I need a new pair of shoes. I've said this more than once recently and the words flew

from my lips again as the worn-slick soles of my hiking boots slid across the wet pavement of the local supermarket car park. A few months back, when I was preparing for a several month excursion around Australia, I only packed three sets of footwear. I took with me a pair of black Ugg boots to keep my feet warm in the cold winter of Victoria. I took a pair of flip-flops, more commonly called "thongs" in Australia, to wear on hot days or at the beach. And I took with me, my very trusty and well worn hiking boots to serve the general purpose of work boots and camping attire. I've had these boots for quite a few years now and they have served me well. But now, as I consider replacing them, my thoughts turn to were these boots and I have been.

In the United States of America, they have:
walked the sandy tracks of South Florida pine scrub;
strolled along the tops of the Grand Canyon;
climbed the cliff dwellings of Arizona's historic native americans;
sloshed through the frozen, muddy streets of Milwaukee, Wisconsin;
ambled along the waterfront district of Baltimore, Maryland;
propped up on a wooden railing while eating clam chowder from a sour dough bread bowl at San Francisco's famous waterfront;
and were tucked under a bar at one local watering hole for San Diego's lesbian community;

In Australia, they have:
hiked the sides of King's Canyon;
trod the hallowed grounds of Uluru (twice);
stood atop the Sydney Harbour Bridge;
walked the rain forest trails of far north Queensland;
and been stomped on during an outing at one of Melbourne's live-music, pub venues;

In some farther flung places, they have:
had beer spilled on them in Frieburg, Germany;
dodged dog-poo on the city streets of Amsterdam;
got dribbled with sauce while eating noodles in Singapore;
perused the hawkers stalls in the Shanghai Markets;
stood on the same ground as "tank man" in Tienemen Square, Beijing;
were left at the doorstep of The Temple of the Jade Buddha in Bangkok, Thailand;
explored an abandoned Club Med in Numea, New Caledonia;
and walked through the gates of the Taj Mahal in Agra, India;

To be honest, this is a fairly short and far from complete list of the places and things these boots have seen. Yet one thing struck me as my mind wandered between the slick soled boots and the list of places that made them that way. In each of these places, a small fraction of the sole of my boots has been left behind. Some infinitesimal portion of rubber has left me and been added to the local area through which I traveled. But this exchange was not just one way, not by a long shot. In each of these locations, not only has the scuff of my boot sole been left on the street, but the scuff of the local has been left on my soul.

I am a compilation of all that has occurred to me and around me since the time I was born. I would not be who I am today if it were not for the travels I have seen and the places I have been. My cultural horizons have been broadened, my tastes have developed cravings for food peculiar to a younger me and my appreciation for how incredibly small we are in the grand scheme of our little, blue-green planet has been deeply altered. It has been a fair trade to say the least, a bit of boot rubber in exchange for an enrichment of my being. I'll take that trade again, any day.

Now off to buy some new shoes and see where these ones will take me ...