In the summer, some New Zealanders prefer to go barefoot. Not just at the beach. But everywhere–concerts, sporting events, shops, city streets. You will not find a sign that says, “NO Shoes. NO Shirt. NO Service.” Instead, it might read: “NO Shoes. NO Shirt. NO problem.”
We were warned by our relocation mentor that we would see this because it is a tradition. She was kind of embarrassed and wanted us to not be surprised by it. Indeed, it is hard to actually watch some guy lumbering through the grocery store without shoesand dirty feet for all to see. All I can think is: buddy, can’t you at least try sandals or flip flops (they call them “jandels”). Something? Anything?
I know you can see people in bare feet when visiting tropical isles (actually you are more likely to see them in flip flops or rubber sandals). But, to be clear, this is not the tropics. The attitude seems to be that summer is short and this is the way to enjoy it—no shoes. When I was a kid, I rarely wore shoes. If I was wearing shoes, I was wearing flip flops (we called them thongs). So I can sympathize and don’t think I am that delicate about it. But there is something that bothers me about a grown person wandering around the streets and in stores in bare feet.
We have neighbors who walk in bare feet to the beach. Okay, they are going to the beach. That makes sense. But I can’t understand how those feet can withstand the asphalt rendered blazing hot on a clear summer day. Nor can I understand the ability to walk on the rocky beach that is Te Horo. This is not a few rocks here and there. There is often a carpet of stones covering the sand. This is what it looks like:
I mean, ouch! It is hard enough to walk on the stones with sandals let alone in bare feet. The soles of their feet must be leather. They are certainly hardier than mine. It hurts me to think about it.
A Yank Among the Kiwis 