Feet - Jennifer Balko

Generally, I don’t like feet. Sure, they’re practical. Imagine how you would get around without them. But, for the most part, they’re just downright ugly, with their crinkly toes all squished together. And, mine are just to damn sensitive. Going barefoot is for me the equivalent of stepping on broken glass. I’m prone to blisters, and without any noticeable arch, I’m bound to aches and pains if stay in flip-flops too long.

Despite my extraordinary dislike of this particular body part, I did appreciate them much more after a trip to Papua New Guinea. There, shoes are pretty much a luxury item, especially in the small villages lining the Sepik, down by the coast, or up in the highlands. People in these parts use their feet as tools, very much the same way monkeys use them to climb. Unlike my delicate Western stubs with polished toenails, men and women’s feet in PNG are spread-out mini-marvels. It’s difficult to say whether they are more evolved or less evolved – the argument could go either way, really. The utility of their feet is incredible efficient. And, personally, I curse whoever decided heels were a revolutionary step in womankind’s evolution.

The toes of many PNG folks are stretched so wide it’s hard to believe that they are part of the same synchronized unit; they look like completely separate extensions of the leg. This comes in handy, of course, when you have to cross a raging river on a slippery log with barely any rope or side-rail support. We watched in awe the locals cross this bridge without one second of hesitation or slipperiness. Their claw-like toes dug in the wet wood and the rest of their feet just worked like machines. I nearly soaked myself, practical, expensive hiking boots and all, as I teeter-tottered along the makeshift bridge. Maybe, if I actually start wearing my yoga rubber toe separators, my feet would be useful for these random adventures, and I’ll grow to like them more. Then again, how many slippery logs do I need to cross everyday in Barcelona?