots, I was in heaven. And all the salespeople are men. Several come up to me (I’m still feeling the Lori-ga charm), “May I help-a you? American? Shoes-see? You like-ka?” I point to one pair of boots. The guy pulls the sample from the shelf. Hmmm . . . I’ve never been able to wear the floor sample before. But okay. He pulls my shoe off, and tries to cram my foot into the boot. I smile politely and try to explain my foot won’t fit. It’s too big. “Ani-o. Ani-o.” No. No. Let me just push it harder and buckle your toes and then it will fit. (my translation) I finally pull what’s left of my foot out and start to put on my shoes. Another salesman arrives with another style. It looks a little bigger, so I once again try to slip my foot in. And it’s just not going to happen. I’m wondering, is this a modern day version of Cinderella-ga? The original salesman says, “Order-a! Order-a!” No, no, no. Khamsa Hamnidda! Goodbye! I was perplexed. Did they not keep other sizes in stock? Do they put the largest size out as the sample?

While having coffee with a Korean girlfriend, Eun-Joo, I asked her about the boot incident. She said, “Oh, they probably didn’t understand you.” Duh. “They carry different sizes.” I looked at her feet. I said, “Eun-Joo, what size do you wear? It looks like we are about the same.” “Oh, I am a 25.” She reaches down to pinch my shoe, kind of like the shoe salesman does to see if your toe reaches the end of the shoe. Except she started pinching on the middle of my foot. She looked at me surprisingly. She asked, “Where are the end of your toes?” I looked at her as if that was the silliest question I’d ever heard. “At the end of my foot” and I touched the end of my shoe. “Ahhh! Nooo!” She literally squealed and then started laughing hysterically. I fail to see why this amuses her. So I ask her where her toes are in her shoes. She points to half way on her shoes. I bend down and pinch the end of her shoes. They are empty. The last, oh, 2 or 3 inches are empty. Nothing there. Korean fashion. Wear big shoes. So the shoes are made as if they are a size, oh, 6 or 7, but with a few extra inches, kind of like a toe extension. There, but useless. No wonder my size 9 1/2 foot wouldn’t fit into any of the boots they had in the store. Eun-Joo laughed again and said, “I think maybe your foot is a size 35 or 40.” Hee hee hee. Thanks.